Trish shook her head. ‘No.’
‘No headache, dizziness? Cramps? Something out of the ordinary?’
‘Not a thing.’
‘Hey, Trish. Heard you were here.’ Emma arrived from dumping her bag in her locker and smiled at their patient. ‘Came luxury class too.’
‘Beats being carried out of the bush.’ Then Trish’s face dropped. ‘If my ankle’s broken I’m going to have to put it up, right?’
‘Afraid so,’ Nixon agreed. ‘Bill will have full range of the cart for a while.’
‘Don’t smile about it, Doc. I’m the bagel queen, not him.’
‘I wouldn’t have said Bill was any kind of queen.’ Emma chuckled. ‘All bloke from top to toe, not that I’ve seen his toes, mind. Does he wear nail polish under his socks?’
‘I heard that, young lady,’ growled Trish’s husband from behind them. ‘Just as well I broke the speed limits to get here. Who knows what stories you’d make up about me given half a chance?’
‘Bill, glad you’re here.’ Nixon nodded.
While Emma wrapped him in a hug. ‘You didn’t wait for Punch, then?’
‘The medic said they’d drop him round at the house.’
Nixon shook his head. ‘The patients those guys carry. Let’s get Trish onto a bed. I’m sure Callum wants his stretcher back so he can go rescue someone else.’
‘More like grab a coffee and some breakfast,’ Callum said. ‘Good luck, Trish. Bill, if you need a hand with anything around the property while you’re short staffed give me a call.’
‘Sure will. There’s a lot to be sorted before the auction next month.’
Emma stilled. ‘Auction? You’re not selling my favourite house?’
‘Yes, lass, we are,’ Bill started. ‘It’s getting too big for us, and neither of the lads are interested in coming back to live in Queenstown. We want a new house that doesn’t need loads of upkeep and a section I can mow in five minutes not five hours.’
‘Mum never said a word.’ Emma’s mouth drooped and the gleam in her eyes dulled. ‘I have a lot of happy memories playing there with Trish and Bill’s sons when I was little,’ she told Nixon. ‘Our families are close.’
‘How many acres you got, Bill?’ Nixon asked.
‘Four and a bit. The house is big with five bedrooms.’
Emma’s sigh was long and nostalgic. ‘It’s ideal for a couple with young children.’ She shrugged, lifted those eyes to him. ‘Need me for anything before I head to triage?’
A kiss. With some follow up! Knowing the feeling of her body in his arms, small and light, strong and hot, he had no chance of forgetting the desire she lifted in him. Yep, idiot that he was, still not a hundred per cent certain how ready Emma was, he wanted to hold her in his arms to repeat that kiss, to have a relationship with her. Which underlined how messed up he was, because relationships were what other people had, not him. ‘I’ve got this.’
‘Sure.’ No tension today. But then last night had ended on a good note. A hot note.
Forget what it felt like to have Emma’s lips on yours, her body pressed close to your chest. Just forget it, okay? Right now you’re a doctor—with a patient waiting for your undivided attention.
Poking his head out of the cubicle, he looked around for an available nurse, wishing Emma were free. ‘Carl, in here.’ Back to Trish, trying not to give her any more pain as he touched the swollen ankle. ‘I’d say you’ve fractured some tarsal bones. I’ll arrange an X-ray now. Carl, can you clean that wound on Trish’s upper arm and I’ll put some sutures in shortly?’
Emma returned. ‘We’ve got a twenty-year-old tourist in the waiting room who walked in off the street after riding his bike into the back of a truck. Broken nose, teeth, shoulder injury. Concussion likely. I tried to bring him straight through but he refused to budge.’
Nixon approached the guy sitting half sprawled on the chairs, covered in blood and looking miserable. In pain and angry. ‘I’m a doctor. Do you speak English?’
‘Sì,’ a girl beside him answered. ‘A little.’
So why hadn’t they talked to Emma? ‘Come through so I can examine you.’
‘Rocco trying talk to insurance,’ the girl explained. ‘We wait ’til he know.’
Nixon shook his head. ‘You’ll come now.’ The financial side of things was someone else’s problem. ‘Rocco needs medical help, now.’ If he said now often enough, the message might get through. The guy needed stitches on his chin and forehead at least. His left arm was held against his chest. Broken arm or problem with the shoulder? Cameron wouldn’t be thrilled at getting an unexpected surgery this early in the day.
Emma brought over a wheelchair. ‘You come.’ She nodded at the girl. ‘Jen, call me if anyone comes in.’
The receptionist nodded. ‘Will do.’
With Rocco on a bed, Emma began peeling away clothes so Nixon could see the extent of the injuries.
Nixon caught a whiff of strawberry that was Emma. He wasn’t usually aware of the perfumes female staff wore, but his senses were hyper alert around Emma. Saturday, crammed into the Cessna, he’d breathed that scent, heard her every breath and movement, felt the air shift around them, known her excitement when she held the controls. Ever since, he’d been fighting those senses, trying to squeeze them back in their place and denying she’d piqued his interest on every level. He’d still gone to see her even when he’d also been busy reminding himself why they shouldn’t have a fling. If it was going to be a three-date thing, there was only one outing left.
In the waiting room, a poster on the wall advertised a band playing on the foreshore this Friday night. When they had a spare moment he’d ask Emma if she’d like to go. Hopefully her mother or Abbie would babysit Rosie.
So much for being friends. Friends didn’t kiss each other with tongues involved. Didn’t share kisses that cranked up the heat in his veins, in his groin. Kisses that knocked the air out of his lungs. Kept him awake all night, every night. Emma was the reason he felt lethargic and groggy and had to fight to concentrate on his patients.
‘Doctor, put these on.’ Emma winked as she held out two latex gloves.
‘Thank you, Nurse.’
‘You want me to collect the suture kit?’ She grinned. ‘You do seem a little distracted this morning.’
She was flirting with him. ‘Would you please go to the cupboard by Resus and get the kit off the third shelf and bring it to me?’ He grinned back. So this was what it was like to get a little closer to someone. Fun, flirty, and exciting. As long as he remembered first and foremost why he was here. ‘Rocco, I am going to examine your arm and shoulder.’ He looked to the young woman. ‘Understand? Comprendo?’
‘Sì.’ She rattled off something in what sounded Italian and his patient lifted his arm.
‘Comprendo?’ Emma laughed. ‘Stick to your day job, Doctor!’
‘Rocco, tell me where this hurts.’
Asking Emma out would wreck the three-date rule because this wouldn’t be the last time. Emma was tearing down his norms, beating the barriers to the ground, intriguing him, tempting him into an area he’d never stepped in before.
His skin lifted as a chill touched him. Don’t invite her. Find a woman who wants fun for a night and walk away in the morning without a backward glance.
He’d done that too often; now he wanted something different, something more sincere, something with possibilities.
Wanting was one thing…actually following through was another. There’d be consequences for both of them. Was he ready? Was he not? When would the point come when he threw caution aside and leapt in? Now?
*
Emma slipped her new blue blouse over her head and smoothed it down her breasts. Breasts that had mostly stopped aching every time Grace cried. They were starting to resume their old shape and size. The blouse with its downward pattern added to the slimmer look. The short black skirt hugged her hips and settled at mid-thigh.
Slipping on shoes with killer heels, which would give h
er pain by the end of the night, she studied the result in the full-length mirror. Not bad considering she wasn’t back to her figure yet. Excitement fizzed along her veins. A night out with a hot guy. A night where she could forget being a mum, and be a single woman having fun. A night that could lead to anything.
The doorbell buzzed. Old monsters tapped her brain, tightening her stomach. Was she doing the right thing? She trusted Nixon, believed he was genuine, so, yes, right as right could be. Slinging the strap of her purse over her shoulder, Emma headed for the front door and the man who was pressing the button a second time. ‘Let’s go party,’ she quipped as she shut the door behind her.
The atmosphere was electric when they pushed their way through the crowd to a street bar for some beer. The band was in full swing and people were laughing, dancing, and drinking. Every language in the book seemed to be in the air, tourists and locals mixing comfortably. ‘I haven’t been to anything like this in years,’ Emma told Nixon, who held her hand firmly.
‘Sleeping Beauty awakens,’ he replied, those beautiful eyes twinkling.
‘Don’t think that makes you a prince,’ she retorted around a smile.