Dynamite Doc or Christmas Dad? Read online

  His wonderful dog. Uh-oh.

  ‘We need to think a few things through,’ Ben said into her ear, and she jumped. Literally. She landed and he was still there, smiling quizzically. ‘I think our Dusty’s falling in love.’

  Our Dusty.

  An Oaklander, claiming a right.

  It had been an offhand remark, a throwaway line. It meant nothing. Move on.

  My Uncle Ben.

  ‘You…you were brilliant,’ she said, a trifle breathlessly. ‘I’d defy any doctor here to treat a scared new patient now without thinking of your three edicts.’

  ‘That’s what this is all about,’ he said lightly, but she knew it wasn’t light. This was something that he was passionate about; she could hear it in his voice.

  ‘And there’s no way hotel management can ask for Pokey to leave.’

  ‘Not while I’m here.’ He surveyed Kathy and Pokey and Dusty with avuncular pride. ‘I love it when a plan comes together.’

  ‘Dusty’s moving straight into hero-worship,’ she said, trying to sound brisk. ‘You realise he’ll still want to stay in touch after Christmas.’

  ‘Emails are fine,’ he said.

  ‘Phone calls?’

  She saw his face still. Saw thoughts she couldn’t read. ‘Maybe not,’ he said at last. ‘I think I made it clear I don’t do family.’

  She nodded. Relieved? She should be.

  Why was she feeling cold?

  ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘I understand. If you’re nice to Dusty until Christmas, that’s all I ask. I’ll explain the emails-only rule to Dusty. He doesn’t need a family. He has me.’

  How cold was that? Why had he instinctively put up a barrier? I don’t do family.

  She’d been…hurt?

  Her reaction to his presentation had been one of genuine enjoyment. He’d glanced up at her as Pokey had assumed the dead-dog pose and he’d seen laughter. She’d been enjoying herself.

  He’d made Pokey happy. He’d made Dusty smile. Then…

  ‘I don’t do family.’

  It was what he’d told Louise. He’d made himself clear. He always did at the start of a relationship.

  Except, with Jess, he wasn’t at the start of a relationship. Single mother. Former lover to his brother. No and no and no.

  Regardless, he’d hurt her and he felt a heel.

  Someone hailed him from across the hall, an American professor who wanted his name on a dodgy research paper. How to say no without wounding?

  He’d never conquered the art.

  Jess stayed for the next session, an in-depth presentation on natural childbirth after previous Caesareans. Excellent stuff. At lunch she disappeared to find Dusty. They were back in her little bunglalow and were all fast asleep, Dusty and Pokey on the bed, Kathy curled on the sofa.

  Kathy was keeping guard? Despite her hotel uniform, she looked more a kid than Dusty did, Jess thought, and just as vulnerable. She looked exhausted. No matter what sort of dangerous deception Kathy was playing, at least she had these days free from the normal fetch and carry of hotel duties. Dusty was an easy child to mind.

  But she wanted them to be awake.

  She sort of wanted…grounding. She didn’t want to return to the conference lunch and talk medicine and watch Ben work the room.

  No. He didn’t work the room. The room seemed to revolve around him. His session with Pokey would only increase his already awesome reputation. Some might call it simplistic, but his research had him slotted as a brilliant doctor. He’d reminded them what was important.

  What was important?

  She gazed at her sleeping son and she thought she should remember it, too. This and only this.

  She should go back.

  No. The remains of Kathy and Dusty’s lunch was still on the table. Much less unsettling than being in the same room as Ben.

  She was being neurotic.

  She didn’t care. She sat on the front step and ate and very carefully didn’t think about Ben.

  The first of the afternoon’s sessions was split into two. One technical, the other a panel. Ben was on the panel.

  A no brainer. She needed technical.

  The last session of the day was a presentation of the latest anaesthetics for Caesareans. She’d been to a course on that in Glasgow six months ago. She could leave that one.

  Okay. Return, do the one technical session without Ben, then leave.

  Kathy was being paid to take care of Dusty all day.

  All to the good. She could ask her to stay, say she had research papers to read. If roles just happened to reverse, if Kathy slept while she played with Dusty…excellent.

  She’d be playing Lady Bountiful by missing conference sessions. She wouldn’t be avoiding Ben at all.

  He didn’t need to learn about anaesthetics in Caesareans. The woman presenting the paper had run it by him for comments. He knew it inside out.

  He had teams wanting to run research projects past him. He had three hours to dinner. He could fit them all in and catch up with others after the meal.

  Only…

  He’d hurt Jess.

  No. This had nothing to do with Jess, he told himself. This was a great opportunity to keep his promise to Dusty—to spend tine with his brother’s son.

  That was all.

  He slipped away from the conference, changed into beach gear and headed for the beach.

  Jess would be there.

  He was going to find Dusty.

  Jess would be there.

  He reached the beach just as Jess did.

  There were kids on the beach with Kathy and Dusty. He recognised Harriet, the wife of one of the conference organisers.

  Harriet, too, was an organiser. Her sons were twelve, ten and eight. Her umbrella was set up beside a truly enormous ice cooler. She’d organised a pair of sun lounges in the shade. Kathy was on the spare sun lounge.

  If anything, the baby looked even lower but the tension he’d seen in her the night before was gone. She looked relaxed.

  Jess was standing beside her looking a bit nonplussed. Dusty was whooping in the shallows with Harriet’s boys, a cork surf-board apiece, the three little Australians instructing Dusty on the art of catching waves.

  Pokey was asleep on a rug under Kathy’s sun lounge.

  He saw Kathy half rise, and he saw Jessie’s instinctive recoil.

  She’d see as clearly as he did, he thought, that Dusty was totally, gloriously happy without her. And Kathy needed that sun lounge.

  ‘No,’ she was saying as Ben approached. ‘Kathy, don’t get up.’

  But he saw her warring needs.

  Her own need, to spend time with her son.

  Dusty’s need—learning to surf with mates.

  Kathy’s need.

  ‘You don’t need me,’ Kathy said, rising regardless. ‘The hotel charges for my services by the hour. I’ve been feeling guilty enough being here with Mrs Holland. I’ll sign off now.’

  ‘But we weren’t planning on collecting Dusty, were we, Dr McPherson?’ Ben said, and Jessie’s eyes widened.

  ‘I…’

  ‘Dr McPherson and I need to talk about a plan for joint cooperation between our two hospitals,’ he said smoothly. ‘Jess was so impressed with my research presentation this morning she’s proposing joint authorship of a paper—city birth versus country. We thought we’d take a walk across to the wildlife sanctuary, check on Sally and Dianne and discuss the project as we go. Is it’s okay with you, Kathy, to work a little longer? And, Harriet…these guys aren’t annoying you? Pokey’s not snoring?’

  They all laughed, Kathy included, her face brightening with pleasure. Two more hours in a sun lounge.

  Harriet was a midwife, Ben recalled. Excellent. Maybe she’d winkle the girl’s background out of her; make her see sense.

  ‘Have a drink first,’ Harriet ordered, fishing lemonade from her cooler. ‘Wear your hats and don’t forget sunburn cream.’

  ‘No, ma’am,’ Ben said meekly, and the t
hing was decided.

  For the first part of the walk they said nothing. Jess appeared…winded.

  He’d been a bit autocratic, Ben thought. He might possibly have ridden roughshod over her.

  He hadn’t actually intended to take her away. On her own.

  Unwise? Very.

  But if she hadn’t been Dusty’s mother…Nate’s girlfriend…

  She was. Step away from the edge, he told himself, but the sensation of walking beside her was doing something weird.

  She was out of bounds. Forbidden fruit. That was all it was, he thought, lusting after something, someone he couldn’t have.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said at last as the sandy track left the beach and headed inland into scrub. ‘I hoped you wanted Kathy to stay with Dusty. I could see your dilemma.’

  ‘It was brilliant,’ she said. Sounding strained.

  ‘But not what you wanted?’

  ‘I wanted to play with Ben.’

  ‘So did I.’

  Her eyes flew to his in astonishment. And disbelief.

  ‘Really,’ he said gently. ‘And I also needed to talk to you. I was out of line this morning. I hurt you and I’m sorry. I thought I’d skip this afternoon’s session and come down and make it right with you. Give Dusty a good time.’ He grinned, rueful. ‘It’s a bit levelling to realise he’s having a much better time with out us.’

  ‘You’re telling me.’

  ‘Lots of mothers would have pulled him away.’

  ‘Lots of mothers aren’t me.’

  ‘You could have sent Kathy back to the hotel. I saw your face. I guessed you didn’t want to do that.’

  ‘You guessed right.’

  ‘But still it hurts.’

  ‘Letting go’s hard.’

  ‘It must be.’ He thought suddenly of Nate as he’d seen him on that last morning, eight years old, ashen with shock and grief, and there it was, that gut wrench that never left him. Letting go…

  They walked in silence. Neither was well equipped for walking. Jess was wearing strong enough sandals, but under her sarong he could see the outline of her crimson bikini. It was hardly hiking gear, but the walking was easy. She’d plastered herself with sunscreen and wore oversized sunglasses. Her hair was loose from the formal chignon she’d worn at the conference. Her curls were dancing down from under her oversized sun hat. She looked…free.

  Forbidden fruit.

  ‘I’ve only seen the one cassowary,’ she said, stiffly. ‘I’d like to see more.’

  ‘The researchers are excited about two nests but no one’s saying where they are.’

  ‘I guess that’s a good thing—that they’re protected.’

  ‘Yes.’ Great conversation. Or not. All he could think about was how she looked. All he could think about was…

  No.

  He looked deliberately away.

  Froze.

  CHAPTER NINE

  ONE minute she was walking along the sandy track, caught up in a million emotions she had no idea what to do with. Totally aware of the man beside her. Thinking, at the conference, in his dark suit and crisp white linen shirt he’d looked handsome. Now, in baggy shorts, a faded, long-sleeved shirt, sleeves rolled up, missing the top three buttons—a baggy hat, and rope sandals—he looked…awesome. This man must spend serious time in the gym. He was…

  Grabbing her. Sweeping her off her feet. Lifting her off the ground and giving her no time to so much as squeak before he had her three, four yards back from where she’d been walking.

  ‘What…? What…?’ Her voice was hardly a squeak.

  He held her hard against him, still high in his arms, holding her tight, but all his attention was below.

  ‘What…what do you think you’re…?’

  ‘Snake,’ he said, almost absently, glancing back to where she’d been standing. Looking down again. ‘I’m making sure there aren’t more before I put you down.’

  ‘Snake…’

  ‘You almost stood on it.’

  She gazed back to where she’d been walking.

  He was right. Definitely there was a snake. Five feet long. Shimmering black, with a brilliant red underbelly, the creature looked almost beautiful against the golden sand.

  Snake. Aaagh.

  What was she doing, thinking of a million other things while walking along a sun-baked Australian bush track in open sandals?

  She knew better than that. Had her father taught her nothing?

  There had been grounds for distraction, though, she conceded. There were still grounds for distraction. Even though the snake had most of her attention, she was being held tight against Ben Oaklander. Her body was hard against his chest. His arms were like iron.

  She could feel his heartbeat.

  How could a snake compare with a heartbeat?

  There was, however, a snake. She needed to get a grip.

  She needed to stand on her own two feet.

  ‘Can you put me down?’

  ‘Still checking,’ he said, rotating three-sixty degrees. ‘I’m not putting you down on another snake.’

  ‘I can check, too. We’re both in sandals.’

  ‘We’re both idiots.’

  ‘A non-planned hike,’ she said, a trifle shakily. ‘With the best of intentions. It’s okay, I’m not scared. Believe it or not, I know snakes. Now I’ve been reminded to be wary, I’m wary. Please put me down.’

  He did. With reluctance? Maybe that was just her. How long since she’d been held by a guy?

  By a guy who felt like Ben Oaklander? Never.

  ‘You know snakes?’ he asked. He sounded cautious, like she’d just been caught in questionable research. Like he didn’t believe her.

  ‘Yes.’ The feel of his arms receded into the background. Not forgotten, but put aside for the moment.

  Medical need replaced it. She was checking out the snake, and the professional side of her was kicking in. ‘It’s hurt,’ she said.

  ‘What’s hurt?’

  ‘The snake,’ she said, with patience. ‘It’s hot. Snakes are cold blooded. They soak up the sun. The hotter they get, the more active they are. We’ve just given this one a fright…’

  ‘We’ve given it…’

  ‘And he’s hardly moved.’ She started edging to the far side of the track so she could see the snake from a different angle. It wasn’t in attack mode; in fact, it seemed to cringe away and then stop, as if it couldn’t move.

  ‘You’re worried about the snake?’ Ben sounded stunned. ‘You’re English.’

  ‘Like you’re Australian,’ she retorted. ‘Not completely.’

  ‘I came to Australia when I was eleven.’

  ‘And I came to England when I was twelve. Before that, Africa. There are snakes in Africa. My dad introduced me.’ She was as close to the snake as she dared to go but still she had the feeling all it wanted was to retreat.

  ‘Some snakes are vicious,’ she remembered her dad telling her. ‘But most of them just want to mind their own business. They’re much more afraid of you than you are of them.’

  That was the case here; she was sure of it.

  ‘There’s a wound running along his belly. Nasty. It’s being attacked by ants.’ She hesitated, looking around and seeing skid marks in the sand. ‘This is the spot where Sally did her hairraising speed-hump trick yesterday. She might have hit this guy. Either that or he’s been attacked by something. I’m not sure what. There aren’t supposed to be any predators on the island. But it looks like it’s dying.’

  ‘There are signs everywhere saying don’t disturb the wildlife under any circumstances,’ Ben said, dubiously. He edged round to where Jess was crouched and winced as he saw the jagged, raw wound along its side. ‘Does that mean we let nature take its course?’

  Jess was squatting on her heels to get a better look. She was about ten feet from the snake, but edging closer. The snake’s beady eyes were looking at her, but it didn’t seem a threat. To Jess the eyes were looking dull.

  How l
ong had it lain wounded? If had been hurt yesterday maybe it had dragged itself into cover but then been desperate for warmth. Come out into the sun and been attacked by ants.

  The wound was ugly, a jagged tear about eight inches long. It looked filthy, and bush ants were all over it.

  ‘Let nature take its course? Not when we can help,’ Jess decreed, and hauled off her sarong. Sounding businesslike. ‘I need a stick. Long. Stout.’

  ‘You’re planning on killing it?’ Ben sounded incredulous. ‘Why are you taking off your sarong?’

  ‘To make a bag, and no, I’m not killing him. We’ll take him to the sanctuary, clean him up, and see if he recovers. But I’ll need help.’

  ‘Help…’

  ‘I’m not asking you to help catch him,’ she said, patiently. ‘I just want you to hold things.’

  ‘You’ve done this before?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘When?’ he demanded, astounded.

  ‘When I was twelve,’ she conceded. ‘I watched a lot but I was only allowed to catch one by myself. Then Dad was killed and…’

  ‘Your father was killed?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘By a snake?’ He took a step back and looked at her like she’d grown horns.

  And, amazingly, she chuckled. ‘Nothing so exotic,’ she told him. ‘He rolled his truck—the roadside gave way after rain. He taught me how to face lions. He didn’t warn himself about road-slips.’

  ‘Lions…’

  ‘Okay, lion cubs,’ she conceded, and chuckled again at the look on his face. ‘I need a stick,’ she repeated. ‘A strong one.’

  ‘You’re wearing a bikini and sandals and you’re planning on catching a snake?’

  ‘I do feel a bit bare,’ she admitted. She was fashioning knots in the edges of the sarong. ‘But I need a bag. A gentleman might lend me his shirt. Your shorts are more decent than my bikini.’

  He stared at her like she was something from out of space.

  She went on knotting her sarong.

  There didn’t seem much choice. He handed over his shirt.

  She smiled her thanks, and promptly pulled it on over her bikini.

  He was stunned. Stunned was all he was feeling right now. He couldn’t get past it.