attractive even when he could be cutting and moody. Not that, for professional reasons, she’d ever allowed herself to dwell on it. Anyway, she regarded herself as fireproof when it came to men.
‘Silly?’ he reflected. ‘I’ve got a business proposition to put to you, Ms Torrance, so I don’t see anything silly about it at all.’
Sienna stared down at the top of his head. His thick dark hair was tousled and damp. She frowned. ‘What kind of a business proposition could there possibly be between us?’
‘You’re going to have to wheel me on to find out.’
Sienna clicked her tongue in annoyance. She was used to humouring men, she often turned down outrageous propositions with a kind but funny retort, but it was the last thing she’d expected from Finn McLeod. What else could it be, though?
‘Tell me now, Finn, then I’ll be the judge of whether I have a drink with you or not,’ she said coolly.
She saw his shoulders lift as if he was laughing inwardly.
Some minutes later, she was sitting on the veranda with a soft drink in a tall glass in front of her and he had his longed-for beer. There was a silver dish of olives and nuts on the table between them.
The drinks had been served by a middle-aged man he’d introduced as Walt the butler. They were now alone.
‘Let me get this straight,’ Sienna said. ‘You want me to come out west with you so we can continue your treatment on a—on a cattle station?’ She blinked several times, she had grey eyes and naturally dark lashes.
‘Yep.’ Finn McLeod sipped his beer.
‘But why do you need to bury yourself—’ she broke off and bit her lip because he hadn’t that long ago buried his fiancée, ‘—uh—need to be on a cattle station out west anyway?’
He eyed her, then looked around. ‘I’m going crazy up here. I need a change of scene. I was born out there and I like it.’
‘Has it occurred to you that I only spend a couple of hours a day with you? That I might go insane on a cattle station for weeks on end? Or, that you most probably don’t have any of the equipment needed? Not only that but you’ll be away from your doctor.’
He shrugged. ‘I’ve got his go-ahead and I can fly him out if necessary. Ditto all the equipment—there’s already a gym and there’s a pool.’
Sienna sank back and took the first sip of her soft drink; it was delicious, a blend of mango and orange with a dash of mint. Her thoughts were slightly bitter, however.
The McLeod family, now headed by Finn, was extremely wealthy and had diversified from cattle into many areas. She’d never doubted that, it was well known, as were some other facts about the dynasty.
Finn’s parents had divorced and his father had remarried. The new Mrs McLeod, Laura, had presented Finn’s father, Michael, with another son, eight years Finn’s junior. The first Mrs McLeod had, according to popular belief, never recovered from the divorce and pined away. Some years later Michael and Laura had been killed in a plane crash. The pilot had been Michael’s brother, Finn’s uncle Bradley, who had perished too.
Alice, Finn and Declan’s aunt on their father’s side, had brought the boys up.
So it was a colourful dynasty with a tragic background, now added to after that terrible car crash when a drunken driver had ploughed into them and his fiancée had been thrown clear but killed instantly and Finn had been trapped in the car. But that didn’t alter the fact Sienna found herself somewhat annoyed that Finn McLeod could virtually wave a magic wand to achieve his goals and, on top of that, expect everyone to jump to his tune.
‘I’m sorry—’ she started to say, but he intervened.
‘As for your spare time, I happen to know that the Augathella Hospital would be more than happy to have the extra services of a fully-trained physiotherapist to call on for a few weeks.’
She stared at him incredulously. ‘How do you know that?’
He raised an ironic eyebrow. ‘I checked it out with them. The hospital is not that far, as the crow flies, from Waterford.’
Waterford was the principal cattle station in the McLeod crown.
Sienna licked her lips. ‘I do work, you know. I’m employed by a consultancy so, apart from anything else, they would not be too happy for me to disappear beyond the black stump for several weeks. I do have other patients.’
‘Your boss is quite happy for you to do it.’
Sienna put her glass down with something of a rap. ‘Now look here, Finn, that’s going too far! How dare you do all this behind my back?’
He shrugged. ‘Just thought I’d clear the decks of any unnecessary objections you might be likely to make.’
‘Well, that may be how you do business but—’
‘It is,’ he drawled. ‘You’d be amazed how successful it usually is. Look—’ he sat forward ‘—it’s actually a feather in your cap. When I discussed it with your senior partner, he told me that you were establishing a growing reputation in accident rehabilitation therapy. I told him I could believe it, you certainly seemed to be working wonders for me and that’s why I want you and no one else.’
Sienna blinked, then frowned. ‘A feather in my cap? I would call it something else. A subtle way of twisting my arm and, I’m sorry, but I’m not going to do it.’
‘Why?’
She regarded him for several moments. His glossy dark hair was still tousled, there were blue shadows on his jaw, he had a decisive mouth and a tapering chin. It was a memorable face—she thought suddenly that she’d probably remember it for a long time—and it was accompanied by a memorable physique. Finn McLeod was six feet four, broad-shouldered, narrow-hipped, long-legged and what had undoubtedly helped him along his path to rehabilitation was the fact that he’d been in prime physical shape when the accident had happened.
Why not? she thought. Yes, he was the kind of man many women would wonder about, but she didn’t have that problem, did she? So was she worried about his motivation? Because she’d been well taught to be on guard against patient attachment where you became the focus of their lives?
But, from his point of view, was this the same thing or simply the machinations of a wealthy man entirely too used to getting his own way? Much more likely, she suspected.
‘Finn,’ she said slowly and choosing her words with care, ‘any good physiotherapist could have done what I’ve done. Actually, you’ve done it. It’s been your will-power. You don’t need me, per se.’
‘Afraid I’m falling in love with you?’ he queried.
Sienna took an unexpected breath, then narrowed her eyes. ‘Are you?’
‘No.’ He put his glass down and stretched. ‘When you’ve had the best—no insult intended, Sienna—and lost it, you probably don’t ever expect it to happen again.’
Sienna stared at him, frowning again. She couldn’t take issue with the “best”
