Sue MacKay - Return of the Maverick

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Cover

Title Page Return of the Maverick Sue MacKay www.millsandboon.co.uk

About the Author About the Author With a background working in medical laboratories, and a love of the romance genre, it is no surprise that SUE MACKAY writes Medical ™ Romance stories. An avid reader all her life, she wrote her first story at age eight—about a prince, of course. She lives with her husband in beautiful Marlborough Sounds, at the top of New Zealand’s South Island, where she can indulge her passions for the outdoors, the sea and cycling. She is currently training as a volunteer ambulance officer.

Dedication Dedicated to the girlfriends—Faye, Fay, Jill & Jen. For the wine and coffees, laughter and tears, and your amazing support 2010/11.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Copyright

Dear Reader

At the top of New Zealand’s South Island is Blenheim, set in a beautiful area with vineyards for as far as you can see and then some. The Wither Hills make a stunning backdrop, and the waters of the Wairau River seem to change colour depending on the season.

It is the perfect place for Erin and Brad to meet and fall in love. If only life was that easy. Both have painful pasts to deal with before they can find happiness. When Brad is forced back home he dreads facing his past, but being thrown into working with Erin leaves him no room for running away again.

I apologise to Lucky, the cat, for the role I have given her in this story. In real life she would never have done such a thing. I am thrilled to have finished this, my third Medical™ Romance. I hope you enjoy reading Brad and Erin’s story.

Cheers!

Sue MacKay

www.suemackay.co.nz

With a background working in medical laboratories, and a love of the romance genre, it is no surprise that SUE MACKAYwrites Medical ™Romance stories. An avid reader all her life, she wrote her first story at age eight—about a prince, of course. She lives with her husband in beautiful Marlborough Sounds, at the top of New Zealand’s South Island, where she can indulge her passions for the outdoors, the sea and cycling. She is currently training as a volunteer ambulance officer.

Dedicated to the girlfriends—Faye, Fay, Jill & Jen.

For the wine and coffees, laughter and tears,

and your amazing support 2010/11.

‘WHAT time did you set out biking this morning?’ the woman behind the counter asked as she totted up how much Erin Foley owed for her groceries.

‘Six.’ Erin rolled her shoulders, the muscles tight from bending over the handlebars. Her body felt warm, taut, fit. A hot shower would cap off a great ride and prepare her for the day ahead at the medical centre.

Savita shook her head. ‘You’re nuts. Sane people are still in bed at that hour.’

Erin grinned. ‘You were here when I went past on my way out.’ Scooping up the milk and pot of margarine, she pushed them into her backpack. Glancing at her watch, she scowled. ‘First day back from my holidays and I’m going to be late for work.’ First day working with the new GP. However temporary he was, he probably wouldn’t be impressed with her tardiness.

Not unless he was also a cyclist, and understood the need to train for mountain bike challenges. But she already knew he rode a Harley rather than pedalling an Avanti. Did he ride his motorbike to work? Take it on house calls? That would have the patients talking. Less chance of being late with a Harley too.

Savita laughed. ‘You caught me out. I got here just after five-thirty.’

‘And you think I’m nuts? See you tomorrow.’ Erin grabbed her bread, spun around and ran slap bang into someone standing right behind her. The loaf of bread fell from her fingers as she strove to keep her balance. Her other hand slapped against hard chest muscle.

Large hands gripped her upper arms. ‘Easy,’ growled a deep voice from somewhere above her head.

Erin instantly stepped back against the counter, trying to ignore the broad chest filling her sight. The stranger dropped his hands immediately. Shifting sideways, she tried to manoeuvre around him, but he moved at the same moment in the same direction. Briefly they danced around each other, trying to pass, until Erin stopped. ‘Your move.’

She flipped her head back to say more and blinked. Not because of the harsh summer sunlight streaming through the door, although with the morning temperature already in the mid-twenties that was glaring enough. No. It was the man standing right in front of her who’d taken her breath away.

The strikingly big man.

His white cotton shirt contrasted with the tanned skin of his throat, and was tucked into casual navy-blue trousers that fitted his hips and thighs to perfection. Her lungs squeezed, tried to take in air as he reached down to pick up her dropped loaf.

‘Your bread.’ Amusement laced that bass tone.

‘Thank you.’ Snatching the plastic-wrapped loaf from his extended hand, she shoved it into her backpack before slinging it over her shoulders, determined not to stare. But she failed. Noted how his arms now folded over his chest accentuated everything underneath that shirt. Lots of well-honed muscles pushed out the crisp fabric.

Erin swallowed with difficulty. Forced herself to look away. Unfortunately her gaze dropped, down to those thighs. Dear heaven. A sharp ache snagged her bottom lip where her teeth bit in. Sweat trickled down between her shoulder blades. Her fingers shook so that she had trouble getting the two ends of the pack’s straps to click together across her abdomen.

Men were not supposed to look like this. Good enough to eat. More than good enough to want go to bed with.

You don’t know who he is. And you want to sleep with him?

She blinked again, trying to blot out the image of him sprawled across her king-size bed. As if that worked. It would take more strength than she possessed to mentally delete that picture. Giving in to temptation, she continued her downward perusal. Big feet.

Another swallow.

If she turned back to Savita and tried leaving again, would she find he’d been a figment of her imagination? An illusion brought on by a drought of close contact with the male species?

She had dated a few times over the previous year, to test the water and expel some of the loneliness that dogged her. But even now that her guilt about her husband, Jonathon, had started ebbing away there was still the fear of losing her carefully gained control over her life. That tended to deter her from any serious relationship she might be interested in starting. The need to be in charge of her life was a big part of why she’d left the army two years ago; why she’d moved to the South Island and Blenheim rather than return to Auckland where she’d done her nursing degree; why she’d bought her very own house and planted a garden.

‘You said something about being late.’ The man’s voice matched his body. Big. Toned. Sexy.

‘Yes, I am,’ she answered. And getting later by the minute. But her feet were still anchored to the floor. A tremor ran through her. If she couldn’t move because of her knee-weakening attraction to this man, then she was in serious trouble. When was the last time she’d ever felt as though her skin was crackling because of a man? That had never happened. Not once. Not even Jonathon had managed to have that effect on her.