Marion Lennox - The Doctor & the Runaway Heiress

She smiled at that. She was in a two-bed cubicle that opened out into the corridor. The nurses’ station was on the other side, giving whoever was at the station a clear view of her bed. Luxury?

‘And heaven also means your medical care’s totally free,’ he added. ‘Especially as your documents say you have travel insurance.’

Her documents?

There was enough there to give her pause. To make her take her time about saying anything else. She looked at Dr Riley Chase and he gazed calmly back at her. She had the impression that he had all the time in the world.

‘Dr Chase?’ a female voice called to him from the corridor. Maybe he didn’t have all the time in the world.

‘Unless it’s a code blue I’m busy,’ he called back. He tugged a chair to her bedside and straddled it, so he was facing her with the back of the chair between them. She knew this trick. She often wished she could use it herself but it was a guy thing. Guy thing or not, she appreciated it now. It gave the impression of friendliness, but it wasn’t overly familiar. She needed a bit of distance and maybe he sensed it.

‘You’re on suicide watch,’ he said bluntly. ‘We have a staff shortage. Are you planning on doing anything interesting?’

She thought about that for a bit. Felt a bit angry. Felt a bit stupid.

‘We’re struggling with priorities,’ he said, maybe sensing her warring emotions. Feeling the need to be apologetic. ‘Olive Matchens had a heart attack last night. She’s a nice old lady. We’re transferring her to Sydney for a coronary bypass but until the ambulance is free I’d like a nurse to stay with her all the time. Only we need to watch you.’

‘I don’t need to be watched.’

‘Okay, promise I have nothing to worry about?’ He smiled again, and his smile… Wow. A girl could wake up to that smile and think it had been worth treading water for a night or more or more to find it. ‘You need to know you’re at risk of that cod liver oil if you break your promise,’ he warned, and his smile became wicked. Teasing.

But there was seriousness behind his words. She knew she had to respond.

‘I wasn’t trying to do anything silly.’ She tried to sound sure but it came out a whisper.

‘Pardon?’

‘I was not trying to suicide.’ Her second attempt came out loud. Very loud. The noises outside the cubicle stopped abruptly and she felt like hauling her bedclothes up to her nose and disappearing under them.

‘Your mother’s frantic. She’s on her way to Heathrow airport right now,’ Dr Chase told her. ‘With someone called Roger. Their plane’s due to leave in two hours unless I call to stop them.’

Forget hiding under the bedclothes. She dropped her sheet and stared at him in horror. ‘My mother and Roger?’

‘They sound appalled. They know you’re safe, but you’ve terrified them.’

‘Excellent.’

‘That’s not very-’

‘Kind? No, it’s not. My mother still wants me to marry Roger.’

‘This sounds complicated,’ he said, sounding like he was beginning to enjoy himself. Then someone murmured something out in the corridor and he glanced at his watch and grimaced. ‘Okay, let’s give you the benefit of the doubt, and let Roger and Mum sweat for a bit. What hurts?’

‘Nothing.’

‘You know, I’m very sure it does.’

She thought about it. He watched as she thought about it.

He saw more than she wanted him to see, she decided. His gaze was calm but intent, giving her all the time in the world to answer but getting answers of his own while he waited. She could see exactly what he was doing, but there was no escaping those calm, intelligent eyes.

‘My chest,’ she said at last, reluctantly.

‘There’s a bit of water in your lungs. We’ve X-rayed. It’s nice clean ocean water and you’re a healthy young woman. It shouldn’t cause problems but we’re giving you antibiotics in case, and you need to stay propped up on pillows and under observation until it clears. Your breathing’s a bit ragged and it’ll cause a bit of discomfort. We’re starting you on diuretics-something to dry you out a bit. There’ll be no long-term issues as long as you obey instructions.’

‘My arms…’

‘Harness,’ he said ruefully. ‘We try and pad ’em.’

‘We?’

‘New South Wales North Coast Flight-Aid.’

There was an echo-the way he said the name. Some time last night those words had been said-maybe even on the way up into the helicopter.

‘New South Wales North Coast Flight-Aid, ma’am, at your service.’

Same voice. Same man?

‘Were you the one who pulled me up?’ she asked, astounded.

‘I was,’ he said, modestly. ‘You were wet.’

‘Wet?’ She felt… disconcerted to say the least.

‘Six years in med school,’ he said proudly. ‘Then four years of emergency medicine training, plus more training courses than you can imagine to get the rescue stuff right. Put it all together and I can definitely state that you were wet.’ He took her wrist as he talked, feeling her pulse. Watching her intently. ‘So, arms and chest are sore. Toes?’

‘They’re fine. Though I was a bit worried about them last night,’ she admitted.

‘You were very cold.’ He turned his attention to the end of the bed, tugged up the coverlet from the bottom and exposed them. Her toes were painted pink, with silver stars. Her pre-bridal gift from one of her bridesmaids.

Not the bridesmaid she’d caught with Roger. One of the other five.

‘Wiggle ’em,’ Riley said, and she hauled her thoughts back to toes. She’d much rather think of toes than Roger. Or bridesmaids.

So she wiggled then and she admired them wiggling. Last night she’d decided sharks had taken them, and she hadn’t much cared.

Today… ‘Boy, am I pleased to see you guys again,’ she confessed.

‘And I bet they’re pleased to see you. Don’t take them nighttime swimming again. Ever. Can I hear your chest?’

‘Yes, Doctor,’ she said, deciding submission was a good way to go. She pushed herself up on her pillows-or she tried. Her body was amazingly heavy.

She got about six inches up and Riley was right by her, supporting her, adjusting the pillows behind her.

He felt…

Well, that was an inappropriate thing to think. He didn’t feel anything. He was a doctor.

But, doctor or not, he was very male, and very close. And still gorgeous. He was… mid-thirties? Hard to be sure. He was a bit weathered. He hadn’t spent his life behind a desk.

He wouldn’t have, she decided, if he was a rescue doctor.

If it wasn’t for this man she’d be very, very dead.

What do you say to a man who saved your life?

‘I need to thank you,’ she said in a small voice, but he finished what he had to do before he replied.

‘Cough,’ he ordered.

She coughed.

‘And again? Good,’ he said at last, and she repeated her thank you.

‘My pleasure,’ he said, and she expected him to head for the door but instead he went back to his first position. Perched on the backward chair. Seemingly ready to chat.

‘Aren’t you needed somewhere else?’ she asked, starting to feel uneasy.

‘I’m always needed,’ he said, with a mock modesty that had her wanting to smile. ‘Dr Indispensable.’

‘So you save maidens all night and save everyone else during the day.’

‘I’m not normally a duty doctor but we’re having staffing issues. Plus I haven’t finished saving this maiden yet. You want to tell me why Roger and Mum told us you were suiciding?’

‘I wasn’t.’

‘I get the feeling you weren’t. Or at least that you changed your mind.’

‘I got caught in an undertow,’ she snapped, and then winced. She sagged back onto her pillows, feeling heavy and tired and very, very stupid. ‘I’m sorry. I accept it looks like suicide, but I just went for a swim.’