Marion Lennox: Dating The Millionaire Doctor

‘Jake did that?’

‘He wants this place to be the best. It was his stepmother’s passion, and we want to carry it on.’

Jake’s stepmother’s passion… There was a lot here she didn’t understand, that she hadn’t thought through.

She knew this place had been built by the local doctor and his wife. Charlie McDonald had cared for this community for as long as most people remembered. He’d cared for her mother during her long illness, allowing her to die at home surrounded by her family and her beloved animals. Tori remembered him with deep affection, and with gratitude.

He’d lived in Combadeen and his wife had run the lodge. The place up on the ridge had been his weekend retreat, so they’d been weekend neighbours. But just after she’d started university he’d retired to the city, and she’d not heard of him until his funeral.

And now…

The old doctor was Charlie McDonald. Jake was Jake Hunter.

Illegitimate? Who knew with mixed families?

She tried to remember community gossip. There was talk of a son at his funeral. She remembered a faded baby photo on Dr. McDonald’s surgery wall. That must be Jake.

She’d find out. She had all the time in the world to get it right, she thought dreamily as she sank deeper into bubbles. But then she thought, No, she was only here for a night until she organised something more permanent, and Jake himself would return to New York. There’d be no time for questions.

The thought left her curiously bereft.

But at least she could sleep tonight, she reminded herself. She glanced through into the bedroom, at the enormous bed piled with white-on-white eiderdowns and feather pillows. A woman could melt into a bed like this.

As opposed to melting into a man like Jake Hunter?

She was delirious. That was the only possible explanation for where her mind was taking her. She was not thinking of doing any melting into any man.

All she had to do to stop that was to think of Toby. Betrayal. A heartache that would never leave her.

Jake was different.

Maybe or maybe not, she thought sharply, but Jake was heading back to New York and he didn’t want to even indulge in five-minute dating, much less anything else. She was tired beyond belief and her mind was playing tricks.

So get out of the bath, get to dinner, so you can go to bed.

Right. She wiggled even deeper under the bubbles.

‘Tori?’

Uh-oh. Jake’s voice brought her bolt upright. ‘Tori, are you okay?’

‘I’m fine,’ she managed, feeling…discombobulated. She was covered in bubbles and she was bright pink. Had she locked the door? She didn’t think so.

‘Dinner’s ready. I’ve fed Rusty, but do you want yours here or in the dining room?’

In here, she thought, but then maybe he had it with him. Maybe if she said the word the door would open.

‘In the dining room,’ she squeaked.

‘You want a hand out of the bath?’

‘No!’

She heard him chuckle. ‘Hey, I’m a doctor, remember? I’m used to human bodies.’

‘You’re not my doctor, and you’re not used to this one. Go away.’

‘Yes, ma’am,’ he said and there was silence-and she pulled herself awkwardly out of the bath and thought maybe, just maybe, she should have let him in.

Maybe she even wanted to.

Maybe she was losing her mind.

The meal was served on the terrace. Tori left Rusty on her bed, watching the door-of course-and made her way cautiously through the dining room and outside. And paused.

She could see the whole world.

The valley meandered downhill, following the ancient river path. Far in the distance she could see the faint, flickering lights of the city at dusk, but the foreground was simple, natural beauty.

The dusk wasn’t so deep that she couldn’t see vines around the house, lines and lines, reaching into the distance. Gum trees followed the river-massive eucalypts with wide, spreading branches. For Tori, who’d lived with blackened skeletons for so long, the sight was enough to make her gasp.

‘We thought you might have gone down the drain.’

It was Jake, rising to greet her. As well as Jake there was Rob and two tiny, wrinkled women, smiling a welcome. One of the women had her arm in a sling. She looked pale and strained, and she held her arm as if it hurt. The other looked a little better but not much. Her forehead was badly scarred, and she was glancing nervously at her companion as if she was deeply worried about her. Fire victims both. Six months raw.

They were all six months raw.

‘Do you need introductions?’ Rob said easily, rising as well. She’d recognised the women but was given introductions anyway. ‘Tori, you must know Miss Glenda Parling-postmistress to Combadeen until fifteen years ago. And Mrs. Doreen Ryde? Doreen’s Glenda’s sister. You’ve already met Mrs. Matheson, our own personal wizard-chef, and of course you know Jake. Sit down and wrap yourself round some of Mrs. Matheson’s cooking.’

Jake was holding her chair for her. There was nothing for her to do but sink onto the lovely upholstery-and sink into the night.

Jake and Rob were chatting, drawing the elderly ladies out between them. They let her be, as if protecting her. The conversation had obviously been going on before she got there. She was free to take in her surroundings and the people around her. The lilt of soft music in the background. The fragrance of…more gardenias?

And then the food arrived.

For six months she’d been living on snacks on the run. Whatever Jake and Rob planned for this place, it was obvious snacks on the run were not on the menu.

For all her life afterwards she remembered that meal.

First there were tiny garfish with slivers of lemon and curls of melting butter, cooked to perfection and leaving her mouth exploding with flavours of the sea.

She’d barely finished when fingers of crusty toast arrived, spread thickly with a creamy trout pate, with caviar on the side. Around the plate were tiny tomatoes, shreds of lettuce and curls of shallots. How could a salad taste of sunshine when winter was barely over? The greenhouse at the edge of the balcony gave her the clue.

The night grew more dream-like. Jake was filling her wineglass with something white and cool and luscious. She was achingly conscious of his presence, but he didn’t speak to her and she didn’t speak to him. Conversation was happening around her but she felt as if she was in some sort of bubble, free to be her with no intrusion.

Then came the lobster, and it took her breath away. It had to have been caught this morning, she thought. She’d never tasted lobster like this. She glanced up and Jake was watching her, enjoying her enjoyment. She should think of something to say, but it was too wonderful and she left him to think what he liked and went back to cracking a claw.

Or trying to crack a claw. She was struggling. Then Jake leaned over and cracked it for her, expertly, as though he’d cracked a thousand claws in his life. He tugged the flesh free and held it out. She almost took it straight into her mouth-but what was she thinking? Somehow she pulled back, took it in her fingers and slid it into her mouth herself. Almost decorous, but not quite.

Jake smiled and she tried to smile back and felt…and felt…

She didn’t know what she was feeling. She wasn’t making any sense to herself.

Rob was at her elbow then, asking if she wanted her wine refilled. She put her hand over her glass in a gesture of panic. Had she only had one glass? She felt dizzy. Or maybe floating was a better word.

They were eating by candlelight now. The night sky was full of stars and the moon was rising, vast and round. It was unseasonably warm, and the warmth was adding to her feeling that she’d been transported to another world.