pocketed his pen and then turned to the nurse. ‘What time do the shops come alive here in the mornings?’
‘Depends what you need.’ A small evocative smile nipped Lauren’s mouth. ‘There’s a truckers’ café that opens about five-thirty, supermarket and bakery about six, everything else around eight-thirty-ish.’
‘Thanks for the heads-up.’ Jack acknowledged the information with a curt nod and strode off.
* * *
‘This is fantastic!’ They were eating pizza straight from the box and Jack pulled out a long curl of melted cheese and began eating it with exaggerated relish. ‘Why the look, Dr Drummond?’ He gave a folded-in grin. ‘You didn’t expect us to stand on ceremony and set the table for dinner, did you?’
Darcie took her time answering, obviously enjoying her own slice of the delicious wood-fired pizza. ‘I thought the present state of the fridge would have proved I’m no domestic goddess.’
‘Who needs them?’ Jack wound out another curl of cheese. ‘Do you want the last piece?’
Darcie waved his offer away and got to her feet. ‘I found some raspberry ripple ice cream in the freezer. Fancy some?’
Jack shook his head. ‘No, thanks.’
‘Cup of tea, then?’
‘Any decent coffee going, by any chance?’
‘There’s some good instant. Near as we get can to the real stuff out here.’
‘Perfect.’ Jack got up from the table and moved across to the sink to wash his hands. Drying them on a length of paper towel, he moved closer to look over her shoulder as she reached up to get mugs from the top cupboard. ‘Turned out all right, then, didn’t it?’ His voice had a gruff quality. ‘Our impromptu dinner, I mean.’
He was very close and Darcie felt warning signals clang all over her body. The zig-zag of awareness startled her, unnerved her. With her breathing shallower than usual, she said, ‘It was great.’ She took her time, placing the mugs carefully on the countertop as though they were fine china, instead of the cheerful, chunky variety from the supermarket.
‘So, Darcie...’ Jack about-turned, leaning against the bench of cupboards and folding his arms. ‘Do you think we’ll rub along all right?’
She blinked uncertainly. In just a few hours Jack Cassidy had brought a sense of stability and authority to the place, his presence like a rock she could hang onto for dear life.
Whoa, no! Those kinds of thoughts led to a road with no signposts and she wasn’t going there. The water in the electric jug came to boiling point and she switched it off. ‘We’d better rub along,’ she replied, ignoring the flare of heat in his eyes and waving light-hearted banter like a flag. ‘We’re the only doctors for hundreds of miles. It won’t do much for morale if either of us stomps off in a hissy fit.’
Jack gave a crack of laughter. ‘Do male doctors have hissy fits?’
‘Of course they do! Especially in theatres.’ She made the coffee quickly and handed him his mug. ‘They just call it something else.’
‘Thanks.’ Jack met her gaze and held it. She had the most amazing eyes, he thought. They were hazel, coppery brown near the pupils, shading to dark green at the rims. And they were looking at him with a kind of vivid expectancy. ‘I suppose men might have a rant,’ he suggested.
‘Or a tirade?’
‘A meltdown?’
‘Ten out of ten. That’s an excellent analogy.’ She smiled, holding it for a few seconds, letting it ripen on her face and then throwing in a tiny nose crinkle for good measure.
Hell. Jack felt the vibes of awareness hissing like a live wire between them. Enough to shift his newly achieved stable world off its hinges.
But only if he let it.
Lifting his coffee, he took a mouthful and winced, deciding he’d probably given his throat full-thickness burns. He had to break this proximity before he did something entirely out of character.
And kissed her.
‘Uh...’ His jaw worked a bit. ‘Let’s grab what’s left of the evening and take our coffee outside to the courtyard.’
Darcie looked surprised but nevertheless picked up her mug and followed him. ‘I’ll just turn on the outside light,’ she said. ‘We don’t want to break our necks in the dark.’
‘There’s plenty of moonlight.’ Jack looked around him as they sat at the old wooden table. The smell of jasmine was in the air. It twisted around a trellis at least six feet high. ‘I guess this place would have a few stories to tell,’ he surmised.
‘Probably.’ Darcie took a careful mouthful of her coffee.
Tipping his head back Jack looked up, his gaze widening in awe at the canopy of stars, some of which looked close enough to touch, while myriad others were scattered like so much fairy dust in the swept enormous heavens. So very different from London. ‘You’re a long way from home, Darcie.’
Darcie tensed. She’d expected the question or something similar but not quite so soon. For a heartbeat she was tempted to lower her guard and tell him the plain, unvarnished truth. But to do that would make her feel vulnerable. And perhaps make him feel uncomfortable, or worse even—sorry for her. And she so did not want that from any man. ‘This is Australia.’ She feigned nonchalance with an accompanying little shrug. ‘So I imagine I must be a long way from home. But this is home now.’
Jack heard the almost fierce assertiveness in her voice. OK, he wouldn’t trespass. Darcie Drummond obviously had her ghosts, the same as he did. But he liked to think he’d laid his to rest. On the other hand, he had a feeling young Dr Drummond here appeared to be still running from hers.
‘So, tell me a bit about Sunday Creek,’ he said evenly. ‘No GP here, I take it?’
‘Not for a long time. Anyone with a medical problem comes to the hospital.’
‘So we take each day as it comes, then?’
‘Yes.’ She smiled into the softness of the night. ‘I’ve treated a few characters.’
He chuckled. ‘It’s the outback. Of course you have.’ With subtlety, he pressed a little further, determined to get to know her better. ‘Any one instance stand out?’
‘Oh, yes.’ She smiled, activating a tiny dimple beside her mouth. ‘Pretty soon after I’d arrived here I had a call out to one of the station properties. There’d been an accident in the shearing shed. I was still at the stage of being wide-eyed with wonder at the size and scope of everything.’
‘That figures.’ Jack tilted his head, listening.
‘When I stepped inside the shearing shed I was thrown with the hive of activity. I’m sure I must have stood there gaping, wondering where to go or whom I should speak to. Then one of the men bellowed, “Ducks on the pond!” and suddenly there was this deathly kind of silence.’
Jack’s
