Kitabı oku: «The Playboy Doctor», sayfa 2
Joanna gritted her teeth. ‘Certainly not the sort of man to settle down in the middle of nowhere. This is rural Devon, Dr Macaulay, not cosmopolitan London. There are no hot nightspots, no clubs or fancy restaurants, and the nearest we get to retail therapy is buying eggs from the local farm.’
He lifted an eyebrow. ‘Damn.’ He clicked his fingers in mock disappointment. ‘If I’d known that, I never would have offered to help out.’
Joanna felt her temper rise at his flippancy. The temper she’d forgotten she even had until he’d walked into her consulting room. Five minutes. That was all it had taken. Five minutes with Sebastian Macaulay and already she wanted to commit grievous bodily harm.
‘I’m glad we’re agreed that this place would never suit you—’
‘Agreed? Oh, come on, Joanna! Unless my memory is faulty, you and I have never agreed on a single thing since the day we first met,’ he drawled, strolling back across her consulting room and staring at a poster on asthma management. ‘And we’re unlikely to start now. But whether we agree or not is irrelevant. I promised George I’d help out and that’s what I’m going to do. If it reassures you at all, I’m sure I can struggle by without clothes shopping for a few months. I stocked up last time I was in London.’
Joanna stared at him in barely disguised horror. ‘Are you serious?’
He gave a nod. ‘Absolutely. My favourite designer had just launched his new collection.’
She gritted her teeth, aware that he was laughing at her. ‘I wasn’t referring to your wardrobe, Dr Macaulay, as you well know. I was talking about the ridiculous suggestion that you should work here.’
‘Why ridiculous?’ He shrugged his broad shoulders. ‘I’m as well qualified as you, and you know it.’
She was unable to argue with that fact. The truth was that, despite his casual attitude, Seb Macaulay was clever. Very clever. Not that he used his brain, of course. He’d socialised his way through medical school and had managed to pass his exams having barely attended a single lecture. In fact, he’d seemed bored with the whole thing. Until they’d started the clinical section of their course. Once he’d been allowed to see real patients, Seb had never missed a day.
And since he’d qualified she hadn’t heard much about him. Just the odd rumour that he was doing glamorous jobs. Which was nothing less than she would have expected. He wasn’t the sort of man to bury himself in a deprived, inner-city practice.
Suddenly she was curious about just what he had been doing last. ‘So is that what you’re doing at the moment? Locum work?’
‘Not really.’ He suppressed a yawn. ‘Actually, I’ve just finished a stint on a cruise ship.’
Her mouth tightened. A cruise ship. Typical! ‘I see.’
‘I seriously doubt that you do.’ For a brief second the humour left those blue eyes and she caught a glimpse of a side of him she’d never seen before. A serious side. But then it was gone and he gave a careless shrug. ‘But it doesn’t matter. George didn’t stipulate that we had to understand each other—just that we had to work together.’
‘We can’t possibly work together, Dr Macaulay,’ she said stiffly. ‘Our approach to life is too different.’
He gave a short laugh. ‘Yes, well, fortunately we’re not talking about life here, we’re just talking about the job.’
‘You see?’ She sat up straighter and glared at him. ‘That is exactly what I mean. To you it’s just a job—’
‘And to you it’s your whole life,’ Seb drawled, his eyes narrowing as he watched her. ‘Let’s not waste time arguing about which one of us is right. I seem to remember telling you as a student that it was possible to work and have fun at the same time.’
She was feeling totally out of her depth. She just couldn’t cope with someone like Seb Macaulay. He was too arrogant, too confident—too male. And he made her feel... feel...strange...
‘Surely George must have known we’d have nothing in common,’ she murmured, rubbing her fingers over her aching forehead. ‘Why did he choose you? He said that he was asking a family friend—’
‘I am a family friend.’ He straightened and walked over to her desk, dropping his muscular length into the chair by her desk. ‘I was at school with Sam.’
‘Sam?’ Her mouth fell open in disbelief. ‘Sam went to the same school as you?’
Surely George and Nancy wouldn’t have had the funds for that type of education for their son.
‘Sam was a bright boy, he had a scholarship.’ Seb ran a hand through his hair, his expression suddenly impatient. ‘Look, enough questions. I thought you were supposed to be busy. If you’ve been handling George’s patients as well as your own, there must be plenty for me to do.’
Offhand she couldn’t think of a single thing. The mere thought of working alongside this man was so unlikely it was ludicrous.
‘It won’t work, Dr Macaulay,’ she said finally, nervously touching a strand of pale blonde hair that had escaped from the knot on the back of her head. ‘I’m sorry to have wasted your time but there’s been a mistake. You’ll have to find a job elsewhere.’
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, Joanna!’ He was visibly controlling his irritation. ‘Look, I agree that this situation is hardly ideal for either of us. You think I’m a glamorous playboy with more money than sense, and I think you’re an emotionally repressed workaholic whose idea of excitement is a night in with a textbook. It doesn’t matter! No one says we have to like each other. We just have to work together and that should be easy enough.’
She stared at him, carefully hiding her dismay at his words. Was that really how people saw her? An emotionally repressed workaholic?
‘I can manage by myself,’ she said finally, and he lifted an eyebrow in disbelief.
‘With the number of patients you and George have on your lists? Don’t be ridiculous. No doctor could manage that number single-handed. Especially in the holiday season. No.’ He shook his head and gave a resigned shrug. ‘You need help, and we’d better both just accept that I’m it.’
‘Help?’ Her voice rose and she almost winced as she heard herself. Normally she was a gentle, mild-mannered person and here she was acting like a fishwife. ‘You’re not my idea of help, Dr Macaulay—’
A muffled scream from Reception distracted her and Joanna broke off and tilted her head slightly. ‘What on earth was that?’
Before Seb could answer, the door was yanked open and a breathless Laura stood in the doorway, her eyes wide with panic.
‘Dr Weston, come quickly! Little Katy Ball has stopped breathing.’
Joanna stood up quickly. Too quickly. The room suddenly swam in front of her eyes and she swayed slightly. Immediately strong fingers clamped onto her shoulders and propelled her safely back into the chair.
‘Are you all right?’ Seb’s sharp question penetrated the black fog descending on her brain and she nodded slowly, waiting for the dizziness to pass.
‘I’m fine.’
‘Well, you don’t look fine.’ His eyes were narrowed. ‘You’d better stay here while I see to the child.’
‘No!’ Joanna stood up again, but this time more slowly, her fingers clutching the desk for support. ‘She’s my patient. I’ll see her.’
‘Well, join me when you’re ready.’
The screams grew louder and with a last frowning glance in her direction Seb sprinted out into Reception, leaving her to follow at a slower pace.
‘Dr Weston, help—help!!’ Katy’s mother was clutching the child against her chest, her face wild with fear. ‘She can’t breathe properly—Oh, God, please, help her, don’t let her die. It was the bee, I know it was the bee. Oh, why didn’t I see it?’
For a moment Joanna stood rooted to the spot, still feeling slightly odd, her mind totally blank.
Fortunately Seb’s reactions were faster. ‘I’m Dr Macaulay, Dr Weston’s new partner. Give her to me.’ He cut through Mrs Ball’s hysterical rambling and swept the limp little figure into his arms. ‘Laura, call an ambulance—tell them it’s urgent. She needs adrenaline—fast!’
‘In my room...’ Finally Joanna sprang to life and she ran back to her consulting room, grabbing the necessary drugs.
‘Why’s her breathing so noisy?’ Katy’s mother had followed them and was hovering uncertainly in the doorway, her face chalk white.
‘It’s called stridor,’ Seb said briefly, his eyes on Joanna as she drew up the injection. ‘It’s because her breathing tubes are swollen. Where did the bee sting her?’
‘On the back of her neck,’ Mrs Ball sobbed, ‘it was such a sunny day I promised her we could have our tea in the park. The flowers are gorgeous at the moment. I didn’t think about the bees...’
Seb held the child while Joanna gave the injection. ‘We need to give her some oxygen and get a line in.’
Joanna nodded agreement and together they worked to stabilise the child. By the time the paramedics arrived, her condition had improved dramatically.
‘I’ll go with her in the ambulance,’ Seb said briefly, and Joanna hesitated.
‘I ought to go—’
‘No.’ Seb shook his head and helped himself to some equipment from her trolley. ‘You’re better off here in case someone calls you out. I don’t know the area well enough. We’ll talk later.’
And with that he strode after the paramedics, leaving her staring, open-mouthed, totally drained after the exaggerated emotions of the past few minutes.
She sank into her chair and stared blankly at the flickering computer screen.
How had this happened?
How had her neatly ordered life been turned upside down so quickly? One minute she’d been safe in her own little world, overworked but very happy with her daily routine. And then Seb Macaulay had strolled casually back into her life and triggered more emotion in five minutes than she’d imagined she was capable of feeling in a lifetime.
After just five minutes in his company she was ready to kill someone. And if he was intent on working as a locum, it was probably going to be him.
CHAPTER TWO
JOANNA was making herself some toast in the kitchen when she heard the heavy scrunch of ambulance tyres on the gravel. Wondering how on earth Seb had persuaded them to give him a lift back, she ran to the door, still worried about little Katy.
‘How is she?’
‘Fine.’ Without waiting for an invitation, he strolled past her into the spacious hallway, a vision of self-assured, arrogant masculinity. ‘They’re keeping her in overnight for observation and then they’re going to run some tests. She might need to carry adrenaline—that was a serious reaction.’
‘It certainly was.’ Joanna frowned as he hung his jacket on the coatstand in the hallway. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’
She’d been desperately hoping that he’d have changed his mind about working as a locum but, judging from the way he was making himself at home, it seemed there was little hope of that.
‘We have things to discuss, Joanna.’
Deciding that there was no time like the present, she took a deep breath and looked him straight in the eye. ‘Dr Macaulay, I’m very grateful that you helped with Katy but it doesn’t change the fact that you and I working together is a ridiculous proposition. I’m sure now that you’ve had time to think about it you’ll agree that it would never work.’
‘It will work,’ he said grimly, ‘because it has to. I promised George Mills that I’d stay and help you until he comes back, and that’s what I intend to do. Katy’s mother sent her thanks to you, by the way.’
Joanna felt a stab of conscience and bit her lip. ‘It’s you she should have been thanking, Dr Macaulay,’ she said stiffly, knowing that it had been his quick thinking and actions that had bought them precious time. If he hadn’t thrust her bodily back into her seat she would have ended up unconscious on the carpet. ‘I apologise for earlier. I felt strange—I don’t know what was the matter with me.’
His gaze was uncomfortably direct. ‘You’re exhausted, Joanna, that’s what’s the matter. How much sleep did you get last night?’
‘Sleep?’ She rubbed her temples with her fingers, trying to marshal her exhausted brain. ‘I don’t know. Not much. I was called out a lot.’
‘Called out?’ He frowned sharply. ‘But you’re on your own here. You can’t be covering days and nights. Surely you’re using one of the local co-operatives to cover the night calls?’
‘George still likes us to do our own calls,’ she muttered, her eyes sliding away from his as she braced herself for his reaction.
There was an ominous silence and when Seb finally spoke his voice rang with incredulity. ‘Are you telling me that, as well as running this entire practice single-handed, you’re still doing all your own night calls?’
‘Well, I’ve been trying to.’ For some reason the anger in his voice made her shiver. ‘Since the last locum left it doesn’t seem to be working—’
‘I’m not surprised!’ He gave her a look of total exasperation. ‘No wonder your reaction times are slow. You must be comatose with exhaustion.’
Joanna was silent for a moment. ‘I am tired,’ she admitted finally, meeting that sharp blue gaze and then wishing she hadn’t. There was something about Seb Macaulay that unsettled her. It always had. Even when they’d been students. He made her feel strange inside and she’d never been able to understand why.
He lifted an eyebrow. ‘So why the hell are you being so stubborn? When are you going to acknowledge that you need help?’
‘I have already acknowledged it, Dr Macaulay,’ she said tartly, his tone of voice rousing her from her exhausted state, ‘but you’re not my idea of help. You’re not what I need.’
‘Not what you need?’ He shot her an incredulous look and started to laugh. ‘You, Joanna Weston, have absolutely no idea what you need.’
‘Please, spare me your expertise in female psychology,’ Joanna said shortly. ‘I do know exactly what I need. A solid, sensible doctor who’ll take his responsibilities seriously. You hardly fit that description.’
‘I hardly think I’d want to,’ he drawled lazily, an ironic smile touching the corners of his mouth. ‘And if that’s the sort of doctor you want to work with, I’d say you’re in for a fairly boring summer.’
‘I’m not looking for entertainment,’ she reminded him. ‘I’m looking for a colleague. Someone to share the work.’
‘Ah, yes, work.’ Seb leaned broad shoulders against the wall and surveyed her from under lowered lids. ‘Your favourite companion. Tell me something, Jo, have you ever spent the night with anything more exciting than a textbook? Do you ever let your hair down—either literally or figuratively?’
‘Not everyone approaches life in the same frivolous manner that you do, Dr Macaulay.’ She gritted her teeth, hating the way he narrowed his eyes as he looked at her. It was as if he was trying to see straight into her soul. ‘Work is very important to me, not that I expect someone like you to understand that. And don’t call me Jo.’
‘Oh, loosen up, will you?’ He raked long fingers through his short dark hair, not even trying to hide his irritation with her. ‘Work doesn’t have to mean major self-sacrifice, you know.’
‘Well, it certainly never is where you’re concerned,’ she replied acidly. ‘Your last job was on a cruise ship. Hardly challenging medicine.’
‘Actually, it was extremely challenging.’ Suddenly Seb’s eyes glittered ominously. ‘A great deal more challenging than life as a GP in a community like this one.’
How on earth could pandering to the occupants of a cruise ship ever be considered challenging?
‘Which just goes to prove that this isn’t the sort of practice for a man like you.’
He straightened and moved towards her, his voice suddenly hard. ‘What you know about me as a man—or what you know about any other man, come to that—wouldn’t cover one page of a prescription pad. So don’t prejudge me, Joanna. For the next few weeks, until George decides to come back, I’m your partner. Like it or not.’
A wave of exhaustion swamped her. Suddenly all she wanted was to go to bed and sleep. She didn’t have the energy for any more verbal sparring.
‘All right.’ She took a deep breath, hardly able to believe that she was saying the words. ‘If you’re really prepared to bury yourself in the middle of ‘‘nowhere’’, and you’re really prepared to pull your weight, I suppose I’d be foolish to refuse your offer.’
His smile was wry. ‘Your overwhelming enthusiasm for my company is so flattering.’
Joanna’s mouth tightened at his tone. ‘Life’s too short to play games, Dr Macaulay. I refuse to pretend to be pleased about something I know will never work. You know as well as I do that we’ve never seen eye to eye on anything—’
‘Probably because I’m over six feet and you’re barely five feet five. Maybe you should try standing on a box when we talk—you might be more comfortable.’
She silently and slowly counted to ten. She’d always thought of herself as an incredibly patient person, but clearly she didn’t know herself very well.
‘This is never going to work,’ she said heavily. ‘You just never take life seriously.’
‘Whereas you, on the other hand, take it much too seriously,’ he rejoined, and she bit her lip, knowing that what he’d said was true.
She did take life seriously, but there were reasons for that. Good reasons. Reasons he knew nothing about.
She straightened her shoulders and looked him straight in the eye. ‘If you’re seriously planning to work here, you’re going to have to accept the way I am, Dr Macaulay. Just as I’m going to have to accept the way you are.’
‘The way I am?’ He gave an incredulous laugh as he absorbed her words. ‘You mean someone who enjoys life while he can—what’s so wrong with that? Why is it wrong to approach life with optimism and humour?’ He shook his head slightly as if he couldn’t understand her attitude. ‘There are so many awful things happening in the world that we need to grab happiness while we can. That’s what I do, Joanna.’
‘I’d noticed.’ She couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of her voice. ‘And the chances of you and I working together for longer than a day without killing each other are so remote it’s laughable. Now, if you’ll leave me in peace, I was making myself some toast when you arrived.’
Joanna turned and walked briskly to the kitchen, hoping that he wouldn’t follow her.
He did, and she gritted her teeth as he settled himself comfortably at the scrubbed pine table which dominated the room.
Seb’s gaze followed her as she moved around the kitchen. ‘Is that all you’re eating? Toast? Is there anything else on the menu?’
‘Menu?’ She glared at him. ‘This isn’t a restaurant, Dr Macaulay.’
Not only was the man content to torment her and totally disrupt her working life, he now expected her to feed him gourmet food. She took a deep breath as she removed the toast—now stone cold—from the toaster.
She knew she wasn’t being very welcoming but she couldn’t help it. The man drove her nuts!
‘Look, let’s start again, shall we?’ Suddenly he looked tired as if he, too, was worn out by the tension between them. ‘I’ve had a long journey and I’d appreciate some food until I can go shopping myself.’
He made her feel churlish and she blushed slightly, wondering what on earth had happened to her normal warm hospitality. Alice would have been horrified if she’d been present.
Admitting defeat, she gave a sigh. ‘Please, feel free to help yourself to anything you can find, Dr Macaulay.’
As soon as the words left her mouth she wished she hadn’t spoken. A man like Seb Macaulay wouldn’t find much that would interest him in her fridge or cupboards.
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, Joanna, when are you going to drop the formality and call me Seb?’ Amusement vied with irritation as he got to his feet in a lithe movement. ‘All this ‘‘Dr’’ business is a bit over the top, don’t you think? We trained together. I’ve known you since you were plain Joanna Weston.’
And that was exactly was what she’d always been, of course. Plain Joanna Weston. Very plain.
She felt a shaft of pain and was suddenly hideously conscious of the crumpled skirt she’d been wearing since she’d been called out in the night and the fact that she hadn’t brushed her hair all day.
‘I like formality,’ she said briskly, telling herself firmly that she didn’t care what he thought. ‘And the patients like it. It makes them feel secure.’
‘Rubbish.’ Seb was totally dismissive of her statement. ‘People judge you on your actions and behaviour—not on your title.’
Refusing to be drawn, Joanna buttered her cold toast and took an unenthusiastic bite.
Seb watched her with an expression of disbelief. ‘Is that seriously all you’re eating?’
‘I like toast,’ she muttered, not bothering to add that she didn’t have the energy to tackle anything else.
‘Well, you at least ought to add some protein to it.’ He strolled over to the fridge, jerking open the door to examine the contents. There was a long silence and then he glanced up, visibly stunned. ‘Now I know why you’re reduced to eating toast. Don’t you ever shop?’
Joanna lifted her chin defensively. ‘I haven’t had time to shop, Dr Mac—Sebastian.’
Or change her clothes, or sleep...
‘Seb.’ He enunciated the word carefully, as if she were a toddler that he was teaching to talk. ‘My name is Seb. For goodness’ sake, practise it a few times until it feels comfortable.’ He peered back into the fridge. ‘What on earth have you been eating all week? There’s nothing in here.’ He reached into the fridge and pulled out a small piece of cheese covered in mould, which he looked at with distaste. ‘For crying out loud, Jo, there’s more bacteria in your fridge than in a path lab.’
‘I don’t like cheese.’ She glared at him. ‘And I’ve asked you before not to call me Jo.’
He ignored her, still staring into the fridge as though he expected to catch some hideous disease. ‘What did you have for lunch?’
‘Sorry?’
‘Lunch.’ He looked at her as though she were an alien from another planet. ‘You know, the food that we generally consume in the middle of the day to give us the energy to carry on with our lives. What did you have?’
Joanna looked at him blankly, wondering why her eating habits were of such interest to him. ‘I don’t know. I—Nothing.’
Suddenly he was still. ‘You didn’t eat lunch?’
‘I was busy.’
His breath hissed through his teeth. ‘You’re a doctor, Joanna. You should know better. How do you expect to be able to carry your workload without fuel? No wonder you nearly fainted earlier.’
‘I didn’t nearly faint—I just got up too quickly.’
‘Right.’ The disparaging look he gave her told her that he didn’t believe her. ‘What did you have for breakfast?’
‘I was at the hospital.’
‘For God’s sake, woman!’ He slammed the fridge shut and ran a hand through his dark hair, his expression exasperated. ‘When did you last eat?’
‘I’m eating now,’ she said pointedly, taking another bite out of her toast.
‘I mean proper food,’ he growled. ‘That’s no good for you at all.’
Shaking his head with disbelief, he turned on his heel and strode back through to the hall, delving into his jacket pocket for his car keys.
‘Where are you going?’ She followed him, torn between outrage that he’d been so blunt and a faint hope that he’d decided he couldn’t possibly work with her and was leaving her in peace.
‘Shopping.’ He shrugged his broad shoulders into his jacket and turned to face her, his expression ominous. ‘You’re almost burnt out, Joanna. You’re starving hungry and exhausted, and unless you do something about it fast you’re going to collapse. Go and have a relaxing bath—that’s if you know what the word ‘‘relaxing’’ means, which I seriously doubt—and I’ll go out and buy us both something decent for supper. Something that isn’t covered in mould or hairs and isn’t at least two months past its sell-by date.’
With that he yanked open the door and crunched across the drive to his sports car without a backward glance.
* * *
Fate was definitely not smiling on him.
Seb opened the boot of the car, removed the shopping bags and glanced at the house.
Joanna Weston. Who would have thought it?
Of all the women in the world he had to be marooned with, it had to be Joanna Weston. The irony of it nearly made him laugh. When George Mills had rung him and asked for his help, he’d anticipated a few months of peace and quiet in Devon. A complete contrast to his normal life. To be honest, he’d been pleased at the offer. The past year had been particularly hectic and traumatic, and he’d been looking forward to leading the fairly normal existence of a GP in a semi-rural practice. When he’d heard how small the community was and how isolated the house, he’d been imagining it as his desert island. Somewhere he could relax.
He walked up to the house and pressed the doorbell. The trouble was, Joanna Weston was most definitely not his idea of a desert-island woman. Being marooned with her was likely to be an extremely irritating and uncomfortable experience. The woman didn’t know the meaning of the word ‘fun’.
It was strange really, he mused as he waited for her to answer the door. Normally he got on well with women. In fact, it was keeping them at a distance that was usually the problem. But that had never been the case with Joanna. She was one of the few women he’d ever met who was totally uninterested in him as a man. Actually, she seemed totally uninterested in any man. Since the day he’d met her at medical school she’d had her nose buried in a book.
He gave a wry smile and rang the bell again. Maybe he should look on the bright side. At least he didn’t have to be on his guard with her. Normally he was very careful in his interaction with women, very careful to avoid misunderstandings. But at least with Joanna he could relax. There was absolutely no chance at all that she would ever fall for him. Which was actually rather refreshing.
Realising that she had no intention of letting him in, he gritted his teeth and stepped back, glancing up at the windows.
Was she playing games again or was she in the bath? Or maybe she’d already fallen asleep? The woman had looked totally wiped out, which was hardly surprising considering her lifestyle. Joanna Weston was a workaholic.
With a muttered curse he dumped the shopping on the gravel and strode round to the side of the house, looking for another entrance.
‘Sebastian?’
Hearing his name, he turned and crunched back along the gravel to the front door. Joanna was hovering awkwardly, dressed only in a long white dressing-gown, her hair wrapped in a towel. Obviously she’d just stepped out of the bath and she looked strangely vulnerable, clutching the dressing-gown in her small fist, the dark shadows of tiredness under her eyes accentuated by the pallor of her skin.
She looked different and he frowned slightly, trying to work out why. Her eyes. Blue. Deep blue. Almost violet. Like a Caribbean sea on a bright summer’s day. Why hadn’t he ever noticed that before?
Because, he reflected thoughtfully, he was normally so busy being irritated by her that he never gave a thought to how she looked.
‘I’m sorry. I forgot to give you a key.’
Suddenly she seemed aware of his scrutiny and took a step backwards, clutching the dressing-gown as if she was afraid he might drag it away from her.
Seb almost laughed at the mere thought. It took more than a pretty pair of eyes to bring out the animal in him. Despite what many people thought, he was extremely choosy about his female companions.
‘I’ve bought us some supper.’
Without giving her time to argue, he strode past her into the hallway and made straight for the kitchen.
He hauled the shopping onto the table and started unloading the contents of the overstuffed bags into the cupboards and the fridge, still staggered by how empty they were. What had the woman been living on?
Turning his attention to supper, he quickly stir-fried some chicken with fresh ginger and garlic and added some vegetables and noodles.
‘I didn’t know you could cook.’
She’d swapped the dressing-gown for a blue T-shirt and an old pair of faded jeans that clung lovingly to her slim thighs. Until that moment he’d never actually noticed her body before, but he saw now that she was tiny—more delicate than he’d realised.
Pulling himself together, he lifted the pan off the cooker and served the contents onto two plates then watched in amazement at the speed with which she devoured her portion.
She might be slight in build but there was absolutely nothing wrong with her appetite.
‘Do you want some more?’ He couldn’t keep the amusement out of his voice and she raised her small chin defensively.
‘I was hungry. And it was delicious.’
‘Then eat—I suspect you’re catching up on a week’s worth of food,’ he said gruffly, standing up and heaping another large helping onto her plate. ‘The fridge is now full so there’s no excuse for you to faint in my arms again.’
She glared at him, her fork frozen in mid-air. ‘I didn’t faint in your arms—’
‘Joanna you’re exhausted,’ he said flatly, ‘and it’s hardly surprising. You’ve been carrying the workload of two GPs, and on top of that you obviously haven’t been eating properly. You nearly fainted.’
Her eyes shot daggers at him and then suddenly her slim shoulders slumped. ‘Maybe I did,’ she mumbled, ‘and I suppose I owe you a thank you. For shopping and for cooking.’
‘Well, that’s a first.’ He leaned back in his chair, a smile playing around his mouth. ‘Joanna Weston thanking me for something.’
‘Yes, well, don’t get too used to it,’ she said awkwardly. ‘I haven’t slept properly for four nights. I’m not myself.’
He could see that she hadn’t slept. She looked exhausted. And pretty.
He shook himself slightly. Joanna Weston was definitely pretty. Why hadn’t he ever seen it before?
