Murphy had been doing some upgrades. The reference to these details was an impressive feature and a function of the software package that he had never accessed because he hadn’t been aware it existed. Molly certainly knew the program well. And Ryan was more than impressed. He had not asked for improvements, nor had the busy schedule provided her with additional time on her hands to do this out of boredom. Molly had used initiative to make improvements. Again, she had surprised him and that never happened. Not any more.
Molly Murphy, he thought, you might just be the perfect for-ever woman...for my practice, he quickly qualified.
Ryan McFetridge had no need for a for-ever woman in any other area of his life. And particularly not a woman like Molly. She appeared very different from the women with whom Ryan kept company. Her manner with patients was genuine. The empathy showed a warm heart beneath her shapeless clothes. The women Ryan preferred wore clothes that hugged their shapes but underneath there was no sign of a heart. And that suited him. A night of mutual satisfaction with a woman who was not wanting or expecting more was all he wanted.
Because Ryan McFetridge had nothing to give. Nor did he want anything back.
He rested back in his large black leather chair, a touch of melancholy colouring his mood as he swivelled to look out through the rain-spotted window to the overcast streetscape. It was cold and miserable, with few people in sight, but for some inexplicable reason Ryan felt different. His mood was lighter. And Ryan had not felt anything close to that in a very long time. He brushed aside the coincidence of his mood lifting on the same day that Molly had started work. It was just that. A coincidence. It couldn’t be anything more.
His sole focus outside his work was his daughter. She was his motivation to keep going. To build a legacy to ensure she never needed or wanted for anything. That responsibility weighed heavily. And he would never let her down.
Or ever let anyone hurt her.
Ever again.
* * *
Swivelling back on his chair and returning his focus to his computer screen, he realised Molly Murphy knew her stuff and he couldn’t help but wonder about her background and her qualifications. And why she was working in a role that Ryan suspected was far less than her capability. He knew so little about her. He had to admit to himself he had noticed she was not wearing a wedding ring. He didn’t know why he’d even looked. But with Molly he was curious to know more. Although the absence didn’t mean there was no significant other in her life. And he reminded himself that she could potentially have children, although they would be relatively young.
But none of it mattered, he continued to remind himself. She was his office manager. Nothing more. Nothing less. But it still didn’t stop thoughts of her occupying his head. She was pretty in an almost fragile way but she had spunk and clearly knew how to take care of herself. And now his practice. There was something about Molly that reminded Ryan of the weather outside...unpredictable and challenging.
And Ryan McFetridge had always loved winter.
He drummed his fingers on the edge of his mahogany desk. It was inlaid with a deep burgundy leather and not in keeping with the rest of the more modern decor but it had been a graduation gift from his parents. As they had both since died not long after he’d opened his practice in Adelaide, he loved having something to remind him of them every day. His childhood had been happy and filled with love and encouragement and one of Ryan’s many regrets was that Lizzy had never met her paternal grandparents.
He rested his chin on one hand as he began to scan through his emails. He needed to get back on track and stop being distracted by random thoughts, especially those of his new staff member. Pondering the unknown was pointless and wasting time. He reminded himself firmly that Molly Murphy’s past, present or future after the immediate four-week placement was not his business. With common sense born from the realities he had faced over the years since Lizzy had come into his life, Ryan knew, no matter what effect Molly was or wasn’t having on him, he had to keep it purely business.
* * *
Despite her best intentions, Molly’s own curiosity continued to niggle at her new-found peace of mind. Lingering doubts were replaced by an unsettling and growing interest in knowing a little more about her temporary boss. As much as she also tried to push thoughts about Ryan away as she sipped on lunch, they kept returning. While she felt secure in the knowledge that she had ongoing employment for a month, she felt concerned about why she wanted to know more about her employer. And his daughter. She wondered if Lizzy was using her mother’s surname or maiden name. Not that any of it mattered. She was not naturally curious but now, for some inexplicable reason, she wanted to know more than was necessary to carry out her job.
Why did he have to be so damned attractive and, from all appearances, a loving father? she thought as she pursed her lips. She gently blew on her spoonful of soup in an attempt to cool it slightly. She had not been interested in men since her engagement ended. And she had to keep it that way. He was a man giving her employment for a month. And in her financial situation it was not unlike a rope to a drowning man. A godsend. She couldn’t confuse gratitude for anything more than that. She couldn’t afford to romanticise the situation.
Molly felt sure that she had reconciled the situation in her head and definitely quelled any thoughts stirring in her heart. It was relief and gratitude turning her emotions upside down. Nothing more, she decided as she continued eating her lunch, glancing occasionally out through the rain-splattered window. The weather was still dismal and, on top of the rain, she had discovered when she’d dashed out to find lunch that the bitterly cold breeze had not abated. A patient had told her that falling branches and trees had knocked down power lines in the foothills. It was only slightly better in their location as a powerful gust blowing down the street cut through her thick coat during her mad dash out, once again chilling her to the bone. An arctic freeze, one patient remarked.
She was grateful she had taken the earlier dampness out of her hair with the hand-dryer in the restroom and borrowed an umbrella from Stacy or she might have brought the stirrings of a winter head cold back to the practice with her. But climate aside, Molly’s day had insurmountably improved from the rocky start. A month’s employment was everything she needed at that moment. She knew rent would be covered and she could save a little for unexpected bills. Finally, she could exhale if only for a few weeks and that brought her great comfort. As did her warm surroundings that she studied in a little more detail.
The lunchroom was brightly lit, with a round white wooden table and four matching chairs with red cushions and an arrangement of fresh red and yellow gerberas, which she knew must have been imported at that time of the year; a well-stocked wall-mounted magazine rack that was female friendly in choices; and the usual kitchen amenities, including a red enamelled espresso machine and red mugs. Molly had wondered if Lizzy might have had input into arranging the pretty room since there were many not so subtle splashes of red in the decor.
A few moments later Ryan made his way into the lunchroom, slightly startling Molly. She had assumed he had left the practice for his home rounds. There were five visits that afternoon and Molly discovered Ryan, unlike many GPs, didn’t use a locum service to meet his patients’ needs. He called in personally to monitor those who were housebound by various short-and long-term medical ailments, including those patients who had been admitted permanently to nursing homes. He seemed more like a country-style, hands-on GP.
‘Molly,’ Ryan said as he made his way to the refrigerator and collected milk. ‘I wondered if you might be in here.’
‘Just grabbing a bite to eat.’
‘Ah, soup,’ he said, peering into the bowl as he passed by. ‘Is it home-made?’
‘No,
