скачать книгу бесплатно
Suddenly Alice looked interested. ‘And he’ll be living with you?’
‘Well, not with me, Alice,’ Joanna murmured, a trace of humour in her voice. ‘But in the house, yes. Goodness knows, it’s big enough. I’m rattling around in it on my own.’
And she hated it! Not that she’d ever admit that to anyone. An intelligent, adult woman wasn’t supposed to have irrational fears, especially about something as foolish as being on her own in the dark. All the same, she’d lost count of the number of times she’d glanced nervously over her shoulder when she’d heard a creak, and she found herself double-checking the locks before she could sleep at night. Frankly she would be relieved to have someone else living there with her.
‘Well, who knows, maybe he’ll be handsome and eligible.’ Alice’s face suddenly brightened. ‘You could do with a bit of romance in your life, Dr Weston.’
Romance? Hardly!
‘I don’t think so, Alice.’ Joanna forced a smile, hoping it didn’t look as false as it felt. ‘Romance is the last thing on my mind at the moment.’
‘Well, it shouldn’t be.’ Alice folded her arms across her chest and looked at her sternly. ‘A young thing like you should be thinking of getting married and having babies...’
Babies.
Suddenly Joanna felt as though she’d been showered with cold water. It had been years, but it took so little to bring it all rushing back.
Once she’d hoped, believed...
But she’d been a gullible fool and she’d long ago resigned herself to the fact that she wasn’t the sort of woman that men fell for. Marriage and babies were things that happened in dreams and to other people. Never to her.
Never.
Aware that Alice was looking at her curiously, Joanna struggled to produce another smile. She didn’t want the old lady guessing that anything was wrong.
‘I don’t care whether the locum is handsome or not,’ she said briskly. ‘I just want him to be a good doctor.’
‘Let’s hope he turns out to be better than the last chap,’ Alice said, and Joanna gave a nod of agreement as she stepped out into the bright sunshine.
‘Let’s hope so indeed...’
By the time she arrived back at the surgery it was gone four o’clock and the waiting room was already full.
‘I’m so sorry, everyone.’ She gave them an apologetic look and shrugged out of her coat. ‘I had more calls than usual so I’m running a little late.’
‘Don’t you worry, Dr Weston.’ Doris Parker, who ran the newsagent, gave her a warm smile. ‘We’re happy just sitting here, catching up on the latest news, until you can get round to us.’
Joanna hid a smile, thinking how fond she was of them. Why would anyone want to work in an anonymous, faceless surgery in inner London when they could have this? It had its disadvantages, of course. Keeping a secret was impossible and everyone knew what everyone else was doing, but working in a semi-rural practice was so rewarding. This little village on the edge of Dartmoor was so much a community that you might have thought they’d invented the word...
Their kindness and understanding gave her a sudden burst of energy and she walked briskly through to her surgery and switched on her computer. She’d really try to keep the chat to the minimum, she told herself firmly as she called her first patient. It was the only way she stood a chance of getting through her list.
She worked her way through a steady stream of coughs, ear infections and rashes, and she’d just seen her last patient when Laura, her receptionist, popped her head round the door, her pretty face flushed with excitement.
‘Dr Weston, look out of the window quickly—you have got to see this car that’s just pulled into our car park.’
Joanna didn’t glance up from her computer. ‘I’m not that interested in cars, Laura.’
Especially not at the moment when she still had mountains of work to do.
‘You’ll be interested in this one,’ Laura breathed. ‘It’s gorgeous. I’ve never seen one like it before. Except in the movies.’
Realising that the quickest way to be allowed to get on with her work was to look at the car, Joanna dutifully swivelled in her chair and adjusted the blinds so that she could see out of the window. A low, dark blue sports car had pulled in at the far end of the car park.
‘Oh, yes. Very nice, Laura,’ she murmured, wondering what it was about cars that got people so excited. For her they were just a means of getting around. And not always a very reliable means!
Laura walked across the room and stood next to her, peeping through the blinds like a naughty child.
‘Nice? You think the car is nice? Dr Weston, that car cost a fortune. It’s a—’
‘I really don’t care what sort of car it is,’ Joanna admitted, interrupting her receptionist in mid-flow. ‘A car is just a car as far as I’m concerned.’
‘Well, that may be true normally,’ Laura muttered faintly, ‘but that’s not any old car, it’s a—’
‘Laura, I’m really very busy,’ Joanna hinted tactfully, watching with half an eye as the door opened and the driver stepped out of the car. He flexed broad, muscular shoulders and stood for a moment, taking in the surrounding scenery.
‘Oh, wow!’ Laura gave a squeak. ‘Look at that body! The driver’s as gorgeous as the car.’
Was he? Trying to hide her total lack of interest, Joanna stared at the stranger and wondered why she never felt the things other women seemed to feel when she looked at men. Was he gorgeous? He was too far away for her to be able to see his features clearly, but even distance couldn’t conceal his powerful physique and the slightly arrogant tilt of his dark head as he stared at the sunlit moor. Then he turned, and in one smooth movement he reached into the car and retrieved a black leather jacket. Locking the car with a casual flick of his wrist, he slung the jacket over his shoulders and strolled across the car park towards the surgery.
‘Pinch me.’ Laura sighed, her expression dreamy. ‘Pinch me quickly. No one looks like that in real life. At least, not on Dartmoor.’
Totally unaffected by what she’d seen, Joanna turned back to her computer, itching to get on with her work. ‘You shouldn’t talk that way about a patient, Laura.’
Laura looked at her as if she’d suddenly grown horns. ‘A patient? He can’t possibly be a patient. You can tell that man has never had a day’s ill health in his life just by looking at him.’ She glanced out of the window again and gave an audible gasp. ‘Oh, Dr Weston, look at him close up! He looks like a film star. I’d better go and see what he wants. He’s probably just lost and needs directions.’ She straightened and hurried towards the door, pausing to throw a saucy wink in Joanna’s direction. ‘I may be some time. If he needs to know the way to paradise, I’ll have to show him personally.’
Joanna shook her head with a smile as the receptionist left, relieved to be allowed to get on with her work. She was too busy to waste time gazing at strange men, even if they were supposedly handsome. Anyway, handsome men were bad news.
She was totally immersed in a stack of results when there was a tap on the door and Laura entered again with a flourish, her cheeks slightly pink.
‘Dr Weston, there’s someone to see you.’ Excitement mingled with admiration in her voice. ‘A Dr Macaulay.’
Macaulay?
She looked up and blinked twice, just to make sure she was seeing straight.
Dr Macaulay. Sebastian Macaulay.
Here.
In her surgery. Lounging with careless arrogance against the doorway as if he owned the place. Which was entirely possible, she thought with a touch of irony. If memory served her right, the Macaulay family owned half of Britain. Which explained the flashy car in the car park, of course.
The question was, what was he doing here? The last thing she’d heard, he’d been spending his time jetting between Caribbean islands and other exotic locations. She couldn’t imagine for a moment that rural Devon was on his list of desirable places to visit.
As their eyes met she saw recognition flicker in those blue depths and she braced herself for his reaction.
‘Well, well, it’s Joanna Weston...’ His voice was a soft, cultured drawl and Joanna glanced quickly at Laura, her face expressionless.
‘Thank you, Laura. I’ll call you if I need you.’
Whatever derogatory comment Sebastian Macaulay was about to make about her, she didn’t want him doing it in front of Laura.
Laura hovered, clearly wanting to stay around. ‘Shall I get you some—?’
‘I’ll call you,’ Joanna snapped, and Laura gave her a puzzled look, clearly taken aback that her normally mild-mannered, kind boss was behaving so uncharacteristically.
Joanna sighed, feeling instantly guilty. It wasn’t Laura’s fault. ‘Thank you, Laura. If we need you, we’ll buzz.’
Laura stared at her for a moment before turning and leaving the room, closing the door firmly behind her.
Sebastian Macaulay...
For a moment Joanna just stared at him and then she pulled herself together.
‘Well, this is a surprise.’
‘It is indeed.’ His blue eyes sparked with wry humour. ‘Although I suppose I should have guessed that it would be you. When I was told that this place was being run single-handed by a female GP, I was intrigued as to what sort of woman would want to bury themselves in the middle of nowhere.’
Nowhere? Joanna felt herself bristle. He thought this was nowhere? Well, someone like him probably would of course. She counted to ten and forced herself to be civil. She was not going to let the man wind her up.
She lifted her chin and gave him a cool look. ‘I’m not buried, Dr Macaulay, and I choose to live and work here because the people are lovely and the countryside and the beaches are wonderful. Although this might surprise you, I consider this village to be somewhere, rather than nowhere. But I can understand how someone of your...’ she paused for emphasis ‘...sophisticated tastes might consider this to be nowhere. Which leads us to the question of what you could possibly be doing in this area.’
Instead of answering immediately, he strolled round her consulting room, pausing to examine pictures, posters and photographs.
Personal photographs!
She felt a flash of anger and forced herself to calm down and analyse her feelings.
What on earth was the matter with her? How could someone she hadn’t seen for at least six years provoke such hostility in her? She was confused and puzzled by her own reaction. She didn’t normally respond that way to people. Normally she was placid and gentle, a real peacemaker. But Sebastian Macaulay had always brought out aspects of her character that she had trouble identifying. Just being in the same room as him made her insides boil and churn.
It was just because they were so different, she reasoned. Not just in terms of background—although that too, of course, because she knew for a fact that Seb Macaulay was wealthier than even Laura was probably imagining—but in terms of personality and attitude. How could she ever expect herself to have anything in common with a man who approached life as a game to be played and enjoyed, a man who shunned commitment and responsibility in favour of short-term pleasure?
No, she assured herself, her hostility towards him came from the simple fact that she disliked the man. She disliked the flippant way he approached life, the way people fell at his feet, his flashy lifestyle...
She bit her lip, forcing herself to face the truth. What she disliked most of all was the fact that he reminded her of—
Instantly she closed her eyes and pushed the thought away. She wasn’t going to drag the past up now. Not twice in one day. First with Alice and now with Seb Macaulay. For years she’d managed to keep those hurtful, uncomfortable feelings totally buried. She was happy and she didn’t want anyone or anything disturbing that.
Anyway was the man ever going to tell her what he was doing here? ‘I’m very busy, Dr Macaulay.’
‘So I hear.’ There was a pause as he leaned closer to study a favourite of hers, a painting of the moor on a wild, winter day, and Joanna curled her fingers into her palms.
‘Look.’ She cleared her throat and kept her tone businesslike. ‘Why don’t you just tell me what I can do for you?’
He turned, subjecting her to the full force of his gaze. She stiffened, forcing herself not to react. She’d never met a man with eyes as blue as his. Just one flash of those killer eyes and women had fallen over themselves in their undignified haste to climb into his bed. Except her, of course.
‘What you can do for me?’ The corners of his firm mouth tilted slightly as if she’d just said something funny. ‘It’s more a question of what I can do for you.’
‘What you—’ She broke off, temporarily rendered speechless by his careless arrogance. ‘Offhand I can’t think of a single thing that you could possibly do for me except leave me in peace and allow me to get on with the mountain of work I have to do.’
His smile widened. ‘That’s the Joanna I remember,’ he murmured softly. ‘Work, work and then more work. Nice to know you haven’t changed.’
His eyes left her face and wandered lazily over her body, starting with the flat, comfortable shoes, moving up past the sensible skirt, the crisply laundered blouse with the high neckline and finally resting on the severe hairstyle which she’d favoured since her second year at medical school.
She lifted her chin, his casual scrutiny making her hot and uncomfortable. She didn’t need to see his slightly ironic blue gaze to know that he found her lacking as a woman. She knew that she wasn’t his type. And she didn’t care. She didn’t want to be anybody’s type.
‘I’m very busy, Dr Macaulay.’
‘So you keep saying. Which brings us back to the reason I’m here.’ His tone was still amused as he walked over to the window by her desk and moved the blinds aside with one long finger. ‘Nice views.’
‘I’m not interested in what you think of the views. What has me being busy got to do with you being here?’ Her tone was sharp and she frowned as he let the blinds drop and turned to face her.
‘Rumour has it that you’re in the middle of a crisis and you need a locum.’ His eyes locked with hers. ‘I know that you’ll be delighted to hear that I’m that locum.’
She stared at him in stunned silence.
When she finally found her voice it cracked slightly, as if it had been kept in a dusty room for a month. ‘You? You can’t be my locum. There’s been a misunderstanding,’ she croaked, licking dry lips and rummaging round in her numbed brain for some sort of reasonable explanation. ‘Dr George Mills, the senior partner, has made arrangements—’
‘He has indeed.’ Seb inclined his head in agreement. ‘Me. He called me and I agreed to help out.’
‘You?’ Joanna shook her head slowly. ‘No. That’s not possible...’
He shrugged. ‘Why not?’
‘Because...because...’ How could she put it without sounding horribly rude? ‘Lots of reasons. You’re not—I mean you don’t—This isn’t the sort of surgery for a man like you,’ she finished lamely, wishing that he didn’t always make her feel so tongue-tied.
‘A man like me?’ He threw back his head and laughed in genuine amusement. ‘And you are such an expert on men, of course. Your specialist subject, if I recall.’
Joanna flushed at his none-too-subtle reminder that she’d barely socialised as a student.
‘So go on.’ He was still laughing, his eyes bright with humour. ‘I’m intrigued to hear your opinion. What sort of man am I, Dr Weston? Do tell me. This should be worth hearing.’
Joanna gritted her teeth. ‘Certainly not the sort of man to settle down in the middle of nowhere. This is rural Devon, Dr Macaulay, not cosmopolitan London. There are no hot nightspots, no clubs or fancy restaurants, and the nearest we get to retail therapy is buying eggs from the local farm.’
He lifted an eyebrow. ‘Damn.’ He clicked his fingers in mock disappointment. ‘If I’d known that, I never would have offered to help out.’
Joanna felt her temper rise at his flippancy. The temper she’d forgotten she even had until he’d walked into her consulting room. Five minutes. That was all it had taken. Five minutes with Sebastian Macaulay and already she wanted to commit grievous bodily harm.
‘I’m glad we’re agreed that this place would never suit you—’
‘Agreed? Oh, come on, Joanna! Unless my memory is faulty, you and I have never agreed on a single thing since the day we first met,’ he drawled, strolling back across her consulting room and staring at a poster on asthma management. ‘And we’re unlikely to start now. But whether we agree or not is irrelevant. I promised George I’d help out and that’s what I’m going to do. If it reassures you at all, I’m sure I can struggle by without clothes shopping for a few months. I stocked up last time I was in London.’
Joanna stared at him in barely disguised horror. ‘Are you serious?’
He gave a nod. ‘Absolutely. My favourite designer had just launched his new collection.’
She gritted her teeth, aware that he was laughing at her. ‘I wasn’t referring to your wardrobe, Dr Macaulay, as you well know. I was talking about the ridiculous suggestion that you should work here.’
‘Why ridiculous?’ He shrugged his broad shoulders. ‘I’m as well qualified as you, and you know it.’
