LITMIR.BIZ

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of pleasure warmed her body—and shook her carefully formulated concept of her time in Port Weston.

      The jets of water were piping hot against her skin and she gave herself up to them, putting aside thoughts of Daniel Reilly, good and otherwise. Especially those about his body. But how could a bad-tempered man wearing such shapeless clothes ooze so much sex appeal?

      The bar was crowded and the mood sombre when Sarah returned. Dan was perched on a stool at the end of the long counter. He waved her over. ‘Do you want another drink?’

      Schooling her face into a smile, Sarah looked him over as she replied, ‘No, thanks.’

      His clean shirt fitted snugly across his chest while his dry, worn jeans were tight. Her mouth dried. Beneath the faded denim his thighs were every bit as muscular as she’d imagined.

      ‘Anders’s father still hasn’t been found.’

      ‘That’s not good.’ She pulled her shoulders back, focusing on what Dan said, not what he wore.

      ‘That lad needs his father alive and well, not dead and washed up on a beach,’ Dan snapped.

      ‘Some people will always take chances.’ But not her. She’d focused on her career, foregoing a relationship until she’d specialised, at the same time working on making her father proud.

      ‘They shouldn’t, not when they’ve got a family to consider.’

      Sarah totally agreed with him, but diplomatically changed the subject. ‘Does Port Weston have a GP? I didn’t see one on the beach.’

      ‘Tony Blowers. He’s up a valley, delivering a baby, at the moment.’

      ‘Lucky for Anders you were here, then.’ She looked around, spied Jill busy pulling beers, and remembered her promise. ‘I said I’d help with the food so I’d better find out what’s to be done.’

      ‘You did?’ He didn’t bother disguising his surprise. Those intense cobalt eyes measured her up and down, making her very aware of the snug black slacks and black figure-hugging cotton sweater she’d pulled on.

      Dan drawled, ‘You might just fit in here yet.’

      Pity he didn’t sound like he meant it. ‘You don’t want me here, do you?’

      ‘No, I don’t.’

      ‘Thank you for your honesty.’ That she could deal with. It was a little harder to ignore the fact he wouldn’t give her a chance.

      ‘It’s nothing personal,’ Dan added quietly.

      ‘That’s a relief,’ she muttered, hoping he meant it and wasn’t trying to placate her.

      The door crashed back against the wall and drenched men, carrying a stretcher, pressed into the pub. Pat told Dan, ‘We’ve found Starne. He washed up further along and tried to climb the cliff. Fell, and broke his arm, by the look of it.’

      ‘Put him on the couch. It’s warmer in here than in a bedroom.’ Dan removed cushions and the men lowered the stretcher.

      Kneeling down beside the man, Sarah told him, ‘I’m Sarah Livingston, a doctor. Can you hear me?’

      The man’s eyes flew open. ‘Where’s my son? Is he all right?’ He tried sitting up, pushing on his elbows, only to flop back down, groaning with pain.

      Dan laid a hand on the man’s chest. ‘Take it easy.’

      Starne tried to knock Dan’s hand away with his good arm. ‘Is my boy all right? Tell me what happened to him.’ The distressed man looked ready to leap up off the couch.

      ‘I’m Dan Reilly, a surgeon. I saw Anders when the rescuers brought him onto the beach.’ Dan continued giving Starne the details about his boy, finishing with, ‘He’s in hospital and doing well.’

      Jill helped Sarah tuck blankets around the man. ‘I’ll have hot-water bottles ready very soon.’

      Tears streamed down the man’s face. ‘The waves banged Anders against the rocks so many times. I couldn’t reach him. I thought he was gone.’

      ‘You’re both very lucky.’ Sarah noted his pulse rate as she talked.

      Dan nudged her, spoke softly. ‘You’re doing great with him, calming him down better than I managed. I’ll do the secondary survey.’

      She nodded, pleased with the compliment, however small, and silently counted the rise and fall of their patient’s chest. ‘I’m onto the resps.’

      As his fingers felt for contusions Dan told their patient, ‘I’ll check you over, starting with your head.’

      Those firm, gently probing fingers on Starnes’s scalp tantalised her. What would they be like on her skin, stroking, teasing, racking up the tension? ‘Damn.’ She started counting again.

      Dan glanced at Sarah as he worked. ‘The sooner we get this man to hospital where he can see his boy, the better. I know that’s what I’d want if I’d been thinking the worst.’

      Sarah’s heart squeezed. No parent wanted to outlive their child. As hers had done. ‘The downside of being a parent.’

      She hadn’t realised she’d spoken aloud until Dan said, ‘Children cause a lot of worry and heartache, that’s for sure. Have you got any?’

      ‘No.’

      ‘I guess now’s not the time to ask why not.’

      There’d never be a right time. ‘Resps slightly slow.’

      ‘Temperature?’ Dan asked. At least he could take a hint.

      Sarah looked around for Jill. ‘You wouldn’t have a thermometer?’

      ‘Coming up.’ Jill was already halfway out the room.

      ‘Finding anything?’ Dan asked Sarah as she palpated Starnes’s stomach and liver.

      She shook her head. ‘These two should buy a lottery ticket.’

      ‘We’re certainly not giving you time to settle in quietly, are we?’ Dan looked at her for a moment.

      No, and being so close to him, breathing his very maleness, added to the sense of walking a swaying tightrope. ‘Guess I’ll manage,’ she muttered, not sure whether she meant the patients or Dan.

      Someone handed them hot-water bottles, Sarah reaching for them at the same moment as Dan. Their hands touched, fingers curled around each other’s before they could untwine themselves. ‘S-sorry.’ Sarah snatched her hand back.

      ‘No problem,’ snapped Dan, his eyes wide and his face still.

      Sarah cringed. Did he think she’d done that on purpose? Surely not? She couldn’t deny her attraction for him, but to deliberately grab his hand when she hardly knew him was not her style. Knowing that to say anything in her defence would only make the situation worse, she kept quiet, and again reached for the bottles, making sure to keep well away from Dan.

      She placed the bottles in Starnes’s armpits and around his groin to maximise his potential for absorbing the warmth.

      ‘The left ankle is swollen, possibly sprained,’ Sarah pointed.

      ‘My thoughts exactly.’

      ‘Will we—I—be required to go into theatre if surgery’s needed?’ Sarah almost hoped not. She was tired and hungry, not in good shape to be operating.

      Dan sat back on his haunches and those piercing eyes clashed with hers. ‘You don’t officially start until tomorrow so if someone’s needed I’ll do it.’

      Why? She’d come for one reason only, and he was holding her back. As her blood started heating up and her tongue forming a sharp reply, he continued, ‘You’ll want to unpack and settle in at the house. Alison should manage unless she’s got another emergency.’

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