Summer Kisses

by Sarah Morgan

  ‘When you’re young, yes. But he’s old enough to know better. They should be banned for everyone over twenty-one.’ Lexi shuddered. ‘Thank goodness you have more sense. It’s a relief you’re past all that.’

  Jenna blinked. She was thirty-three. Was thirty-three really past it? Perhaps it was. By thirty-three you’d discovered that fairy tales were for children, that men didn’t ride up with swords to rescue you; they were more likely to run you down while looking at the pretty girl standing behind you.

  Resolutely she blocked that train of thought. She’d promised herself that she wasn’t going to do that. She wasn’t going to generalise and blame the entire male race for Clive’s shortcomings. She wasn’t going to grow old bitter and twisted, giving Lexi the impression that all men were selfish losers. It wasn’t men who had hurt her; it was Clive. One man—not all men.

  It was Clive who had chosen to have a rampant affair with a trainee lawyer barely out of college. It was Clive who had chosen to have sex on his desk without bothering to lock the door. There were moments when Jenna wondered if he’d done it on purpose, in the hope of being caught so he could prove how virile he was.

  She frowned. Virile? If she’d been asked for a word to describe Clive, it certainly wouldn’t have been virile. That would have been like describing herself as sexy, and she would never in a million years describe herself as sexy.

  When had she ever had wild sex with a man while still wearing all her clothes? No one had ever been that desperate for her, had they? Not even Clive. Certainly not Clive.

  When Clive had come home from the office they’d talked about household accounts, mending the leaking tap, whether or not they should have his mother for the weekend. Never had he walked through the door and grabbed her, overwhelmed by lust. And she wouldn’t have wanted him to, Jenna admitted to herself. If he had grabbed her she would have been thinking about all the jobs she still had to do before she could go to bed.

  Blissfully unaware that her mother was thinking about sex, Lexi scuffed her trainer on the ground. ‘There would have been loads for me to do in London. Cool stuff, not digging up bits of pot from muddy ground. I could have done my own thing.’

  ‘There will be lots of things to do here.’

  ‘On my own. Great.’

  ‘You’ll make friends, Lex.’

  ‘What if I don’t? What if everyone hates me?’

  Seeing the insecurity in her daughter’s eyes, Jenna hugged her, not confessing that she felt exactly the same way. Still, at least the people here wouldn’t be gossiping about her disastrous marriage. ‘They won’t hate you. You make friends easily, and everyone on this island is friendly.’ Please let them be friendly. ‘That’s why we’re here.’

  Lexi leaned on the rail and stared at the island mournfully. ‘Change is the pits.’

  ‘Change often feels difficult, but it can turn out to be exciting.’ Jenna parroted the words, hoping she sounded more convincing than she felt. ‘Life is full of possibilities.’

  ‘Not stuck here, it isn’t. Face it, Mum. It’s crap.’

  * * *

  Ryan McKinley stood with his legs braced and his arms folded. His eyes stung from lack of sleep, he’d had no time to shave, and his mind was preoccupied by thoughts of the little girl with asthma he’d seen during the night. He dug his mobile out of his pocket and checked for missed calls and messages but for once there were none—which meant that the child was probably still sleeping peacefully. Which was what he would have been doing, given the choice.

  As the ferry approached the quay, he slipped the phone back into his pocket, trying not to think of the extra hour he could have spent in bed.

  Why had Evanna insisted that he be the one to meet the new practice nurse? If he hadn’t known that the woman had a teenage daughter, he would have suspected Evanna of matchmaking. He’d even thought of mentioning his suspicions to Logan McNeil, his colleague and the senior partner in the Glenmore Medical Centre. If she was planning something, Logan would probably know, given that Evanna was his wife. Wife, mother, midwife and—Ryan sighed—friend. She was a loyal, caring friend.

  In the two years he’d been living on the island she’d done everything she could to end his hermit-like existence. It had been Evanna who had dragged him into island life, and Evanna who had insisted that he help out when the second island doctor had left a year earlier.

  He hadn’t been planning to work, but the work had proved a distraction from his thoughts, as she’d guessed it would. And it was different enough from his old job to ensure that there were no difficult memories. Different had proved to be good. The shift in pace and pressure just what he’d needed. But, as grateful as he was to his colleague’s wife for forcing him out of his life of self-imposed isolation, he refused to go along with her need to see him in a relationship.

  There were some things that wouldn’t change.

  ‘Hi, Dr McKinley. You’re up early—’ A pretty girl strolled over to him, her hair swinging over her shoulders, her adoring gaze hopeful. ‘Last night was fun, wasn’t it?’

  ‘It was a good night, Zoe.’ Confronted with the realities of living as part of a small island community, Ryan chose his words carefully. This was the drawback of living and working in the same place, he mused. He was her doctor. He knew about her depression and the battle she’d had to get herself to this point. ‘You looked as though you were enjoying yourself. It was good to see you out. I’m glad you’re feeling better.’

  He’d spent the evening trying to keep the girl at a safe distance without hurting her feelings in front of her friends. Aware that her emotions were fragile, he hadn’t wanted to be the cause of any more damage—but he knew only too well how important it was to keep that distance.

  ‘I wasn’t drinking alcohol. You told me not to with those tablets.’

  ‘Probably wise.’

  ‘I—’ She pushed her thumbs into the pockets of her jeans, slightly awkward. ‘You know—if you ever wanted to go out some time—’ She broke off and her face turned scarlet. ‘I shouldn’t have said that. Millions of girls want to go out with you, I know. Sorry. Why would someone like you pick a screwball like me?’

  ‘You’re not a screwball.’ Ryan wondered why the most difficult conversations always happened at the most awkward times. The ferry was docking and he was doing a consultation on the quay, within earshot of a hundred disembarking passengers. And, as if that wasn’t enough, she was trying to step over a line he never allowed a patient to cross. ‘You’re suffering from depression, Zoe, and that’s an illness like any other.’

  ‘Yes, I know. You made me see that.’ Painfully awkward, she rubbed her toe on the hard concrete of the quay. ‘You’ve been great, Dr McKinley. Really great. I feel better about everything, now. More able to cope, you know? And I just wondered if—’

  Ryan cut her off before she went too far and said something that couldn’t be unsaid. ‘Apart from the fact I’m your doctor, and I’d be struck off if I said yes, I’m way too old for you.’ Too old. Too cynical. ‘But I’m pleased you feel like dating. That’s good, Zoe. And, judging from the way the men of Glenmore were flocking around you last night, you’re not short of admirers, so I think you should go for it. Pick someone you like and get yourself out there.’

  Her wistful glance told him exactly who was top of her list, and she gazed at him for a moment before giving a short laugh. ‘You’re refusing me.’

  ‘Yes.’ Ryan spoke firmly, not wanting there to be any mistake. ‘I am. But in the nicest possible way.’

  Zoe was looking at him anxiously. ‘I’ve embarrassed you—’

  ‘I’m not embarrassed.’ Ryan searched for the right thing to say, knowing that the correct response was crucial both for her self-esteem and their future relationship. ‘We’ve talked a lot over the past two months, Zoe. You’ve trusted me with things you probably haven’t told other people. It’s not unusual for that type of confidence to make you feel a bit confused about your own feelings. If it
would help, you can change doctors.’

  ‘I’m not confused, Dr McKinley. And I don’t want to change doctors. You’ve got such a way with words, and I’ve never known a man listen like you—I suppose that’s why I—’ She shrugged. ‘Maybe I will date one of those guys.’ She smiled up at him. ‘That archaeologist who’s hanging around this summer is pretty cool.’

  ‘Interesting guy,’ Ryan agreed, relieved that she didn’t appear to be too heartbroken by his rejection.

  ‘What about you, Dr McKinley? Why are you waiting for the ferry? Are you meeting a woman?’

  ‘In a manner of speaking. Our new practice nurse is arriving today. Reinforcements.’ And he had a favour to ask her. He just hoped that Jennifer Richards was a big-hearted woman.

  ‘A new nurse?’ There was a wistful note to Zoe’s voice. ‘Well, I know Nurse Evanna needs the help. So what’s this new nurse like? Is she young?’

  ‘She’s coming with her teenage daughter.’ Why had Evanna wanted him to meet her? That question played on his mind as he watched the ferry dock. It could have been an innocent request, but he also knew that his colleague was obsessed with matching people up. She wanted a happy ending.

  Ryan felt the tension spread across his shoulders. He knew life didn’t often offer up happy endings.

  Zoe’s face brightened. ‘If she has a teenage daughter, she must be forty at least. Maybe even older.’ She dismissed the competition. ‘Well, the ferry is on time, so you’re about to meet your nurse.’

  Shaking the sleep out of his brain, Ryan watched as a patchwork of people flowed off the ferry. Businessmen in suits, families clutching bulging beach bags, toddlers in pushchairs. A slightly overweight, middle-aged woman puffed her way towards him carrying a suitcase.

  He didn’t know whether to be relieved that Evanna clearly hadn’t been matchmaking or disappointed that their new practice nurse didn’t look fit enough to work a hard day at the surgery. ‘Jennifer?’ He extended a hand. ‘I’m Dr McKinley. Ryan McKinley. Welcome to Glenmore Island.’

  The woman looked startled. ‘Thank you, but I’m Caroline, not Jennifer. I’m just here for a week with my husband.’ She glanced over her shoulder towards a sweating, balding man, who was struggling with a beach umbrella and an assortment of bags, one of which popped open, spilling the contents onto the quay.

  ‘Oops. Let me help you—’ A slim girl put down her own suitcase, stepped forward and deftly rescued the contents of the bag, her pink mouth curving into a friendly smile as she stuffed everything back inside and snapped the bag firmly shut.

  Ryan’s gaze lingered on that mouth for a full five seconds before shifting to her snaky dark curls. The clip at the back of her head suggested that at one time her hair had been fastened, but it had obviously made an escape bid during the ferry journey and was now tumbling unrestrained around her narrow shoulders. She was pale, and there were dark rings under her eyes—as if she hadn’t had a decent sleep in months. As if life had closed its jaws and taken a bite out of her.

  He recognised the look because for months he’d seen it in his own reflection when he’d looked in the mirror.

  Or maybe he was imagining things. Plenty of people looked tired when they first arrived on the island. It took time to relax and unwind, but by the time they caught the ferry back to the mainland they had colour in their cheeks and the dark circles had gone.

  Doubtless this girl had worked all winter in some grey, smog-filled city, saving up her holiday for a couple of bracing weeks on a remote Scottish island.

  Eyeing the jumper looped around her shoulders, Ryan realised that she obviously knew that summer weather on Glenmore could be unpredictable.

  He watched her for a full minute, surprised by the kindness she showed to a stranger. With no fuss, she helped rearrange his possessions into a manageable load, making small talk about the problems of packing for a holiday in a destination where the weather was unpredictable.

  Having helped the couple, the girl stood for a moment, just breathing in the sea air, as if she hadn’t stood still for ages while the man and his wife carted themselves and their luggage towards the two island taxis.

  ‘The brochures promise you a welcome,’ the woman panted, her voice carrying across the quay, ‘but I didn’t imagine that the island doctor would meet everyone personally. He even shook my hand! That is good service.’

  A faint smile on his lips, Ryan watched them pile into a taxi. Then he stared at the ferry, resisting the temptation to take another look at the girl. He hoped the nurse and her daughter hadn’t missed the boat.

  A hand touched his arm. ‘Did I hear you say that you’re Dr McKinley?’ The girl with the tumbling black hair was beside him, cases by her feet, her voice smoky soft and her eyes sharp and intelligent. ‘I’m Jenna.’

  Ryan looked into her eyes and thought of the sea. Shades of aquamarine, green and blue blended into a shade that was uniquely hers. He opened his mouth and closed it again—tried to look away and found that he couldn’t. So he just carried on staring, and he saw something blossom in the depths of those eyes. Awareness. A connection. As if each recognised something in the other.

  Something gripped him hard—something he hadn’t felt in a long time.

  Shocked by the chemistry, Ryan inhaled sharply and prepared himself to put up barriers, but she got there first.

  Panic flickered across her face and she took a step backwards, clearly rejecting what had happened between them.

  And that was fine with him, because he was rejecting it too.

  He didn’t even know why she’d introduced herself. Was every passenger going to shake his hand this morning?

  Ryan knew he needed to say something casual and dismissive, but his eyes were fixed on the sweet lines of her profile and his tongue seemed to be stuck to the roof of his mouth.

  She wasn’t a girl, he realised. She was a woman. A young woman.

  Mid-twenties?

  And she looked bone tired—as if she was ready to collapse into a big comfortable bed and sleep for a month.

  ‘Sorry. I must have misheard—’ Flustered, she adjusted the bag that hung from her shoulder. ‘I thought I heard you say that you’re Dr McKinley.’

  ‘I did.’

  ‘Oh.’ Her tone suggested that news was unwelcome. Then she stuck out her hand. ‘Right, well, I’m Jennifer Richards. Jenna.’ She left her hand hovering in the space between them for a moment, and then slowly withdrew it as he simply stared at her. ‘What’s wrong? Have I arrived on the wrong day? You look a bit…stunned to see me.’

  Jennifer Richards? Stunned didn’t begin to describe his reaction. Ryan cleared his throat and shook her hand, noticing that her fingers were slim and cool. ‘Right day.’ Wrong description. ‘It’s just that—my partner fed me false information. I was expecting a woman and her teenage daughter.’ Someone about twenty years older. Someone who wasn’t going to make his hormones surge.

  ‘Ah—’ She glanced towards the ferry, her smile tired. ‘Well, I’m the woman, but the teenage daughter is still on the boat, I’m afraid. That’s her, hanging over the side glaring at me. She’s refusing to get off, and I’m still trying to decide how best to handle this particular situation without ruining my reputation before I even take my first clinic. I don’t suppose you have any experience in handling moody teenagers, Dr McKinley?’

  He cleared his throat. ‘None.’

  ‘Shame.’ Her tone was a mixture of humour and weary acceptance. ‘This is one of those occasions when I need to refer to my handbook on teenagers. Stupidly, I packed it at the bottom of the suitcase. Next time it’s going in my handbag and if necessary I’ll ditch my purse. I apologise for her lack of manners.’ She flushed self-consciously and looked away. ‘You’re staring at me, Dr McKinley. You’re thinking I should have better control over my child.’

  Yes, he was staring. Of course he was staring.

  All the men on Glenmore were going to be staring.

  Ryan realised that she was waiti
ng for him to say something. ‘I’m thinking you can’t possibly be old enough to be that girl’s mother. Is she adopted?’ Damn. That wasn’t what he’d meant to say.

  ‘No, she’s all mine. I have sole responsibility for the behavioural problems. But it’s refreshing to hear I don’t look old enough. According to Lexi, I’m a dinosaur. And she’s probably right. I certainly feel past it—particularly right now, when I’m going to have to get firm with her in public. Oh, joy.’ The wind flipped a strand of hair across her face and she anchored it with her fingers. ‘You’re still staring, Dr McKinley. I’m sorry I’m not what you were expecting.’

  So was he.

  He wasn’t ready to feel this. Wasn’t sure he wanted to feel this.

  Mistrusting his emotions, Ryan ran a hand over his neck, wondering what had happened to his powers of speech. ‘You must have been a child bride. Either that or you have shares in Botox.’

  ‘Child bride.’ There was a wistful note to her voice, and something else that he couldn’t decipher. And then she lifted her eyebrows as the girl flounced off the ferry. ‘Well, that’s a first. She’s doing something I want her to do without a row. I wonder what made her co-operate. Lexi—’ she lifted her voice slightly ‘—come and meet Dr McKinley.’

  A slender, moody teenager stomped towards them.

  Ryan, who had never had any trouble with numbers, couldn’t work out how the girl in front of him could be this woman’s daughter. ‘Hi, there. Nice to meet you.’

  Eyes exactly like her mother’s stared back at him. ‘Are you the one who gave my mum this job? You don’t look like anything like a doctor.’

  Ryan wanted to say that Jenna didn’t look like the mother of a teenager, but he didn’t. ‘That’s because I didn’t have time to shave before I met the ferry.’ He rubbed his fingers over his roughened jaw. ‘I am a doctor. But I didn’t give your mother the job—that was my colleague, Dr McNeil.’

  ‘Well, whatever you do, don’t put her in charge of family planning. As you can probably tell from looking at me, contraception is so not her specialist subject.’