Louisa George - Waking Up With His Runaway Bride

He sneaked another glance down her body. She was thinner, sure, but there were still curves there, hidden under her shapeless jumper. She was every bit the woman he remembered. And then some.

And he had to endure being with her for the next three months. More if he kept being delayed by fires and regular cat fights. But he refused to be baited by her. Had to remain controlled and calm. And focused. ‘So, give me a clue. How to write notes in a computer that refuses to start?’

She picked up a pen from the desk and waved it at him, her intensity and passion transformed now to a flutter of lightness. ‘Can’t function without your gadgetry? Try using a pen.’

‘You are joking? This is twenty-first-century New Zealand, not the Pickwick Papers .’

‘If we’re busy, or the computer’s playing up, like today, I write them down on cards, and type them up later. They’re always up to date by the end of the day.’ She cringed, and had the decency to look apologetic. ‘But you’re right, the computers do need updating. I’m looking into buying wireless laptops. Chicken and egg thing—I need the money to buy computers, need the computers to get the money. But it’s high on my priority list. Is that something you can put a big tick next to?’

‘Sure. When you get them you’ll have a tick. Not before.’

Then he walked back to Reception, torn between helping her patients and completing his brief. In the end, professional compassion won out over fiscal duty. But as he directed his next patient into Treatment Room Two, he swallowed his frustration. The day he walked away from Mim and Atanga Bay couldn’t come soon enough.

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