eyes brightening as a beach-blond forty-something man came round the corner of their ambulance with a timorous woman who only just prevented herself from running into him when he abruptly stopped.
“All good things must come to an end I guess, Stevo.” Maggie heaved a sigh of genuine remorse, then shot a guilty look at Raphael with an apologetic smile following in its wake.
“Raphael, this is my partner—my former ambo partner—Steve Laughlin.”
“Crikey, Mags. It’s only been ten minutes. And no lines have been drawn in the sand yet. No offence, newbie!”
He turned to the young woman behind him and gave her a solid clap on the shoulder that nearly buckled her knees before turning back to Raphael.
“Nice to meetcha, mate.” Steve put his hand out for a solid shake. “You’ve got yourself one of Bondi Junction’s finest here, so consider yourself lucky. I’m counting on you to look after her. She can be a bit of a klutz—”
“I’m more than capable of looking after myself, thank you very much!” Maggie cut in.
“Yeah, yeah. Help me, help me!” Steve elbowed Raphael in the ribs and laughed. “You know what I’m saying, mate? All these girls really want is a big strong bloke to look after ’em. Get a load of these pecs, Casey. This is what happens when your partner doesn’t carry her fair share of the equipment bags.”
He flexed his arm into Popeye muscles and grinned as his new charge instantly flushed with mortification.
“Yes, Steve. Nothing to do with the hours you spend at the gym instead of helping your wife with the dishes,” Maggie answered drily, clearly immune to Steve’s über-macho version of charm. “And, for the record, I think I can live without a big strong Tarzan swinging in to rescue me, knowing that there’s a fully qualified surgeon sitting in your old seat. Twice as many patients in half the time, I’m betting.”
She gave Raphael a quick Am I right, or what? smile.
Raphael winced. Bragging rights over his surgical skills was something he’d rather not be a party to.
“Ah, well, then.” Steve gave Raphael a knowing look, completely missing his discomfort. “If you’re not busy curing everyone in Sydney over the next couple of hours, perhaps you’ll be able to shake a bit more fun into our girl, here. Tell her there’s a bit more to life than work, will ya? When we heard you were a Frenchie we all started laying bets on how long it’d take for you to get her out on the town after her shift. She’s got a thing about France, you know?”
He rocked back on his heels, crossed his arms over what looked like the beginnings of a beer belly and gave him a solid once-over.
“You’re a better looking bloke than I am, so maybe you’re in with a bit of a chance.”
“Hardly!” The word leapt out of Maggie’s throat, lancing the light-hearted tone of Steve’s comments in two.
“Easy, there, Mags.” Steve rolled his eyes and gave her a half-hug. “I’m just messing with you. Give the bloke a chance, all right? We’re just worried about you. All work and no play...”
“Yeah. I get it, Steve. Don’t you have some work you should be getting on with?”
Raphael stayed back from the group, preferring silence to watching the increasing flush heating up Maggie’s cheeks.
He stepped forward for a handshake when Steve did a quick introduction of his new junior partner, Casey, before heading for their own ambulance. As soon as they’d left Maggie poured her obvious irritation into filling up all the supply bins in their ambulance.
The idea of spending time with him outside of working hours obviously didn’t appeal. Had he said something last night to offend her? Perhaps taking a rain check on a post-film drink had been bad form if it wasn’t her usual mode opératoire to go out.
Raphael swallowed against rising frustration. Hitting the wrong note seemed to be his specialty of late. Making the wrong move. Insisting upon operating on a little girl he was far too close to, only to have to break the news to his best friend that his young daughter had just died on the operating table because of his mistake.
Jean-Luc would never forgive him. Not in this lifetime anyway.
He tried to crush the memory of what Jean-Luc had said to him to the recesses of his mind. A near impossible task as he revisited the cruel words each and every night while trying to fall into a restless sleep.
“You just take! All you do is take!”
The medical report had told a different story, had said that Amalie would have died anyway. Her injuries had been too severe. The loss of blood too great. But Raphael knew the truth. He was the one who had made the decision that had ultimately led to the little girl’s death.
He returned his gaze to Maggie, who had shifted back into her efficient self and was doing a swirly ta-da! gesture with her arms in front of the ambulance.
“Clocked that? Are we good? Am I going too fast? Too slow? Should I just stop talking altogether?”
Her eyes widened and he saw that his worries about Maggie not wanting to work with him had been ridiculous. Those green cat’s eyes of hers were alight with hints of hope and concern, making it abundantly clear that her nervous energy wasn’t anti-Raphael. It was worry that he might not be interested. It was hope that he shared her passion for the job she loved. And, if he wasn’t mistaken, there was an underlying pride at what she did for her community.
“All right, Frenchie? How’re ya settlin’ in, mate?”
Raphael turned at the sound of the male voice, not missing the pained expression taking hold of Maggie’s face as her eyes lit on the paramedic behind him.
A tall black-haired man—big—was holding out a hand. “Marcus Harrison. Fellow paramedic. Friends call me Cyclops. I’ll give you three guesses why.”
Raphael threw a quick look to Maggie, who shrugged, rolling her eyes rolling as if to say, Indulge him. It’ll be over in a minute.
When he turned back he was face to face with an eyeball.
“It’s glass. Get it? I’ve only got one eye. Been that way since I was a nipper. Too much rugby, and one day...” Marcus pinched his fingers in front of his eye then made a flying object gesture.
Behind him Raphael could hear Maggie muttering something about putting it away, already.
Totally unfazed by Maggie’s disgust, Marcus popped his eye back into the empty socket and doubled up in a fit of self-induced laughter. “Oh, mate. You should see your face. Priceless.”
“Are you finished?” Maggie asked, her tone crisp, but not without affection.
“Yeah, but...” Marcus bent in half again, another hit of hilarity shaking him from head to toe.
“Marcus, I’m trying to show our new colleague the truck.”
“What? He’ll be all right.” Marcus waved off her concerns. “You were a surgeon or something back there in Paris, right?”
Raphael nodded, knowing that a flinch had accompanied the reminder.
“Leave the poor man alone. He’s got enough on his plate without you showing off your wares and quizzing him about his credentials.”
Marcus strutted in a circle in front of Maggie. “Darlin’, let me assure you, you can look at my wares any day of the week.”
Again Maggie rolled her eyes. This clearly wasn’t Marcus’s first flirt session. Nor Maggie’s first refusal. Clearly having three older brothers had toughened her up.
Marcus crossed to her, leaned in, gave her a loud smack of a kiss on the cheek, then gave Raphael a good-natured thump on the back as he passed, heading towards the tea room whistling a pop tune.
“He seems...”
Raphael