by Lucy Clark
‘If you’ll excuse me,’ she said politely between gritted teeth, ‘I’d like to go and say goodbye to my father and Beverley.’
‘No need,’ Dave replied, and pointed. Sure enough, her father and his blushing bride were headed straight for them.
‘Dave,’ her father said with delight, and heartily shook the other man’s hand. ‘Glad you made it after all.’
‘Sorry, Reg. I’m here under false pretences. I’ve come to whisk your daughter away.’
Reg laughed. ‘Should I ask whether your intentions are honourable?’ her father joked.
‘Dad!’ Rose couldn’t believe it. Her father was actually friends with this man?
‘Only joking, Rosie.’ Reg leaned over and hugged his daughter. ‘I know it’s probably an emergency if Dave’s come to get you. He wasn’t able to make it to the wedding because he was on call.’ Reg turned his attention back to Dave. ‘I thought you had an anaesthetist for the weekend.’
‘We did. That’s what I was explaining to Rosie. The locum anaesthetist is the emergency. Appendicitis.’
Reg chuckled. ‘Always the way. Off you go, then, darling.’ Reg embraced his daughter. ‘Bev and I are leaving anyway.’
Rose stared, dumbfounded, at her father. It appeared he was throwing her to the wolves, or at least one of them.
‘Never mind,’ Beverley whispered in her ear as the two women hugged. ‘Things will settle down in a week or two. Just take each day as it comes and remember that your father and I both love you.’
It was the exact thing Rose needed to hear. Beverley always seemed to know the right thing to say and Rose was immensely glad her father had married her. He needed a wife and although Rose thought she was too old to need a mother, Beverley had proved her wrong yet again. It didn’t matter how old you were, it was still nice to hear that you were loved.
‘Thanks,’ Rose whispered back.
‘Now, have you got the house keys?’ Beverley fussed. ‘And can you remember the controls for the air-conditioner?’
‘I’ll be fine,’ Rose promised. ‘Go. Have a good time and I’ll see you in a month’s time.’
‘Take care of my girl.’ Reg shook Dave’s hand once more before kissing Rose on the cheek. ‘I love you, my darling Rose.’
‘I love you, too, Dad.’
‘We’d better be going,’ Dave said, as Reg and Beverley moved away.
‘Oh, she can’t go yet,’ Beverley protested. ‘I almost forgot. I have to throw the bouquet.’
Rose laughed uncomfortably. ‘Beverley, that’s an outdated romantic tradition.’
‘Well, I’m an outdated romantic traditionalist, then,’ her stepmother replied good-naturedly. ‘Come on,’ she announced to the room. ‘I need all the unmarried women in a group.’
‘That’s your cue, Rosie.’ Dave’s deep voice said from behind her, as he gave her a gentle shove.
‘Don’t push me,’ she retorted.
‘Well, hurry it up, will you? We have an appendix that’s ready to perforate and you’re standing there like a statue.’
‘We’ll do the garter toss and the bouquet at the same time,’ the MC announced. ‘All unmarried women over here and all unmarried men over there.’
The room was galvanised into action and soon the MC was counting to three. With both her father and Beverley standing with their backs to their respective groups, they tossed on the count of three.
Rose realised the flowers were heading for her face and instinctively put her hands up to protect herself, her fingers automatically curling around the handle of the bouquet.
Everyone clapped and cheered and then the wolf-whistling started. She turned to see what all the commotion was about and came face to face with Dave, her stepmother’s garter dangling from his index finger.
Dave raised his eyebrows suggestively, which made the crowd laugh even harder. ‘If you’ll excuse us,’ he said, and, placing his arm about her shoulders, led her out of the room. She tried not to focus on the warmth of his touch or the way her body seemed to spring instantly to life. The laughter drowned out any protests Rose might have made, but she just didn’t have the energy. Besides, she felt completely and utterly humiliated and embarrassed.
‘There you are, Rosie. Safely whisked away from a wedding reception.’ He scanned the parking lot. ‘Would you like me to unlock your car?’
‘I’m more than capable,’ Rose retorted. She pulled the keys from her small purse and opened the Jaguar’s door.
‘All right, then. I’ll meet you at the hospital.’
Rose climbed behind the wheel, watching him walk away. He had nice long strides. Sure and determined—just like the rest of him. She shook her head and started the engine, glad of the reprieve from prying eyes. She drove behind Dave’s ute towards the hospital, happy to follow him as otherwise she probably would have needed to stop and check the map book.
The whole day had been exhausting and she hadn’t needed that extra bit of attention at the end to cap it off. Still, her dad and Beverley had enjoyed themselves and would soon be on their way to Sydney on a chartered flight. Tomorrow, they would fly to Port Douglas in Far North Queensland where they would spend four glorious, relaxing weeks by the sea. That was the one thing her father had confessed he missed the most, living in Broken Hill—the sea.
Rose refocused her thoughts into professional mode as she pulled into the hospital car park. She climbed from the car in her strapless dress of burgundy silk which Beverley had chosen for her to wear as bridesmaid.
‘Let’s get going, Rosie,’ Dave called as he headed into the hospital. Rose bristled once again, frowning as she walked after him. Now was not the time for a conversation on her name. He was right, they had a patient to deal with and they’d already wasted more than enough time.
‘Status?’ Dave asked the nurse who met them at the door.
‘BP is up and he’s complaining of more pain.’
‘What’s he been given so far?’ Rose enquired as they continued to walk towards Pre-op.
The nurse rattled off the list of medication and Rose mentally went through what she’d probably use.
‘Go get changed, Rosie, while I check on Jim.’ Dave continued walking down the corridor, effectively dismissing her.
Rose knew he was right but it was the way he’d done it—speaking to her as though she were an intolerable intern. Once she was dressed, she would go see Jim and have a chat with him before anaesthetising him. While she was doing that, Dave had time to get changed and scrubbed. She was still fuming inwardly at his dictatorial attitude as she headed towards Pre-op. As soon as she arrived, Dave gave her an update, being very specific about how long he thought the surgery might take so she knew how long to anaesthetise the patient for.
‘Hello, Jim,’ she said, as she looked down at the man lying on the barouche with his eyes closed. ‘I’m Rose Partridge.’
‘Just get on with it,’ Jim growled without opening his eyes. ‘I know the procedure so yadda, yadda, yadda, just do it, will ya?’
It appeared Jim wasn’t too happy with the turn of events. ‘Certainly,’ Rose replied as she checked his chart for the vital information she’d need in order to anaesthetise him correctly. She asked him the standard set of questions which he answered in clipped tones before telling her exactly what type of drugs she should use and asking whether she wanted him to do it himself as she seemed to be taking all day about it! Rose kept her cool, knowing it was a combination of agitation, nerves and the pethidine he’d already been given.
Once Dave arrived in Theatre, everything progressed smoothly. Again, Rose was impressed with his skill. An appendicectomy was a routine operation but he performed it with such ease, always monitoring in case things went wrong. A few minutes after the small organ had been removed, it burst with little prompting inside the kidney dish.
‘Perfect timing,’ Dave announced to his theatre staff. His blue gaze settled on Rose briefly and she noted a twinkle in his eyes. ‘Just as well you didn’
t take any longer to catch that bouquet at the wedding, Rosie.’
‘Oh, tell us about it,’ one of the nurses asked as Dave once again checked the area for any sign of leakage from the appendix.
Rose glared at him, cross that he’d brought up her personal life within the bounds of Theatre. He raised his eyebrows slightly before turning his attention back to his work.
Rose had never liked mixing business with pleasure, yet here he was doing just that. At her old hospital, she’d kept herself to herself, associating with her colleagues in a businesslike and professional manner. They didn’t socialise together, they worked together—and as far as she was concerned, never the twain should meet. She didn’t agree with personal relationships with colleagues as she’d seen it cause all sorts of problems.
And then there had been Julian, a small voice reminded her. Well, he hadn’t been a medical professional and even though she’d met him while he’d been working at the hospital, it wasn’t really the same thing.
Her friends had been gathered from her outside interests and although one or two of them might have known medical colleagues of hers, they respected her wishes and kept the two aspects of her life separate.
Now here was Dave, not only telling the staff about the events at her father’s wedding but calling her Rosie in front of them, to boot! They really needed to talk—and soon.
Dave directed her to reverse the anaesthetic and headed off to write up his notes. Once Rose was satisfied with Jim’s recovery status, she left him in the capable hands of the nurses and headed back to the change rooms. She hoped that Dave was still around as she wanted to have that chat with him.
She went back to Recovery, not sure where he might be. The nurses there thought he might have gone to the ward but instead of sending Rose on a wild-goose chase, trying to find him, they called down to the ward only to be told that he wasn’t there.
‘He’s turned your head already, hasn’t he?’ one of the nurses said with a nod. ‘He’s a looker, that Dave. Why, if I wasn’t wedded to my childhood sweetheart, I’d be giving the single females in this town a run for their money.’
‘No, she’s not Dave’s type,’ the other nurse, who was probably old enough to be Dave’s mother, replied.
‘Oh, Sadie,’ the first nurse remarked. ‘How do you know what Dave’s type is or isn’t?’
‘She’s a blonde,’ Sadie replied, and Rose bristled at being talked about rather than talked to. ‘And Dave doesn’t go for blondes, even if she does look good in a posh dress.’
‘He does so go for blondes. His wife was a blonde—wasn’t she?’
‘That’s why he doesn’t go for them, and she was a city slicker just like Rosie here.’
Rose was about to ask whether she needed to be here for the conversation, but the mention of Dave’s wife intrigued her. So he’d been married. Was he divorced? Had his wife died? Rose wasn’t sure why she found the information intriguing and in some ways she resented being told that she wasn’t his type—not that she wanted to be—just that she thought, as the man was all grown up, perhaps he could decide for himself who was or wasn’t his type.
‘He told us how you caught Beverley’s bouquet,’ the first nurse continued, looking directly at Rose this time. ‘And how he caught the garter. How romantic.’
‘Ha! Nothing remotely romantic about young Dave,’ Sadie snorted. ‘He probably just did that to hurry things up. He knew he had to get back here as soon as possible.’ She turned to look at Rose. ‘He’s not answering so I’d say he’s gone home. You should do the same.’
‘Ah…all right. Please, call me if you have any problems with Jim tonight, although,’ Rose added as they all looked across to where he was snoring peacefully, ‘I doubt it.’
As she walked out of the hospital, the heat hit her once more. Did it ever cool off in this town? She dug her keys out of her bag and headed over to where she’d parked her car. It was then she realised there was a dark silhouette leaning against it, and for one heart-stopping second she faltered. She should have asked a security guard to walk her out—then she remembered that she hadn’t seen a security guard.
‘It’s just me.’ Dave’s deep voice was instantly recognisable and she shivered, not sure whether it was from fright or nervous anticipation. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you.’
Rose continued towards him, trying desperately to ignore the sudden racing of her heart. ‘Is there a problem?’
‘No.’
Rose stopped not far from him, now able to see him more clearly due to the lights that surrounded the car park. She couldn’t get through to the driver’s door because of the six feet four inches of solid male that was blocking her way. Again, she caught the scent of him and clenched her jaw. This had to stop. She didn’t even know this man, let alone like him.
‘Then would you mind moving, please?’ She kept her tone polite and impersonal, not able to bring her gaze up to meet his but focusing on the sun-kissed skin of his upper chest that peeked out from beneath his partially unbuttoned shirt. It would have been safer to look at his eyes, she realised, and did just that.
‘I sensed,’ he began as he shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his shorts, ‘that you wanted to talk to me.’
‘And we couldn’t do that inside the hospital?’
‘I also sensed that you wanted privacy.’
‘Then try sensing that I’m extremely tired and would like to go home.’
‘Rosie.’
‘Don’t call me that,’ she snapped. She ran her fingers through her hair. ‘Sorry. It’s just that the last few days have been extremely exhausting and I’m very tired.’
‘Why don’t you like being called Rosie?’ He frowned, staying where he was. ‘It suits you.’
‘Whether it suits me or not is completely irrelevant. The fact that I’m not used to colleagues of mine calling me by a pet name is reason enough for you to stop it.’
He continued to frown but she saw his lips twitch. ‘Actually, I don’t know of any pets who are called Rosie.’
‘David! Stop teasing.’ She was exhausted and she didn’t have time for this.
‘David? Only my mother called me David,’ he added with a laugh. ‘It’s so…formal.’
‘Well, only my father calls me Rosie, which I classify as being informal.’
‘Bev calls you Rosie, too.’
‘That’s different. She’s now a member of my family.’
‘Well, I’m practically that.’
‘Pardon?’
‘I did catch the garter after all.’
Despite her tiredness, Rose felt a smile tug at her lips. Instead, she looked down at the ground and made an attempt to push past him. Big mistake. He didn’t move. She found herself pressed up against a firm, solid, male chest, his huge hands coming up to touch her arms lightly.
‘We’ve got to stop meeting like this,’ he murmured. Before she knew what was happening, he’d bent his head and brushed his lips across hers.
It was only the briefest of touches but it left her feeling breathless and desperately wanting more. Her heart was pounding furiously against her chest and the headache that had taken hold the second she’d pulled out into the Sydney traffic a few days ago vanished into thin air.
‘Goodnight, Rosie,’ he whispered, and in the next instant he walked away.
Rose forced herself to move. To go through the motions of getting into her car and driving back to her father’s house—the house she’d be calling home for the next six months.
What had happened back there? The question was buzzing around in her mind and as she could feel the headache starting to return, she decided it wasn’t worth thinking about. Dave—oh, goodness, she didn’t even know his last name! Dave, with the softest lips she’d ever felt pressed against hers, could just get out of her head!
Four hours later as she tossed and turned in the unfamiliar bed, she realised it was easier said than done.
Dave wandered out onto the verandah that su
rrounded the old weatherboard home and stared out at the night sky. Stars twinkled down at him, making him wonder what on earth he was doing up at this hour. It was just past two o’clock and, try as he might, he’d been unable to get to sleep. And he knew why.
Rosie Partridge.
Why had he kissed her? Although it had only been fleeting, why on earth had he succumbed to the temptation and pressed his lips to hers? Sure, she was an attractive woman, but she wasn’t his type.
He shook his head, trying for the umpteenth time to clear the vision of Rosie from his mind.
‘Just give up, mate,’ he mumbled to himself as he sat down in an old chair and stretched his legs out in front of him. Tomorrow—or, more correctly, today—was Sunday and he’d promised his brother he would help with the northern boundary fencing. That’s where he’d been on Friday evening, when that horrible accident had occurred. He’d heard the crash and had all but flown to the ute where he’d driven like a madman to the scene of the accident. There, he’d found a vision in white, rendering first aid. At first, he’d thought he’d been seeing things—an angel, dressed in white? In the middle of nowhere? Instead, he’d encountered a woman as prickly as an echidna.
Dave rubbed his fingers around the back of his neck and closed his eyes. The scent of her perfume seemed to be embedded deep within his mind and she’d been here for less than forty-eight hours. How was he going to work alongside her for the next six months and keep his hands to himself?
Then he rationalised that he’d always been attracted to women who were supposedly inaccessible. That had been the initial attraction towards Mags. She’d hated that nickname and he’d used it almost constantly near the end of their disastrous marriage.
Now it appeared Rosie didn’t like the nickname he used for her either. Ah…he could pick ’em, all right. The ones who looked great on the outside but weren’t too pretty on the inside. Although, in Rosie’s case, he wasn’t too sure about that.
Dave rested his head against the wall of the house and crossed his arms over his chest. He’d thought he’d outgrown those hormonal tendencies that had him doing things he wouldn’t ordinarily do—like going to Reg’s wedding to pick Rosie up. Anyone could have gone but he had quickly volunteered to be the gofer and he knew why. He’d wanted to see how she’d looked all dressed up and he hadn’t been disappointed with the result.
