tell me what other alternative there is?’
To her acute dismay Jess realised there wasn’t one. His cottage was on the far west side of the island and if she got an emergency call during the night he’d have to get up, get dressed, drive down, pick her up—
‘And lose vital, potentially life-threatening minutes in the process.’ Ezra nodded, obviously reading her mind. ‘So would you care to reconsider your plan?’
She wanted to—oh, boy, did she want to. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t abandon her patients, leaving them with no emergency cover or home visits.
‘No, I don’t want to reconsider,’ she replied tightly. ‘Believe me, the thought of you living here doesn’t exactly fill me with unmitigated joy either, but right now it looks as though I’m stuck with you, Dr Dunbar.’
And she was stuck with him, she thought after she’d shown him through to the spare room then retreated thankfully to her own bedroom. Stuck with the most bossy, self-opinionated man she’d ever had the misfortune to meet. Stuck with a complete stranger who could have been anyone, despite his declaration that he’d once been a doctor.
Yet, as she began undressing, and heard him moving about in the room next to hers, she realised that she had that odd feeling of security again.
And she was still mad.
IT WAS the sunlight streaming through her bedroom window which first told Jess something was wrong.
For a start it should be dark. Greensay was situated off the far west coast of Scotland and it never became fully light in January until well after nine o’clock, so if the sun was shining…
Quickly she reached for her bedside clock, remembered her plastered leg too late, and with a yelp of pain knocked the clock. But not before she’d seen the time. One o’clock. Lunchtime. Which could only mean some officious, overbearing swine had sneaked into her room during the night and switched off her alarm.
The same overbearing, officious swine whose dark head had just appeared round her bedroom door.
‘Now, before you blow a fuse,’ Ezra declared, holding up his hands defensively as she eased herself upright, a look of fury plain upon her face, ‘it was obvious you needed sleep—’
‘And what about my morning surgery?’ she exclaimed, pushing her tangled hair back out of her eyes and wincing as her fingers caught the bruise on her forehead. ‘My poor patients, left wondering where I was—’
‘They weren’t. I told Tracy to put a notice on the health-centre door, explaining what had happened and advising anyone with worrying symptoms to contact the Sinclair Memorial.’
She all but ground her teeth. ‘Dr Dunbar—’
‘The name’s Ezra.’
‘Tracy doesn’t have the authority to cancel anything. She only joined my practice four months ago. Cath Stewart’s my senior receptionist and practice nurse.’
‘I wondered about that,’ he observed. ‘The diamond stud in her nose and everything.’
‘There’s nothing wrong with the stud,’ she retorted, conveniently forgetting her own initial misgivings when she’d seen it. ‘It’s fashionable, modern. And how Tracy dresses is none of your damn business anyway,’ she added for good measure.
He stared at her for a second, then sighed heavily. ‘Topsy.’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Forget it. Jess, a tired doctor is a careless doctor. A tired doctor who is also in pain is a menace.’
‘I’m not in pain,’ she lied.
His eyebrows rose. ‘No? Then lunch will be ready in ten minutes. No doubt you’ll be able to get up, dressed and along to the kitchen by then.’
And he went. Without giving her the chance to hurl something harder than her voice at him, he just upped and went.
Of all the interfering, arrogant, pompous…! There was no limit to the home truths she intended throwing at him, but first she had to get out of bed and dressed.
Well, she’d managed to get undressed and into bed last night, she told herself as she pulled back the duvet and stared dubiously at her plastered leg. How hard could it be to do it in reverse?
Tear-blindingly, excruciatingly hard was the answer.
‘Don’t say a word,’ she ordered when she finally made it to the kitchen more than half an hour later. ‘Not one single solitary one, OK?’
Obediently Ezra lifted the pan of potatoes off the hob and drained them. ‘It’s frozen fish, potatoes and peas for lunch. Your freezer needs restocking.’
She knew it did. In fact, she’d intended going shopping yesterday but it hardly seemed tactful to point out to him why she hadn’t been able to do it. Especially when he was cooking for her.
‘Who—or what—is Topsy?’ she said instead when he put her lunch down in front of her.
‘A neighbour’s cat in London.’
Which made absolutely no sense at all to her, Ezra realised as he began washing the pots, but perfect sense to him.
Topsy and Jess Arden had a lot in common. Both were red-haired, green-eyed and fiercely independent. Both hissed and spat fire whenever they thought anyone was trying to invade their space. Not that he’d tried invading Topsy’s space often. He preferred his hands in one piece. And he most certainly didn’t intend trying it with Jess Arden.
Lord, but she was a firebrand and a half. Attractive, he supposed, if your taste ran to shoulder-length, curly red hair and eyes which sparkled like emeralds. Sassy and spunky too, but he’d never been attracted to redheads, and certainly not to redheads who were stubborn, opinionated and pig-headed. And Jess Arden was one pigheaded lady.
‘OK, I’m ready to go.’
He turned in surprise and gave her suspiciously clean plate a very hard stare. ‘Go where?’
‘I may have missed my morning surgery, but I have absolutely no intention of missing any home visits or my evening surgery.’
Ezra reached for a towel to dry his hands. ‘I don’t suppose there’s any point in me trying to talk you out of it, is there? No, I didn’t think there was,’ he sighed when she pointedly lifted her medical bag. ‘Have you taken your painkillers?’
‘Of course,’ she replied quickly. Much too quickly, he thought, but before he could press her she continued, ‘So, are we going, or what?’
He would have preferred the ‘or what’ if it meant her returning to bed and staying there, but he also knew that nothing short of a padlock and chain would have kept Jess Arden in her bed.
Actually, the image held a certain appeal,
