The Doctor's Rescue

‘I didn’t do a lot,’ Mallory said honestly. ‘Just tried to keep him conscious while we waited for the ambulance.’ And what did Hayley mean, ‘after the last one’? Was this the second time Will had been hit by a car?

‘I’ll leave you to it,’ Hayley told her with a smile. ‘I’ve got two tetanus jabs waiting, and if I leave them any longer they’ll have scared themselves into going home again.’

After such a welcome, Mallory could only do one thing. Take Renee’s advice. ‘About these questions,’ she said to Nathan.

Nathan nodded. ‘Fire away.’

‘Would you like to see my certificates and CV?’ Then she chuckled. ‘And don’t tell Will. I want to do it myself.’

‘That’s the least he deserves for pestering me!’ Nathan told her.

‘Come and sit down. Good climb?’ Will asked when Mallory put her head round the curtain of his cubicle.

‘Yes, thanks. I brought you some grapes.’ She opened the bag for him, then put the grapes on the table that swung over his bed so he could reach them. ‘Seedless. And I washed them first.’

‘Thanks. Did you go to see Nathan?’

‘Didn’t Nathan tell you?’

‘He didn’t tell me anything,’ Will complained.

She put him out of his misery. ‘Yes. I saw him.’

‘And?’

She handed him an envelope.

‘What’s this?’

‘My references,’ she said simply. ‘You’d better check me out properly if you want me to take this job.’

‘You’ll do it, then?’

She nodded. ‘Until you’re better, but I’d prefer it to be on a trial basis. Give it a week, see if we suit each other.’

‘Fair enough.’

‘Once you’ve checked out my references.’

‘Have you given a copy to Nathan?’

‘Yes. Along with all the necessary papers.’

‘Then he’ll already have it in hand.’ He gave her another of those half-smiles. She’d been expecting the full wattage but, then again, he had just been hit by a car. A half-smile was probably as much as he could manage. ‘Welcome aboard Darrowthwaite Surgery. Now, can you do me another favour?’

‘Such as?’

He dropped his voice to a whisper. ‘Get me out of here! I can’t stand another night of noise and clattering.’

‘Will, you’ve got an internal fixation and an arm in plaster. How are you going to manage at home?’

‘The cottage has a downstairs bathroom and there’s a sofa bed in the living room. I’ll cope.’

‘What do the doctors say?’

‘Is he still on about discharging himself?’ a voice enquired. ‘Honestly, medical staff really are the worst patients. Demand to see their notes, want to know why you’re still doing their obs when they feel perfectly well, and say they’re going home well before they’re actually ready.’ The staff nurse swiftly took Will’s temperature and checked his pulse.

‘Apyrexial, pulse normal, no sign of nausea, no unusual pain, and if you check under the dressing there won’t be any signs of infection. No redness, no heat, no sign of pus.’ Will ticked the list off on the fingers of his uninjured hand. ‘Now, can I go home?’

‘You know what the doctor said,’ the nurse told him gently as she wrote up his chart. ‘Only on condition you have someone to look after you.’

‘You’re in the best place,’ Mallory added.

‘Then I’ll get a taxi and discharge myself,’ Will said.

‘Talk some sense into your boyfriend, will you? Please?’ the nurse teased.

Mallory flushed deeply as the nurse left. She wasn’t Will’s girlfriend—just his locum. But if the nursing staff thought that, no doubt Will’s partners and patients would think she was trying to come on to him…And what would his real girlfriend think?

‘What about your wife—your girlfriend?’ Mallory asked. ‘How does she feel about this?’

‘I’m single,’ Will said, his voice suddenly crisp, ‘and I like it that way.’

Ouch. She’d definitely trodden on sore toes there. It sounded as if he’d recently split up with someone. ‘Your mum?’

Will groaned. ‘Please, no. It was bad enough when I rang her earlier to tell her about the accident. Especially after—’

He stopped abruptly, and Mallory wondered what he’d been going to say.

‘Look, I can manage. Mrs Hammond’ll come in a couple of times a week to do my cleaning. If I ask her nicely, she’ll pop in to give me some food once a day and do the washing and what have you. All I need’s a garden chair or something in the bathroom and I’ll be set up perfectly.’

‘It’s still a risk,’ Mallory said.

‘I really, really can’t stay here much longer. It’s driving me bananas,’ Will said between gritted teeth. ‘Now the other patients know I’m a doctor, they’re telling me all their ills and asking what they should do—it’s worse than being at a party and having everyone demand an opinion on every little niggle!’ His half-smile took the edge off his words, but only just. He paused. ‘I know you said you were planning on being a locum for a while…have you got digs lined up?’

Uh-oh. She had a nasty feeling she knew what was coming. ‘I’m staying at The Limes.’

‘I’ve got a better solution,’ Will said. ‘My spare room. If you stay at the cottage, there’ll be a doctor on the premises if I get into trouble, so they’ll let me out.’

Yeah, right.

He grimaced. ‘Mallory, this wasn’t—isn’t—an attempt to seduce you. Sharing my cottage until I’m fit again doesn’t mean I’m expecting you to share my bed or anything like that.’

Her skin heated again. She hadn’t been thinking along those lines at all. Although now he’d mentioned it…No. He might be drop-dead gorgeous beneath the bruising and the plaster, but she wasn’t going to have an affair with Will Cooper. She was going to be sensible this time round, and make sure her working partnerships stayed that way. Work only. ‘I didn’t think you were.’

‘What, then?’

‘I don’t follow.’

‘You looked incredibly disapproving,’ he said.

‘Not disapproving…Just that I hope you don’t expect me to be, well, domesticated.’

‘Explain.’

‘I don’t do housework,’ she said quietly.

‘You don’t have to. Mrs Hammond does for me,’ he reminded her.

‘I don’t do cooking either.’

He raised an eyebrow. ‘Dare I ask what you do do?’

‘Cattle-herding and sheep-shearing—I did them both in Australia in my gap year. Mountaineering—I’m a qualified climber. But cooking and cleaning and laundry, no chance.’

‘That’s fine by me. We’ll live on fish and chips and pizza. Just get me out of here.’

She sighed. ‘OK. I’ll ask if you can go home tomorrow.’

‘Today,’ he said. ‘Please, Mallory?’

When he asked so nicely, how could she possibly resist?

‘Tomorrow,’ Mallory reported back a few minutes later.

‘Tomorrow?’ Will echoed in horror.

‘You can go home after the doctors’ rounds, if they’re happy with your condition. And they won’t budge on that. So unless you have any strings you can pull—and pull fast—you’re staying put tonight.’

He shook his head. ‘But I feel better. Really, I do. I promise to do all my physio, to…to…’

‘Will, you were knocked over by a car yesterday morning.’

‘But it wasn’t at high speed. The driver nearly managed an emergency stop.’

‘“Nearly” being the operative word. The car hit you. Be sensible.’

Sensible? He nearly laughed. If only she knew…‘All right. But tomorrow’s as much as I can take. Anyway, I suppose you need some time to settle in yourself. My keys are in the cabinet there—the one with the insulation tape round it’s the front door key.’

‘Insulation tape?’

‘Quickest way to tell the difference between the front and back door keys. They look pretty much the same,’ he explained. ‘I’ll sort out my spare set for you when I get home.’

‘This is a hell of a risk,’ she said. ‘You don’t know me. For all you know, I could be spinning you a line about working as a GP—I could be a thief or even an axe-murderer.’

He lifted his uninjured hand, spreading the palm in the age-old ‘so what?’ gesture. ‘If it means you get me out of here tomorrow, be my guest. Sell the stereo, take the family silver, do what you like. Just get me out of here.’

‘Be serious, Will.’

‘I trust you, Mallory,’ he said. ‘You didn’t have to tell me about what happened with Lindy, but you were honest about it. I knew about it before I offered you the job. And if there was anything else remotely dodgy about you, Nathan would have found out by now and told me.’

‘Do you always make decisions this quickly?’ Mallory asked.

No. He didn’t. He always thought things through before acting, and look what that had got him. Maybe it was crazy, asking a woman he didn’t really know to share his house, but then again maybe it was time he took some risks.

‘Yes.’ Though it wasn’t a complete lie. It was true for now. ‘Keys,’ he reminded her.

She took the bunch of keys from his cupboard.

‘Stay there tonight if you like. Did you tell The Limes how long you were staying?’

Mallory shook her head.

‘Get them to bill me for tonight. And then tomorrow you can pick…’ He stopped. He was rushing ahead of himself, making assumptions. ‘I never thought to ask you. Did you come by car or train? No, scrub that. I don’t even know if you can drive.’

‘I can, and my car’s in the hospital car park right now,’ Mallory told him with a smile.

Will sagged back against his pillows, relieved. ‘Good. Then tomorrow, Dr Ryman, you can rescue me.’

CHAPTER FOUR

MALLORY checked out of The Limes that evening and settled into Will’s cottage. It was small and functional—and it had no feminine touches, so clearly he hadn’t been living with the girl who’d hurt him. There weren’t any photographs to give her a clue either. The only three in evidence were one of a couple she assumed to be Will’s parents, one of a brown and white Border collie, and one of Will with another man. A man who looked so like him—albeit blond—that he had to be Will’s brother. Both of them were smiling. Will’s full-wattage smile was even more breathtaking than she’d guessed it might be.

And then she noticed where they were. At the top of a mountain.

If Will was a climber, why had he made such a fuss about safety? And a keen climber who was about to have an enforced lay-off would surely have made some remark about wishing they could change places. She certainly would have done.

Something didn’t quite add up.

She shook herself—it was none of her business—and familiarised herself with the rest of the cottage. The kitchen-cum-dining room was again basic but functional—there was bread in the bread-bin, cheese and butter and milk in the fridge, a bowl of fruit in the middle of the scrubbed pine table and the wine-rack was half-full. She pulled one or two bottles out to look at the labels. It didn’t look as if Will drank a lot—but what he did drink was good stuff. Very good stuff, she thought. This was a man with definite tastes. Good taste.

His living room was filled with books and CDs—there wasn’t a television, she noted, though the hi-fi system was a seriously expensive make—and his bathroom was spartan but the water was hot and plentiful. He wouldn’t be able to have a bath until his leg had healed a bit more, but he could probably manage a shower. Though he’d need a plastic garden chair to sit on so he didn’t have to balance precariously on one leg. From the little she’d seen of him, she guessed that losing his independence would be the worst thing for Will.

His small garden contained a tiny shed which was just large enough to store a lawnmower and a minimal collection of tools, but held no garden furniture. The garage didn’t yield anything either. Clearly gardening wasn’t one of Will’s interests. Though a trip to the local DIY superstore netted her a sturdy plastic chair that just about fitted in the shower.

She slept well for the first time in weeks, and Will was waiting impatiently for her the next morning, dressed and ready to go. He was actually drumming the fingers of his free hand on the table, she noted with amusement. And someone had clearly given him a shave. Will Cooper scrubbed up very nicely indeed.

Not that she should be thinking about him in that way. Renee was absolutely right. She needed a fresh start where her work wasn’t linked to her personal life. Falling for her new boss would be a complete no-no.

‘I’ve been waiting for ages. I thought you’d never get here,’ Will complained.

‘There’s no point in being here at eight if the rounds don’t finish until eleven,’ she said sweetly. ‘Thank you, Mallory, for coming to pick me up.’

‘Thank you, Mallory,’ he repeated, flushing at her gentle rebuke.

She grinned. ‘Come on, oh grumpy boss. Let’s get you home.’

Then she realised what she’d said. Home. As if it were their home. Hadn’t she already been through why they weren’t and never could be a couple? Hopefully he’d take it as meaning just his home.

She wheeled him out to her car and together they managed to cram him into the passenger seat of her small Renault.

‘I’ll have to get you insured to drive my car,’ Will said as she drove them back to Darrowthwaite.

‘Why?’

‘If we get bad weather and you have to do a house call, you’ll need a four-wheel-drive. The roads round here can get pretty icy,’ he told her.

‘Whatever.’ She wasn’t precious about always using her car. And it would be the sensible thing to do. ‘I’ve got my driving licence with me so you can fax it to the insurance company if you need to.’

‘Good. Sounds as if we’re on the same wavelength.’ He gave her a half-smile that made her feel all shivery inside. She just about managed to force herself to concentrate on the road instead.

When they arrived at his cottage, it took a while to manoeuvre him out of her car. She hadn’t thought to borrow a wheelchair so she had to help him with his crutches. But eventually they made it, and Will groaned in relief as he sank onto the sofa. ‘I could really do with a glass of wine after that. A nice cold Chablis.’

‘Not with co-proxamol,’ she said crisply.

His face mirrored his disgust. ‘That’s the one bad thing about sharing a house with another doctor. You know as much as I do,’ he complained.

‘You can have tea—or tea.’

‘Coffee?’ he tried. ‘Please?’

‘As you’ve asked nicely,’ she deadpanned.

She came back a few minutes later with a tray of coffee and cake.

Will perked up. ‘Proper coffee? I thought you didn’t do cooking?’

‘This isn’t cooking. It’s a necessity,’ she said, depressing the plunger on the cafetière and pouring the hot liquid into two mugs. ‘Milk? Sugar?’

‘Neither, thanks.’

‘That’s easy, then.’

‘Mmm, and that’s nice,’ he said after his first sip. ‘Lucky guess or did someone tell you?’

‘What?’

‘Maple pecan’s my favourite.’

She smiled. ‘Neither. It’s mine.’

He looked at the tray. ‘Gingerbread, too. Better and better. All you have to do now is tell me you like anchovies on pizza and you’ll be the perfect housemate.’

‘I detest anchovies,’ she said feelingly.

‘Win some, lose some.’ He took another sip of coffee. ‘Seriously, Mallory, I appreciate you rescuing me. For the second time.’

‘Just don’t make a habit of it,’ she said lightly.

‘I’ll try.’ He paused. ‘So…what made you choose the New Forest?’

She nearly dropped her coffee. ‘What?’

‘You love mountains. And you can’t get much further from good climbing areas than the New Forest. Why not Wales, or Derbyshire, or Scotland, or here?’

She was silent for a long time. But he was a skilled doctor and she recognised how good he was at using the doctor’s greatest weapon. Patience. In the end, she decided to give in. Tell him. ‘Charles was my dad’s best friend at medical school. He offered me a job in his practice. He thought it’d be better for me to get some experience in another practice rather than going straight to join my dad and brothers. And it seemed like a good idea at the time.’

‘Probably was.’ He looked at her. ‘So what happened to your climbing?’

‘There was a climbing wall at one of the sports centres nearby, and I spent my weekends here or in Derbyshire. I had a couple of weeks in the Rockies one summer.’ She smiled. ‘And I did the Three Peaks challenge—Ben Nevis, Scafell and Snowdonia. Charles, bless him, let me have the time off without having to use my holiday entitlement, because I was raising money for a local charity.’

‘But?’

She stared into her coffee. ‘I think I would have had to leave anyway. Even without the Lindy situation.’

‘Because you need the mountains.’

That, and because of Geoff. Not that she could tell Will about him. Even the thought of Geoff made her feel guilty. ‘Well. Maybe I’ll climb Everest one day. Though competition’s tough for places on an expedition.’

‘If it’s what you really want, go for it.’

There was a strange, shuttered look on Will’s face—a look she couldn’t interpret. What had she said to upset him? Had the woman who’d broken his heart gone on an expedition and not come back? Had that been the accident Hayley had mentioned—had Will been on the same expedition and felt bad because he’d been the one to come back and his girlfriend hadn’t?

But she couldn’t ask him straight out, not without being nosy or rude, and if his girlfriend had died she didn’t want to rub salt into his wounds.

Mallory took a sip of coffee and changed the subject. ‘Actually, I wanted to talk to you about Monday’s surgery.’

‘It starts at half past eight. There’s a practice meeting on Monday afternoons, too. Then house calls, if that’s OK?’

‘Ye-es. I was just wondering…would you like to sit in on my first surgery? If you feel up to it, of course.’

He frowned. ‘Why? Your details checked out. Actually, I spoke to Charles myself this morning. Before you came to pick me up.’

Her eyes widened. ‘What did he say?’

‘You’re a good doctor but you need to sort your life out.’

Had Charles told him about Geoff? Was this Will’s way of telling her he knew all about it? ‘Sort my life out,’ she echoed nervously.

‘And trust your own judgement.’

‘So he told you about Lindy.’

Will shook his head. ‘I told him what you’d told me. And he said the same thing that I did—it was an honest mistake, it could have happened to anyone and you shouldn’t give up medicine over it.’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘He also said he thought you’d be happier up here, and said we should fine you twenty pence for every time you mention the c-word. Or the m-word.’

Mallory relaxed again. So Charles hadn’t mentioned how nearly she’d been his daughter-in-law. Or maybe Charles hadn’t thought she was right for Geoff either, but hadn’t wanted to interfere in his son’s life. ‘They used to do that at the practice, and buy cream cakes for everyone on a Friday with the proceeds,’ she said wryly. ‘And if there wasn’t enough in the kitty, they’d start asking questions where I’d have to answer “climb” or “mountain”!’

‘Noted. I’ll get Marion onto it,’ Will said dryly. She wasn’t sure whether he was joking or not until he added, still straight-faced, ‘And bearing in mind where we are, I’d say it’ll be more like two rounds of cream cakes a week.’

‘Meanie,’ she retorted, smiling back. ‘Seriously, Will, I’d be happier if you sat in. Just so you can see whether I’m good enough to fill in for you.’

‘Mallory, I have every faith in you. You just need to get your confidence back. But if it makes you happier, of course I’ll sit in,’ he said.

The weekend went incredibly quickly. Will was a good host, with charming manners, though Mallory noticed that he rarely smiled, and never properly—not like in that photograph. And it wasn’t just post-accident pain, she was sure. Every so often he’d simply clam up. He’d get this intense, brooding look that told her very clearly to back off, so she didn’t push it. Though she couldn’t quite put her finger on what she might have said to upset him. Or why he didn’t smile.

At least he’d meant it about not expecting her to be domesticated. He’d even suggested that they should work their way through every take-away in the high street, one by one—and, even better, put the washing-up straight in the dishwasher. The cottage might be small and spartan in most respects, but Will had the mod cons that really mattered. Not to mention the fact that he lived near a superb pizzeria.

She spent Sunday on Scafell—after making Will promise he’d ring on her mobile phone if he needed anything—and walked her demons off. And before she knew it, it was half past eight on Monday morning. Will was in the consulting room beside her, propped in a chair with his crutches close to hand. He’d just had time to show her where he kept everything, and it was time to face her first patient.

Her first patient since Lindy had been hospitalised…

‘This is Craig Clarke and his mother Rita,’ Will said. ‘Rita, Craig, this is Dr Mallory Ryman—she’s standing in for me for a while.’

‘Nice to meet you,’ Rita said. ‘First on the scene when Dr Will rescued Kelly, weren’t you?’

‘Something like that.’ Mallory smiled back at her. No doubt the Darrowthwaite grapevine knew that she was Will’s house guest, too. There had been half a dozen visitors over the weekend, all bearing fruit or home-made cakes or chocolates for their ‘Dr Will’. And the amount of get-well-soon cards and pictures waiting for him at the surgery, drawn by his younger patients, had to be seen to be believed. Will was clearly popular with his patients. ‘So what’s up with you, Craig?’

The small boy sniffed. ‘Mum says she’s sick of me having a cold. She says you’ll give me some antibiotics,’ he finished, ‘to make me better.’

‘If it’s a just cold, antibiotics won’t work, I’m afraid,’ Mallory said gently. ‘How long has Craig had a runny nose, Mrs Clarke?’

‘Off and on, as long as I can remember. It’s like a constant cold. Sniffles, a cough…’

‘Any wheezing?’ Mallory asked.

Rita shook her head.

‘Is it worse at any particular time?’

‘Weekends,’ Rita said. ‘And at night—he coughs something chronic at night.’

It was beginning to sound more like some kind of allergic illness, Mallory thought. Possibly asthma. ‘What do you normally do at the weekends, Craig?’

He shrugged. ‘Help Dad with the sheep, play in the barn.’

‘Is the barn empty?’

He shook his head. ‘No, course not! That’s where we keep the hay.’

‘And do you play there after school?’

‘Sometimes,’ he said.

Mallory nodded. Dust, mites, mould—any of them could be the culprits. ‘I’d like to listen to your chest, please.’ She took a stethoscope from a drawer. ‘Could you pull your sweater up for me, please?’

Craig did so, and Mallory listened to him breathe. There were definite crackles, but no wheezing. ‘That’s great, sweetheart,’ she said. ‘Now I want you to play a special game for me—I want you to see how far you can make the arrow on this little tube go.’ She took a peak-flow meter from the drawer and showed him how to use it. ‘Now take a big breath, and puff as hard as you can!’

He did, and she noted down the measurement—definitely less than she’d expect for a boy of Craig’s height. ‘And again?’ He blew again, then did a third one ‘for luck’.

‘Is it asthma, Dr Ryman?’ Rita Clarke asked.

‘It could be—though I’d like to send Craig for a chest X-ray and take a blood sample for some tests, just to make sure. Does anyone in the family have asthma?’

‘No.’

‘Eczema, or any other sort of allergy?’

Rita shook her head.

‘I think he’s probably allergic to mould spores in hay—Dr Cooper, wouldn’t you agree?’ she said.

Will nodded.

Mallory warmed to her theme. ‘It’s a condition called extrinsic allergic alveolitis or farmer’s lung,’ she said. ‘What happens is that when Craig breathes in the mould spores, his body overreacts to them and the walls of the little air sacs in his lungs get inflamed. It makes it hard for him to breathe—do you get out of breath really quickly if you run, Craig?’

‘I hate PE,’ Craig said glumly. ‘It always makes me cough.’

‘We can do something about that,’ she said. ‘The bad news is, you’ll need to find somewhere else to play—or wear a special mask to stop you breathing in the spores. But the good news is…’ she turned to Rita ‘…he’s young so we’ve probably caught it before it really damages his lungs. I’ll give him a course of steroids—they’re perfectly safe for him to use, and they’re not the same kind of thing as body-building steroids,’ she explained. ‘It’ll be a short course, and I’d like him to come back and see me in two weeks. In the meantime, I’ll refer him for an X-ray—you should get an appointment through really quickly. And, Craig, I need to pinch just a little bit of your blood.’ She turned so he couldn’t read her lips, and mouthed at Rita, ‘Is he allowed chocolate?’ At Rita’s nod, she looked at Craig. ‘Do you like chocolate, Craig?’

‘Oh, yes!’ the little boy said.

‘Here’s the deal. If you let me take a little bit of blood—it’s a bit like having an injection and I promise it won’t hurt, just feel like a little scratch—I’ve got some chocolate for you. And a sticker.’

Craig looked slightly dubious, but agreed. Mallory swabbed his inner elbow, then said, ‘Oh, did you see that robin at the window?’ As soon as the little boy looked away, she had the needle in, and was capping her sample before he’d noticed.

‘You were brilliant,’ she said, handing him an I WAS BRAVE sticker. ‘Now for the chocolate.’

He beamed at her as he took one of the giant chocolate buttons she offered him. ‘Thank you, Dr Mallory.’

‘Pleasure, sweetheart.’ She tapped a prescription into the computer and printed it out. ‘Mrs Clarke, I’m giving Craig an inhaler. It’s important he uses it regularly—it’ll stop the tissues swelling and make it easier for him to breathe. If you’re worried about anything, just give me a ring. And if you could come back to see me in two weeks, we’ll see how he’s getting on.’

‘Thanks,’ Rita said, and shepherded her son out of the room.

‘Why farmer’s lung and not asthma?’ Will asked.

‘No wheezing,’ she said simply. ‘But the blood test will tell me more—and if the chest X-ray shows mottling, it’s EAA.’ She sighed. ‘If it is, I hope it hasn’t started fibrosing his lungs.’

‘He’s very young—as you said, we’ve probably caught it in time,’ Will said. ‘Good call. If it’s asthma rather than EAA, he’s on the right medication anyway.’

‘Though I’ll give them a peak-flow meter and show her how to track the readings if it’s asthma,’ Mallory added.

‘Sounds good to me. And I’ll have to remember the robin trick.’ Will nodded at her. ‘Ready for your next patient?’

‘Yup.’ She pressed her buzzer to let Marion know she was ready for the next patient.

The morning flew by—and Mallory found herself settling back into the job she’d so nearly given up. By the time she’d seen her last patient, she couldn’t believe how late it was!

‘OK?’ Will asked softly.

She nodded. ‘It was easier than I thought. Actually, it reminded me why I chose general practice rather than working in a hospital—you get the chance to follow cases through and build a proper relationship with your patients.’

‘Me, too,’ he agreed. ‘You’re a good doctor, Mallory. You just need to get your confidence back and believe in yourself.’ He leaned over, lifted his right hand and touched her cheek with the backs of his fingers. It was as if an electric shock coursed through her—she only just stopped herself exclaiming aloud. To her relief, he didn’t seem to notice anything. He just told her, ‘Have a break. The baker’s on the high street does the best baguettes in town. And the staff meeting’s at half one in Nathan’s office.’ And then he hauled himself up on his crutches and left the room.

She stared after him. Why was her mouth tingling like that? He’d merely touched her on the cheek. Not quite impersonal—but not a declaration of love either. Just a kind, friendly gesture to say she’d done well. It was the equivalent of a matey hug, that was all.

Except it hadn’t had that effect on her. Oh, no. Her body was reacting as if he’d kissed her. Kissed her properly, demanding a response.

She needed some fresh air. Now. To blow the cobwebs away and the common sense back. Because Will Cooper didn’t want to kiss her. And even if he did, it’d be a bad idea. She was his locum, she wasn’t staying for long, and she was absolutely not going to mix up her working life and her private life again.

For once, Will was glad of his crutches. Because no way could he have walked out of his consulting room—Mallory’s consulting room—without help. Why, why, why had he been so stupid as to touch her? Because now he’d felt the softness of her skin, he wanted more. Much more.

Worse, she’d reacted to his touch. She hadn’t said a thing—but she hadn’t needed to. Her eyes had done it all for her. Her pupils had grown dark and sultry. And her mouth…

It was just as well he was on crutches. Because if he hadn’t known about the danger of overbalancing, he would have pulled her into his arms and kissed that beautiful soft mouth. Kissed her until she responded to him, kissed him back, matching his passion with hers.

He groaned. Oh, hell. Right now, he didn’t know which was the worse option—being stuck in hospital where he couldn’t do a thing, or having to share a house with a woman he wasn’t allowed to touch. A woman he most definitely wanted to touch.

Well, he’d just have to keep his libido in check. Mallory was a climber and he’d sworn off mountains for life. He wasn’t right for her. And she definitely wasn’t right for him. He’d learned from his mistakes with Julie. If he ever fell in love again—which he doubted; he wasn’t planning to risk his heart again—he knew it ought to be with a domestic goddess. Someone who’d be there for him, make a fuss over him, let him make a fuss over her. Someone who scented their sheets with lavender and made her own cakes and jam. Someone he could adore and cherish. Someone who wouldn’t nag him into climbing again.