flushed face, the angry tilt of her small chin. Damn! He hadn’t reckoned on any of this. ‘It was what your father wanted, Emma.’
Emma gave a hard little laugh. ‘Emotional blackmail will get you absolutely nowhere, Dr O’Malley.’
‘Please!’ With a reflex action Declan’s head shot up, his vivid blue gaze striking an arc across the space between them. ‘Give me a little credit. I realize this has come as a shock to you. And I’m sorry. I’d hoped Andrew might have given you some idea of what he wanted, paved the way a bit, but obviously time ran out on him. But we can’t leave things here, Emma. We really can’t.’ His mouth compressed briefly. ‘I suggest we take a break and let things settle a bit. I’m staying at the Heritage Hotel. We could link up there later this evening and talk further. Dinner around seven. Does that suit you?’
‘Fine,’ Emma responded bluntly. It seemed she had no choice in the matter.
‘Let’s meet at the bar, then.’ Declan grabbed at the grudging acceptance.
Chapter Two
EMMA hitched up her little shoulder bag and determinedly pushed open the heavy plate glass door of the restaurant. She loved this place. As it was winter, the lovely old fireplace was lit, sending out warmth and flickering patterns to the wood-panelled walls. The atmosphere was charming and tonight was the first time she’d come here since…Her teeth caught on her lower lip. She and Dad had come here often. The Sunday lunch at the Heritage was legendary.
But this evening her dinner companion was someone far different than her father.
Heart thrumming, Emma made her way along the parquet flooring towards the bar. Declan was there already. She saw him at once, his distinctive dark head turning automatically, almost as if he’d sensed her approach. A shower of tingles began at the base of her backbone, spiralling upwards and engulfing her. She swallowed. He was wearing dark jeans and an oatmeal-coloured sweater that looked soft and cuddly. Oh, get real, Emma! Cuddles and Declan O’Malley were about as compatible as oil and water.
‘Hello again.’ Declan nodded almost formally. And blinked. Wow! Gone was the harassed-looking medico. Emma Armitage could have sauntered in from the catwalk. She was wearing black leggings and a long-sleeved, long-line silver-grey T-shirt, a huge silky scarf in a swirl of multicolour around her throat. And knee-high boots. ‘You look amazing.’
‘Thanks.’ Her shrug was so slight he hardly saw it. ‘I love your outfit too.’
So, the lady did have a sense of humour after all. A quirky one at that. Declan’s grin unfolded lazily, his eyes crinkling at the corners. ‘We seem to have that sorted, so let’s try to enjoy our evening, shall we? Would you like something to drink?’
In a leggy, graceful movement, Emma hitched herself up on to one of the high bar stools. ‘A glass of the house red would be nice, thanks.’
For a while they talked generalities and then Declan glanced at his watch. ‘I reserved us a table. Shall we go through?’
‘It’s rather crowded for a week night,’ Emma said stiltedly as they took their places in the restaurant adjoining the bar.
‘I’ve been quite taken with the town,’ Declan rejoined. ‘Tell me a bit about its history.’
Emma did her best to comply and it wasn’t until they’d come to the end of their meal and were sitting over coffee she said pointedly, ‘It’s been a long day, could we wind things up so we can both get on about our business?’
‘OK, then.’ Declan’s moody blue eyes were fixed unflinchingly on hers. ‘I’ll get straight to the point. About six months ago I received a letter from your father telling me about his deterioration in health.’
For a few seconds Emma stared at him in numb disbelief. ‘Dad told you and he didn’t tell me? Why? I was his daughter, for heaven’s sake.’
Declan could hardly bear to watch her grief. ‘I know it sounds an old chestnut, Emma,’ he said gently, ‘but perhaps he didn’t want to upset you any further than you had been. You had other things going on in your life, didn’t you?’
Emma’s face was tightly controlled. ‘What did Dad tell you about that?’
‘Almost nothing—just that you’d had a few personal problems.’
Like mopping up the emotional fallout after her rat of a fiancé had dumped her for her best friend…
‘And that you’d come back to work in the practice,’ Declan finished diplomatically.
Emma curled her hands into a tight knot on her lap. ‘What did he tell you about his health? That he had only a short time to live?’
Declan’s frown deepened. ‘Nothing like that. But, from what he told me, I drew my own conclusions. If it hadn’t been for the fact that I, myself, was in somewhat of a personal crisis at the time, I’d have come back to Australia to see Andrew immediately. Instead, I called him. He was concerned for you, for the future of the practice if the worst happened. We talked at length. It was then he offered to sell me his half of the practice.’
‘I see.’ Emma swallowed through a suddenly dry throat. But she understood now why her father hadn’t told her anything about his plans. He would have had to reveal the uncertain state of his health. So instead he’d trusted Declan O’Malley to set things right. But did that mean she had to accept him as her partner? She didn’t think so. ‘I’m sure Dad wouldn’t have wanted you interfering in my life.’
‘That’s not what Andrew had in mind, Emma.’
‘So, you’re here as some kind of…white knight?’ she grated bitterly.
‘I’m here because I want to be here,’ Declan said simply. ‘Because it seems like a worthwhile thing to do. You need a partner. I need a job. Isn’t that the truth of it?’
She looked at him warily. ‘Why do you need a job? You obviously have medical qualifications beyond the norm. Career-wise, the world should be your playground. Why aren’t you working in your chosen discipline somewhere?’
‘It’s a long story.’
‘There’s plenty of coffee in the pot,’ Emma countered. ‘And we’re quite private here.’
Declan felt the familiar grind in his guts at the thought of rehashing everything.
At his continued silence, something like resentment stirred in Emma and she couldn’t let go of it. ‘Dr O’Malley, if you’ve ideas of entering into partnership with me, then I need to know what I’m getting. That’s only fair, isn’t it?’
He took a long breath and let it go. ‘My surgical career is, to all intents and purposes, finished. I can’t operate any longer.’
Faint shock widened Emma’s eyes. How awful. She knew only too well what it was like to have your world collapse with no redress possible. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Thank you.’ The words escaped mechanically from his lips.
And that was it? Emma took in the sudden tight set of his neck and shoulders. He had to know she needed more information. Much more
