Hefting her medical bag from the corner of the room, she went towards her patient.
Hot. Hot. Hot. Ben suppressed the urge to run his finger under his open collar. Dr Rachel Simmonds was something to be reckoned with.
Or would be if he was remotely interested in getting to know her. Which he absolutely was not. But, phew, she could set an iceberg on fire. What chance did his dormant hormones have of remaining indifferent? She stood tall and slim. Too slim. Except for the deep shadows staining her skin her face was very pale, delicate. Until she opened her mouth. Then she was very resolute. An intriguing, exciting combination that had already tripped a few switches within his brain. So his brain was below his belt these days? Why wouldn’t it be? When those eyes that reminded him of the wild bluebells growing on the family farm back home had rested on him he’d felt as though he’d been raked with a fire iron. Scorched. Seared. Sizzled.
She was a looker. That exquisite, fine-featured face, those big eyes laden with sadness, and the wildly curly hair that wasn’t quite blonde or brown haphazardly tied up with a gold ribbon: they all added up to a very neat and enticing package. Then there was the English accent that made him melt inside. She’d turn heads wherever she went, no doubt about it.
But his head would stay firmly facing in the right direction. Away from the new doc. He’d managed to avoid any sort of entanglement since … Pain sliced through his heart. Since that awful night that had turned his world upside down for ever. He leant into the agony. Anguish was good. It focused him, underlined his resolve should it look like faltering. Which it wasn’t going to do. Certainly not after just a few minutes in the company of one beautiful, sexy and very single-minded lady. One who was here for a year at the most.
‘Will you read my favourite story?’ The kid in his arms wriggled to be set down.
Ben shook his head clear of thoughts of the boy’s mother and placed Riley on his bed. ‘Sure. Which one?’
‘That one.’ Riley pointed to the top of a pile of well-thumbed books. ‘It’s about a naughty goat that eats the clothes off the washing line.’ The kid clambered over the bed, getting comfortable.
Ben noted all the pictures on the walls, the soccer ball in the corner, the stuffed toys on top of the set of drawers. He could have had a child with a room like this if he and Catrina had been given more time. If she hadn’t driven that night. If he’d been able to save her.
Don’t go there. Ben squeezed his eyes tight, trying to blank out Catrina’s last staccato breaths. The sight of her beloved face suddenly contorted with pain and illuminated by flickering red and blue from the emergency services’ lights. He tried to empty out the fear and helplessness that had paralysed him that night and which returned to grip him, squeeze him, whenever he thought about her.
He counted to ten.
Finally, finally, he managed to refocus on the boy’s room, and asked in a voice he didn’t recognise, ‘How old are you?’
‘Nearly five.’ The kid was concentrating on his book, turning the pages as he said, ‘I want to start school soon with my friend Harry. His brother, Jason, already goes.’
‘It’s good to have friends in a new place.’
‘Their mother is Lissie. She’s Mummy’s friend.’
‘I heard.’ Lissie was a newly appointed general surgeon from Auckland via London who had come to Rarotonga with her Cook Islands husband and their two boys. The community was lucky to have her. Her husband had come home to run his family’s boat-charter business since his father had had a stroke.
Already Lissie had been instrumental in getting a position created at the local hospital for women’s health after the death of her sister-in-law from cervical cancer. The woman had not wanted to see a local male doctor when symptoms had first presented, and by the time she’d given in and had an exam it had been too late.
The new obstetrician, this kid’s mum, would be heading up the much-needed new department as a trial for the next year.
‘Don’t you want to read to me now?’ Tears blurred Riley’s voice.
Ben perched on the edge of the bed and took the book from Riley’s willing hands. ‘Sorry, little fella. Of course I do.’
This boy obviously needed a father figure. Where was his old man? Had the doc done a runner? He’d nearly freaked out when Riley had called him Daddy—it made him want to escape the doc’s house, and getting Effie patched up would speed his departure. So here he was, about to read a story to her kid. Talk about getting very close very quickly to a little family he didn’t want anything to do with. Something deep inside told him the doc and her kid had the potential to draw him into their lives—which went directly against everything he believed in now. He ran solo in this world. It was the only way to get by.
‘I can read the story.’ The kid’s high-pitched voice cracked into Ben’s brain as the book was tugged from his grasp.
Okay, the kid didn’t need him here. Ben began to rise.
‘“Willy, the goat, likes to eat.”‘ The kid’s voice wobbled.
Ben paused, half off the bed.
The boy turned the page. ‘“Willy eats everything.”‘
Ben sank back down.
Another page was turned. ‘“Willy eats the flowers in the garden.”‘ The kid peeped up at Ben. ‘Do you like this story?’
Ben’s heart rolled under his ribs at the insecurity in the kid’s eyes. No child deserved to feel like that. ‘Yes.’
Riley’s face split with a huge yawn. Ben took the book, began reading from the next page, and within minutes the kid was asleep. Ben tucked the sheet up to his little chin and stood looking down at him, wondering what sort of life he’d come from, and what the future held for him.
Enough. Get out of here. Start thinking like that and next thing he’d know he’d be involved in the kid’s life. And the doc’s.
Stalking down the short hall he marvelled at all the boxes still to be unpacked. There were plenty more in the lounge too. Had the doc cleared out Harrod’s before she’d left England? The only room that appeared set up and completely free of clutter was the kid’s. Obviously the doc put making her son feel comfortable in his new surroundings first. Ben nodded to himself. So she was a good mother. Let’s see if she was a good doctor.
If only Effie hadn’t needed stitches he’d have dealt with her injuries and saved coming over here at all. But from the moment he’d found Effie it had been apparent she needed qualified medical care. He should’ve put her in the car and driven to the hospital. It wasn’t exactly far. But he’d had a brainless moment and decided Effie should see the new doctor as soon as possible. The women might as well get to know each other; they might be seeing a bit of one another over the fence in the months to come. He’d done right by his housekeeper bringing her here.
But face it, he was intrigued. What was the doc’s history? She’d travelled a big distance for a job in a second-rate hospital when, as a specialist, she could surely command a good position at any modern hospital with all the bells and whistles. Not to mention the huge salary that would go with such a placement. The Cook Islands didn’t usually attract highly qualified people willing to work for very little remuneration. Mostly the foreigners were
