Letting Go With Dr Rodriguez. Fiona Lowe

‘Thank you again, Emily.’

      He turned before he saw disappointment line her face.

      Three hours later, Marco couldn’t quite believe that he was standing in an empty waiting room. He leaned against the counter and spoke to Lisa, the clinic’s friendly receptionist. ‘I thought there must be something wrong with the computer. There must be more people to see me, no?’

      Lisa shook her head with a smile. ‘Not until afternoon clinic starts at two. Don’t look so worried. For once you get a lunch break.’

      Yet, based on his patient load over the last few weeks, none of this made sense. ‘But I started late and—’

      ‘Didn’t Sue tell you?’

      ‘Tell me what?’

      ‘Lucy Patterson’s been seeing patients all morning.’

      As if on cue, he heard Lucy’s musical voice drifting down the corridor saying, ‘Make an appointment with Dr Rodriguez for Friday and by then your blood test results will be back. Meanwhile, David, the most important thing for you is to get some rest.’

      A moment later David Saunders appeared at the desk and Marco turned, walking directly to William’s consulting room. Lucy was reaching over the examination table, stripping it of linen and his gaze immediately zeroed in on her bottom. ‘You—’ His voice cracked and he cleared his throat. ‘You stayed?’

      She straightened up, tossing the sheet into the skip. ‘I did.’ She flicked out a clean sheet and shot him a smile. ‘I had to hang around for Jason’s head injury checks so I had the choice of catching up on all the celebrity gossip from last year’s magazines or helping you out with your morning list. Didn’t Sue tell you?’

      Her smile was doing odd things to his breathing and his pulse. He swallowed before managing to say, ‘No.’

      A single line appeared between her brows. ‘Was it the wrong thing to do? I thought you wanted my help?’

      He realised between his confusion at learning she was still here and his body’s lust-fest with her cute behind, he was frowning at her. He made himself smile. ‘Sí, I did want your help for the truck driver, but I did not expect you to do more. Thank you. It was very generous of you to stay.’

      She shrugged as she smoothed down the paper-protector over the sheet. ‘Not really.’

      This woman was a mass of contradictions and just like yesterday evening, he was immediately back to not understanding her. ‘But you came to Bulla Creek to spend your time with William, not to work here.’

      She briskly tucked her hair behind her ear, the action defensive. ‘Really, it’s not a problem. I was happy to help.’

      And he was very appreciative of it. Appreciative of her. Remembering Lisa’s words about a real lunch break, he said, ‘Can I buy you lunch to thank you?’

      ‘Oh, God, lunch.’ Her pupils dilated so wide they almost obliterated the grey, and her hand flew to her mouth as if he’d just suggested something completely inappropriate.

      Hell, had she noticed him staring at her behind?

      No, she had her back to you.

      He ran his hand through his hair, wondering if being off the dating scene for seven years and only having one night stands had affected his judgement. ‘Inviting you to lunch, this was the wrong thing to say?’

      ‘No. It was totally the right thing to say.’ She picked up her bag, grabbed his arm, and started pulling him toward the door. ‘I’m starving. Let’s eat right now.’

      The delicious warmth of her hand seeped into him and immediately combined with her enthralling scent. He knew he should resist the tug of that intoxicating pleasure which pooled inside him and that he should press his feet to the floor and refuse to follow her. He knew without a doubt he should pause and question her on why one minute she was horrified by a simple lunch invitation and the next minute she was crazily overenthusiastic.

      Knowing and doing were two separate things and he ignored common sense, letting the river of desire that burned in him rule. He allowed himself be led out of the clinic and marched up the street like a teenage boy in lust for the very first time.

      The Shearer’s Arms was the oldest building in town, pre-dating the church by a good ten years. A large, rectangular, whitewashed building, it stood at the top end of Main Street with its distinctive red corrugated-iron veranda. Large tables sat under its shade and the regulars could sit and catch the passing breeze while keeping their eye on the activities of the town.

      By the time they reached the door, Marco had regained his composure and was determined to reclaim control as the host of the lunch. As he reached for the door handle ahead of Lucy so he could usher her inside, she stopped abruptly and stood staring at the door. ‘Are you okay?’ She looked as if her thoughts were miles away and she didn’t respond. ‘Lucy?’

      A slight tremor flicked across her shoulders and she gave him a brittle smile. ‘Let’s go in, shall we?’

      He tilted his head and smiled. ‘That was my plan.’

      He’d expected a laugh, but if anything she seemed even tenser as she ducked under his arm and walked straight past the sign that said, ‘Please wait to be seated.’

      This wasn’t going quite as he’d planned. ‘Lucy.’

      She didn’t slow or turn.

      ‘Dr Patterson.’

      Not even the use of her professional name made her pause. Irritation rolled through him like the prickle of a burr. Silently rebuking himself on letting his body overrule his brain, and regretting having issued the lunch invitation, he reluctantly followed her to the furthest corner of the dining room, feeling like a consort trailing behind a queen.

      She disappeared behind a partition and he heard her say, ‘Sorry we’re late.’

      Late? He rounded the faux-wood panel and came face to face with William.

      The elder doctor leaned against his stick and for the briefest moment confusion flitted across his face, followed by regret. Both were instantly replaced by a polite smile, which looked like it needed the muscles to haul really hard to raise the corners of his mouth. He extended his hand and in a voice that was neither friendly nor unfriendly said, ‘Marco.’