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“I don’t care where we go,” he said. “Or what we do.”
As long as we’re together.
He didn’t say it, but it seemed so clear.
“Neither do I…” Emma’s heart gave its usual giddy lurch in her chest, and she wanted his company so badly that she almost felt ill.
The hospital was so quiet this time of night. Visitors and most doctors had gone home. The two of them were alone.
“My place, then,” she added shakily.
They left the building together and walked in the direction of the car park. Pete put his arm around her, drawing her close to his side, and for a moment she let her head dip onto his shoulder.
It felt too good. She lifted her head again and slid out of the circle of his arm. He let her go without protest, as if he hadn’t wanted more. They both knew quite definitely, however, that he had.
This is the second book in my Glenfallon miniseries, about four women friends, with satisfying careers in an Australian country town, who aren’t necessarily looking for love, but find it anyhow.
When she goes away to Paris for three months, Emma rents out her house to one of Glenfallon’s doctors, Pete Croft, whom she’s known casually for years. The e-mails they exchange, and the intimacy of living in the same space, even though at different times, makes them look at each other in a new way.
I’ve read that actress Meryl Steep and her sculptor-husband went from being casual acquaintances to close friends and then lovers in just this way, and it’s always struck me as an unusual and romantic way to make a connection.
The connection is only the beginning for Pete and Emma; however, Pete has emotional ties and obligations elsewhere that he can’t ignore.
You’ll encounter Kit from The Midwife’s Courage in this book, as well as Caroline and Nell, who you’ll be able to read about later on.
Lilian Darcy
The Honourable Midwife
Lilian Darcy
MILLS & BOON
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CONTENTS
THERE was bound to be something left behind, Pete Croft decided as he walked around Emma Burns’s house and garden one last time. A toy hidden under a flowerpot during a game and then forgotten, or some stray coins in a drawer.
No, there’d be more than that. Something much more personal. Something that would endure for longer.
He stood on the back veranda and looked at the garden. It was the start of spring, the first weekend of September, and there were daffodils and blossom trees and golden acacias in bloom.
The grass was a lush green, and he’d mowed it just this morning, so that the fresh, earthy scent of the clippings still hung in the air. He could hear a couple of other motor mowers going in the distance, too. It was a weekend sound, a hopeful sound, and somehow more soothing to the spirits than such a sound had any right to be.
Inside Emma’s house, cool polished floorboards gleamed, and spring sunshine made the living room bright. On any other Saturday, Pete might have stretched out on that squishy-cushioned regency-stripe couch with the weekend city newspaper and a cup of good coffee. Today, however, he had to move out.
I don’t want to leave, he realised.
He’d been happy here, during the three-month interlude of his tenancy. He’d found a tranquillity
