masculine jaw, combined with those wicked chocolate eyes to complete the playboy package…the wealthy, devil-may-care doctor who, according to rumour, loved to surf and live the high life. A life totally opposite from her own. Shaking her head to rid herself of her unwanted thoughts about him, she mustered her reserves and kept her voice controlled.
‘Thank you for your assistance, Dr Fawkner.’
A knowing smile curved his mouth. ‘Always a pleasure, Chloe. I’ll organise an outside line so Avril can contact her husband while you write your notes for the hospital. Then I’ll help her downstairs.’
Chloe wanted to decline, to send him away, but she had to place Avril’s needs above her own. ‘All right,’ she conceded, her evident reluctance widening Oliver’s smile, a boyish dimple appearing in his left cheek.
Focusing on her task, she tried to ignore the masculine rumble of his voice, followed by Avril’s tearful but brief conversation as she explained developments to her husband.
‘He’s going directly from the school to the hospital,’ Avril confirmed, once again holding Oliver’s hand as he helped her to her feet.
‘That’s good news. Chloe, I’ll take Avril down in the lift and meet you by your car.’
‘Thanks.’
Chloe gathered up her things and hurried down the stairs, stopping at Reception to explain what was happening and to collect the notes for her home visits. She was ready to head outside when the lift doors opened and Oliver gently guided Avril towards the exit. Once Avril was settled in the car, her seat belt in place, Chloe walked round to the driver’s side, disconcerted when Oliver followed her. She opened the door, but the light touch of his fingers on her bare arm made her jump, and she paused, looking at him in confusion, alarmed at the way her skin burned from his touch.
‘Let me know how things turn out?’ he asked, and his genuine concern warmed her.
‘Of course. I can check in with you later.’
‘I’ll look forward to it.’ He hesitated a moment and Chloe fought not to reveal her discomfort when he leaned across her, making her all too aware of him as he ducked his head through the open door to talk to their patient. His body brushed against hers, and she sucked in an unsteady breath, only to find herself inhaling his unfamiliar, earthy, male scent. ‘Good luck, Avril. I wish you and your husband a healthy baby. Now I’ll leave you in Chloe’s capable hands. She’s a terrific midwife—you can trust her to give you the very best care and advice.’
Chloe was still reeling from Oliver’s praise when he straightened, held her gaze for an endless moment, then stroked one finger across the tip of her nose. ‘Drive carefully, babe,’ he instructed, his voice soft but husky, before he stepped back to let her slide behind the steering-wheel and close the door.
Fighting down a fresh welling up of confusion, trying to ignore the way her nose prickled and her arm still tingled from the caress of his fingers, Chloe strapped on her seat belt with shaky hands and started the car. She backed out of her parking space and eased onto Harbour Road. As she headed towards the curve of the seafront and the turning to Bridge Street in the centre of town, which would take her along the side of the river and out towards the St Piran road, she glanced back one last time in her rear view-mirror.
The image that stayed with her was of Oliver, hands thrust into his trouser pockets as he stood outside the surgery, watching her go.
Despite a busy surgery, the afternoon dragged by and Oliver had a tough time concentrating and putting invasive thoughts of Chloe MacKinnon from his mind.
‘Keep off that leg as much as possible for the next few days, Linda,’ he advised the young tourist, having strapped up her sprained ankle.
‘I will,’ she promised with a rueful smile. ‘No dancing for me for a while.’
Oliver handed a prescription for some painkillers and antiinflammatories to the girl’s companion, reminding them again of the best course of action. ‘Rest, ice, compression and elevation. If you have any problems don’t hesitate to phone or come back and see me.’
‘Thanks, Doctor.’ The young man grinned at him, appearing to relish his role of nursemaid to his pretty girlfriend, helping her out of the room as Oliver opened the door and followed them through Reception.
‘The pharmacy is the next building along Harbour Road.’ Oliver stood with them outside the surgery entrance and pointed them in the right direction. The late afternoon heat radiated off the tarmac and sunlight shimmered on the waters in the harbour opposite where fishing boats and assorted pleasure craft bobbed on the gentle swell. ‘They’ll sort out the medication while you wait.’
Oliver watched for a moment as his final patient of the day hobbled along beside her boyfriend, then he went back inside and, after exchanging a few words with the receptionists, he returned to his desk in the consulting room that had been made available for his use while he was there. The previous occupant, Lucy Carter, married to Ben, an A and E consultant at St Piran, and daughter of the surgery’s senior partner, Nick Tremayne, was on maternity leave.
Sighing, he set about the task of updating his patient notes and dealing with the ever-present pile of paperwork, but his attention wandered in a predictable direction. To Chloe. Whose room was immediately above his own. His gaze lifted, as if somehow by staring at the ceiling he could see her, will her presence. She was all he seemed to think about these days. And she scarcely appeared to know he was alive. It was a novel and not very pleasant experience.
He had only been in Penhally Bay a short time, but he had been drawn to Chloe from the moment they had met on his first day in his new job. And he meant what he had said earlier. Chloe was an excellent midwife…the best he had worked with. He admired her skill, her kindness, the way she always went that extra mile for the mums-to-be who meant so much to her. Like today, accepting Avril’s need for another opinion and putting herself out to drive the obviously panicked woman to hospital. Perhaps he had been working too long in an impersonal big city practice. His time back in Cornwall had opened his eyes again to the true meaning and enjoyment of proper community medicine.
London had been a blast. At first. He’d had the brains to breeze through medical school, had enjoyed a successful career and an active social life since qualifying and, thanks to his family’s success, he’d had the money to live life to the fullest. A cynical smile tugged his mouth. There had been good times, but his lifestyle had had its downsides, too. He was tired of those who were impressed by the family name, the bank balance, the exaggerated reputation. Tired of being used. He wanted to be seen for himself, the person he was, and not for the added trappings or as a prop to give someone else a good time. He had become mistrustful, dubious of people’s—women’s—motives.
He had grasped the opportunity to come back to Cornwall, his home county. His family was here, although thankfully far enough away from Penhally to allow him privacy. He loved them. They loved him. They had just never understood him. Never understood his need to make his own way and not be swallowed up in Fawkner Yachts like his grandfather, his parents, his brother and his sister. It had always been medicine that had drawn him, excited him, not the family business.
Being back in Cornwall had added benefits. He could indulge his passion for surfing and jet-skiing on an almost daily basis. And already he felt reconnected, enjoying his work in a way he had not done in the cut-and-thrust impersonal world London had become for him. Having made a conscious decision to change his life, the plan had been to settle in Penhally Bay and lie low while he established himself. He had no experience of long-term relationships,
