and comforting as it brought the medical equipment they really needed.
‘Here goes.’ Nick shot her a look that said, Nothing ventured, nothing gained, and lowered the thin, silver pliers into the slack throat of the unconscious man. ‘Can’t feel anything, damn it.’ His long fingers carefully controlled all the minute movements with stunning expertise.
Kirby kept her gaze on Nick’s hand, willing it to find the obstruction. Time spiralled out, each second an agonising wait. Garry’s pulse suddenly faltered under her fingers. ‘No pulse. Get out now. I’m starting CPR.’
Nick immediately pulled his left arm back, and a soft, half-dissolved strawberry hung limply from the tip of the forceps. ‘Got it. Roll him over.’
Kirby moved her patient’s head to the side as he started coughing violently and vomited up a stream of pale pink liquid onto the ground.
Relief surged through her as she checked his pulse. ‘Pulse back, patient breathing.’ She looked up into Nick’s face, as the worry lines on the bridge of his nose faded. She experienced a sense of déjà vu. ‘Lucky save.’
He nodded, a slow smile appearing through the stubble on his jaw. ‘Very lucky.’
‘Kirby!’
She turned to see Theo and Richard, the ambulance officers, running toward her. ‘Great timing, guys. We need all your gear.’ She grabbed the black oxygen cylinder with its distinctive white top and quickly unravelled the pale green tubing. Gently, she lifted Garry’s head and looped the elastic over his ears, adjusting the Hudson mask. ‘This will help you breathe.’
The sick and bewildered man gripped her arm. ‘Thanks, Doc.’ His voice rasped out the words. ‘I couldn’t breathe… It scared the hell out of me…worse than being on the boat in a storm.’
She smiled down at him. ‘I’m glad I was here, but really it was Dr…’ She realised she didn’t know his surname. ‘Nick? I didn’t catch your surname.’
He finished attaching the Lifepak electrodes and scanned the ECG tracing before looking up and speaking straight to Garry. ‘I’m Dr Nick Dennison, and I’m just glad I was two stalls over.’
Nick Dennison. Kirby did a double-take so fast she almost cricked her neck, the name having instant recognition in her brain. But the man in front of her looked nothing like how she remembered Melbourne City Hospital’s up-and-coming emergency care specialist. What on earth was he doing in Port Bathurst, selling organic fruit and vegetables?
CHAPTER TWO
NICK concentrated hard, keeping his gaze firmly on the cannula he was inserting into Garry’s arm, immensely glad of the distraction. Kirby Atherton’s sky-blue eyes sparkled hypnotically, like light dancing on water. It had been the first thing he’d noticed about her when she’d walked up to his stall, quickly followed by her willowy height and the way her running gear clung deliciously to every feminine curve.
But it had been her eyes that had really drawn him. He had the craziest sensation that if her eyes were deep pools of water and he dived into them, he would emerge changed somehow. He tried to shrug the irrational feeling away. Not even on his worst days last year, when he’d hardly been able to get out of bed and the drugs he’d been taking had made him despair, had he experienced such foolish thoughts.
And prior to being sick, when life had consisted of work and a revolving door of beautiful women, he’d never thought twice about a set of eyes. Perhaps his mother was right. Maybe he had been out of social circulation for too long.
Brushing away the unsettling thoughts, he released the tourniquet, watching the flow of saline, checking for problems, and refocusing on far more straightforward things. ‘We’re going start you on antibiotics, Garry.’
The exhausted patient just nodded from behind his mask.
The two burly paramedics lowered their stretcher in preparation to transfer Garry from the ground to the slightly more comfortable but narrow gurney.
‘Do you need a hand?’ Nick taped the drip firmly in place.
‘We’ll be right, thanks, Doc. We do this all the time so we’re in the swing. Best help you can give us is to just step back out of the way.’ Theo locked the brakes of the stretcher with his foot.
He stood up and moved to the side at the same moment as Kirby. Much of her fine blonde hair had escaped its pink elastic hair tie and strands blew across her flushed cheeks. Her scent tantalised his nostrils, a blend of exercise and glowing health overlaid with a swirl of flowers and berries. He breathed in deeply.
‘I’m going to ring through to Barago Hospital.’
Her words brought him back to the task at hand and he caught her sideways glance—the look quick but questioningly intense—as if she thought she should consult with him.
Her mouth opened ready to speak and then her teeth suddenly dragged across her bottom lip, momentarily flattening it before the skin rebounded into shape—full, soft and rose red.
Blood pounded through his veins with an unexpected rush and it took every ounce of concentration to stay connected to the conversation. Hell, what was wrong with him? Had he stepped back so far from his previous life that he’d disconnected from things and lost the ability to focus? He ran his hand though his short hair, missing the satisfaction of being able to tug at its length. Once he’d been known for his single-mindedness and right now he wanted that back.
She spoke again, this time her words less certain. ‘I think he should be evacuated and have a bronchoscopy.’
She reminded him of a resident who knew her stuff but lacked confidence in her judgement. It was a scenario he was used to but today it surprised him because as a country GP she must be used to making decisions all the time. Glad to be back on familiar territory, he moved to reassure her.
‘It’s a good call. The choking might have been an accident but he’s at an age where you need to rule out multiple sclerosis or other muscular conditions.’
‘Let’s hope it was just an accident, Nick Dennison.’ She raised light brown brows at him. ‘You are the Nick Dennison, youngest appointed head of Emergency Medicine in Australia?’
He studied her pretty features, looking for something that would spark his memory, but nothing did. Surely if they’d dated or worked together he would never have forgotten those eyes. He shoved his hands in his pockets, knowing there was no point denying the truth. ‘That’s me. I’m sorry, have we met before?’
She shook her head. ‘Not really. I attended one of your lectures when I was a resident at Prince William Hospital. I was on duty that night and wasn’t able to go to the dinner afterwards, but I think you met a friend of mine, Virginia Charters.’ She shot him a knowing look. One that said, You didn’t call.
He had no recollection of Virginia Charters but then again, that entire lecture tour had been a blur of cities, lecture theatres and women eager to date him. He loved women and he loved dating. He just didn’t love or date one woman.
He took a punt on the type of women he’d accepted invitations from, women he’d wined, dined and satisfied before his world had imploded. Before he’d lost complete interest. ‘Ah, Virginia…brunette
