A Surgeon Worth Waiting For

by MELANIE MILBURNE

  Not as loaded as the gun he’d just shot himself in the foot with, Jack thought wryly as he watched the relief wash over her features.

  ‘It can get expensive, staying in hotels for extended periods,’ he said, finally finding his voice. ‘Wouldn’t it be better to stay at my place until your place is cleaned up?’

  She gave him one of her you’ve-got-to-be-joking looks. ‘I’m only staying until I get another flat. I don’t think I want to live in that one any more.’

  Jack knew it wasn’t exactly ideal, but at least the hotel had twenty-four-hour security, and another hundred bucks should keep the front desk silent over her presence in room 1205. And maybe another hundred would get them to call him if she happened to mention where she intended to go on her day off tomorrow.

  ‘Your car won’t be ready until late next week,’ he informed her, handing her a card with the workshop’s address and phone number. ‘The mechanic wanted to check a few things first.’ He didn’t tell her he’d had to insist on the mechanic keeping it longer than necessary, but until he ruled out foul play he wasn’t going to take any chances.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, lowering her gaze a fraction. ‘I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.’

  ‘Well…see you later, then,’ he said, his hand hesitating on the doorknob.

  She plastered a bright smile on her face. ‘See you, Jack. And thank you for not…taking advantage of me. I really appreciate it. You don’t know how much.’

  He left without another word, somehow feeling she’d got the last one in anyway.

  Becky tucked her sunscreen back in her tote bag and surveyed the sparkling ocean in front of her, her skin still tingling with the feel of the salt water after her short dip to christen her new bikini.

  Bondi Beach had more than its usual Sunday-in-December crowd, the intense heat wave bringing in even more from the outlying suburbs.

  She lay back on her towel and turned her head, squinting against the sunlight. She’d hardly slept last night after Jack had left, and the sun was so warm and the sound of happy bathers so soothing she closed her eyes and let the delicious warmth dry up the sea’s moisture on her skin and seep right into her bones…

  ‘Help! Help, somebody, please!’

  She jerked upright at the sound of the desperate plea coming from a few feet away.

  A little girl of about ten or so was shaking in terror as she stood over the convulsing form of her mother in the sand.

  Becky sprang to her feet and ran to the terrified girl. ‘What happened?’

  ‘My mummy. She’s a diabetic. I think she’s got her insulin dose wrong. She’s fitted once before,’ wailed the distraught child.

  Becky turned the woman onto her side into the coma position and pulled her jaw forward to help clear her airway.

  ‘Can someone call triple 0?’ she called into the gathering crowd.

  The woman began convulsive fitting again, becoming cyanosed, with frothing saliva and a little blood from a lacerated lip, while her daughter sobbed in distress in the background, answering Becky’s quick questions through tears.

  ‘Can anyone here get a first-aid kit from the lifeguard station?’ Becky shouted into the sea of fascinated faces.

  In front of her the crowd started to separate as a dark, tall figure in black bathers pushed through with a plastic medical kit and an air of confidence she had seen many times before.

  ‘Jack!’ She stared up at him with a combination of relief and surprise. ‘Are you tailing me or something?’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous. I always swim here. What’s wrong with this patient?’

  ‘She’s hypoglycaemic—too much insulin, no food and a little dehydrated.’

  ‘There’s IV gear and glucose in here,’ Jack said as he opened the lifeguard’s medical bag.

  ‘Hold her arm still while I get in a cannula,’ Becky instructed one of the lifeguards, who had accompanied Jack.

  She inserted the only size cannula present in the kit, drew up 20 ml of ten per cent glucose into a syringe and injected it into the cannula. She repeated the manoeuvre three times until about 80 ml had been given. Suddenly the convulsions ceased, and after a few minutes, much to the relief of the onlooking crowd, and the sobbing thankfulness of the young daughter, the woman regained consciousness.

  Within a few minutes an ambulance had picked up the patient and her daughter for transport to the local district hospital, the crowd dispersing back to their beach towels and umbrellas and the lifeguards returning to their lookout point.

  Becky waited until the ambulance had gone before turning to Jack. ‘I suppose you’re going to tell me it’s just a coincidence you were here this morning?’

  ‘I told you, I often come down for a swim on Sundays,’ he informed her evenly. It was more or less the truth, but the tipoff from the bell boy at the hotel had been a godsend, and well worth the expense. He gave the crowded beach a sweeping glance before coming back to her suspicious gaze. ‘Along with the rest of the population.’

  ‘I don’t need a bodyguard,’ she said, spinning on her heel to make her way back to her towel and bag. ‘And even if I did, I don’t think you’re the person for the job.’

  She shook off the sand on her towel and carefully straightened it before lying back down, closing her eyes, effectively shutting him out.

  ‘Have you got sunscreen on?’ he asked.

  She opened one eye at him. ‘I have all the protection I need.’

  ‘If you ask me, you’re starting to look a little pink.’

  ‘I didn’t ask you.’ She flopped over onto her stomach and buried her head under her hat.

  ‘Just here…’ One of his fingers traced a light-fingered pathway over the top of her left shoulder.

  ‘Stop it.’ She wriggled under his touch. ‘That tickles.’

  ‘You shouldn’t overdo it, you know,’ he cautioned. ‘A few minutes too long and you’ll burn to a crisp.’

  She angled her head to meet his eyes. ‘Why don’t you go and pick on somebody with fair skin?’

  He smiled, his white teeth standing out against his deep olive tan. ‘You might tan easily enough but it’s not wise to try and do it in one day. I think you should reapply some sunscreen. I’ve taken off enough melanomas to know.’

  ‘I think you should leave before I stuff the aforementioned sunscreen right down your throat.’

  He threw back his head and laughed, bringing her head up off the towel to gape at him. When was the last time she’d heard him laugh? Truly laugh? Her stomach quivered at the sound of it, her legs feeling squishy all of a sudden.

  ‘Here.’ He reached for her bag. ‘Get it out and I’ll do your back, then I promise I’ll go away and leave you alone.’

  She rummaged in her tote bag and grudgingly handed the sunscreen to him, knowing she wasn’t going to get rid of him any other way.

  Jack looked down at the bottle, turning it over in his hands to see what exposure time the brand recommended.

  His fingers stilled on the bottle as he read the handwritten label which had been placed over the manufacturer’s directions.

  YOU ARE GOING TO NEED MUCH MORE PROTECTION THAN THIS BITCH FACE

  Becky swivelled her head to look at him, wondering why it was taking him so long to get the lid off.

  ‘What’s the matter? Isn’t 30 plus enough to satisfy your perfectionist standards?’

  He covered the makeshift label with his hand and squeezed out some of the lotion into his palm.

  ‘No tan is a safe tan,’ he said, absently smoothing some of it over the curve of her spine while his eyes quickly but thoroughly scanned the crowded beach.

  Becky could sense his aversion to touching her and after a few moments slapped his hand away. Rolling over to sit up, she snatched her sunscreen out of his hand, glaring at him in affront.

  ‘I wouldn’t want to put you to any bother. I can see you’ve got much better things to do than…’ Her words trailed away as she saw how his eyes dropped to the b
ottle in her hands as if it were a bomb waiting to go off.

  She looked down at the label and froze.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  SHE gulped back a swallow and looked up at Jack, the bottle falling from her fingers to the sand. ‘He’s here?’

  Jack’s eyes quickly scanned the beach on both sides, his stomach tightening at the thought of Becky’s stalker hiding among the massive crowd.

  ‘I’m not sure,’ he answered, and turned to look at her, his eyes narrowed against the sunlight. ‘When was the last time you put sunscreen on?’

  She chewed her lip for a moment. ‘I put it on before I went for a swim. I didn’t reapply it after I came out. I was going to but then the little girl cried out for help.’ She stared at her tote bag. ‘I left my things here. Anyone could have come up and taken them, tampered with them…’ She moistened her dry mouth as she reached for her bag to find her phone. ‘We’d better call the police.’

  ‘No!’ His hand came down over hers.

  She looked up at him in confusion. ‘No?’

  He removed his hand from hers, his eyes determined as they held hers. ‘I don’t think there’s anything they can do. It’s not as if they could identify anyone’s footprints in this crowd.’

  She looked at the stirred-up sand around her. Just to add credibility to Jack’s statement, a teenage boy suddenly lunged right in front of them for the Frisbee his friend had thrown, stirring up a cloud of sand.

  She dusted it off her legs and ankles and turned to look at Jack once more. ‘I’m sort of over the whole beach thing right now.’

  ‘Come on.’ He hauled her to her feet with a strong hand. ‘How did you get here? By bus?’

  She nodded, looking away in embarrassment. ‘I couldn’t afford a taxi.’

  ‘No problem,’ he said taking her hand. ‘We can walk to my house and I’ll drive you back to the hotel.’

  She curled her fingers into his and followed him without a word, somehow feeling relieved that he was by her side and in control.

  They were silent in the hotel lift as it took them up to her room. Becky stared at the sand between her toes and wondered what had happened to her life. A couple of weeks ago she had been planning for a quieter than normal Christmas, now she was planning on staying alive.

  ‘I’m scared,’ she announced into the silence, still staring down at her scarlet-painted toenails.

  Jack put an arm around her shoulders and drew her close. ‘I know.’

  Becky nestled into his solid frame, her head turning into his chest as she breathed in the familiar scent of him.

  ‘You’ll get through this, Becky,’ he said into her hair. ‘I know you will.’

  ‘I wish I had your confidence,’ she said, fingering one of the buttons on his casual surf shirt.

  His hand went to the back of her head, his fingers burying into the silk of her hair. She felt his indrawn breath against her breasts as he pressed her even closer, close enough to feel the growing pulse of his arousal where it pressed against her stomach.

  ‘I think we should empty out your flat this afternoon and move you temporarily into my place,’ he said, easing himself away from her.

  ‘Do you think that’s such a good idea?’ She looked up at him. ‘We’ll argue all the time. You know what we’re like.’

  ‘Then we’ll have to call a truce,’ he said.

  ‘How long do you think that will last?’ She gave him a sceptical glance as she stepped out of the lift on her floor.

  ‘Look, once all this blows over you can get another apartment somewhere and things will go back to normal. I’m not asking you to live with me forever. Heaven knows, if I did, one or both of us would go stark raving mad.’

  She swiped her card in the lock with unnecessary force and shoved open the door, tossing her wet sandy towel to one side and her tote bag to the other.

  ‘OK, so maybe I could have put that a little better,’ he conceded as she stalked off to the bathroom. ‘What I meant was—’

  ‘You know something, Jack?’ She swung round and stood with her hands on her hips, glaring at him. ‘Whatever charm school you enrolled in ripped you off. You don’t know how to open your mouth without an insult falling out.’

  ‘How have I insulted you?’ He gave a look of exasperation. ‘I’m doing my level best to help you.’

  ‘Yeah, well, I’d really like to know what your motive is,’ she said, scooping up her cosmetics and stuffing them into a carrier bag. She pushed past him at the bathroom door and haphazardly threw the rest of her things together.

  ‘What do you mean by that?’ he asked, turning around to follow her jerky, agitated movements as she packed.

  She sent him an icy stare over one shoulder.

  ‘You’re only offering to help me as long as it doesn’t inconvenience you. You don’t want anyone at the hospital to know about us living together, albeit temporarily, and now you don’t want me to call the police even though I’ve quite obviously been threatened again. What’s going on?’

  ‘Nothing. Nothing’s going on.’

  Her brown gaze glinted at him with growing suspicion. ‘You know something about this, don’t you?’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Becky. You’re imagining things,’ he said, looking away. ‘I’m just doing what your family would expect me to do in their absence.’

  She narrowed her eyes. ‘Have you talked to any of them about this?’

  Jack hated lying to her but knew he had no choice. It wasn’t just her life that was in danger, but Ben’s as well.

  ‘Talked to them? I don’t even know where any of your family is right now.’

  ‘You’d better not be lying to me, Jack, because if you are I’m going to be very, very angry.’

  ‘I can deal with your anger,’ he said, turning back to look at her. ‘I’m more or less used to it. Now, let’s get moving. I have to go in to the hospital this evening to check on a patient in HDU.’

  He heard her mutter something under her breath about him being a workaholic but he chose this time to ignore it. There was something about this last threat to Becky that made him feel uneasy. It was clear someone was following her movements very closely. How else had they known she’d be at the beach, sitting in that particular spot among a huge crowd? Jack knew the sooner he got her out of the city and into his house where he could keep an eye on her, the better. He also knew it would take every iota of self-control he possessed to keep his hands off her, but he’d never forgive himself if anything happened to her. If only Ben would contact him again! He wanted his advice on the cop Becky had met for a drink. What if he was the informant Ben had alluded to?

  They drove to her flat in Randwick. He took her key to open the door, his eyes widening at the mess in front of them.

  ‘It’s not pretty, is it?’ she said, giving one of her torn books a despondent kick with one foot.

  ‘I think it might be best if you just take what you value for sentimental reasons and the rest can be replaced through insurance,’ he said. ‘Got any garbage bags?’

  She nodded and went to get them out of the small kitchen, bending down to the floor where they’d been strewn along with all the rest of the items in the drawers. But before she could straighten back up a missile came crashing through the kitchen window, shattering the glass and landing right in front of her.

  ‘Becky?’ Jack rushed to the kitchen and saw her on the floor, her face totally white as she held a rock in her hand.

  ‘What happened?’ He stepped over the glass and helped her to her feet. ‘Did that just come through the window?’

  She nodded and silently handed him the piece of paper that had been attached to the rock with an elastic band. He looked down at it, his stomach tightening as he read what was written there.

  GET OUT OR DIE

  ‘Right,’ he said, taking her hand and pulling her out of the room. ‘Forget your stuff—we’re leaving.’

  ‘No!’ She tugged on his hand. ‘I’m sick of being terrorised. I�
��m going to get my things and if anyone wants to take a potshot at me, let them.’

  ‘Are you mad?’ He tightened his hold. ‘You don’t know who’s behind this.’

  ‘I don’t care. I want my things and I’m not leaving until I get them.’ She extracted herself from his grasp and dug into her bag for her phone.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  She gave him a determined look. ‘I’m calling Matt Daniels, the cop who is working on the investigation.’

  Jack felt sick. He watched as she dialled the direct number she read off a card but he couldn’t think of a way to stop her that wouldn’t make her even more suspicious.

  ‘Constable Daniels.’

  There was the sound of scuffling in the background but in her rush to speak to him Becky ignored it. ‘Matt?’ She turned her back towards Jack. ‘It’s Becky Baxter.’

  ‘Hello, Becky.’ There was the sound of a male grunt before he added, ‘How are things?’

  ‘I need to talk to you. I’ve had a couple of weird things happen just lately.’

  There was a tiny pause before Matt spoke. ‘Why don’t we meet some time tomorrow? I’m a bit tied up today, but what about tomorrow evening? Can it wait until then?’

  Becky worried her lip before answering, ‘Sure, it can wait.’

  ‘Are you still at the hotel?’

  ‘No. I’ll be staying with a family…er…friend.’ She gave him Jack’s address.

  ‘I’ll pick you up about seven, if that’s all right. Maybe we could have dinner?’ Matt said.

  ‘Dinner would be very nice,’ she answered with a defiant glance in Jack’s direction. ‘And seven is perfect.’

  ‘Great, see you then.’

  ‘Bye.’

  Jack made a sound of disgust in the back of his throat.

  ‘What?’ Becky spun around to glare at him.

  ‘If he’s such a great cop, why isn’t he high-tailing it round here right now instead of taking you out to dinner tomorrow?’

  ‘You shouldn’t listen in on other people’s conversations,’ she reprimanded him coldly. ‘Anyway, I like him. He reminds me of Ben.’