buddy-strapped it. Told him to come back in a couple of days so we can double-check.’ Having replenished the dressing trolley, Connor cracked his knuckles as he stretched his arms out in front of him. ‘Man, that felt good. It’s been a while since I did hands-on.’
‘I let you loose on my patients when you’re out of practice?’ She glowered at him. Had she allowed him to bulldoze her into something she had doubts about again? One word from him and she was almost rolling over, asking him to scruff her tummy. When would she learn? She would not let him badger her into anything any more. ‘Please tell me you have a valid practising certificate.’
‘Of course. Simmer down.’ He laughed. ‘And I thought we’d agreed to be civil. Don’t worry, I do a few hours consulting a month to keep my hand in.’
‘But why bother do all those years at med school just for a few hours a month? The internships? The GP training? What a waste.’
‘Why? I know my way around a clinic. I’ve lived and breathed medical practice.’ For the first time since his arrival he looked uncomfortable. His lips formed a tight line and a frown sat edgily over his eyes. ‘But systems management is important too. Someone needs to make sure everyone’s reached a certain standard.’
He closed his eyes briefly and Mim noticed his fist clenched against the desk. He looked like he was trying to gain control. And unbelievably sad.
‘Connor?’ Her heart stammered as she bit her lip. ‘Are you okay?’
When he opened his eyes again they resonated a steel calm. Devoid of any kind of emotion. ‘You have your demons, Mim, I have mine. And we’re both trying to work the system to fit them.’
Demons? His sister perhaps. Who knew? No point in asking. Clamming up was Connor’s forte. She’d never managed to break through that hard exterior before.
But they needed to get on to move on. She touched his fingers in a meek attempt at a handshake. ‘So how about we start over? Let’s go for civil. Who knows? We might even like it.’
Connor inhaled sharply. Mim had always been right about one thing: moving forward was the only way to go. He couldn’t change what had happened to Janey. Or that Mim had thrashed his heart. He just had to make sure that nothing like either tragedy ever happened again.
She looked up at him through thick lashes, held his gaze, her lips parted slightly. Her pale complexion was punctuated with two red circles of anger, the passion for her work flaring deeply in dark irises. Her belief and pride in her good intentions was clear in the way she held that pert body erect and taut.
As if answering her clarion call, his blood stirred in a sudden wild frenzy.
He let her hand drop and forced himself to remember all the reasons their affair had failed before. Passion and lust had never been a problem. But their clash of backgrounds and vision of their futures had pulled them in opposing directions. Walking away had been her chosen option. Three years had made no difference to her naive idealism. But this time he could do the walking.
Connor eased out the irritation rippling through his shoulders. He’d work this on his terms. Keep a professional distance.
‘Okay. Let’s start again. Hi. I’m Dr Connor Wiseman, here to assess your practice.’
‘How-de-do, Dr Wiseman. I’m Mim. Welcome to beautiful Atanga Bay, where we have sunshine and smiles in abundance. Oh, and the odd bush fire … but only once in a blue moon.’ The corner of her lips tweaked upwards as she folded her arms over her tiny frame. She was extremes and opposites. Combative and defensive. And yet he knew she enjoyed a good spat as much as he did. No one had ever riled him so much, hit the spot every time. And got a rise out of him. Figuratively and, very often, literally. Their fights had been legendary, but their make-up sex had been stellar.
He sneaked another glance down her body. She was thinner, sure, but there were still curves there, hidden under her shapeless jumper. She was every bit the woman he remembered. And then some.
And he had to endure being with her for the next three months. More if he kept being delayed by fires and regular cat fights. But he refused to be baited by her. Had to remain controlled and calm. And focused. ‘So, give me a clue. How to write notes in a computer that refuses to start?’
She picked up a pen from the desk and waved it at him, her intensity and passion transformed now to a flutter of lightness. ‘Can’t function without your gadgetry? Try using a pen.’
‘You are joking? This is twenty-first-century New Zealand, not the Pickwick Papers.’
‘If we’re busy, or the computer’s playing up, like today, I write them down on cards, and type them up later. They’re always up to date by the end of the day.’ She cringed, and had the decency to look apologetic. ‘But you’re right, the computers do need updating. I’m looking into buying wireless laptops. Chicken and egg thing—I need the money to buy computers, need the computers to get the money. But it’s high on my priority list. Is that something you can put a big tick next to?’
‘Sure. When you get them you’ll have a tick. Not before.’
Then he walked back to Reception, torn between helping her patients and completing his brief. In the end, professional compassion won out over fiscal duty. But as he directed his next patient into Treatment Room Two, he swallowed his frustration. The day he walked away from Mim and Atanga Bay couldn’t come soon enough.
CHAPTER THREE
THE sound of more sirens had Connor striding to the surgery door. Again.
He should be used to it by now—after three hours the shrieking wails had become a regular distraction.
He watched as a fire-service helicopter hovered in the distance out over the sea. A dangling monsoon bucket scooped its gallons then was swung off in the direction of the fire. Smoke billowed from the bush in the distance, an acrid burning smell filled the air and tiny fragments of ash periodically fluttered onto him like confetti.
Further up the road a steady stream of camper vans and overloaded cars zoomed towards him as the campsite decamped into Atanga Bay.
Mim joined him on the step outside and wrapped her arms around her chest. Worry and concern tightened her fragile features. She jerked her head in the direction of the fire. ‘What d’you reckon? Does it seem to be coming under control?’
‘Don’t know. Does this happen a lot out here?’
‘No. First time. Normally it’s a peaceful seaside community.’ She smiled. ‘Sure, we have fire bans in the summer, who doesn’t? But gas explosions on construction sites can happen anywhere. Why? Worried about your papers catching fire?’
‘I was more concerned that you lived in a dangerous place.’ The surprise on her face told him he’d said too much. But he wouldn’t sleep at night if he thought she was at risk. Just a guy’s natural protective instinct kicking in. Right? ‘How far away is Two Rivers?’
‘Five kilometres or so.’ Another rural fire service truck sped by.
Duty tugged at him. This tiny community was at risk, and he couldn’t sit idly by and watch the emergency services rattle past. ‘It’s on the main road, right? Far end of the peninsula?’
‘You’re
