was still hanging in on the attraction stuff, stirring deep down.
‘I’ve no idea,’ he replied. ‘I thought maybe you had at her last appointment, or perhaps the receptionist when Mrs Youngman phoned for an appointment.’
‘Helene Youngman!’ Jo repeated, trying to come to terms with the town’s mayor making enquiries about IVF. She had grown-up children and she was a widow. Hauling her mind back to work, Jo added, ‘She must have asked to see you, to see the new doctor—everyone in town would have known you were here within hours—because she didn’t want to talk to me about it, which is a bit of a downer for me as we’re quite friendly. Not that it matters who she talks to, of course, but what did you tell her?’
‘Only what I knew—specialist clinics in the capital cities, maybe in large regional cities—best to see a gynaecologist first and get checked out before spending too much money. I want to check out information about available programmes so I know for the future, but didn’t want to ask one of the nurses because she, Mrs Youngman, gave the impression she was embarrassed enough asking about it, although she must have mentioned it to someone because of the note. I said I’d see what I could find out for her and post it.’
‘Embarrassed? Poor thing, that’s exactly what she would be. Actually, it’s hard to believe she came here to enquire, rather than drive down the coast to Port, but she’s a busy woman. She’s our local mayor and runs two hairdressing salons as well. Although if she goes through with it—and good luck to her if she does—speaking to a doctor about it is going to be the easy part. Facing the local population as it becomes obvious, that’s what will be hard for her. We’ll need to make sure she gets plenty of support.’
He liked the ‘we’, as if she’d already accepted him as a colleague, but watching her Cam could practically see Jo’s mind working as she tried to puzzle out the request so when she added, ‘I didn’t even know she was seeing someone, let alone involved enough to want a child with him,’ he wasn’t surprised to see a blush rise in her cheeks.
She pressed her hands against them.
‘What a small-minded thing to say—why should I know? That’s just what I was talking about earlier. Small-town mentality, you see. We all think we know everything that’s going on all the time, and if we don’t we’re surprised, even a little put out. That’s terrible, isn’t it?’
The clear green eyes, like the shallow water at the edge of the ocean when the surf was flat, met his with a plea for—understanding? Absolution?
The first he could give.
‘It’s natural enough, and part of the charm of small towns.’ The colour was fading from her cheeks so he went for the second as well. ‘And I didn’t find it small-minded. To me you simply sounded caring.’
She smiled at him and it was as if the sun had hit the placid green water, sparking golden lights in it.
Golden lights on placid waters? Was his success in getting a job here—even if it was only temporary—turning him fanciful? Had waking up to that spectacular view then the chance for an hour in the surf before breakfast and work altered the chemistry in his brain?
He brought his mind back to work.
‘So, what do you know of it? Do you keep information? Is there a specialist clinic in Port Macquarie or would she have to go to Sydney?’
The eyes she fixed on him were serious now, intent, and a little frown was tugging at her eyebrows.
‘I’ve read something recently about some IVF clinics restricting treatment to women over, I think, forty-three. It can’t be a totally random age choice but apparently the odds of conception in women older than that are so low they only allow one try.’
‘Is that fair?’ Cam asked. ‘Given the range of ages at which women can reach menopause depending on genetic and other issues, might not a fit fifty-two-year-old woman be as good a recipient of treatment as a younger woman with less healthy reproductive organs?’
Jo smiled at him.
‘You’d be wasted surfing along the coast and not working,’ she said. ‘You’re obviously an empathetic doctor and, yes, you’re right, it seems strange to pick an age, but funding—it always comes back to money. Check out what you can on the net, ask one of the nurses to dig out the information we have—they won’t talk—and we’ll take it from there.’
He liked the ‘we’ part, again, which was foolish given it was his first day at work and the job was temporary. And he’d have liked to talk some more—not necessarily about IVF—but his boss was on her feet, small, neat feet clad in sandals, her toenails painted the palest pink with what looked like little faces or maybe flowers stuck on them.
And since when had he noticed feet? Could he blame the army and its predilection for shiny boots?
Or could he put that down to the view and early morning surf as well?
‘Patients await,’ she added as she bustled through the door, although it seemed to him she was escaping something rather than hurrying towards something.
Escaping him?
Was it the small compliment he’d paid her—calling her caring was hardly world-shattering, Jo wondered as she fled the lunchroom. Or was it the attraction that was getting harder to ignore whenever she was near him?
He was just a man.
Okay, he was a tall and handsome man with a chest a gorilla would have been proud of, but physical attributes had never been that important to her in a man. Men she’d loved, well, nearly loved, or thought she’d loved at one time or another hadn’t been exactly weedy, but given that she was hardly red-carpet material herself, she’d never expected too much in the way of looks in a man. She’d found attraction in common interests, shared jokes and a sense of being at ease with the person.
And, for some unknown reason, she had been at ease almost from the start with Fraser Cameron, even when she’d thought he might be coming to rob the surgery.
She had to get her head straight.
Think about Helene! She was healthy—kept herself fit running and swimming—in fact, Jo often ran with her on the beach in the early mornings.
And she wanted a baby?
A totally unfamiliar sensation coiled in Jo’s belly.
No! No way was she going to get clucky now! She never got clucky. She handled babies every day of the week and heard not even the faintest tick of the fabled clock.
Because she’d never fancied anyone enough to get involved, enough to consider having children with him?
Even Harry?
That was a scary thought because it prompted the question why now, and she didn’t want to consider the answer in case it had something to do with blue eyes and a quirky smile and soft brown hair with gold highlights …
It took some effort, but she turned her mind back to work matters.
She collected the pile of files for her afternoon appointments and headed into her room, promising herself she’d do some research into IVF for older women on the internet later. It would keep her busy after
