Sarah Morgan - The Playboy Doctor

Romance? Hardly!

‘I don’t think so, Alice.’ Joanna forced a smile, hoping it didn’t look as false as it felt. ‘Romance is the last thing on my mind at the moment.’

‘Well, it shouldn’t be.’ Alice folded her arms across her chest and looked at her sternly. ‘A young thing like you should be thinking of getting married and having babies...’

Babies .

Suddenly Joanna felt as though she’d been showered with cold water. It had been years, but it took so little to bring it all rushing back.

Once she’d hoped, believed ...

But she’d been a gullible fool and she’d long ago resigned herself to the fact that she wasn’t the sort of woman that men fell for. Marriage and babies were things that happened in dreams and to other people. Never to her.

Never .

Aware that Alice was looking at her curiously, Joanna struggled to produce another smile. She didn’t want the old lady guessing that anything was wrong.

‘I don’t care whether the locum is handsome or not,’ she said briskly. ‘I just want him to be a good doctor.’

‘Let’s hope he turns out to be better than the last chap,’ Alice said, and Joanna gave a nod of agreement as she stepped out into the bright sunshine.

‘Let’s hope so indeed...’

By the time she arrived back at the surgery it was gone four o’clock and the waiting room was already full.

‘I’m so sorry, everyone.’ She gave them an apologetic look and shrugged out of her coat. ‘I had more calls than usual so I’m running a little late.’

‘Don’t you worry, Dr Weston.’ Doris Parker, who ran the newsagent, gave her a warm smile. ‘We’re happy just sitting here, catching up on the latest news, until you can get round to us.’

Joanna hid a smile, thinking how fond she was of them. Why would anyone want to work in an anonymous, faceless surgery in inner London when they could have this? It had its disadvantages, of course. Keeping a secret was impossible and everyone knew what everyone else was doing, but working in a semi-rural practice was so rewarding. This little village on the edge of Dartmoor was so much a community that you might have thought they’d invented the word...

Their kindness and understanding gave her a sudden burst of energy and she walked briskly through to her surgery and switched on her computer. She’d really try to keep the chat to the minimum, she told herself firmly as she called her first patient. It was the only way she stood a chance of getting through her list.

She worked her way through a steady stream of coughs, ear infections and rashes, and she’d just seen her last patient when Laura, her receptionist, popped her head round the door, her pretty face flushed with excitement.

‘Dr Weston, look out of the window quickly—you have got to see this car that’s just pulled into our car park.’

Joanna didn’t glance up from her computer. ‘I’m not that interested in cars, Laura.’

Especially not at the moment when she still had mountains of work to do.

‘You’ll be interested in this one,’ Laura breathed. ‘It’s gorgeous. I’ve never seen one like it before. Except in the movies.’

Realising that the quickest way to be allowed to get on with her work was to look at the car, Joanna dutifully swivelled in her chair and adjusted the blinds so that she could see out of the window. A low, dark blue sports car had pulled in at the far end of the car park.

‘Oh, yes. Very nice, Laura,’ she murmured, wondering what it was about cars that got people so excited. For her they were just a means of getting around. And not always a very reliable means!

Laura walked across the room and stood next to her, peeping through the blinds like a naughty child.

‘ Nice? You think the car is nice ? Dr Weston, that car cost a fortune. It’s a—’

‘I really don’t care what sort of car it is,’ Joanna admitted, interrupting her receptionist in mid-flow. ‘A car is just a car as far as I’m concerned.’

‘Well, that may be true normally,’ Laura muttered faintly, ‘but that’s not any old car, it’s a—’

‘Laura, I’m really very busy,’ Joanna hinted tactfully, watching with half an eye as the door opened and the driver stepped out of the car. He flexed broad, muscular shoulders and stood for a moment, taking in the surrounding scenery.

‘Oh, wow!’ Laura gave a squeak. ‘Look at that body! The driver’s as gorgeous as the car.’

Was he? Trying to hide her total lack of interest, Joanna stared at the stranger and wondered why she never felt the things other women seemed to feel when she looked at men. Was he gorgeous? He was too far away for her to be able to see his features clearly, but even distance couldn’t conceal his powerful physique and the slightly arrogant tilt of his dark head as he stared at the sunlit moor. Then he turned, and in one smooth movement he reached into the car and retrieved a black leather jacket. Locking the car with a casual flick of his wrist, he slung the jacket over his shoulders and strolled across the car park towards the surgery.

‘Pinch me.’ Laura sighed, her expression dreamy. ‘Pinch me quickly. No one looks like that in real life. At least, not on Dartmoor.’

Totally unaffected by what she’d seen, Joanna turned back to her computer, itching to get on with her work. ‘You shouldn’t talk that way about a patient, Laura.’

Laura looked at her as if she’d suddenly grown horns. ‘A patient? He can’t possibly be a patient. You can tell that man has never had a day’s ill health in his life just by looking at him.’ She glanced out of the window again and gave an audible gasp. ‘Oh, Dr Weston, look at him close up! He looks like a film star. I’d better go and see what he wants. He’s probably just lost and needs directions.’ She straightened and hurried towards the door, pausing to throw a saucy wink in Joanna’s direction. ‘I may be some time. If he needs to know the way to paradise, I’ll have to show him personally.’

Joanna shook her head with a smile as the receptionist left, relieved to be allowed to get on with her work. She was too busy to waste time gazing at strange men, even if they were supposedly handsome. Anyway, handsome men were bad news.

She was totally immersed in a stack of results when there was a tap on the door and Laura entered again with a flourish, her cheeks slightly pink.

‘Dr Weston, there’s someone to see you.’ Excitement mingled with admiration in her voice. ‘A Dr Macaulay.’

Macaulay?

She looked up and blinked twice, just to make sure she was seeing straight.

Dr Macaulay. Sebastian Macaulay.

Here.

In her surgery. Lounging with careless arrogance against the doorway as if he owned the place. Which was entirely possible, she thought with a touch of irony. If memory served her right, the Macaulay family owned half of Britain. Which explained the flashy car in the car park, of course.

The question was, what was he doing here? The last thing she’d heard, he’d been spending his time jetting between Caribbean islands and other exotic locations. She couldn’t imagine for a moment that rural Devon was on his list of desirable places to visit.

As their eyes met she saw recognition flicker in those blue depths and she braced herself for his reaction.

‘Well, well, it’s Joanna Weston...’ His voice was a soft, cultured drawl and Joanna glanced quickly at Laura, her face expressionless.

‘Thank you, Laura. I’ll call you if I need you.’

Whatever derogatory comment Sebastian Macaulay was about to make about her, she didn’t want him doing it in front of Laura.

Laura hovered, clearly wanting to stay around. ‘Shall I get you some—?’