LITMIR.BIZ

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day felt a little less brave than she’d like.

      Luke slammed his foot on the accelerator and surged onto the highway into speeding traffic. ‘Ha! There’s often a mini rush-hour at this time. The trick is to nudge in quickly, then we’re high and dry.’

      ‘Whoa. Any chance of taking it easy?’ Jessie’s heart rate notched into hyperdrive as she pumped her foot on an imaginary brake and scanned around for oncoming out-of-control traffic. ‘Or has NASCAR shifted to North Beach?’

      He shot a glance at her then focused again on the road. ‘Sorry. Vietnam’s legendary traffic chaos got you spooked?’

      ‘No, I just don’t like going fast. It’s all good now.’ Good now they were travelling in a long line of traffic at no faster than a snail’s pace. Yes, tomorrow she’d walk.

      ‘Da-a-addy?’ Lucy’s voice was more whimper than whine.

      ‘Yes, honey?’ Double-chocolate fudge dripped through his response. There was no doubting his affection for his little girl. Love oozed through every word.

      ‘Is Jess the Grinch?’

      ‘No! Lucy!’ A sharp intake of breath accompanied his stifled laugh. Jessie could have sworn he blushed. If men did that kind of thing. She was out of practice with what men did, or didn’t do. Michael had certainly never blushed. Even when caught with his pants down. She shuddered. Cling onto that image and she’d never look at a man again.

      ‘I’m sorry Jessie, she didn’t mean it.’ Luke laughed again. ‘You’re nothing like the Grinch.’

      ‘The what? Okay, tell me, what the heck is a Grinch?’

      ‘It’s a … well, it’s an evil green creature …’ Luke flicked her a wry smile and shrugged apologetically. Although he didn’t look remotely sorry. ‘It’s a character in a kid’s story who tries to steal Christmas. Pretty scary stuff when you’re two.’

      ‘Great. So my hair will be giving the children nightmares and the oldies heart attacks!’ She pigged her eyes and put on a witchy voice. ‘Then my work here will be done.’

      ‘Ah, is that what’s eating you? Seriously? The hair? Don’t worry.’ His smile softened. ‘You’ll be fine. I’m sure.’

      ‘I wish I could believe you.’ Jessie stole a look at his profile. Tiny lines edged his temple. Above the curve of his lip she noticed a diminutive dimple, just small enough to fit the end of her little finger, or the tip of her tongue.

      Whoa, that had come out of left field. She pushed it straight back there. Fleetingly something hot shifted in her stomach, like a million butterflies flexing their wings.

      Strange. Butterflies? Maybe she did have first-day nerves after all.

      From the back of the car Lucy’s laughter turned into a cough. A tight whistling wheeze, she noted, on exhalation. A chesty rattle. And again. Then it was gone.

      A shadow fell over Luke’s face, his features froze in concern. Just watching his reaction made Jessie’s heart slam against her ribcage.

      ‘Lucy? You okay, baby?’

      ‘Okay, Daddy.’ She coughed some more.

      Jessie twisted to get a glimpse of the toddler and check her pallor. But Luke had clipped her directly behind Jessie’s seat. All she managed to see was a pair of chubby legs stuffed into bright red Mary-Janes.

      Her heart fluttered and she calmed it. It was just a cough. Lots of kids had them. Why was she thinking of getting involved? The kid’s father was a doctor and sitting right there. ‘She’s probably having a panic attack at sharing a ride with a green-haired Christmas-stealing creature.’

      ‘No. It’s fragile asthma.’ A frown furrowed his forehead as he glanced at his daughter in the driver’s mirror for the tenth time. ‘Spent a few nights in hospital over the years. Never want to go there again. The spacer is our friend.’ He winked at Lucy. ‘Hey, honey? Cough better now?’

      ‘Yes, Daddy.’

      ‘Good girl.’ He smiled stiffly as he steered the car into a kowhai-flanked car park in front of a smart colonial-style villa. Yellow flowers glittered in the sunshine. ‘It’s triggered by stress, excitement, fear—you know, the usual suspects …’

      ‘Scary stuff.’ She’d seen too many parents eaten away by worry, watching their child struggle for breath. Luke would be the same. No one could take childhood asthma lightly. ‘Maybe you should take some time out with her. Do you want me to check her over?’

      ‘I do the checking.’ He jumped out of the car, his expression still closed. He looked across the roof and fixed her with a grey stare. ‘She’s my daughter, my responsibility. I’ll walk her round to crèche, settle her in, then meet you in the staff kitchen. Ten minutes.’

      ‘Oh. Okay. Bye, Lucy.’ Jessie blinked at the fast-disappearing pair lost in each other as they walked hand in hand round the corner. Her suggestion of help had brought a weirdly abrupt end to their conversation. Clearly Luke was fiercely protective where his daughter was concerned and didn’t welcome any kind of support. Even so, understanding his curt response didn’t make it sting any less.

      She hauled her bag onto her shoulder and turned to the surgery. That was as far as she would allow her thoughts to go on the matter.

      Exhaling deeply, she pushed open the white-painted door and stepped into a sunny reception area. The familiar smell of disinfectant immediately cemented her focus.

      This environment was where she felt most at home, behind the mask of her job. Three weeks here, four weeks there, scraping enough to fund her charity work. Helping people. Saving lives. This was her calling, her life.

      She slicked a hand over her chaotic curls and breathed in her professional calm. Green hair or not, she was here to do a job, not expend energy on a distraction like Luke McKenzie.

      CHAPTER TWO

      ‘A BEE sting? I’ll be right there.’ Luke shoved away the inconvenient distracting thoughts about his locum that had been flitting in and out of his head all morning, and focused on the emergency. Adrenalin kicked into his gut like a mini-explosion and he relished the buzz it gave him. Managed properly, the outcome would be fine. Managed badly and …

      Bee sting. Anaphylaxis. Death.

      He hurried down to Reception, to be met by a cacophony and chaos.

      A small crowd had formed around a woman who was screaming relentlessly. Her shrieks filled the waiting room, the agony of panic and fear. A flushed child hung from her arms.

      ‘Quick, my boy. Help.’ The woman charged at him. ‘He can’t breathe.’

      ‘Ambulance. Oxygen. Resus trolley,’ Luke yelled at his receptionist, ignoring the tearing in his heart at the sight of a desperately sick child. No matter how many times he dealt with this kind of emergency it always threw him back to Lucy in a hospital bed hooked up to a ventilator. But he had no time to surrender to emotion, he needed medical auto pilot. ‘Room One. Now.’

      Grabbing the child, he ran to the closest treatment room, laid the boy on the couch and began to assess.

      ‘Name?’

      The boy’s mum pushed forward and held her son’s hand. Her face was ashen as she struggled to get the words out. ‘Ty-Tyler.’

      ‘Age?’

      She looked at him, puzzled.

      ‘I need to know for the medicine dosage.’

      ‘Seven.’

      ‘Weight?’

      ‘I don’t know … twenty-odd kilos. I think.’ Her mouth trembled as her voice wavered again. ‘I should know. How could I not know?’

      ‘It’s okay. We’ll work it out.’

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