a male voice rumbled behind her and she jumped and spun round, her heart skittering.
Emma straightened, one hand clenched on the railings, her senses on high alert, as Declan O’Malley came up the steps. His sudden appearance had made her flustered and unsure. ‘I run most mornings.’ She felt his eyes track over her and, before she could move or comprehend, he’d lifted a hand and knuckled her cheek ever so gently. Emma felt her breath jam.
‘It’s good to see those shadows gone,’ he said, his voice throaty and low and further tugging on her senses. His eyes beckoned hers until she lifted her gaze. ‘I gather you slept well?’
She nodded, breath rushing into the vacuum of her lungs. She’d slept well for the first time in weeks. She wasn’t about to analyse the reason. But she had a fair idea it was all to do with the fact that at least for the next little while, her future was settled. Her teeth caught on her lower lip. ‘I thought we were to meet at the hospital.’
Hands rammed in his back pockets, Declan shifted his stance slightly as if to relieve tense muscles. ‘I was awake early. Thought I might come over and persuade you to have breakfast with me.’
‘Or you could stay here and have breakfast with me,’ Emma rushed out. ‘I’m sure I could cobble something together.’
‘I didn’t mean to gatecrash—’
‘You’re not.’ She took a thin breath. ‘Give me a minute to have a shower and change.’
He followed her inside to the kitchen. ‘I could knock us up some breakfast—that’s if you don’t mind someone else rattling around in your kitchen?’
‘Not remotely.’ In a reflex action, Emma jerked the zipper closed on her track top right up to her chin. ‘Uh…I did a shop last night. There’s plenty of stuff in the fridge.’ She almost ran from the room.
Sheesh! Declan spun away, thumping the heel of his hand to his forehead. Why on earth had he done that? Touched her. He hadn’t meant it to happen but at that moment his hand had seemed to have a life of its own. Oh, good grief. Surely, the idea had been to reassure her he was trustworthy. Well, that premise was shot. Instead, he’d gone to the other extreme and created a damn great elephant in the room. He hissed out a breath of frustration and tried to take stock of the kitchen. He’d promised her breakfast. He’d better start delivering.
Emma showered in record time, towelled dry and dressed quickly in comfortable cargos and a ruby-red sweater. She wasn’t about to drive herself crazy thinking about earlier. It was hardly a professional thing for Declan to have done. What she couldn’t work out was her instinctive response to his touch…Oh, Lord. Suddenly, her body was stiff with tension. Almost jerkily, she lifted her hands, bunching her hair from her shoulders and letting it spiral away. At least he’d got on with the breakfast. There was a gorgeous smell of grilling bacon coming from the kitchen.
‘How’s it going?’ Emma asked, buzzing back into the kitchen, determined not to start walking on eggshells around him. They were about to become partners in practice. Nothing else. ‘Find everything?’
Declan looked up from the stove. ‘No worries. It’s a great kitchen.’
‘Tottering with age but very user-friendly,’ Emma agreed. Opening the door of the fridge, she peered in and located the orange juice. She poured two glasses and handed one across to Declan.
‘Thanks. I’m doing bacon and scrambled eggs.’
‘Lovely.’
Declan lifted his glass and drained it slowly as he watched the eggs begin to thicken and fluff. He could get used to this. The warmth and the clutter of the old-fashioned kitchen. The comforting aroma of food cooking. The feeling of solidness, of family. The place just breathed it. He could get some idea now of how desperate Emma had been to hang on to her home. ‘Your idea?’ He pointed to the sun-catcher crystal that dangled from the window in front of the sink.
Her tiny smile blossomed to a grin. ‘My alternative period. You about done here?’
‘I hope it’s up to scratch,’ he said, catching the drift of her flowery shampoo as her head topped his shoulder.
‘Mmm, smells good.’ Emma gave him a quick nod of approval. ‘I’ll get the plates.’
‘I used to run a bit,’ Declan said as they settled over breakfast.
‘You can’t now?’
His mouth pulled down. ‘I seem to be stuck with a set of prescribed exercises these days.’
Emma looked up sharply with a frown. Did that mean he didn’t trust his legs on a simple run? ‘I understood you to say it was standing for long periods you had trouble with. Short bursts of running would seem OK, surely? And drawing all that fresh air into your bloodstream works magic.’
Well, he knew that. ‘Maybe it’ll happen. In time.’
So, end of discussion. Emma pursed her mouth into a thoughtful moue, realizing suddenly that her own emotional baggage didn’t seem nearly as weighty as her soon-to-be-partner’s. Determinedly, she pulled out her social skills and managed to create enough general conversation to get them through the rest of the meal. She glanced at her watch, surprised to see the time had gone so quickly. She swung up from the table. ‘If you’ll start clearing away, I’ll just feed the cat.’
Declan gave a rusty chuckle, looking sideways to where the big tabby sprawled indolently on the old-fashioned cane settee. ‘Looks like he wants room service.’
Emma snorted. ‘Lazy creature. I think the mice run rings around him. He belonged to Mum.’
Declan hesitated with a response, a query in his eyes.
‘She moved back to Melbourne about a year ago,’ Emma enlightened him thinly. ‘Dad bought her an art gallery in St Kilda. It had an apartment attached so the whole set-up suited her perfectly and Dad went there as often as he could before he died. She never really felt at home here in rural Queensland. Missed the buzz of the city, her friends.’
Declan was thoughtful as he stood to his feet, processing the information. At least now he knew where the bulk of Andrew’s estate had gone and why the practice was all but running on goodwill. And why Emma’s stress levels must have been immense as a result.
Between them, they put the kitchen to rights in a few minutes. Hanging the tea towel up to dry, Emma felt an odd lightness in her spirits.
‘Emma, I wonder if you could spare a few minutes now? There are a couple of business decisions I’d like to run past you.’
His voice had a firm edge to it and Emma came back to earth with a thud. ‘Let’s go through to Dad’s–your surgery,’ she substituted shortly. ‘I’ll give the hospital a call and let them know we’ll be along a bit later than planned.’
They took their places at the big rosewood desk. ‘Fire away,’ Emma invited, locking her arms around her middle as if to protect herself.
Declan moved his position, sitting sideways in his chair, his legs outstretched and crossed at the ankles. ‘First up, I’ll need to see some figures from your accountant. Could you arrange that, please?’
‘I
