The Doctor's Rebel Knight

by MELANIE MILBURNE

  Fran snagged her lip with her teeth and concentrated on stirring her coffee, which, because she didn’t take sugar or milk was rather a superfluous thing to do. She wondered if he would notice. Cops were pretty good at that sort of thing. ‘Yes,’ she said, putting down the teaspoon with a little ping on the bench. ‘I live alone.’

  ‘You’re right about the cooking-for-one-person thing,’ he said, raising his cup to his lips and taking a sip.

  Fran cradled her cup in her hands as she looked at him. How could a man look so sexy just drinking coffee? she wondered. In fact, how could a man look so damned sexy in a police uniform that in spite of his quick clean-up was still dusty and a little crumpled?

  ‘Oh?’ she said, trying to keep track of the conversation while her mind was conjuring up images of him without his uniform, like the day she had seen him on the beach, tanned and glistening, those long, strong muscular legs powering through the sand…

  ‘Yeah,’ he said, putting his cup down to take the slice of cake she’d placed on a plate for him. ‘I’ve been on my own now for five months and three days. Don’t know the hours but that’s close enough.’

  ‘Is that the sound of a heart that hasn’t quite mended?’ Fran asked.

  He gave her a twisted smile. ‘No, that’s the sound of a man who is relieved he doesn’t have to answer to someone day in day out. I lock people up all the time, Dr Nin. Call it hypocritical of me but I don’t like it when someone does it to me.’

  ‘Your…er…wife was the possessive type?’

  ‘Melissa and I were dating, not married. That was my choice, not hers. She wanted the whole shebang, the big society wedding, the two-point-one kids and the nine-to-five husband.’

  He paused for a beat or two before he went on, ‘I’m a cop. There’s no such thing as nine-to-five criminals, or for that matter nine-to-five emergencies. Even if I took a desk job there would be times when duty would have to take priority. And in any case, I wanted to spend some time on the coast with my mother. That was the hammer that drove the last nail in the coffin of our relationship. Melissa didn’t want to share me with a dying woman and I refused to compromise.’

  Fran took a sip of her coffee and wondered if his casual I’m-over-it attitude was covering deeper hurt. Men were often hard to read emotionally. Showing vulnerability was a no-no, particularly in Australian men, and particularly in cops.

  ‘So you live on your own here at Pelican Bay?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes, in a house further down the beach from here,’ he said. ‘It’s pretty secluded. You can see it from the rock pools if you know what you’re looking for. It’s on the top of the cliff.’

  ‘You must have great views.’

  The corner of his mouth twitched slightly. ‘Sometimes the view is better than others.’

  Fran dropped her gaze, wondering if he had seen her on the beach more than once. She had often taken a book down and sat under the spindly sheoak trees near the rock pools. Once, only a couple of days ago, she had taken her bikini top off so she could feel the sun warming her naked flesh. Caro had assured her it was totally private, that hardly anyone came along and if they did you could see them for miles and had time to cover up.

  ‘Nice cake,’ Jacob said, brushing some crumbs onto his plate.

  ‘Thank you,’ Fran said, feeling a blush steal over her cheeks. God, she was so pathetic, clutching at the slightest compliment as if it might be the last she’d ever get. ‘Um…would you like another slice?’

  ‘No, thanks, but another coffee would be good.’

  She poured him another cup and passed him the milk and sugar, watching as he spooned in two and a half teaspoons and a generous dash of milk.

  ‘You didn’t finish telling me what happened to your father,’ she said.

  His expression clouded as it had in the car earlier and she noticed his grip on his coffee mug tightened. ‘It was an armed robbery,’ he said, putting his mug on the bench as if he was afraid he was going to snap its handle. ‘My father was on his own that evening. Two men came in and one cleaned out the till and the other shot my father. He would have lived but by the time help arrived it was too late to save him.’

  Fran felt a shudder of horror go through her. ‘I’m so sorry. How dreadful for you and your poor mother to lose him that way.’

  ‘Yeah,’ he said, picking up his cup and looking at the contents for a moment. ‘It was.’

  ‘Is that why you became a police officer?’ she asked.

  ‘One of the reasons,’ he said, and then after a small silence asked, ‘Have you given any thought to my suggestion?’

  ‘What suggestion was that?’ Fran asked, even though she knew and had been silently dreading this conversation ever since they had left Candi Broderick and her father with the Careflight crew.

  ‘Filling in at the clinic for an hour or two,’ he said, holding her gaze with magnetic force.

  Fran finally dragged her gaze away and toyed with the barely touched cake on her plate, squishing a crumb beneath the pad of her index finger as if it was a tiny ant. ‘It’s not that simple, Sergeant…‘

  He didn’t speak, which she knew was a clever tactic to keep her talking. She’d seen enough crime shows to know how it worked. She would start out determined to keep her mouth closed, but the silence would grow teeth that would gnaw at her until she began to fidget. And he would stand there, like he was doing now, his arms folded against his broad chest, his hips leaning back against the kitchen bench, silently watching her with his I’ve-got-all-the-time-in-the-world pose. And then she would blurt out everything, all the hurt, all the shame of not being able to cope, the sheer terror of reliving it all. And then the nightmares would begin again, and then the panic attacks, and the zombie-like days when it was all she could do to get out of bed, let alone out of the house.

  Fran pulled her shoulders back, her neck protesting as she locked gazes with him. ‘I’m not prepared to commit myself to anything until I have thought it through. I am supposed to be having an extended holiday as well as looking after my sister. I haven’t even visited her in hospital yet. Pelican Bay will have to do without me, Sergeant Hawke, as I have other priorities right now.’

  Fran was proud of her speech. She had made it sound so in control and assured, so nothing-you-can-say-will-sway-me. But then he came around the island bench where she was standing and stood right in front of her, invading her personal space, making every shallow breath she took bring her breasts almost into intimate contact with his chest. She had never been more acutely aware of her body or, in fact, anyone else’s. Every nerve was jangling, fizzing with sensation beneath her skin. Her nostrils filled with the primal male scent of him, the warmth of his body and the late-day perspiration that should have repelled her but for some reason did exactly the opposite.

  Her eyes went to his mouth, her tongue darting out to wet them in case he kissed her. Her heart gave an almighty thump. Was he going to kiss her? Oh, God, she should have brushed her teeth while she’d had the chance. She should have at the very least rinsed with mouthwash. But, then, she’d just had a sip or two of coffee so—

  ‘I want you to think about something, Dr Nin,’ he said in a gravel-rough tone that made her skin lift all over.

  She swallowed, not just a tiny swallow, but a melon-sized one. ‘Y-yes?’

  His arctic eyes were like ice picks pinning hers. ‘When you drive up to visit your sister, I hope for your sake each and every one of the towns you pass through has a qualified doctor in residence in case you happen to need medical assistance along the way.’

  Fran blinked, she thought it was probably for the first time in a whole minute, maybe longer. ‘Are you planning on riding that motorbike of yours any time soon on the same roads I will be using?’ she asked in an arch tone.

  His eyes wrestled with hers but she refused to give in. She held him stare for stare, her heart beating so fast it felt like the percussion sections from three orchestras had taken up residence inside her chest.


  After what seemed a week he stepped away from her. Picking up his police hat from the seat of one of the kitchen stools where he’d placed it earlier, he put it on his head, so low it shielded his eyes. ‘If I do I will be making a special effort to keep an eye out for you,’ he said with a hint of mockery in his tone.

  Fran kept her mouth tightly closed, watching as he strode to the door, her stomach feeling hollow when the door clicked shut on his exit.

  Rufus tilted his head from side to side in doggy confusion, a soft whine that sounded so mournful Fran glared at him. ‘Don’t you start,’ she said, and then as he gave her a hangdog look she sank to the floor and, wrapping her arms around his shaggy neck, hugged him close. ‘Sorry,’ she said, wondering why she felt so close to tears.

  Chapter Four

  ‘OH, MY gosh, they’re absolutely gorgeous!’ Fran breathed as she looked through the neonatal nursery window at tiny Joshua and Timmy.

  ‘Timmy’s still having some trouble breathing on his own,’ Caro said. ‘They’re still not sure if he will need to go to Sydney but so far so good. But Joshua’s doing well. I was able to feed him with some expressed milk earlier.’ She gave a heavy sigh and added, ‘I just wish I could take them both home right now.’

  Fran tucked her arm through her sister’s. ‘Hang in there, Caro,’ she said. ‘You need to concentrate on the twins’ health right now and, anyway, everything’s fine at home.’

  ‘Yes, thanks to you it is,’ Caro said as they made their way back to her room on the ward. ‘I ran into Jane Pelleri in the hospital cafeteria. You saved little Ella’s life. Everyone’s talking about it and about how you helped Candi Broderick after her fall off her horse. You didn’t mention a word to me or Nick last time we spoke. Why not?’

  ‘I didn’t want to worry you both,’ Fran said. And because I didn’t actually save Ella’s life. ‘You’d just had the boys and it all happened so fast in any case.’

  Caro gave her a big sister I’m-older-and-wiser look. ‘But doesn’t that tell you something?’

  Fran blew out a breath. ‘Look, it you’re going to join Sergeant Hawke’s mission to have me settle in Pelican Bay as the local GP, forget it. The right person for the job will come along soon enough and I am definitely not it.’

  ‘But what if you are the right person, Fran?’

  Fran screwed up her mouth. ‘If I was, then the town—as they say in those old westerns—is not going to be big enough for both of us.’

  Caro’s brows lifted and her eyes twinkled. ‘So it’s pistols at dawn with Sergeant Hawke, is it?’

  Fran flicked her hair back behind her shoulders. ‘I can’t remember when I’ve met a more annoying man. He gets under my skin. I think he does it deliberately. And then I find out he’s just lost his mother after a long illness and I felt such a fool for shouting at him for cutting me off that day because apparently he’d just got the call and was rushing to get back, but how was I supposed to know that? He never said a word. In fact no one said a word. I would have apologised then and there but he never said a thing. Then he came around for coffee and just stood there, making me feel uncomfortable. I can’t seem to win with him. I don’t know why he’s so…so infuriating!’

  ‘Gosh, I’m sorry. I should have told you about his mother but the twins arriving early totally distracted me.’

  Fran gawped at her sister. ‘You knew?’

  Caro winced. ‘Sorry, but Beryl told me he wanted it kept pretty quiet. I think only she and Jim Broderick knew about it until a day or so ago.’

  Fran flicked her eyes upwards in frustration. ‘You could have told me. I made a complete and utter fool of myself.’

  ‘Ah-h…’ Caro sighed.

  Fran gave her sister a beady look. ‘What was that sigh for?’

  Caro’s expression was guileless. ‘What sigh?’

  ‘You know what sigh,’ Fran said, scowling. ‘That big sister-I-know-something-you-don’t-know sigh.’

  ‘What would it hurt to give Jacob’s suggestion a try?’ Caro asked.

  Fran narrowed her eyes. ‘How do you know about Sergeant Hawke’s suggestion?’

  Caro pointed to the two little blue teddy bears dressed in football jerseys propped up next to a bunch of flowers on her bedside table. ‘Because he ran into Nick downstairs about an hour before you did. I was in the nursery, feeding the bubs, so I didn’t actually speak to him personally. He was on his way to a court case in Sydney and dropped in on his way through. Nick told me Jacob thought you should put in some hours at the clinic. It sounds like a great idea, don’t you think?’

  Fran pursed her lips so tightly they felt like they were stitched in place.

  ‘It’s not like anyone’s asking you to do it full time,’ her sister went on. ‘Just a day or two a week for a couple of hours, four at the most, until a new locum is found.’

  Fran turned to look out of the window, her shoulders hunched, her arms crossed over her chest. ‘Did Nick tell him what happened?’ she asked when she could trust herself to speak.

  ‘Of course he didn’t!’ Caro sounded wounded. ‘A promise is a promise, even if both Nick and I think it’s a totally stupid one.’

  Fran rolled her eyes again. ‘It’s not stupid to me. I want to rebuild my life my way with no one looking at me with pity in their eyes.’

  ‘Jacob’s a cop, Frannie,’ Caro said. ‘He’s probably had to deal with the same stuff you did lots of times in his career. I bet he’s had lots of drug addicts throw punches and kicks at him, maybe even pull a knife on him or even worse—a gun. I reckon he’s the one person in town who would understand what you’ve been through.’

  Fran limped over to where she had placed her handbag earlier and hoisted it over her shoulder. ‘No one can do that, Carolyn,’ she said bitterly. ‘The day Scott Draper attacked me I changed and I can’t change back. No amount of understanding is going to do that.’

  ‘You’re letting him win, don’t you see that?’ Caro said. ‘You’re letting a drunken drug addict who didn’t even know what he was doing at the time take your life away from you.’

  ‘Don’t lecture me on what I should do,’ Fran said tightly, feeling her emotions bubbling up inside her at the injustice of it all. ‘You weren’t there. You don’t know what it was like.’

  ‘You have to put it behind you, Fran,’ Caro insisted. ‘Mum and Dad put their lives on hold for you for three months while you got back on your feet. Now it’s your turn to do your bit to aid your recovery. You have to put in an effort. I know it’s hard, honey. But I’m here for you and the whole of Pelican Bay will support you if you would let them know about it, I just know they would.’

  Fran knew some of what her sister said was right. Her parents had lived every day of the month she had been in an induced coma not knowing whether their youngest daughter would ever breathe on her own again, let alone practise medicine again. They had helped her through the long, slow rehabilitation process, every day helping her get to and from physiotherapy sessions, tirelessly supporting her until she was able to regain her independence.

  It had been just as hard for Caro, living miles away with her husband, travelling back and forth during the first gruelling months of her pregnancy to visit her, doing what she could to help.

  ‘I know at some point I will have to move on,’ Fran said, letting her bag slip from her shoulder as she came over to her sister’s bed. ‘I know I have to put the past behind me. I just have to. But I’m scared.’ She buried her head into the soft pillow of her sister’s chest, sighing as Caro’s arms wrapped around her. ‘I’m so scared I won’t be able to be the same competent doctor I was before.’

  She lifted her head to meet her sister’s gaze. ‘I nearly lost that child, Caro. I didn’t save her, Jacob did. I totally froze and if it hadn’t been for Jacob taking over…‘ She shuddered and added in a hoarse whisper, ‘I’m just so scared it will happen again and there won’t be anyone around to help me.’

  Caro stroked Fran’s hair, cuddling he
r close with her other arm. ‘I know you are scared, sweetie, but one step at a time, OK?’

  It was a long while before Fran lifted her head again to look at her sister. ‘I’d better get going. Rufus has probably eaten his way through the sofa and the coffee tables by now.’

  Caro smiled. ‘I think he’s well on his way to falling in love with you.’

  Fran got off the bed and picked up her bag, digging for her keys inside it. ‘Yeah, well, a dog is a great companion and all that, but it would be nice if I could get a decent man to do the same.’

  ‘I wasn’t talking about Rufus.’

  Fran’s fingers closed around her keys, her chest feeling as if her hand was doing the very same thing to her heart. ‘You’re imagining things, Caro,’ she said, avoiding her sister’s all-seeing gaze. ‘The man is hardly civil to me. He thinks I’m a lazy layabout city chick with nothing better to do than to work on my tan between skiing holidays.’

  ‘He’s quite a catch, Fran,’ Caro said. ‘And much better looking than anyone you’ve dated in the past.’

  Fran tried to bring some of past boyfriends’ features to mind but it was a bit of a blur, although she didn’t think she should tell her sister that. It sounded so shallow of her to not even be able to picture even one of them mentally, especially as there had only been three and only one of them had been relatively serious.

  ‘Jacob Hawke’s OK, I guess,’ she said in an offhand tone. ‘But he rides a donor cycle which is a definite strike against him.’

  Caro’s forehead became a road map of fine lines. ‘A donor cycle? What the hell is a donor cycle?’

  ‘It’s what A and E doctors call motorbikes,’ Fran answered. ‘I always swore after I did a term in neurosurgery when I was a registrar that I would never get involved with a man who rode a motorbike. Head injuries are so common. It’s too dangerous.’

  ‘Maybe he likes to live a little dangerously,’ Caro said, her eyes glinting mischievously. ‘I think he looks amazingly sexy in his police uniform, and when he’s in all that black leather riding gear it makes me think of-’