by Leah Martyn
‘Whether it’s losing weight or putting on weight, they need to know how to go about it initially. And because we’re specialised, we can supply the answers more comprehensively than perhaps their GP could. Nothing against general practitioners,’ he said with a laugh, raising both hands as if to ward off her expected critical response.
‘And before you begin to imagine I’m filthy rich,’ he continued, ‘I haven’t done any of this on my own. I may have had the idea originally, but the place is owned and run by a consortium. We have accredited coaches, a couple of physios on staff—in fact, here’s one of them now. Morning, Elle.’
‘Matt.’ A tall, leggy blonde clad in white shorts and T-shirt sent him a wide white smile before disappearing through a set of swing doors to what was presumably a staffroom.
‘She seems very young.’ How absurd to feel a twist of resentment! It was none of her business who Matt McKellar chose to work with him.
‘But very capable.’ Following Joanna’s gaze after the young physio, Matt added carefully, ‘And in case you’re concerned, we’re fully insured against accidents.’ He finally completed the tour and walked her back to the entrance. ‘Everyone who joins the club receives a leaflet on its philosophies and workings. Jason should have had one.’
Joanna gave a hollow laugh. ‘It’s probably still at the bottom of his sports bag.’
His mouth twitched into a grin and Joanna found he was holding the door open for her in a display of old-fashioned courtesy.
In a second the atmosphere between them was charged with awareness. Joanna felt her mouth dry. What on earth was going on here? She took a step, hovering in the doorway, as if something beyond her control was delaying her, keeping her within McKellar’s orbit. She swallowed a bit unevenly. ‘Thanks, again, Dr McKellar—Matt.’
‘My pleasure.’
Joanna adjusted her bag, her fingers biting into the soft leather of her shoulder strap. ‘I, uh, feel very reassured now about Jason spending time here.’
Another awkward silence descended over them and Matt broke it, fixing her with a sudden searing blue look. ‘You should be very proud of your son, Joanna. He needn’t have told you anything about the calendar but he obviously respected the values you’ve instilled in him. Take care.’ He raised a hand in a farewell salute and closed the door.
Matt stepped back into the foyer, lifting his hands to bracket his head. Hell’s bells. He took a hard indrawn breath and let it go, and then on impulse he turned, sprinting back up to his office, taking the stairs two at a time. Inside, he was drawn to the window like a thirsting animal to a running stream.
He looked down just in time to see Joanna Winters emerge from the walkway and begin making her way across the car park to stop beside a dark blue nifty little sports car.
Watching her, he felt as though an invisible punch had landed in his solar plexus, robbing him not just of oxygen but of reason as well. And he was only too aware of another tightness elsewhere, an awareness, a longing that had lain dormant for longer than he cared to remember. Too long…
He shook his head. She was lovely. There was a sweet vulnerability about her that was already threatening to drag out the male protectiveness in him. Was he ready for that to happen? He yanked himself up short and with a barely discernible shake of his head turned away from the window.
Hell, after all this time he wouldn’t even know the rules.
Joanna drove towards the Strachan medical practice, her reflexes almost automatic. Slowing for the red traffic light, she studied her hands lying loosely on the steering-wheel. If she hadn’t known better, she’d have said they looked relaxed.
How deceptive appearances could be.
She took a deep breath, swinging round a traffic island to join the line of cars heading over the bridge to the northern side of the city.
‘Damn,’ she murmured quite mildly, easing her car into her usual parking bay at the clinic. She had a full day ahead of her. But how on earth was she going to concentrate? Letting her head go back on the seat for just a second, she closed her eyes and could see Matt McKellar’s magnetic blue eyes, hear the rich huskiness of his voice. She tried his name in her head. Matt. Nice, uncomplicated.
And tell that to the marines, she huffed silently, opening the door and swinging out of the car. Unless she’d completely lost her feminine intuition, there was nothing uncomplicated about McKellar. Stifling a sigh, she retrieved her case from the boot of the car and made her way across to the low-set brick building.
‘Oh, don’t you look terrific!’ Steffi Phillips, the practice receptionist, arched an eyebrow. ‘Lunch date?’
‘Nice thought.’ Joanna’s mouth tipped into a wry smile. ‘What do you have for me, Stef?’
‘You’re booked solid.’ Steffi lowered her voice to add, ‘And Moya Kirkland’s been here since nine o’clock. She’s listed for an excision at ten. A bit uptight, poor pet.’
Joanna glanced at her watch. It was fifteen minutes to the hour. ‘Well, let’s not keep her fretting.’ She took the pile of patient cards Steffi had ready for her. ‘Show Mrs Kirkland into the small treatment room, please, Stef. I’ll buzz Kate to get her prepped.’
A few minutes later, Joanna made her way along the tiled corridor to the treatment room. It was hardly high-powered medicine she practised these days, she reflected and wondered whether after almost six years in general practice, she was subconsciously looking for a change.
Forget it, Joanna, she chided inwardly. With a teenager who outgrew his clothes almost weekly and who ate as much as two grown men, she needed a regular income. This was no time to start being picky about her career.
Pushing aside the cheerful peach and gold-patterned curtain, she greeted her elderly patient. ‘Good morning, Moya. All ready for your little op?’
‘I do hope so, Doctor.’ The anxiety in Moya’s eyes moderated slightly at Joanna’s warm manner.
‘You’ll be fine.’ Joanna double-checked the notes. Moya’s blood pressure was normal and, apart from the recurring problem relating to sun-damaged skin on her face and the backs of her hands, she enjoyed reasonably good health. Today, though, Moya looked unusually small and vulnerable, her neat black shoes placed side by side under the chair at the foot of the treatment couch, her large shopping bag placed on the chair itself.
Joanna stroked back the elderly woman’s hair gently, revealing a red, scaly patch running parallel with the lower end of her eyebrow at the temple. ‘We’ve treated this twice with freezing, Moya,’ she commented. ‘But it’s a stubborn one. I’ll excise it for you today. That should stop it in its tracks.’
Moya’s pale eyes fluttered briefly. ‘I trust you to do the right thing by me, dear.’
Taking Moya’s hand, Joanna exchanged a smile with Kate, the practice nurse. ‘Are we right to go?’
Kate nodded, indicating the small trolley she’d set out ready for the procedure.
‘Now, Moya, I’m just going to wash my hands and then we’ll start off by giving you a local anaesthetic,’ Joanna explained gently. ‘It’ll make the side of your face quite numb so you won’t feel any discomfort when I operate.’
She heard the old lady’s long sigh before she closed her eyes.
Gowned and gloved, Joanna expertly drew up the lignocaine. ‘This will pack quite a sting, Moya,’ she warned, and began slowly infiltrating the area. Stoic little pet, she thought, disposing of the needle into a sharps container. ‘We’ll need to wait a little while and then I’ll whip off this nasty little number and stitch you back nice and neatly.’
‘Could I still go along to my bingo, Dr Winters? I always go on a Wednesday. It’s on at St James’s church hall.’
‘If you’re feeling OK when we’ve finished, I don’t see any reason why not,’ Joanna said. ‘Perhaps we could arrange a taxi for you down to the hall.’
Moya clicked her tongue. ‘I don’t need a taxi, dear. It’s only half a block away. Besides,’ she added, a serene little smile curving her mouth, ‘my friend
Edward’s outside, waiting for me. We’ll walk along together. There’ll be a nice cuppa tea when we get there.’ Her brow puckered fleetingly. ‘I won’t look a fright, will I?’
‘No, Moya, you won’t.’ Joanna stifled a chuckle, winking at Kate as she adjusted the sterile drape. ‘Your hair will camouflage most of it anyway.’
Satisfied the area around the lesion was now quite numb, Joanna picked up a scalpel and began to work swiftly, relieved when she got the entire scaly top section off almost complete. It looked quite inoffensive lying on the plastic slide, but only expert analysis would reaffirm that it was so.
And with Queensland having one of the highest rates of sun cancers in the world, health professionals had to be ever-vigilant when patients presented with even the merest trace of skin damage.
Twenty minutes later Joanna had finished. ‘There you are, Moya, all done.’
‘Fancy!’ her elderly patient said in some amazement. ‘I didn’t feel a thing.’
Joanna chuckled. ‘I should hope not. This dressing will need to be replaced each day, Moya. It’s only a patch and quite easy to remove if you soften the edges with warm salty water. Try not to get the actual wound area wet, though. Just ask for Cutiplast at the chemist. They’ll be able to fix you up with a supply. Would you like me to jot all that down for you?’
Moya looked relieved. ‘That might be helpful, thank you, Doctor.’
‘Right, I’ll do that now, while Kate’s clearing away,’ Joanna said kindly. ‘Then pop back in a week and I’ll remove the stitches and we’ll have a chat about the lab result.’
‘I’m most grateful for all the care you’ve taken.’
‘You’re welcome, Moya.’ Tugging off her gown, Joanna aimed it at the bin. Another satisfied customer. She went out into the corridor. Perhaps general practice did have its moments after all.
Walking past Reception to her own consulting room, she was deep in thought. Steffi had to hail her twice before she registered. ‘Call for you.’ The receptionist held the receiver aloft, her hand over the mouthpiece. ‘Dr McKellar.’
Joanna stopped short, the speed with which he’d moved sending her heart fluttering in alarm. A wave of sheer panic hollowed out her insides, yet her body began to sing, more alive than it had been for an age.
‘Ah…’ She clamped her bottom lip. ‘Switch it through, please, Stef. I’ll take it in my office.’
CHAPTER TWO
JOANNA moved across to her desk, the blinking light on the phone telling her the call had been connected. Taking a deep, calming breath, she picked up the receiver and said crisply, ‘Joanna Winters.’
‘Hi, Joanna. It’s Matt McKellar.’
His voice startled her, its deep tones raising goose-bumps all over her arms. ‘Matt—hello.’
‘Hello, yourself.’
The tension suddenly left her in a laughing question. ‘Did I forget something?’
‘No—but I did. I meant to invite you to a barbecue on Saturday week. Might be a good chance for you to link up with some of the people associated with the centre and with the other parents as well. That’s if you’re free, of course.’
Joanna heard the almost boyish eagerness in his voice and melted inside. ‘Yes, I should be. Thanks. It sounds fun. Where and what time?’
‘We’re just finalising the arrangements. I’ll let you know the details via Jason. OK?’
‘Fine.’ She found she was holding the receiver like a lifeline. ‘Thanks again.’
Matt put the phone down, refusing to give house room to the mocking voice that questioned his motives in manufacturing a reason to contact Joanna Winters so quickly. He scrubbed lean fingers across his cheeks, feeling his stomach turn upside down. He hadn’t been able to help himself. Perhaps it would turn out to be no more than a one-sided physical attraction. Whatever, he seemed compelled to find out.
Picking up the phone once more, he punched out his sister’s number. It wasn’t much notice but Deb would come through for him, he was sure…
‘The guys for your quit-smoking group are all assembled.’ Elle popped her head round the door. ‘I’ve given them their name-tags.’
‘Thanks. I’ll be right there.’ Matt clicked the phone back on its rest. No answer. He’d catch Deb later. ‘Oh, Elle?’ He swung off his chair. ‘I’m arranging a barbecue for staff and parents of the junior lads’ basketball team for Saturday week. Could you run off some flyers, please?’ He sent her a hopeful, crooked grin. ‘Same details as we had for last month’s. It’ll be at my sister’s again.’
Elle rolled her eyes. ‘It’s time we got some permanent office help around here, Matthew.’
‘Leave it with me.’ He shot out of his office and began sprinting down the stairs towards one of the small conference rooms.
Elle looked narrowly after him. Now what’s got the usually reserved Dr McKellar all fired up and perky this morning? she wondered.
Five professional sports people had shown up for Matt’s clinic. His eyes lit with enthusiasm. ‘Congratulations, people. You’ve taken the first step towards chucking your addiction to tobacco.’
‘Not a good look for a sports jock, is it, Doc?’ Chris Kinnane, a young fair-haired member of the senior basketball team, sat back in his chair, arms folded across his chest. ‘The young kids look up to us. I feel guilty every time I light up.’
There was a general murmur of agreement around the table.
‘My husband and I want to try for a baby next year.’ Melissa Jackson, the only female in the group, was already looking discouraged. ‘This is my third attempt to give up.’
‘I’d be happy if I could just cut down,’ Ben Arthur, a well-known long-distance runner, said ruefully.
‘Cutting down is good,’ Matt said carefully. ‘But stopping should be your goal. And don’t be fooled into thinking smoking lower-strength cigarettes will make a difference. It won’t—you’ll just inhale harder.’
There were discreet groans from several of the assembly.
‘So, where do we start, Doc?’
Matt looked around the group with an air of optimism. He loved this part of his job, the teaching part. It was affirming, positive and so rewarding when your patients felt empowered enough to make this great change towards a healthier lifestyle.
‘You’re all here because you want to quit smoking,’ he said. ‘So, for the moment, let’s just concentrate on the positives. And remember there aren’t any miracles. The power to quit has to come from within yourselves.’
‘I smoke around twenty a day,’ Melissa confessed almost defiantly, pleating a strand of pale blonde hair behind her ear. ‘If I gave up properly, how soon would I notice a difference in my health?’
‘Quite quickly.’ Matt turned his head towards her. ‘After only six hours your heart rate and blood pressure begin decreasing. After twenty-four hours the carbon monoxide is out of your system. Your lungs are already beginning to function more efficiently. After three months, and this is good news for you especially, Mel, there’s a definite increase in your fertility.’
‘Oh.’ Melissa blushed. ‘That quickly?’
Matt nodded. ‘And better still, and this goes for all of you, after five years your risk of a heart attack is almost the same as for a non-smoker.’
There was a ripple of optimism around the oval table. A new sense of purpose amongst the group.
‘Bring on the old will-power, then, eh, Doc?’ Chris twitched his mouth into a rueful grin.
‘The same way you use it to excel in your chosen sports. If you want it enough…’ Matt palmed his hands and then brought them together in a unifying gesture ‘…you’ll do it. Today, I’m going to give each of you a calendar. I want you to make a decision now and write down the date you will quit smoking.’
‘’Struth.’ Ben Arthur chewed his bottom lip. ‘I don’t know if I can do that, Doc.’
‘All I’m asking you to do, Ben, is to set yourself a quit day,’ Matt stated calmly. ‘After that, I’ll speak to each of you i
ndividually and we’ll do some preparation that hopefully will give you your best chance of success. Remember, we’re here to support you, not judge you.’
‘In that case, then…’ Ben began poring over the calendar Matt placed in front of him.
Joanna dropped with a sigh onto the big old-fashioned sofa in her lounge room, eased off her shoes and tucked her feet under her bottom. Friday evening at last. Two days since she’d met Matt McKellar.
Reaching across to the side table, she picked up the glass of wine she’d poured earlier. She took a mouthful, letting the cool sweetness linger in her mouth for a second before she swallowed it.
Matt.
She snuggled deeper into the sofa, remembering his smile, fleeting, almost gone before it was properly there. Her mouth folded into a soft contemplative moue. Perhaps he was merely out of practice. But why? And, more to the point, why on earth were her thoughts so occupied with the man? Why were her hormones singing, snapping to attention as if she were sixteen again, for heaven’s sake!
‘Jason?’ She turned her head, wincing as the front door was flung open and banged shut. ‘I’m in here.’
Bounding into the room, her son skidded to a stop. ‘Hi.’ He flopped onto the other end of the sofa. ‘What’s to eat?’
They exchanged mother-to-son grins. ‘Dinner in fifteen minutes. Can you wait that long?’
‘I guess.’
‘How was training?’
‘Good,’ the boy said economically. ‘And you’ll be pleased to know I’m not in the calendar shoot.’
‘Oh?’ Joanna felt her heart pick up its rhythm. On one hand, she felt elated Matt had come through for her, but on the other she’d have had to be made of rock not to sense her son’s disappointment.
‘We’re not doing it at all.’ Jason hooked one leg over the arm of the settee. ‘Matt’s lined up a couple of corporate sponsors to pay for the new abseiling gear and he said we’ll run a mega-raffle to raise the bucks for the canteen.’
Joanna sat forward and swung her feet to the floor. Heavens! She hadn’t meant McKellar to go that far!
