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Copyright
Meredith Webber
MEREDITH WEBBER says of herself, ‘Some ten years ago, I read an article which suggested that Mills & Boon were looking for new medical authors. I had one of those “I can do that” moments, and gave it a try. What began as a challenge has become an obsession, though I do temper the “butt on seat” career of writing with dirty but healthy outdoor pursuits, fossicking through the Australian Outback in search of gold or opals. Having had some success in all of these endeavours, I now consider I’ve found the perfect lifestyle.’
WELCOME TO CROCODILE CREEK!
The writing was gold on green, very patriotic, but what was a woman who’d grown up in a penthouse in inner city Melbourne, and to whom wildlife was a friend’s pet galah, doing in a place called Crocodile Creek?
She’d overreacted.
Again!
Though flinging her engagement ring at Lindy hadn’t really been overreacting—it had been a necessary release of tension to avoid killing either her erstwhile best friend or her stunned and now ex-fiancé, Daniel.
Overwhelmed by the sign telling her she’d finally reached her destination, Kate pulled the car over onto the grass verge and stared at the name of the town, heart thudding erratically at the magnitude of what she’d done, and with apprehension of what might lie ahead.
Could this unlikely place with the corny name—Crocodile Creek, as if!—possibly provide the answers she so desperately needed to rebuild her life?
She then considered the implications of the town’s name again. Nah! Surely nobody would build a town on a creek that actually had crocodiles in it.
But she glanced behind her towards what looked like, well, more like a river than a creek—and, just in case, put the car into gear again and drove on.
Up here in North Queensland anything might be possible.
‘Go through the town, over the bridge, past the hospital to a big house on a bluff.’
The directions the director of nursing had given on the phone last night had been clear enough. The road led through the town and over another rather rickety bridge. Looking out her side window, Kate was tempted to stop again, for there, virtually in the middle of the town, was a sandy beach, lapped by lazy waves that frilled the edge of a blue-green sea. Hot and sticky from this final day of a five-day drive, she looked with longing at the water, but someone called Hamish was expecting her at the house.
The house!
Could that be it?
The one perched on the bluff at the southern end of this magical cove?
As a child she’d dreamed of living in a house by the sea, a longing frustrated rather than satisfied by holidays at the beach.
Excited now, she drove on. Yes, that was definitely a hospital on her right. Low set and relatively modern, it was surrounded by palms and bright-leafed plants, but still had the usual signs to Emergency, Admittance and parking areas.
Past the hospital she went, to the house on the hill—by the sea—parked the car in a small paved area to one side, unloaded her suitcase and climbed the steps to the wide veranda.
The front door was open, but she tapped on it anyway, then called out a tentative hello before venturing slowly down the wide hall that seemed to lead right through the middle of the old building.
‘Have you any idea how difficult it is to organise a rodeo?’
The big man appeared at the far end of the hall, waving the handset of the phone as he spoke. A soft Scottish accent spun the question from bizarre to fantasy and when he added, ‘You’ll be Kate, then?’ in that intriguing voice, Kate smiled for the first time in about six months.
Well, maybe not quite six months.
‘I will be, then,’ she said, dropping her suitcase and coming towards him with her hand held out. ‘Kate Winship. When I phoned last night the DON said Hamish would show me around the house, so you’ll be Hamish?’
His large firm hand engulfed hers and the voice said, ‘Hamish McGregor,’ but something apart from the accent made Kate look up—into eyes so dark a blue they looked almost black, here in the shadowy hall of the big old house she’d been told was called ‘the doctors’ house’.
She removed her hand from his and backed away. One step. Two. Then she realised she must look stupid and backed far enough to turn her panicky retreat into a suitcase retrieval.
‘I’ll take that.’
He only needed one long stride, lifting it from her unresisting fingers.
‘We’ve put you in here. This was Mike’s room, but he and—Well, you’ll get to know everyone soon enough. Suffice it to say there’re more people sharing rooms these days than there used to be, which is why we’ve room for some of the nursing staff while the nurses’ quarters are renovated.’
He turned a teasing smile on Kate.
‘Fair warning, Nurse Winship. There’s been an epidemic of love racing through Crocodile Creek these past few weeks, so watch how you go.’
‘Love! That’s the last thing I’ll catch,’ she assured him. ‘I’m immunised, inoculated and vaccinated. The love bug won’t bite me.’
He set her suitcase on the bed and turned to look at her, dark eyebrows rising to meet brown-black hair that flopped in a heavy clump over his forehead. The eyebrows were asking questions, friendly questions, but there was no way she was going to answer them. The hurting was too new—too confusing—too all-encompassing. She had to learn to cope with it herself before she could share it with anyone—if she could ever share it.
But he was still watching her.
Waiting …
Diversion time.
‘Why are you organising a rodeo?’
His smile returned, softening his rather austere features, parting lips to reveal strong white teeth.
All the better to eat you with, Kate reminded herself as a niggle of something she didn’t want to feel stirred inside her.
‘It’s for the swimming pool.’
‘Of course—a swimming pool for bulls and bucking horses.’
A deep, rich chuckle accompanied
