His Runaway Nurse Page 8

  Three years ago? And little Grace was three? Had the child never known her father?

  ‘I’m sorry about fainting like that,’ she continued, while he tried to control his racing suppositions. ‘I’m generally not a fainting person. Reaction to seeing little Sam in the light, I suppose. He’s not well, is he?’

  She made to stand up but he grabbed her shoulder and forced her back down.

  ‘No he’s not, but you won’t divert me that way. People don’t faint for no reason. Let me look at you.’

  Panicky green eyes caught and held his.

  ‘I checked myself all over, Flynn,’ she whispered. ‘Truly, there’s nothing wrong, but you’re right, it wasn’t seeing Sam. It was seeing those scraps of rubbish Jamie called his treasure. I don’t know why, but it took me back—back to when I used the cave as a kind of little house all of my own. I thought the silver paper was precious—I saved it there…’

  ‘Why?’ Some inexplicable emotion had thickened his throat, surely not the thought of a little girl—Jamie’s size—crawling in and out of that dark tunnel. Even as an older child she’d been scared of snakes and spiders so what impetus would have been strong enough to force her into that darkness?

  ‘It was my secret place—a special place. I used to take my clothes off, you know,’ she said, not answering him at all, diverting him, he suspected,’ and put them in a plastic bag so they wouldn’t get dirty, and I’d tie an old teatowel around my hair to keep the spiders out.’

  She half smiled at the memory, but although it was a smile, Flynn once again felt a movement in his chest—his darned heart, tugging at strings that he knew, anatomically, didn’t exist.

  ‘Go back to Sam, I’m fine,’ Majella told him. ‘Fainting like that was silly. Hunger would have contributed. I should have eaten one of those sandwiches earlier.’

  Flynn hesitated, but the faint had been real, no matter what the cause.

  ‘First I’m going to examine you,’ he said. ‘Blood pressure and pulse at the very least. You mentioned bats—you could have an open wound somewhere that’s got infected and no matter how good you are at treating yourself, you can’t do all the areas of your back.’

  She stiffened as he touched her—the slightest flinch, but enough to remind him of the tremors that had shafted through him when he’d kissed her. There were ethical considerations here. Ethical considerations when all they’d shared had been a brief hot kiss? Two kisses, if you counted the one they’d shared as teenagers.

  Maybe not an ethical consideration, but he remembered the tremors, the heat, the shifting in his chest—

  ‘You’ve got a patient waiting out there,’ Majella repeated, interrupting his thoughts. ‘Little Sam needs you more than I do. What’s wrong with him, Flynn? Some kind of catatonic shock?’

  He stared at her, this woman whom he knew but didn’t know, asking about the child. He switched his own focus back to Sam.

  ‘I don’t know enough psychology to be able to say, but I’ve a friend in Melbourne, a paediatric psychologist, who will be able to help. Actually, I think part of it could be physical—he was badly dehydrated and in such a small body that’s a dangerous situation. I’m hoping that’s the case, and that with fluid replacement and his family around he’ll soon realise he’s safe and the trauma is over.’

  Majella nodded, pleased she’d diverted Flynn from talk of an examination.

  ‘Maybe the baby will interest him,’ she suggested, and although Flynn gave her a strange look, he did leave the cubicle, telling her he’d send a nurse to take her blood pressure and check her wounds, no matter how superficial she thought them.

  The nurse duly appeared, checked Majella’s blood pressure and pulse, dabbing ointment on some scratches on her arms, covering a cut with a small plaster, talking all the time about how wonderful it was the boys had been found, although behind the chat Majella could hear the questions the young woman wasn’t asking—questions about Majella’s return to town.

  ‘Now rest a while,’ the nurse said, as she carried the debris from swabs and dressings out of the cubicle.

  But Majella had no intention of resting there, or of having further contact with Flynn that evening—or, if she could help it, for the rest of the weekend. For a start, it would be too easy to fall back into the habit of his company, and the warmth and comfort she’d always found in it. Not good thinking for a woman bent on finding independence.

  Added to that was a second problem. Just the little she had seen of him had reawoken all the longings in her heart, so while her bruises might ache and her scratches prickle painfully, the bit of her that really hurt was centred in her chest!

  And then there was the kiss. So inappropriate, to be kissing Flynn when the little boys had just been found. A kiss of celebration that they were both OK might have bordered on acceptable, and that was undoubtedly why Flynn had kissed her. But Majella’s body had found the kiss much more than celebratory. In fact, just thinking about it brought back the hot, shivery feeling she’d experienced when Flynn’s lips had pressed against her braided hair, her grubby skin—her mouth…

  Perhaps she should rest a while.

  Inside her head she heard a scoffing laugh and a reminder that the sooner she left the hospital the better off she’d be.

  Naomi was holding the baby close to Sam when Majella, feeling acutely embarrassed by her earlier collapse, emerged from the cubicle. No change to Sam’s expression, until the baby gave a cry and the little boy sat up and looked at his tiny sister.

  ‘She’s crying,’ he said, and everyone in the room let out a cheer—no doubt the wrong thing to do as young Sam started at the noise then he, too, began to cry.

  Naomi passed the baby to Mike and lifted Sam into her arms, hugging him and crooning to him, telling him how loved he was, how brave, how wonderful. Flynn was helping Jamie wrap his treasure, talking all the while to him so he didn’t feel left out of the family celebration.

  He’s a good man, Majella thought as she watched the scene play itself out. She was about to leave when the nurse she’d seen earlier appeared, carrying a tray with a teapot, cup and saucer, and a plate of sandwiches on it.

  ‘Flynn said not to let you leave until you’d eaten,’ she said, and Majella, suddenly so hungry she knew she wouldn’t refuse, took the tray back into the cubicle, not wanting to intrude on the family.

  She sat down on the couch, with the tray beside her, and devoured the sandwiches between sips of tea, then, replete, she rested her head back against the wall and dozed for a few moments, knowing she should go back to the showground, check on Grace and get some proper sleep.

  Flynn woke her with a light touch on her shoulder, startling her for an instant, then, as she came out of her dreamy state, it seemed so right that it should be Flynn, she smiled at him.

  ‘Are you OK?’

  His voice was as gentle as the knuckles he brushed across her cheek, and she caught his hand and pressed a brief thank-you kiss against it before nodding her reply.

  ‘And Sam?’ she asked.

  Flynn smiled at her, causing tremors that were so unexpected—so unlike anything she’d ever felt before—she wondered if she might be ill. Heat seared through her body, and she knew it must be flooding colour into her cheeks, but she was powerless against it—against whatever it was that smile had generated.

  ‘Come and see,’ he said, and it took a moment to remember she’d asked a question and another to remember what it had been. She stood up and Flynn slipped an arm around her waist—to guide her, nothing more, although the heat fired up again, making her knees unreliable and her lungs choke for air.

  Pull yourself together!

  It was an order she’d given to herself often over the years, and before this, it had usually had some effect.

  Not tonight! Not on a betraying body that wanted to lean into Flynn’s casually supporting arm, to turn within it so her breast rested against his chest!

  Was it because she was still half-asleep that thes
e thoughts and feelings bombarded her?

  Weakened her?

  She straightened up and shook her head, moving away from that unwittingly seductive arm, telling herself it was exhaustion making her body feel hot and shaky. Reminding herself she was a responsible adult—the mother of a child—not some teenage virgin trembling at the touch of an adored pop idol. For only so could she explain her extreme reaction…

  The unknowing cause of her body’s peculiar behaviour led her back along a corridor towards the front foyer, then knocked and opened a door on the right. Inside, Majella saw a double bed, a folding bed and a small crib. Jamie was already asleep in the folding bed, while Sam and the baby lay between Mike and Naomi in the double bed. As Majella watched, Sam carefully tucked the bright chicken blanket around the baby and said goodnight to her, then snuggled up against his mother.

  ‘This is our family room,’ Flynn said, such pride in his voice Majella knew it was his innovation.

  ‘It’s wonderful,’ she said, as she waved goodnight to the family and withdrew. ‘For all your teenage talk of travelling the world, you were obviously meant to be a country doctor. You understand the people and their needs. You personalise medicine in a way you never could in a big anonymous city practice or major teaching hospital.’

  She was surprised to see a faint flush of embarrassment colour his cheeks.

  ‘It’s not all good,’ he said quietly. ‘In the country you know the family so you get used to thinking of them as a whole unit, not little separate bits, but there are so many limits in country practice it’s easy to get frustrated. And if you’re not careful you can get bogged down in this family welfare stuff when you could be doing more preventative medicine and more study on new techniques and drugs. I need to know more, learn more, Majella, before I can be sure I’m giving my patients the very best service available.’

  They’d walked out through the foyer and down the shallow steps while Flynn had been speaking, and now stood beneath the spreading pepper tree that sheltered a small lawn in the centre of the circular drive in front of the hospital. It was after midnight but the moon was full, the festival dates set around the full moon every year. The clear silver light it shed made the sleeping town look like something out of a fairy-tale.

  Behind it, the high, forested ranges reared like ramparts, while the narrow river curling around the town could be a moat.

  ‘It’s beautiful,’ she said, nodding at the scene spread out before them, more in affirmation to herself than conversation.

  ‘It always has been,’ he said quietly and she knew they were back at the conversation they’d had before.

  ‘I had to go,’ she said yet again.

  ‘So you keep on telling me.’ He put his arm around her and tucked her up against his body. ‘Yet you’ve come back. You came to buy the house. Why?’

  Majella hesitated, then realised that explaining why she wanted the house might help to clear up some of the muddle in her own mind. She moved away from Flynn’s protective arm so she could put her thoughts into words without distraction. ‘I want somewhere for myself and Grace—a place of our own. Somewhere I can begin to build a life for us.’

  She paused, seeking to explain a concept that was only vaguely formed within her mind.

  ‘It’s hard, because Helen doesn’t really understand, and in doing this I know I’m hurting her, and she’s the last person in the world I should be hurting. She took me in, you know. There was an injured koala and Helen picked it up for the animal rescue service—and took me as well. So from then on, there was always a Sherwood to take care of me—watch over me, Helen, or Jeff, or Sophie—so generous with their love and support I understood for the first time what a family was all about. And now there’s Gracie, and they adore her, too, and in a little way she helps them accept the pain of their loss, but…’

  Flynn heard the explanation, but his head was following the wrong threads, first the one about the rescue service—he’d passed the signs thousands of times and had wondered if anyone ever rang the number.

  Then with the mention of Jeff his thoughts switched to the man Majella had married, wondering if the bloke had taken unfair advantage of her vulnerability and innocence, seducing her with ease within this new delightful thing she’d found—a family!

  He didn’t grind his teeth, although it was a close call—remembering just in time a couple of expensive crowns he’d recently had done. Majella was still talking, something about having to learn to stand on her own two feet—to be strong and independent for herself, but even more importantly, for Grace.

  Then she turned towards him, expectant, no doubt waiting for him to approve whatever it was she’d been saying, but any words he might have said were lost when he saw her face lifted to his—skin pale and luminous as a perfect pearl in the silvery moonlight—features haloed by the dark hair.

  A fiercely strong wave of emotion washed through him, weakening his muscles to the extent he reached out to hold her shoulder for support.

  ‘You’re beautiful,’ he said, repeating the word she’d used about the town.

  She shook her head as if to deny the compliment, but beneath his hand he felt her tremble, and as he drew her into his arms she shivered, although her skin was warm enough to suggest it wasn’t from the cold.

  She had strayed beneath the tree as she’d explained her need for independence, pulling at the long trailing branches, twisting them as she’d talked, so now they fell about them, making a cave of privacy.

  Was it the shadowy darkness that made Flynn’s blood thicken as she melted against him, made his pulse race when his lips met hers?

  She met his kiss with a heat as unexpected as it was erotic, her tongue tangling with his when he thrust it into the warm sweetness of her mouth. His hands, resting lightly against her shoulder blades, felt the quiver that ran through her body, and that, more than the taste of her mouth or the feel of her full breasts nuzzling against his shirt, made him pull her closer, clamping her hard against his body so he felt the softness of her against his chest, his hips, his thighs.

  Fierce desire coursed through him, blanking out his mind, concentrating all his being on the physical delights of touching her, holding her, feeling her skin and flesh and bones, the scent of her filling his nostrils, hunger for her vibrating through his body.

  ‘Flynn.’

  His name fluttered off her lips and onto his, but he wasn’t ready to release her yet—to stop this kiss that had shifted his world off its axis.

  ‘I need to breathe.’

  The whispered words penetrated the fog in his head and, moving so he could tilt her head and see her face, he looked at her, skin dappled by the moonlight through the leaves, eyes beautiful and trusting, reflecting a little of the wonderment he himself was feeling. Then he bent his head and claimed her lips again, letting her feel the heat stirring in his body and the burning excitement racing along his nerves.

  Majella felt his lips move on hers, testing and exploring. Felt her own response in a sudden rush of warmth deep inside her body and a melting sensation in her bones. She kissed him back, as much in the spirit of exploration—how much better could her own sensations get?—as for the kiss itself, then her thinking became blurry as Flynn’s hands brushed against her skin. Now his fingers tangled in her hair, holding her more firmly, pressing her body against his, so she could feel his response as well as her own.

  Kissing.

  She’d never put much thought to it—could barely remember her reaction to Jeff’s gentle kisses—but now, as Flynn urged her deeper into the shadows of the tree, she discovered a kiss could turn her blood to liquid fire and make her whimper with what she presumed was need, especially when his hand moved against her breast, outside clothes and bra but still generating fiery trails of longing that made her move against him, seeking some relief.

  ‘Come back to my place,’ he murmured, the movement of his lips felt on her own, and though she nodded, the thought of getting naked in front of Flynn, bei
ng naked with him, made her stiffen.

  And it cleared her mind so although she kept on kissing him, not wanting to lose the feel of his lips on hers or the special closeness of his body, her thoughts turned to practical matters.

  What was she thinking?

  The issue wasn’t getting naked with Flynn—nor even going back to his place. She was a mature woman—with a daughter, responsibilities. She was here to find out if Parragulla might provide the home she sought—her own home—not to get entangled with a man.

  She eased her body just far enough away from his to break the sedulous attraction of the kiss.

  ‘No, no, I’ve got to go,’ she said lamely. ‘Thank you.’

  She wasn’t sure just what she was thanking him for, and neither apparently was he, for his ‘Thank you?’ was so incredulous she laughed.

  ‘It was a nice kiss,’ she offered, hoping to keep things light between them.

  ‘A nice kiss? Was that all you felt? No fire? No heat? No wanting?’

  The fire, heat and wanting all escalated once again, but no way could she admit to them—hating to admit them even to herself—because this neediness weakened her resolve and laughed at her attempted independence.

  Why?

  She wasn’t sure. A relationship—a physical relationship—needn’t weaken her.

  Need it?

  One kiss and she was thinking relationship?

  With Flynn?

  Was she mad?

  Mind whirling with doubts and questions for which she had no answers, she pushed gently against the arms that still held her captive, backing out of that tempting embrace, away from the exciting warmth of his body.

  He released her—far too easily—then put his hand around her shoulders and guided her back on to the driveway.

  ‘My car’s around the back. I’ll take you back to the showground.’

  She didn’t protest, contrarily sorry now the kisses had ended but knowing they would probably resume in the privacy of his vehicle. Wanting them to resume…