takeout and having pizza arrive on your doorstep.’
Phoebe liked his quirky analogy, although it seemed at odds with his less than lighthearted nature. He was far from a poor second, and she silently admitted that pizza was a favourite of hers. Heath was charming and knowledgeable, and his reserved demeanour was a pleasant change.
Although his rigid viewpoint might possibly test her reserves of patience in the long term, she was very much looking forward to working with him in the short term. She doubted he would disappoint on any level, but professional was the only level she was interested in exploring.
Heath considered the woman sitting opposite him for a moment. She was a highly regarded surgeon in their mutual field, but there was a mixture of strength and frailty to her. It was as if she was hiding, or running away from something. And he wasn’t sure why he wanted to work her out, except that it was as if she was second-guessing herself on some level. He had no idea why she would.
Heath knew that she was an only child, that her father was a Presidential advisor and her mother a Washington socialite, and that she’d spent her high school years at a prestigious private school in Washington. She had openly chatted about that. He also knew that she had graduated top of her class from her studies at the New York College of Podiatric Medicine, and had done her three-year residency at the university hospital.
It would appear she had the makings of someone who could be quite consumed with their own self-importance, but she wasn’t. She was, he’d realised quickly, very humble—because Heath knew of her Dux status from his father, not from her. Phoebe hadn’t brought it up. It was a huge honour and she was omitting it from her abbreviated life story over morning coffee.
In that way she was not unlike his wife, Natasha—a former model and fashion designer who had also been very humble about the accolades she’d been given both on and off the runway.
Natasha had not been at all what Heath had imagined a model would be like the night he’d met her at a fundraising event. He’d been thirty and she only twenty-three. After a whirlwind courtship they’d married, and Natasha had fallen pregnant soon afterwards. They’d both been so excited and looking forward to growing their family.
Heath had come to learn that she worked actively and tirelessly for many causes—including one to support research into a cure for the disease that had eventually claimed her life. And from that day, Heath’s purpose in life—his only focus outside of his work—had been raising their beautiful little boy, Oscar, who had been given life by the only woman Heath had ever loved.
And nothing and no one would ever come between them.
Not his work and not a woman.
It was a promise he’d made to himself five years earlier. The day he lost his wife. The day he’d walked away from the hospital without her and realised he would never again hold her in his arms or wake next to her in the bed they had shared. He’d vowed that day that he would dedicate his life to being the kind of father to their son that Natasha would have wanted.
And he would never wake with another woman in his arms.
He had been true to both promises.
Oddly, sitting with Phoebe, he felt almost comfortable, more at ease than in a long time, and he suspected their mutual professional interests had a lot to do with that. He couldn’t remember the last time he had spoken in depth to a woman about his chosen career and engaged in a meaningful conversation. He had taken lovers over the years, but nothing more than a shared night. He left before dawn, and conversation was at the bottom of the list of his needs on those occasions.
‘I’d better let you go and I’ll head back to the practice and sort out the air-con, or we’ll have melted patients for the next few months,’ Heath told her in a matter-of-fact tone as he stood. ‘It’s only December, and both January and February are hotter months in general.’
Phoebe was taken aback by the way Heath ended their time together. He had invited her to go for a drink and now he was excusing himself quite abruptly. Not that she minded at all. In fact she was relieved, as it gave him no further opportunity to quiz her about her personal life.
‘You mean hotter than this?’ Phoebe asked.
‘Not hotter, but hot for longer stretches.’
Phoebe shrugged. ‘Well, then, I really hope you get the air-conditioner working.’
He paid the tab and walked Phoebe to the door and then out into the street. His body language was stiff and distant again. Any hint of being relaxed had evaporated.
‘I’ll see you in a few days. Take some downtime to recover from your trip and I’ll see you on Thursday morning at eight. If you get a chance, try to head to the beach or a pool. It will do you the world of good.’
Phoebe nodded. ‘Okay, thanks—maybe I will.’ She walked away, then suddenly turned around and called out. ‘Heath, we never discussed Thursday’s patients.’
Heath turned back and looked at Phoebe for the longest moment, then glanced at the laptop tucked loosely under his arm. ‘We didn’t, didn’t we?’
‘DADDY!’
Heath was welcomed home by tiny arms that wrapped around his knees and hugged him ferociously. He bent down and returned the hug before he picked up his son in his strong arms and swung him around like a carousel ride. Oscar was his reason for living. He had been the beacon of hope during his darkest days. Heath would never let Oscar down. No matter what the future held, he would be his son’s anchor through life. He was the only thing that brought a smile to Heath’s face and love to an otherwise broken heart.
‘How’s my favourite little man?’ he asked, kissing his tiny son’s chubby cheek.
‘I’m good, Daddy.’
Heath lowered him to the ground, then sat on the sofa. Oscar climbed up next to him.
‘Can we go to the pool tomorrow—can we, please?’
Heath considered his son for a moment. He had his mother’s deep brown eyes and he was the apple of his father’s. There was nothing Heath wouldn’t do for him, but he did like to have fun and tease him a little sometimes.
‘I thought you hated the pool? You distinctly told me the other day that you never, ever wanted to go swimming again. You said that you would rather eat live worms than go to a swimming pool!’
‘Don’t be silly, Daddy. I loooooove the pool!’
Heath picked Oscar up and put him on his lap and held him tightly. ‘Then it looks like tomorrow we’re off to the pool, my little man.’
Phoebe enjoyed a lazy sleep-in the next day. It would end, she knew, when the air-conditioning at the practice was repaired, so she made the most of it. Then she had a quick shower, put on shorts, sandals and a T-shirt, and went out to buy a newspaper. While she enjoyed a light breakfast she planned on reading local stories of interest and about the issues affecting the town she would call home for the near future.
When she arrived home there was a
