gave a little laugh. ‘This is all a bit ridiculous, isn’t it?’
Brady’s smile was slow and a bit lopsided. ‘Perhaps we were destined to meet.’
Jo took a small step backwards, clasping the silk of her wrap more tightly across her chest. Was this a chat-up line? ‘Are you parked nearby?’ she countered awkwardly.
Well, he’d stuffed that up nicely. Brady had seen the sudden defensiveness hazing her green eyes. ‘I’m collecting my car from the parking station,’ he said briskly. ‘I imagine you’re on the same errand?’
‘Yes.’ Jo licked her lips, her heart thumping and pattering. They began walking again. ‘Are you just in town for the wedding?’ she asked conversationally.
‘My movements are a bit fluid at the moment.’
Well, that seemed to be that. Jo scrabbled in her purse for her parking receipt. ‘I’m on the third floor,’ she said, assuming they would say their goodbyes.
‘Me, too.’ Brady summoned the lift and waited for her to get in.
In the few seconds while the lift groaned its way upwards, the silence was awkward. Keeping her gaze carefully averted, Jo took a sneaky look at Brady McNeal as he hooked his suit jacket over his shoulder and slouched against the opposite wall of the lift. Nice eyes, she thought, and cheekbones to die for, and the snug fit of his suit trousers indicated a pair of long, muscular legs. She was still fanatisising when the lift jerked to a stop.
‘I’ll walk with you to your car.’ He took her elbow firmly as they vacated the lift. ‘These places are spooky at the best of times.’
And she was parked at the very end of a long, long row of vehicles. ‘Perhaps we should have both taken cabs in the first place,’ she suggested on a laugh made brittle by a flood of nerves when his guiding hand on her elbow slid down to entwine her fingers in his.
It was the lightest contact, casual and probably without meaning, yet Jo was suddenly, vividly aware of Brady’s masculinity. For an instant some maverick part of her longed for him to stop and whirl her into his arms. Hold her close. Kiss her…
‘Nah.’ Brady vetoed the idea of taxis with a huff of amusement. ‘I prefer to have my own wheels handy. You can never find a cab when you need one.’
‘And there always seem to be twenty people in line before you,’ she agreed, in a voice that was too high and too bright. ‘It was a nice wedding, wasn’t it?’ Determined to keep up the innocuous chatter, Jo changed conversation channels quickly.
‘Uh, yes, it was. Let’s hope they can stay the distance.’
‘Of course they will. They’re dotty about each other.’
The corners of Brady’s mouth tucked in on a small grimace. ‘There are valid reasons to go into marriage other than being dotty about each other, Jo.’
‘Reasons like money or position?’ Jo couldn’t keep the faint note of censure out of her voice.
Brady was taken aback. They weren’t his reasons at all. Would never be. His reasons were entirely personal. Way too personal to share with someone he’d just met. Even someone as delectable as the lady by his side.A slow, fence-mending smile edged his mouth. ‘No. Speaking personally, I’d never want to marry someone for those reasons.’
It was said with obvious sincerity and Jo felt her heart warm again. She managed a fleeting smile. ‘I wouldn’t either. Ah…’ She pointed ahead. ‘That’s my car at the end, the white hatchback.’
Brady looked at the gleaming paintwork and grinned. ‘Been through the carwash for the occasion, has it?’
‘Something like that. But by this time tomorrow it’s bound to be nice and dusty again,’ she predicted ruefully.
Brady’s dark brows peaked. ‘You don’t work here in the city, then?’
‘Haven’t for ages. I love my relatively quiet existence in a country practice. What about you?’
Brady released her hand abruptly as they came to a halt beside her car. ‘For the moment I’m staying with my parents at Bardon. Taking off to a new job shortly.’
‘Well, good luck, then.’ Hurriedly, Jo delved into her bag again for her keys. Unlocking the door of the car, she stood back for a second. ‘It was…nice meeting you, Brady,’ she said, a bit stiltedly.
‘You, too.’ He stretched in front of her to open the door of the car. His shoulder nudged her arm and the side of her breast before she could step out of the way.
‘Thanks.’ Jo’s thoughts were in wild disarray as she slid into the driver’s seat. Suddenly, everything that was male about Brady had assailed her. Everything from the clean crisp smell of apple-scented laundry softener on his shirt to the subtle male aftershave on his jaw as he’d swooped across her to open the door. ‘Take care, then,’ she said from behind the safe haven of her wound-down window.
‘And you.’ Brady sketched a casual salute, before turning away.
Jo watched as Brady loped back along the row of parked cars and then dodged through the line, obviously to collect his own vehicle.
What was it all about? She gnawed her lip thoughtfully. Perhaps they’d meet up again one day. After all, they had friends in common. The thought wasn’t too far-fetched. Jo shivered involuntarily and admitted she would have liked the chance to get to know Brady McNeal better. A whole lot better.
* * *
He should have asked for her phone number. Brady started the engine of his car and shot towards the exit sign. He huffed a self-deprecating laugh. Hell, he didn’t even know her surname. But Sophie would. His heart somersaulted.
Was he ready for even the most tenuous kind of relationship, though? But in terms of area, Queensland was a vast state. For all he knew, Jo’s country practice could be at the opposite end of the state from where he was going. But they could always email. Relationships had been sustained by much less personal contact. His hopes rose briefly and then flagged. Best forget it. Forget Jo with the tiny freckles across her nose and the very sweet way she smiled.
Get real, he admonished himself silently. What woman in her right mind would want you and your baggage, McNeal?
* * *
The morning at Mt Pryde Medical Centre began to unfold like a typical Monday. Even before Jo had time to stow her case and switch on her computer, Angelo Kouras, one of the partners, poked his head in.
‘Welcome back, stranger. Nice holiday?’
‘The best.’ Jo’s parents ran a bed and breakfast in North Queensland and it was her idea of the perfect holiday; with her mother’s fabulous cooking, her dad’s extensive wine cellar and nothing to do but swim and snorkel, day in and day out.
‘Good trip back?’
‘No dramas. What about here?’
‘A few, but we handled them.’ Angelo tilted a wry smile. ‘Ah, staff meeting at one o’clock, Jo. I’ve asked Monica to cater lunch. We’ve
