The Man with the Locked Away Heart. Melanie Milburne

      CHAPTER ONE

      ‘THERE’S someone here to see you, Gemma,’ Narelles, the receptionist at the clinic, informed her as she popped her head around the consulting-room door.

      Gemma looked up from the patient notes she was filling in before she left for the day. ‘Not another lastminute patient?’ she asked, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in her stomach. She had been working twelve hours straight and could think of nothing better than driving back to Huntingdon Lodge to catch up on some much-needed sleep.

      ‘No,’ Narelle said, and cupping her hand around her mouth in a conspiratorial manner added in a stage whisper. ‘It’s a police sergeant.’

      Gemma straightened her slumped shoulders like a puppet suddenly pulled up by strings. ‘A sergeant?’ she asked. ‘Why? What’s happened?’

      Narelle’s eyes danced. ‘He’s the new cop. You know, the one we’ve been waiting for to replace Jack Chugg? He’s in the waiting room. I guess he just wants to make himself known to you. Do you want me to hang around while he’s here?’

      Gemma pushed out from the desk and got to her feet. ‘No, you go on home, Narelle. Ruby and Ben will be missing you. You’ve already stayed way past your usual time. I didn’t realise Nick Goglin’s transfer to Brisbane would take so long.’

      ‘You think he’s going to make it?’ Narelle asked with a concerned frown.

      Gemma hiked her shoulders up and down. ‘Who knows? With head injuries it’s always hard to predict the outcome. The neuro team in Brisbane will let us know as soon as he is assessed. All we can do at this stage is hope and pray he comes out of the coma with all his faculties intact.’

      ‘Yes, well, all of Jingilly Creek is behind him, and of course Meg and the kids,’ Narelle said. Her hand dropped from where it was holding the door ajar. ‘I’ll send your visitor in on my way out. Have a good one, Gemma.’

      ‘Thanks,’ she said as she quickly straightened the files on her desk. ‘You too.’

      Gemma heard firm footsteps moving along the corridor and then there was a brief hard knock on the consulting-room door a moment or two later.

      ‘Come in,’ she said, fixing a pleasant but professional smile on her face.

      As soon as the door opened she felt her eyes widen involuntarily and her smile falter. For some reason she had been expecting a slightly overweight, close-to-retirement-age cop, someone who would take up the remote Outback post until they finally hung up their badge for good. She had pictured in her mind’s eye a mid-height man with a balding pate and a belly that overhung his belt, similar to the recently retired Jack Chugg. She hadn’t for a moment conjured up a tall, broad-shouldered, slim-hipped, dark-haired, gorgeous-looking man in his early to mid-thirties with a body that looked as if it would look even better without the covering of the blue denim jeans and white casual shirt he was wearing.

      ‘Dr Kendall?’ He moved across the floor to her desk in a couple of strides—most people took at least three or four—and held out his hand. ‘I am Sergeant Marc Di Angelo.’

      Gemma put her hand in his and immediately felt as if he had zapped her with a Taser gun. Electric jolts travelled from her palm along the length of her arm. And even more shocking, disturbing and totally inexplicably, her heart gave a funny leap and skip and trip movement behind the wall of her chest. ‘Um—hi,’ she said, feeling her professional front peeling away

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