Dr Blake's Angel. Marion Lennox
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be ridiculous,’ she retorted. ‘If you can cope with the medical needs of the town, I don’t see why I can’t.’
‘Hell!’
‘Why is it hell?’ It was a polite enquiry—nothing more.
‘You don’t know anybody.’
She had an answer to that, too. ‘That’s where you’re wrong. I lived here for the first seventeen years of my life so I imagine I know more people in the district than you do.’
He shook his head again, trying to clear the fog of weariness and confusion. ‘Jonas and Em have paid you?’ It came out an incredulous croak and she smiled.
‘And the hospital board. Yes, indeed. An obscene amount.’ She chuckled. ‘No more than I’m worth, of course, but an obscene amount for all that.’ She made her lips prim. ‘I expect you’ll have to write them a very nice thank-you note.’
He stared at her, baffled. ‘You have it all sorted.’
‘Of course.’
‘The fact that you’re pregnant didn’t enter your calculations as something that needs to be factored in?’
‘I’m a very fit pregnant doctor,’ she told him.
Silence.
‘The idea’s stupid,’ he said at last, and she shook her head.
‘It’s not stupid at all. Your hospital board have approved it. They’re the ones who employ me—not you. I don’t see you have much choice.’
He thought it through. On the surface it seemed fine. Only… ‘Do you have any idea how many patients I see in a day?’
‘I guess…a lot?’
‘I’ve seen fifty today.’
‘Fifty.’ For the first time, her confidence ebbed a little. ‘Fifty!’
‘That’s not including hospital rounds, and not including house calls. It’s peak holiday season and I’m snowed under. I started at six this morning, I don’t expect to be finished before eleven and if I’m unlucky—and I’m nearly always unlucky—there’ll be calls out during the night.’
‘Good grief!’
‘If you took it on—’
‘I must.’ She might be dismayed but she was still game. ‘I made a bargain.’
‘If you took it on you’d drive your blood pressure sky high. You’d give yourself eclampsia and I’d have a dead baby—and maybe even a dead mother on my hands. You think I want that?’
‘Hey, that’s a bit extreme.’
‘Go home, Dr McKenzie,’ Blake said wearily. He raked his hand through his hair. It verged on being too long, Nell thought inconsequentially, but, then, why shouldn’t it be long? He had the loveliest hair. It was sort of sun-bleached brown with streaks of frost, and it was thick and curling. His strongly boned face, his tanned skin and deep brown eyes made him almost stunningly good-looking.
Oh, for heaven’s sake! What was she thinking of? Get a grip! she told herself. Focus on what’s important.
‘Home’s here,’ she said softly, and watched as his startled gaze met hers.
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean I’ve moved here. For ever. I want to have my baby here.’
‘You want to deliver your baby in Sandy Ridge?’ The idea was ridiculous. People didn’t come to Sandy Ridge to have their babies. They left Sandy Ridge to have babies. With only one doctor, maternity was frankly dangerous.
He was shocked into saying the first thing that came into his head, and as soon as he said it he knew it wasn’t wise, but it came out anyway. ‘And the baby’s father? What does he think of you moving here?’
She glared at that. Then her eyes fell to his hand. To a gold band on his ring finger.
‘And your wife?’ She used the same tone he’d used on her, and it was frankly accusing. Their eyes locked across the desk, anger meeting anger. ‘What does your wife think of you working yourself into the ground? Or isn’t your personal life any of my business? OK, Dr Sutherland.’ Her glare grew angrier. ‘You tell me yours and I’ll tell you mine.’
His gaze fell first. ‘Touché,’ he said lightly, but she knew the word wasn’t meant lightly at all. He’d been touched on the raw.
As had she. Damn, she wasn’t going to feel sorry for the man. Or for herself. She was here to take over his responsibilities for a month and then get out of his life. But…
‘How many patients a day did you say?’ she asked faintly, and his mouth curved into the beginnings of a smile.
‘Fifty.’
It gave her pause. ‘I don’t think I can—’
‘I don’t think you can either.’ He rose. ‘So it was a very nice idea, from you and from Jonas and Emily and the hospital board. But it’s impractical and impossible. I’ll ring them and thank them—as I thank you—but I think we should leave it at that. Don’t you?’
‘No.’
‘No?’
‘I told Jonas and Emily that I’d give you a decent Christmas.’
‘And I’ve said it’s impossible. You can’t take over my Christmas.’
‘No,’ she said slowly, and her chin jutted into a look of sheer stubbornness. ‘OK. Maybe I can’t. But maybe I can share it.’
‘What?’
‘Maybe somehow we could have a Christmas to remember. Together.’
Nell wouldn’t be budged. No matter how many arguments he raised, she countered them.
‘You need a rest. You know you do.’
‘Yes, but—’
‘You know very well that a tired doctor is a dangerous doctor.’
‘I can—’
‘You can’t. No one can. When you’re tired, your judgement’s impaired. That’s why Jonas and Emily are worried about you.’
‘Did they say my judgement was impaired?’
‘Not yet. But it will be.’
‘For heaven’s sake, this is ridiculous.’
‘What’s ridiculous,’ she said serenely, ‘is you continuing to argue with me.’
‘I don’t even know you,’ he threw at her, goaded. ‘You walk in here like some outlandish—’
And that had been the wrong thing to say!
‘You don’t like my overalls?’ She stood up, her eyes flashing fire. ‘You don’t like my gorgeous patchwork overalls? And you’re judging me on them? How dare you? Of all the intolerant, prejudiced, male chauvinist—’
‘I didn’t say anything about your overalls,’ he said weakly, but she stalked around the desk and advanced on him.
‘Outlandish! What about me is outlandish except for my overalls?’
‘Your temper?’ he tried.
That brought her up short. She stopped a foot away from Blake and she glared.
‘You meant my overalls.’
‘They’re…they’re wonderful.’
‘I made them myself.’
‘Like I said—’
‘They’re wonderful,’