LITMIR.BIZ

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could do Zac proud. Coming to North Beach had been the first step towards family reconciliation. And she’d been only too pleased to help out, but now look. One step away from utter humiliation.

      ‘Believe me, this is way better than it was. I spent all of yesterday researching cures on the internet and then washing it in different stuff. Tomato paste, baking soda and vinegar. One by one. Over and over.’

      Frizz stood out from the sides of her head like unruly garden twine. She tried to smooth it down with her palm. ‘If your patients complain about me smelling like a salad dressing, you know why.’

      He leaned close and sniffed the top of her head. His soap and shampoo scent had a hint of cinnamon and apple. Freshly laundered cotton strained over broad shoulders as he bent towards her. Shoulders that could take the weight of the world, she imagined, and muscles that were well looked after.

      His proximity tormented her fraying nerves and flagging willpower. Her hermitic lifestyle suited her just fine, but sometimes, on very rare occasions, she craved a shoulder to lean against. The comfort of human contact.

      And suddenly she had a strange urge to nestle into the crook of his neck—if only she could reach—and breathe every six-feet-too-many-inches of him in. She sighed, hating herself for even thinking of breaking the promises she’d made to herself. Especially with someone so … male.

      Was she really that frazzled? It was only a bit of green hair, after all.

      ‘I can’t smell anything untoward.’ Luke ran a hand over his chin as he regarded her with mock concern. ‘Dr Price, I’d like to say your green hair is hardly noticeable but, actually, it is rather loud.’

      ‘If you’d left a note I wouldn’t have dived into that pool,’ she insisted, laughing despite her misgivings. ‘This is all your fault.’

      ‘Sure.’ He nodded, his lips curving upwards. ‘That’s right, blame the helping guy.’

      ‘I’d hate to see what damage you’d do if you were deliberately trying, then.’

      ‘There we go with the melodrama again.’ Luke laughed. She was so not what he’d expected. Zac was so laid-back he was horizontal, but his sister was wound as tight as her green-blonde corkscrew hair. Her dark blue eyes had a keep-your-distance glare, and too much sadness for someone so young. She wore a flimsy navy blouse, and snug black pants that clung to those interesting curves he’d glimpsed the other day.

      A thumb hooked through her trouser belt loop and her chin tilted at a defiant angle. Not the most feminine stance, and yet everything about her screamed sensual woman. She was like a fiery pixie, small in stature, big on personality. With a very sharp tongue.

      Which, frankly, he could do without. It was taking up way too much of his time. Jessie might turn out to be a damned fine locum, but he couldn’t wait until Zac came back and order was restored.

      A spark of daring in those dark eyes danced in the dappled early morning light. ‘So, do you still want me?’

      ‘What?’ He cleared his throat in an attempt to stem a surge of good old male heat. What red-blooded guy wouldn’t?

      He stepped back. And again. Sure, he’d promised Zac to be nice and keep an eye on her, but he needed to force some space. She had an intriguing edgy vulnerability, something he’d learnt to avoid at all costs. ‘What kind of question is that?’

      ‘A simple one. I used words of one syllable just to keep it easy for you.’ An eyebrow peaked as she pursed her lips. ‘You seem a little … distracted. I said, seeing as I look like an advert for swamp chic, do you still want me at the surgery?’

      ‘Oh, I suppose. Zac says you’re a very capable doctor. And we are desperate.’ She didn’t look like she’d be able to lift a scalpel let alone old enough to use one. But somehow, he guessed, she’d know exactly where to stick that blade.

      ‘I ready, Daddy.’ Lucy appeared at the front door, clutching her pink rucksack. Luke’s heart squeezed. He turned to give his little girl his full attention. ‘Hey, sweetheart.’

      ‘Who’s dat?’

      He picked her up and hugged her close, relishing the feel of his wriggling daughter. Tentatively he was navigating his way through the chaos of solo parenting. The initial gaping hole of disbelief and—at times—outright fear had been filled by a bundle of mischief that demanded his full attention, gave him all of his joy. And most of his stress.

      ‘Have you got your books? Water bottle? Lunchbox?’ He ticked off her daily requisites. ‘Inhaler? Spare pants?’

      Her head bobbed up and down proudly. ‘Yes, Daddy. All things.’

      ‘Good girl. That list we made helps, eh?’ Would he ever remember everything? Each day, it seemed, her needs changed. She was growing so fast and he was running to catch up.

      He breathed in her strawberry anti-tangle shampoo scent and tickled her ribs. She squealed and squirmed as he held on tight. No other female would ever feel this good in his arms.

      ‘Now, this lady is Jessie. She’s Uncle Zac’s sister and she’s going to help me at work.’

      ‘Jessie, this is my daughter.’ He turned round to see Jessie’s smirk replaced with abject sadness. Tears pricked her eyes. She looked for a second as if her whole world had collapsed.

      Then she lifted her chin and tapped her watch. ‘Oh. Goodness. Late.’

      Deep crimson flushed her cheeks. She flashed a lacklustre half-smile, abruptly stalked to the car and climbed into the passenger seat with no further word.

      He followed, irked by her strange reaction. Clipping Lucy safely into her car seat, he bit back a retort. Jessie had obviously been thrown by the sight of his daughter.

      But why? Why had she suddenly changed from feisty to flustered?

      He slammed the door, unwittingly startling Lucy. Then he blew his daughter a kiss through the window and she wiggled her open palm back. He glanced at the front passenger seat. How was Jessie reacting to that?

      No. Stop.

      This was exactly the reason women were off the menu—he didn’t have time to waste worrying about what other people thought, whether he’d said or done the wrong thing. He’d learnt pretty rapidly that, where women were concerned, nothing was the right thing. One failed marriage later and he would not be repeating the experience.

      So he was not going to grace Jessie’s strange actions with a question. The less he got involved with her, the better.

      He climbed into the driver’s seat, gunned the engine and pulled into the road. ‘Everyone okay and ready to go?’

      ‘Fine.’ Jessie hung onto the doorhandle and practised her deep-breathing exercises. She could not bring herself to look over her shoulder at the little girl in the back seat. Or at Luke’s speedometer. Or at his face. Her hasty retreat to the car had probably appeared rude. Judging by his flattened expression, Luke thought she was a complete fruit loop. She so desperately wanted to get out and walk.

      Absolutely the number-one doozie of first days.

      Any chance of a rewind? Preferably back to that brief email conversation with Zac where she’d agreed to come and help. Building bridges was all well and good, but there was a limit. Cars and babies were hers. And now she could add green hair to the list.

      ‘You don’t look fine.’ He glanced at her white knuckles. ‘Something wrong?’

      ‘No.’

      ‘First-day nerves?’

      ‘Yeah. Something like that.’

      She’d done enough navel-gazing and healing to last a lifetime and was proud of her strength and resilience. So she was surprised at the force of her reaction when she’d seen the little ankle-biter today. Usually she coped well with children, if prepared. It wasn’t that she disliked them,

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