Miracle: Twin Babies. Fiona Lowe
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be a professional association only and keep her GP training on schedule.
The only thing left to do was ask him if he would work the summer season with her. Rolling back her shoulders, she headed toward the market to professionally proposition Dr Nick Dennison.
She arrived at Nick’s stall and her heart skipped a beat as she watched him in complete control but cloaked by a lazy charm. Out of his suit and white coat he looked much more like the sort of guy she’d once been attracted to. Breathe. This one is not for you. No man is for you.
He was serving a customer, his amazing green eyes and his total attention completely focussed on Phyllis Gutherson, Port’s resident naysayer. But her usually sour expression had vanished and in its place was a girlish smile. She looked twenty years younger.
Waiting her turn and shaking her head in wonder at how he’d achieved such a miracle, Kirby bobbed down next to Nick’s dog and scratched his ears. ‘Your master could charm diamonds from jewel thieves, couldn’t he?’
Large brown eyes gazed adoringly up at her as the dog laid his head in her lap.
‘Turbo, stop it.’
At the sound of the deep, commanding voice, both the dog and Kirby looked up.
A smile met her gaze. A smile that fizzed intoxicatingly through her like the bubbles of champagne. Her bent knees liquefied and she wobbled slightly as she rose to her feet.
He leaned casually against the stall table. ‘That dog will turn on the charm if he thinks it will get him something.’
‘Gosh, and I wonder where he learned that from.’ She shook her head, laughing. ‘You just managed to make Port Bathurst history by getting Phyllis Gutherson to smile, and charming her into buying your last item of produce. I mean, who eats radishes?’
This time his grin had a tinge of guilt to it, not dissimilar to that of a kid caught out sneaking biscuits too close to dinner. ‘I will concede I might have used a well-placed compliment or two to move the radishes but, hey, I just sold everything I harvested for my first market.’ He raised his hand as his eyes danced with elation—joy, pure and simple.
Without thought, she raised her hand to meet his, drawn completely by his enthusiastic aura that seemed to wrap around her, pulling her in. Her palm connected with his in a slap of celebration.
Heat tore through her hard and fast, ricocheting from skin to muscle to deep tissue and fanning out until every cell vibrated with its legacy and she tingled all over. Tingled in a way she never had before, not even with Anthony, the man she’d loved and thought she’d be spending the rest of her life with. Horrified, she jerked her arm back to the safety of her side.
Remember why you’re here. She swallowed hard and cleared her throat. ‘That’s fabulous. Congratulations. Can I buy you a cup of coffee to help you celebrate and to say thank you for your help with Garry?’
‘Thanks for the offer, but I have to pack up here first and I don’t want to hold you up.’ He picked up some boxes and stowed them into the back of a ute.
Kirby hauled her gaze away from his rippling biceps and tried to keep her focus on why she was actually here. She didn’t just want to blurt out, ‘Please work with me.’ The situation needed more finesse than that. ‘How about I give you a hand and then we go for coffee?’ Don’t sound so needy. ‘If that suits you.’
Emerald eyes studied her for a brief moment. ‘OK, it’s a deal.’ He tipped over the wooden trestle and grabbed the old metal supports, his broad palm wrapping deftly around them.
Kirby had a sudden image of a leather tool belt sitting flat across his washboard abdomen and him fixing all her sticking sash windows. Stay focussed. He’s a doctor, not a handyman.
‘Excellent.’ She passed him boxes and watched him stack them as if they were a mathematical problem. ‘How long have you been in Port?’
‘Technically, I’m not in Port because I don’t live here.’ He slid the long trestle into the ute.
Kirby’s gut went into freefall. With his vegetable selling she’d assumed he lived here. Her plan depended on him living close by.
He paused in his stacking and extended a muscular arm out toward the mountainous rainforest area behind the town. ‘My property’s Riversleigh, thirty K out, near Sheep-wash Corner.’
Her gut steadied. She was still in the game—just. Sheep-wash Corner was pretty isolated, even more out of the way than Port. Nick Dennison hadn’t just left Melbourne for Sleepy Hollow, he’d gone bush, a tree-change. But why? The situation got even more intriguing. ‘How long have you lived out there?’
His cheerful open face suddenly closed, and the dimples in his cheeks smoothed over. ‘Four months.’
He handed her one end of a tarpaulin. ‘What about you?’
She caught the deft change, the power switch in the conversation, and she pulled the tarp tight, just like her mother had taught her as a child when she folded sheets. He didn’t want to talk about why he was here. ‘I’ve been here since the start of the month.’ She walked up to him to match her corners to his.
‘Is this a long-term plan for you?’ His fingers slid over hers as he moved to accept the tarp.
The sharp tingle of sensation almost made her drop her corners and she found herself gripping them instead of releasing them into his hands. The moment she let go, she flexed her fingers, willing the shimmering away.
Since the age of twelve Kirby had been tall and she was used to being a similar height to many men. But she had to tilt her head to look up into Nick’s face. It disconcerted her. He disconcerted her. ‘It’s a summer plan to start with. I’m doing a six-month GP rotation.’ Six months to pull herself together.
‘A summer by the sea. Sounds relaxing.’ His dimples reappeared, deepening as he smiled.
Her heartbeat seemed to skip. How could one man’s smile make her feel almost dizzy? This is your opening—grab it. The practical words broke into the haze that enveloped her brain. ‘Actually, apart from a run along the pier in the mornings, that is as close as I’ve got to the beach.’
He slapped his palm down on the tailgate of the ute and Turbo immediately jumped onto the tray, turned around and lay down. ‘Quiet Port Bathurst been keeping you busy?’
‘It’s hardly quiet! Between the residents, the work with Kids’ Cottage and now the tourists arriving, I can barely get to the laundrette on a Sunday to do my washing. I had easier days back at Royal William.’ She stared straight up at him. ‘I’m surprised the hospital board didn’t approach you when you moved down here.’
His hands stilled for a fraction on the tailgate. ‘Until this morning, the hospital board didn’t know I was a doctor.’ He slammed the back of the ute shut and wiped his hands on an old towel. ‘No one did.’
His words stunned her. ‘Why on earth not?’
A shadow passed through his eyes, like a cloud scudding across the sun. ‘Because I didn’t come here to practise medicine.’
Her plan, so clear and perfect in her head, took a massive broadside hit, but she wasn’t letting go just yet. ‘But you’re a talented doctor and Port needs you.’
Dark brows drew together, causing a crease at the bridge of his nose. ‘No, it doesn’t, Kirby. Port’s got you. Besides, I’m an accident and emergency specialist, not a GP, and right now I’m really not interested in working.’
She wanted to stamp her feet. She had the ideal mentor in front of her and he didn’t want to work. She chewed her lip as her limited options ran through her head. With a deep breath she played the only card she had left in her deck. Honesty. She raised her gaze to his and spoke from the heart. ‘Without your help, I can’t work here.’
Over the