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The Playboy Doctor
Sarah Morgan
He wasn't her type!Hard-working and dedicated Dr. Joanna Weston was everything she believed a frivolous playboy like her new locum, Seb Macaulay, wasn't. Every woman he met adored him, and Joanna was frostily determined to be the exception.How wrong could she have been?Little by little, Seb's warmth broke down Joanna's protective barriers and she began to fall in love with the man and the doctor she never truly knew. But Joanna was intensely vulnerable, and someone as devastatingly gorgeous as Seb could easily break her heart…


‘Are you serious? You really want to have dinner with me?’
He frowned slightly. ‘Why else would I ask you?’
She swallowed. ‘For a joke?’
There was a long silence, and then he lifted a finger and touched her cheek gently.
‘Someone did treat you badly, didn’t they?’ His blue eyes searched hers for a long moment. ‘Well, just for the record, I don’t make jokes like that. And, yes, I do really want to have dinner with you.’
‘I’m going for a shower.’ She determinedly turned on her heel.
‘Fifteen minutes,’ he called after her, his voice firm and very male. ‘You have fifteen minutes to get ready or I’m taking you out as you are.’
She looked back, one eyebrow raised. ‘Caveman tactics, Dr Macaulay?’
He grinned. ‘Whatever it takes, Dr Weston. Whatever it takes.’
Sarah Morgan trained as a nurse and has since worked in a variety of health-related jobs. Married to a gorgeous businessman who still makes her knees knock, she spends most of her time trying to keep up with their two little boys but manages to sneak off occasionally to indulge her passion for writing romance. Sarah loves outdoor life and is an enthusiastic skier and walker. Whatever she is doing, her head is always full of new characters, and she is addicted to happy endings.
Recent titles by the same author:
WORTH THE RISK
THE MIDWIFE’S CHILD
THE DOCTOR’S ENGAGEMENT
EMERGENCY: MOTHER WANTED

The Playboy Doctor
Sarah Morgan

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

CONTENTS
Chapter One (#u282911a4-69ad-5770-9f4d-9afd3f49ec0f)
Chapter Two (#u70fd02c8-b0de-5bee-858d-c653ab4c8ab2)
Chapter Three (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ONE
JOANNA WESTON pulled up outside a row of small, terraced cottages and switched off the car engine.
She felt exhausted. Totally and utterly exhausted. Her head was thumping and her eyes felt gritty from lack of sleep. Even blinking seemed to require a monumental effort.
To cap it all, she’d turned on the car radio in time to hear the weather forecaster cheerfully announce that it was the hottest June on record and the sun beating down relentlessly through the windows of her car just increased her drowsiness.
For a brief moment her eyes closed and she struggled against the overwhelming desire to sleep. She didn’t have time to sleep. Not yet. Maybe tonight, if she was really lucky and everyone managed to stay healthy until the morning...
In the meantime, she had one more house call to make and then a busy evening surgery.
Forcing her aching, complaining body into action, she climbed out of the car and walked down the path towards the house at the end of the row.
The door opened before she’d had a chance to knock and she smiled at the old lady standing in the doorway.
‘Hello, Alice. Sorry I’m a bit late. I had more calls than usual. How’s that chest of yours?’
‘It’s much better.’ Alice James stood to one side to let Joanna in, gesturing towards the kitchen. ‘The kettle’s just boiled and you look as though you’re in need of some sustenance. Come and sit down.’
Sit down?
It was tempting, but Joanna had a suspicion that if she sat down she might never get up again.
‘I shouldn’t really.’ She glanced at her watch doubtfully. ‘Surgery starts in half an hour and I don’t want to be late.’
Alice ignored her and spooned tea into a large blue teapot. ‘The people in this village will be more than happy to wait an extra five minutes. We all know that you’re working far too hard at the moment. I gather you were up half the night with Ted Rawlings...’
Joanna looked at her in astonishment as she put her bag down by the table. ‘How did you know that?’
‘I heard it from Doris in the newsagent.’ Alice added boiling water to the tea. ‘And she heard it from Geoff Forrest, the postman, whose mother lives next door to Ted and saw the ambulance in the night.’
Joanna gaped at her, temporarily speechless. She’d lived in this small, rural community for three years now and she was still surprised by the speed with which news travelled.
‘Is anything ever private around here?’
‘Not much.’ Alice put the teapot in the middle of the scrubbed kitchen table and reached for two bone china cups. ‘And you should be thankful for that. It was Geoff’s mother who called you because she heard Ted moaning through the wall and was worried. If she hadn’t, goodness knows what might have happened. So how is he now?’
‘You mean to tell me that the jungle drums haven’t given you the answer to that one yet?’ Joanna’s tone was dry. ‘You know I can’t discuss other patients with you, Alice. I’m probably the only person in the village who can’t.’ She reached into her bag and pulled out a stethoscope. ‘Now, stop gossiping and let me listen to that chest of yours.’
Alice unbuttoned her blouse and made a tutting noise. ‘You’re not in London now, young lady. This is rural Devon, remember? It’s not about gossiping. It’s about being neighbourly. We all know everyone else’s business here. You’ve been around long enough to know that. If you won’t tell me what’s going on then there’s other folks that will.’
‘I’m sure they will, Alice,’ Joanna said calmly, placing her stethoscope on the woman’s chest, ‘so there’s no need for you to put me on the spot. Anyway, I don’t know why you’re asking me. I seem to know less than anyone around here. I’m only the doctor. Deep breath in for me...and again... Great. Now, your back...’
She examined the old lady carefully and then unhooked the stethoscope and tucked it back into her bag. ‘Well, that sounds a lot healthier than last time. Your chest is clear.’
‘And about time! I seem to have been coughing for the whole winter and most of the spring, too.’ Alice buttoned up her blouse and poured the tea.
Joanna looked at the steaming cup longingly and wrestled with her conscience. ‘I haven’t really got time for this, Alice...’
‘Nonsense. You need a break after the week you’ve had,’ Alice said briskly. ‘Doris and I were talking about it only yesterday, and according to our calculations you haven’t had an undisturbed night’s sleep for two weeks! On Monday it was poor old Chris Rogers, then on Tuesday you were up with the little Blake twins, on Wednesday you—’
‘Are you having me followed?’ Joanna sank onto one of the kitchen chairs and started to laugh. ‘You and Doris know more about my life than I do! If I ever forget where I’m meant to be, I’ll give you a ring.’
‘You may laugh, but that’s what a community is all about,’ Alice said firmly, opening a large cake tin and picking up a knife. ‘Keeping an eye out for each other. Talking of which, we’re all terribly worried about Paula and Nick since the accident.’
‘Accident?’ Joanna stared at her. ‘What accident?’
Alice sighed. ‘That precious little dog of theirs was killed on the road yesterday. He slipped his lead apparently and there was nothing Paula could do.’
‘Oh, no.’ Joanna felt a rush of sadness. She knew just how much that dog had meant to Paula. ‘Alice, that’s awful news.’
‘Yes.’ Alice nodded agreement and lifted the cake out of the tin. ‘They adored that dog.’
‘I know,’ Joanna said gruffly, making a mental note to call on the family to check on them. She knew that they’d be feeling totally bereft.
‘Anyway, enough of our problems,’ Alice said briskly, pushing Joanna’s cup towards her to remind her to drink it. ‘It’s you we’re all worried about.’
‘Me?’ Joanna looked startled, and Alice nodded.
‘Yes, you. Doris and I have decided that it’s time we all looked out for you a bit more. You’ve been working all hours since Dr Mills went off to Australia, leaving you to cope on your own. You look shattered, pet.’
‘Well, I am a bit tired,’ Joanna admitted, giving a wry smile as she listened to herself. A bit tired? That had to classify as the understatement of the year! The truth was that she felt so weary she could barely stay upright...
Alice cut two large wedges of chocolate cake and passed Joanna a slice. ‘You’re overworked, Dr Weston, and we all know it. There are too many patients here for one doctor. It isn’t right that you’ve been left to cope on your own. Dr Mills is the senior partner. He had a responsibility to check that you were all right before he took himself off.’
‘Alice, I can’t possibly eat all that,’ Joanna protested weakly as she stared at the huge piece of cake in front of her. ‘I’ll pop. And Dr Mills didn’t just take himself off—he arranged a locum to cover while he visited his son in Australia. He didn’t know there was going to be an emergency and that he’d end up staying. He only booked the locum for two weeks because he only planned to stay that long.’
And a total waste of space that locum had been, too! Alice obviously agreed if her derisive snort was anything to go by.
‘Him?’ Alice’s mouth tightened disapprovingly. ‘If he’d spent less time on the beach, surfing, and more time doing surgeries, you might have lost those dark circles around your eyes.’
Joanna didn’t even bother trying to defend him. Alice was right. The man had been almost useless.
‘Yes, well, he’s gone now.’ She took a bite of cake and gave a moan of pleasure. ‘Oh, Alice, this is sublime. You must give me the recipe.’
‘And when do you have time to cook?’ Alice handed her a cup of tea. ‘Now you’re without a locum, I shouldn’t think you have time to breathe, let alone cook. Are you eating properly?’
Joanna smothered a grin, thinking that Alice sounded more like her mother than her patient.
‘Of course I’m eating properly,’ she lied, pushing aside a mental vision of her empty fridge at home. The truth was she hadn’t had time to think about food.
‘Humph!’ Alice’s frown showed that she wasn’t convinced. ‘Well, the first thing to do is get you some help. Any sign of a replacement for Dr Wetsuit?’
Joanna laughed out loud at the nickname, knowing it was well deserved. The locum had spent every available minute surfing and had been next to useless as a temporary partner in the practice.
‘To answer your question, yes, I am getting a replacement. Dr Mills phoned me last night to tell me he’d found another doctor to help me out until he can come home.’
Alice frowned and poured another cup of tea. ‘And when’s that going to be? The man’s worked in this practice for thirty years and he’s never been away for more than a week at a time!’
‘These are exceptional circumstances,’ Joanna reminded her gently. ‘His new grandchild arrived early. You can hardly expect him to come dashing home. His priority now is his son and their new baby. They need him.’
Joanna knew how worried the senior partner was about his new grandson. The last thing on his mind was returning to England.
‘I know and I’m not blaming him.’ Alice sighed. ‘Poor Dr Mills. And poor Mrs Mills! Nancy must be terribly worried about it all. This was their dream trip—a visit to their son and his family in Australia. No one imagined that Melissa would have the baby early.’
‘No, it was a terrible shock,’ Joanna agreed, removing a cake crumb from her lap. ‘But in a way it was a good job it happened while they were there. If Dr Mills hadn’t been there, who would have looked after little Harry while his parents were at the hospital? He’s only two, remember, and having the grandparents there has at least meant that Melissa and Sam can concentrate on the new baby without having to worry about him.’
‘And how is the little scrap?’ Alice sipped her tea. ‘Any news?’
Joanna shook her head. ‘Not since last week. But he wasn’t too well last time I spoke to them. Twenty-seven weeks is very premature. He’s got all sorts of problems, but hopefully he’ll fight back.’
‘Yes, well, if he’s anything like his father he certainly will. Sam was always a plucky one,’ Alice said, her eyes shining with memories. ‘I remember him as a toddler, scrambling up the valley, playing in the river, running over the moor...’ She gave a sniff. ‘Crying shame they moved to Australia. It’s too far away if you ask me.’
‘He was offered a good job,’ Joanna said, finishing her tea and glancing at her watch as she stood up.
‘Humph! With a law firm? He should have been a doctor. Followed in his father’s footsteps.’ Alice stood up too and patted Joanna’s arm. ‘Mind you, then we wouldn’t have had you as our doctor and that would have been a great pity. You’re a very kind, very warm person, Dr Weston, and the best thing that has happened to this community for a long time.’
‘Oh, Alice...’ Joanna blushed and bit her lip, totally flustered by the praise. ‘You’re talking rubbish.’
‘Not at all,’ Alice said calmly. ‘I’m just repeating what other folks are saying. Now, have some more cake.’
Joanna declined quickly. ‘It was delicious but I couldn’t possibly! I’ll be the size of a house.’
‘You? I don’t think so somehow.’ Alice squinted at her. ‘You’ve got a lovely figure, dear, although if anything I’d say you’ve lost some weight lately.’
Courtesy of the empty fridge, Joanna thought wryly.
Impulsively she stooped to hug the old lady. ‘Thank you for the tea and cake, Alice. I’ll see you soon. Call me if you have any problems.’
She turned and walked towards the door and Alice followed her.
‘So who is this new locum that Dr Mills has arranged? When is he starting?’
‘He’s meant to be arriving tonight,’ Joanna told her, shifting her bag into her other hand as she reached to open the front door. ‘As for who he is, I have no idea. I didn’t ask. Dr Mills just said that he was a friend of the family and very well qualified.’
She didn’t really care who he was as long as he didn’t mind hard work.
Suddenly Alice looked interested. ‘And he’ll be living with you?’
‘Well, not with me, Alice,’ Joanna murmured, a trace of humour in her voice. ‘But in the house, yes. Goodness knows, it’s big enough. I’m rattling around in it on my own.’
And she hated it! Not that she’d ever admit that to anyone. An intelligent, adult woman wasn’t supposed to have irrational fears, especially about something as foolish as being on her own in the dark. All the same, she’d lost count of the number of times she’d glanced nervously over her shoulder when she’d heard a creak, and she found herself double-checking the locks before she could sleep at night. Frankly she would be relieved to have someone else living there with her.
‘Well, who knows, maybe he’ll be handsome and eligible.’ Alice’s face suddenly brightened. ‘You could do with a bit of romance in your life, Dr Weston.’
Romance? Hardly!
‘I don’t think so, Alice.’ Joanna forced a smile, hoping it didn’t look as false as it felt. ‘Romance is the last thing on my mind at the moment.’
‘Well, it shouldn’t be.’ Alice folded her arms across her chest and looked at her sternly. ‘A young thing like you should be thinking of getting married and having babies...’
Babies.
Suddenly Joanna felt as though she’d been showered with cold water. It had been years, but it took so little to bring it all rushing back.
Once she’d hoped, believed...
But she’d been a gullible fool and she’d long ago resigned herself to the fact that she wasn’t the sort of woman that men fell for. Marriage and babies were things that happened in dreams and to other people. Never to her.
Never.
Aware that Alice was looking at her curiously, Joanna struggled to produce another smile. She didn’t want the old lady guessing that anything was wrong.
‘I don’t care whether the locum is handsome or not,’ she said briskly. ‘I just want him to be a good doctor.’
‘Let’s hope he turns out to be better than the last chap,’ Alice said, and Joanna gave a nod of agreement as she stepped out into the bright sunshine.
‘Let’s hope so indeed...’
By the time she arrived back at the surgery it was gone four o’clock and the waiting room was already full.
‘I’m so sorry, everyone.’ She gave them an apologetic look and shrugged out of her coat. ‘I had more calls than usual so I’m running a little late.’
‘Don’t you worry, Dr Weston.’ Doris Parker, who ran the newsagent, gave her a warm smile. ‘We’re happy just sitting here, catching up on the latest news, until you can get round to us.’
Joanna hid a smile, thinking how fond she was of them. Why would anyone want to work in an anonymous, faceless surgery in inner London when they could have this? It had its disadvantages, of course. Keeping a secret was impossible and everyone knew what everyone else was doing, but working in a semi-rural practice was so rewarding. This little village on the edge of Dartmoor was so much a community that you might have thought they’d invented the word...
Their kindness and understanding gave her a sudden burst of energy and she walked briskly through to her surgery and switched on her computer. She’d really try to keep the chat to the minimum, she told herself firmly as she called her first patient. It was the only way she stood a chance of getting through her list.
She worked her way through a steady stream of coughs, ear infections and rashes, and she’d just seen her last patient when Laura, her receptionist, popped her head round the door, her pretty face flushed with excitement.
‘Dr Weston, look out of the window quickly—you have got to see this car that’s just pulled into our car park.’
Joanna didn’t glance up from her computer. ‘I’m not that interested in cars, Laura.’
Especially not at the moment when she still had mountains of work to do.
‘You’ll be interested in this one,’ Laura breathed. ‘It’s gorgeous. I’ve never seen one like it before. Except in the movies.’
Realising that the quickest way to be allowed to get on with her work was to look at the car, Joanna dutifully swivelled in her chair and adjusted the blinds so that she could see out of the window. A low, dark blue sports car had pulled in at the far end of the car park.
‘Oh, yes. Very nice, Laura,’ she murmured, wondering what it was about cars that got people so excited. For her they were just a means of getting around. And not always a very reliable means!
Laura walked across the room and stood next to her, peeping through the blinds like a naughty child.
‘Nice? You think the car is nice? Dr Weston, that car cost a fortune. It’s a—’
‘I really don’t care what sort of car it is,’ Joanna admitted, interrupting her receptionist in mid-flow. ‘A car is just a car as far as I’m concerned.’
‘Well, that may be true normally,’ Laura muttered faintly, ‘but that’s not any old car, it’s a—’
‘Laura, I’m really very busy,’ Joanna hinted tactfully, watching with half an eye as the door opened and the driver stepped out of the car. He flexed broad, muscular shoulders and stood for a moment, taking in the surrounding scenery.
‘Oh, wow!’ Laura gave a squeak. ‘Look at that body! The driver’s as gorgeous as the car.’
Was he? Trying to hide her total lack of interest, Joanna stared at the stranger and wondered why she never felt the things other women seemed to feel when she looked at men. Was he gorgeous? He was too far away for her to be able to see his features clearly, but even distance couldn’t conceal his powerful physique and the slightly arrogant tilt of his dark head as he stared at the sunlit moor. Then he turned, and in one smooth movement he reached into the car and retrieved a black leather jacket. Locking the car with a casual flick of his wrist, he slung the jacket over his shoulders and strolled across the car park towards the surgery.
‘Pinch me.’ Laura sighed, her expression dreamy. ‘Pinch me quickly. No one looks like that in real life. At least, not on Dartmoor.’
Totally unaffected by what she’d seen, Joanna turned back to her computer, itching to get on with her work. ‘You shouldn’t talk that way about a patient, Laura.’
Laura looked at her as if she’d suddenly grown horns. ‘A patient? He can’t possibly be a patient. You can tell that man has never had a day’s ill health in his life just by looking at him.’ She glanced out of the window again and gave an audible gasp. ‘Oh, Dr Weston, look at him close up! He looks like a film star. I’d better go and see what he wants. He’s probably just lost and needs directions.’ She straightened and hurried towards the door, pausing to throw a saucy wink in Joanna’s direction. ‘I may be some time. If he needs to know the way to paradise, I’ll have to show him personally.’
Joanna shook her head with a smile as the receptionist left, relieved to be allowed to get on with her work. She was too busy to waste time gazing at strange men, even if they were supposedly handsome. Anyway, handsome men were bad news.
She was totally immersed in a stack of results when there was a tap on the door and Laura entered again with a flourish, her cheeks slightly pink.
‘Dr Weston, there’s someone to see you.’ Excitement mingled with admiration in her voice. ‘A Dr Macaulay.’
Macaulay?
She looked up and blinked twice, just to make sure she was seeing straight.
Dr Macaulay. Sebastian Macaulay.
Here.
In her surgery. Lounging with careless arrogance against the doorway as if he owned the place. Which was entirely possible, she thought with a touch of irony. If memory served her right, the Macaulay family owned half of Britain. Which explained the flashy car in the car park, of course.
The question was, what was he doing here? The last thing she’d heard, he’d been spending his time jetting between Caribbean islands and other exotic locations. She couldn’t imagine for a moment that rural Devon was on his list of desirable places to visit.
As their eyes met she saw recognition flicker in those blue depths and she braced herself for his reaction.
‘Well, well, it’s Joanna Weston...’ His voice was a soft, cultured drawl and Joanna glanced quickly at Laura, her face expressionless.
‘Thank you, Laura. I’ll call you if I need you.’
Whatever derogatory comment Sebastian Macaulay was about to make about her, she didn’t want him doing it in front of Laura.
Laura hovered, clearly wanting to stay around. ‘Shall I get you some—?’
‘I’ll call you,’ Joanna snapped, and Laura gave her a puzzled look, clearly taken aback that her normally mild-mannered, kind boss was behaving so uncharacteristically.
Joanna sighed, feeling instantly guilty. It wasn’t Laura’s fault. ‘Thank you, Laura. If we need you, we’ll buzz.’
Laura stared at her for a moment before turning and leaving the room, closing the door firmly behind her.
Sebastian Macaulay...
For a moment Joanna just stared at him and then she pulled herself together.
‘Well, this is a surprise.’
‘It is indeed.’ His blue eyes sparked with wry humour. ‘Although I suppose I should have guessed that it would be you. When I was told that this place was being run single-handed by a female GP, I was intrigued as to what sort of woman would want to bury themselves in the middle of nowhere.’
Nowhere? Joanna felt herself bristle. He thought this was nowhere? Well, someone like him probably would of course. She counted to ten and forced herself to be civil. She was not going to let the man wind her up.
She lifted her chin and gave him a cool look. ‘I’m not buried, Dr Macaulay, and I choose to live and work here because the people are lovely and the countryside and the beaches are wonderful. Although this might surprise you, I consider this village to be somewhere, rather than nowhere. But I can understand how someone of your...’ she paused for emphasis ‘...sophisticated tastes might consider this to be nowhere. Which leads us to the question of what you could possibly be doing in this area.’
Instead of answering immediately, he strolled round her consulting room, pausing to examine pictures, posters and photographs.
Personal photographs!
She felt a flash of anger and forced herself to calm down and analyse her feelings.
What on earth was the matter with her? How could someone she hadn’t seen for at least six years provoke such hostility in her? She was confused and puzzled by her own reaction. She didn’t normally respond that way to people. Normally she was placid and gentle, a real peacemaker. But Sebastian Macaulay had always brought out aspects of her character that she had trouble identifying. Just being in the same room as him made her insides boil and churn.
It was just because they were so different, she reasoned. Not just in terms of background—although that too, of course, because she knew for a fact that Seb Macaulay was wealthier than even Laura was probably imagining—but in terms of personality and attitude. How could she ever expect herself to have anything in common with a man who approached life as a game to be played and enjoyed, a man who shunned commitment and responsibility in favour of short-term pleasure?
No, she assured herself, her hostility towards him came from the simple fact that she disliked the man. She disliked the flippant way he approached life, the way people fell at his feet, his flashy lifestyle...
She bit her lip, forcing herself to face the truth. What she disliked most of all was the fact that he reminded her of—
Instantly she closed her eyes and pushed the thought away. She wasn’t going to drag the past up now. Not twice in one day. First with Alice and now with Seb Macaulay. For years she’d managed to keep those hurtful, uncomfortable feelings totally buried. She was happy and she didn’t want anyone or anything disturbing that.
Anyway was the man ever going to tell her what he was doing here? ‘I’m very busy, Dr Macaulay.’
‘So I hear.’ There was a pause as he leaned closer to study a favourite of hers, a painting of the moor on a wild, winter day, and Joanna curled her fingers into her palms.
‘Look.’ She cleared her throat and kept her tone businesslike. ‘Why don’t you just tell me what I can do for you?’
He turned, subjecting her to the full force of his gaze. She stiffened, forcing herself not to react. She’d never met a man with eyes as blue as his. Just one flash of those killer eyes and women had fallen over themselves in their undignified haste to climb into his bed. Except her, of course.
‘What you can do for me?’ The corners of his firm mouth tilted slightly as if she’d just said something funny. ‘It’s more a question of what I can do for you.’
‘What you—’ She broke off, temporarily rendered speechless by his careless arrogance. ‘Offhand I can’t think of a single thing that you could possibly do for me except leave me in peace and allow me to get on with the mountain of work I have to do.’
His smile widened. ‘That’s the Joanna I remember,’ he murmured softly. ‘Work, work and then more work. Nice to know you haven’t changed.’
His eyes left her face and wandered lazily over her body, starting with the flat, comfortable shoes, moving up past the sensible skirt, the crisply laundered blouse with the high neckline and finally resting on the severe hairstyle which she’d favoured since her second year at medical school.
She lifted her chin, his casual scrutiny making her hot and uncomfortable. She didn’t need to see his slightly ironic blue gaze to know that he found her lacking as a woman. She knew that she wasn’t his type. And she didn’t care. She didn’t want to be anybody’s type.
‘I’m very busy, Dr Macaulay.’
‘So you keep saying. Which brings us back to the reason I’m here.’ His tone was still amused as he walked over to the window by her desk and moved the blinds aside with one long finger. ‘Nice views.’
‘I’m not interested in what you think of the views. What has me being busy got to do with you being here?’ Her tone was sharp and she frowned as he let the blinds drop and turned to face her.
‘Rumour has it that you’re in the middle of a crisis and you need a locum.’ His eyes locked with hers. ‘I know that you’ll be delighted to hear that I’m that locum.’
She stared at him in stunned silence.
When she finally found her voice it cracked slightly, as if it had been kept in a dusty room for a month. ‘You? You can’t be my locum. There’s been a misunderstanding,’ she croaked, licking dry lips and rummaging round in her numbed brain for some sort of reasonable explanation. ‘Dr George Mills, the senior partner, has made arrangements—’
‘He has indeed.’ Seb inclined his head in agreement. ‘Me. He called me and I agreed to help out.’
‘You?’ Joanna shook her head slowly. ‘No. That’s not possible...’
He shrugged. ‘Why not?’
‘Because...because...’ How could she put it without sounding horribly rude? ‘Lots of reasons. You’re not—I mean you don’t—This isn’t the sort of surgery for a man like you,’ she finished lamely, wishing that he didn’t always make her feel so tongue-tied.
‘A man like me?’ He threw back his head and laughed in genuine amusement. ‘And you are such an expert on men, of course. Your specialist subject, if I recall.’
Joanna flushed at his none-too-subtle reminder that she’d barely socialised as a student.
‘So go on.’ He was still laughing, his eyes bright with humour. ‘I’m intrigued to hear your opinion. What sort of man am I, Dr Weston? Do tell me. This should be worth hearing.’
Joanna gritted her teeth. ‘Certainly not the sort of man to settle down in the middle of nowhere. This is rural Devon, Dr Macaulay, not cosmopolitan London. There are no hot nightspots, no clubs or fancy restaurants, and the nearest we get to retail therapy is buying eggs from the local farm.’
He lifted an eyebrow. ‘Damn.’ He clicked his fingers in mock disappointment. ‘If I’d known that, I never would have offered to help out.’
Joanna felt her temper rise at his flippancy. The temper she’d forgotten she even had until he’d walked into her consulting room. Five minutes. That was all it had taken. Five minutes with Sebastian Macaulay and already she wanted to commit grievous bodily harm.
‘I’m glad we’re agreed that this place would never suit you—’
‘Agreed? Oh, come on, Joanna! Unless my memory is faulty, you and I have never agreed on a single thing since the day we first met,’ he drawled, strolling back across her consulting room and staring at a poster on asthma management. ‘And we’re unlikely to start now. But whether we agree or not is irrelevant. I promised George I’d help out and that’s what I’m going to do. If it reassures you at all, I’m sure I can struggle by without clothes shopping for a few months. I stocked up last time I was in London.’
Joanna stared at him in barely disguised horror. ‘Are you serious?’
He gave a nod. ‘Absolutely. My favourite designer had just launched his new collection.’
She gritted her teeth, aware that he was laughing at her. ‘I wasn’t referring to your wardrobe, Dr Macaulay, as you well know. I was talking about the ridiculous suggestion that you should work here.’
‘Why ridiculous?’ He shrugged his broad shoulders. ‘I’m as well qualified as you, and you know it.’
She was unable to argue with that fact. The truth was that, despite his casual attitude, Seb Macaulay was clever. Very clever. Not that he used his brain, of course. He’d socialised his way through medical school and had managed to pass his exams having barely attended a single lecture. In fact, he’d seemed bored with the whole thing. Until they’d started the clinical section of their course. Once he’d been allowed to see real patients, Seb had never missed a day.
And since he’d qualified she hadn’t heard much about him. Just the odd rumour that he was doing glamorous jobs. Which was nothing less than she would have expected. He wasn’t the sort of man to bury himself in a deprived, inner-city practice.
Suddenly she was curious about just what he had been doing last. ‘So is that what you’re doing at the moment? Locum work?’
‘Not really.’ He suppressed a yawn. ‘Actually, I’ve just finished a stint on a cruise ship.’
Her mouth tightened. A cruise ship. Typical! ‘I see.’
‘I seriously doubt that you do.’ For a brief second the humour left those blue eyes and she caught a glimpse of a side of him she’d never seen before. A serious side. But then it was gone and he gave a careless shrug. ‘But it doesn’t matter. George didn’t stipulate that we had to understand each other—just that we had to work together.’
‘We can’t possibly work together, Dr Macaulay,’ she said stiffly. ‘Our approach to life is too different.’
He gave a short laugh. ‘Yes, well, fortunately we’re not talking about life here, we’re just talking about the job.’
‘You see?’ She sat up straighter and glared at him. ‘That is exactly what I mean. To you it’s just a job—’
‘And to you it’s your whole life,’ Seb drawled, his eyes narrowing as he watched her. ‘Let’s not waste time arguing about which one of us is right. I seem to remember telling you as a student that it was possible to work and have fun at the same time.’
She was feeling totally out of her depth. She just couldn’t cope with someone like Seb Macaulay. He was too arrogant, too confident—too male. And he made her feel... feel...strange...
‘Surely George must have known we’d have nothing in common,’ she murmured, rubbing her fingers over her aching forehead. ‘Why did he choose you? He said that he was asking a family friend—’
‘I am a family friend.’ He straightened and walked over to her desk, dropping his muscular length into the chair by her desk. ‘I was at school with Sam.’
‘Sam?’ Her mouth fell open in disbelief. ‘Sam went to the same school as you?’
Surely George and Nancy wouldn’t have had the funds for that type of education for their son.
‘Sam was a bright boy, he had a scholarship.’ Seb ran a hand through his hair, his expression suddenly impatient. ‘Look, enough questions. I thought you were supposed to be busy. If you’ve been handling George’s patients as well as your own, there must be plenty for me to do.’
Offhand she couldn’t think of a single thing. The mere thought of working alongside this man was so unlikely it was ludicrous.
‘It won’t work, Dr Macaulay,’ she said finally, nervously touching a strand of pale blonde hair that had escaped from the knot on the back of her head. ‘I’m sorry to have wasted your time but there’s been a mistake. You’ll have to find a job elsewhere.’
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, Joanna!’ He was visibly controlling his irritation. ‘Look, I agree that this situation is hardly ideal for either of us. You think I’m a glamorous playboy with more money than sense, and I think you’re an emotionally repressed workaholic whose idea of excitement is a night in with a textbook. It doesn’t matter! No one says we have to like each other. We just have to work together and that should be easy enough.’
She stared at him, carefully hiding her dismay at his words. Was that really how people saw her? An emotionally repressed workaholic?
‘I can manage by myself,’ she said finally, and he lifted an eyebrow in disbelief.
‘With the number of patients you and George have on your lists? Don’t be ridiculous. No doctor could manage that number single-handed. Especially in the holiday season. No.’ He shook his head and gave a resigned shrug. ‘You need help, and we’d better both just accept that I’m it.’
‘Help?’ Her voice rose and she almost winced as she heard herself. Normally she was a gentle, mild-mannered person and here she was acting like a fishwife. ‘You’re not my idea of help, Dr Macaulay—’
A muffled scream from Reception distracted her and Joanna broke off and tilted her head slightly. ‘What on earth was that?’
Before Seb could answer, the door was yanked open and a breathless Laura stood in the doorway, her eyes wide with panic.
‘Dr Weston, come quickly! Little Katy Ball has stopped breathing.’
Joanna stood up quickly. Too quickly. The room suddenly swam in front of her eyes and she swayed slightly. Immediately strong fingers clamped onto her shoulders and propelled her safely back into the chair.
‘Are you all right?’ Seb’s sharp question penetrated the black fog descending on her brain and she nodded slowly, waiting for the dizziness to pass.
‘I’m fine.’
‘Well, you don’t look fine.’ His eyes were narrowed. ‘You’d better stay here while I see to the child.’
‘No!’ Joanna stood up again, but this time more slowly, her fingers clutching the desk for support. ‘She’s my patient. I’ll see her.’
‘Well, join me when you’re ready.’
The screams grew louder and with a last frowning glance in her direction Seb sprinted out into Reception, leaving her to follow at a slower pace.
‘Dr Weston, help—help!!’ Katy’s mother was clutching the child against her chest, her face wild with fear. ‘She can’t breathe properly—Oh, God, please, help her, don’t let her die. It was the bee, I know it was the bee. Oh, why didn’t I see it?’
For a moment Joanna stood rooted to the spot, still feeling slightly odd, her mind totally blank.
Fortunately Seb’s reactions were faster. ‘I’m Dr Macaulay, Dr Weston’s new partner. Give her to me.’ He cut through Mrs Ball’s hysterical rambling and swept the limp little figure into his arms. ‘Laura, call an ambulance—tell them it’s urgent. She needs adrenaline—fast!’
‘In my room...’ Finally Joanna sprang to life and she ran back to her consulting room, grabbing the necessary drugs.
‘Why’s her breathing so noisy?’ Katy’s mother had followed them and was hovering uncertainly in the doorway, her face chalk white.
‘It’s called stridor,’ Seb said briefly, his eyes on Joanna as she drew up the injection. ‘It’s because her breathing tubes are swollen. Where did the bee sting her?’
‘On the back of her neck,’ Mrs Ball sobbed, ‘it was such a sunny day I promised her we could have our tea in the park. The flowers are gorgeous at the moment. I didn’t think about the bees...’
Seb held the child while Joanna gave the injection. ‘We need to give her some oxygen and get a line in.’
Joanna nodded agreement and together they worked to stabilise the child. By the time the paramedics arrived, her condition had improved dramatically.
‘I’ll go with her in the ambulance,’ Seb said briefly, and Joanna hesitated.
‘I ought to go—’
‘No.’ Seb shook his head and helped himself to some equipment from her trolley. ‘You’re better off here in case someone calls you out. I don’t know the area well enough. We’ll talk later.’
And with that he strode after the paramedics, leaving her staring, open-mouthed, totally drained after the exaggerated emotions of the past few minutes.
She sank into her chair and stared blankly at the flickering computer screen.
How had this happened?
How had her neatly ordered life been turned upside down so quickly? One minute she’d been safe in her own little world, overworked but very happy with her daily routine. And then Seb Macaulay had strolled casually back into her life and triggered more emotion in five minutes than she’d imagined she was capable of feeling in a lifetime.
After just five minutes in his company she was ready to kill someone. And if he was intent on working as a locum, it was probably going to be him.

CHAPTER TWO
JOANNA was making herself some toast in the kitchen when she heard the heavy scrunch of ambulance tyres on the gravel. Wondering how on earth Seb had persuaded them to give him a lift back, she ran to the door, still worried about little Katy.
‘How is she?’
‘Fine.’ Without waiting for an invitation, he strolled past her into the spacious hallway, a vision of self-assured, arrogant masculinity. ‘They’re keeping her in overnight for observation and then they’re going to run some tests. She might need to carry adrenaline—that was a serious reaction.’
‘It certainly was.’ Joanna frowned as he hung his jacket on the coatstand in the hallway. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’
She’d been desperately hoping that he’d have changed his mind about working as a locum but, judging from the way he was making himself at home, it seemed there was little hope of that.
‘We have things to discuss, Joanna.’
Deciding that there was no time like the present, she took a deep breath and looked him straight in the eye. ‘Dr Macaulay, I’m very grateful that you helped with Katy but it doesn’t change the fact that you and I working together is a ridiculous proposition. I’m sure now that you’ve had time to think about it you’ll agree that it would never work.’
‘It will work,’ he said grimly, ‘because it has to. I promised George Mills that I’d stay and help you until he comes back, and that’s what I intend to do. Katy’s mother sent her thanks to you, by the way.’
Joanna felt a stab of conscience and bit her lip. ‘It’s you she should have been thanking, Dr Macaulay,’ she said stiffly, knowing that it had been his quick thinking and actions that had bought them precious time. If he hadn’t thrust her bodily back into her seat she would have ended up unconscious on the carpet. ‘I apologise for earlier. I felt strange—I don’t know what was the matter with me.’
His gaze was uncomfortably direct. ‘You’re exhausted, Joanna, that’s what’s the matter. How much sleep did you get last night?’
‘Sleep?’ She rubbed her temples with her fingers, trying to marshal her exhausted brain. ‘I don’t know. Not much. I was called out a lot.’
‘Called out?’ He frowned sharply. ‘But you’re on your own here. You can’t be covering days and nights. Surely you’re using one of the local co-operatives to cover the night calls?’
‘George still likes us to do our own calls,’ she muttered, her eyes sliding away from his as she braced herself for his reaction.
There was an ominous silence and when Seb finally spoke his voice rang with incredulity. ‘Are you telling me that, as well as running this entire practice single-handed, you’re still doing all your own night calls?’
‘Well, I’ve been trying to.’ For some reason the anger in his voice made her shiver. ‘Since the last locum left it doesn’t seem to be working—’
‘I’m not surprised!’ He gave her a look of total exasperation. ‘No wonder your reaction times are slow. You must be comatose with exhaustion.’
Joanna was silent for a moment. ‘I am tired,’ she admitted finally, meeting that sharp blue gaze and then wishing she hadn’t. There was something about Seb Macaulay that unsettled her. It always had. Even when they’d been students. He made her feel strange inside and she’d never been able to understand why.
He lifted an eyebrow. ‘So why the hell are you being so stubborn? When are you going to acknowledge that you need help?’
‘I have already acknowledged it, Dr Macaulay,’ she said tartly, his tone of voice rousing her from her exhausted state, ‘but you’re not my idea of help. You’re not what I need.’
‘Not what you need?’ He shot her an incredulous look and started to laugh. ‘You, Joanna Weston, have absolutely no idea what you need.’
‘Please, spare me your expertise in female psychology,’ Joanna said shortly. ‘I do know exactly what I need. A solid, sensible doctor who’ll take his responsibilities seriously. You hardly fit that description.’
‘I hardly think I’d want to,’ he drawled lazily, an ironic smile touching the corners of his mouth. ‘And if that’s the sort of doctor you want to work with, I’d say you’re in for a fairly boring summer.’
‘I’m not looking for entertainment,’ she reminded him. ‘I’m looking for a colleague. Someone to share the work.’
‘Ah, yes, work.’ Seb leaned broad shoulders against the wall and surveyed her from under lowered lids. ‘Your favourite companion. Tell me something, Jo, have you ever spent the night with anything more exciting than a textbook? Do you ever let your hair down—either literally or figuratively?’
‘Not everyone approaches life in the same frivolous manner that you do, Dr Macaulay.’ She gritted her teeth, hating the way he narrowed his eyes as he looked at her. It was as if he was trying to see straight into her soul. ‘Work is very important to me, not that I expect someone like you to understand that. And don’t call me Jo.’
‘Oh, loosen up, will you?’ He raked long fingers through his short dark hair, not even trying to hide his irritation with her. ‘Work doesn’t have to mean major self-sacrifice, you know.’
‘Well, it certainly never is where you’re concerned,’ she replied acidly. ‘Your last job was on a cruise ship. Hardly challenging medicine.’
‘Actually, it was extremely challenging.’ Suddenly Seb’s eyes glittered ominously. ‘A great deal more challenging than life as a GP in a community like this one.’
How on earth could pandering to the occupants of a cruise ship ever be considered challenging?
‘Which just goes to prove that this isn’t the sort of practice for a man like you.’
He straightened and moved towards her, his voice suddenly hard. ‘What you know about me as a man—or what you know about any other man, come to that—wouldn’t cover one page of a prescription pad. So don’t prejudge me, Joanna. For the next few weeks, until George decides to come back, I’m your partner. Like it or not.’
A wave of exhaustion swamped her. Suddenly all she wanted was to go to bed and sleep. She didn’t have the energy for any more verbal sparring.
‘All right.’ She took a deep breath, hardly able to believe that she was saying the words. ‘If you’re really prepared to bury yourself in the middle of ‘‘nowhere’’, and you’re really prepared to pull your weight, I suppose I’d be foolish to refuse your offer.’
His smile was wry. ‘Your overwhelming enthusiasm for my company is so flattering.’
Joanna’s mouth tightened at his tone. ‘Life’s too short to play games, Dr Macaulay. I refuse to pretend to be pleased about something I know will never work. You know as well as I do that we’ve never seen eye to eye on anything—’
‘Probably because I’m over six feet and you’re barely five feet five. Maybe you should try standing on a box when we talk—you might be more comfortable.’
She silently and slowly counted to ten. She’d always thought of herself as an incredibly patient person, but clearly she didn’t know herself very well.
‘This is never going to work,’ she said heavily. ‘You just never take life seriously.’
‘Whereas you, on the other hand, take it much too seriously,’ he rejoined, and she bit her lip, knowing that what he’d said was true.
She did take life seriously, but there were reasons for that. Good reasons. Reasons he knew nothing about.
She straightened her shoulders and looked him straight in the eye. ‘If you’re seriously planning to work here, you’re going to have to accept the way I am, Dr Macaulay. Just as I’m going to have to accept the way you are.’
‘The way I am?’ He gave an incredulous laugh as he absorbed her words. ‘You mean someone who enjoys life while he can—what’s so wrong with that? Why is it wrong to approach life with optimism and humour?’ He shook his head slightly as if he couldn’t understand her attitude. ‘There are so many awful things happening in the world that we need to grab happiness while we can. That’s what I do, Joanna.’
‘I’d noticed.’ She couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of her voice. ‘And the chances of you and I working together for longer than a day without killing each other are so remote it’s laughable. Now, if you’ll leave me in peace, I was making myself some toast when you arrived.’
Joanna turned and walked briskly to the kitchen, hoping that he wouldn’t follow her.
He did, and she gritted her teeth as he settled himself comfortably at the scrubbed pine table which dominated the room.
Seb’s gaze followed her as she moved around the kitchen. ‘Is that all you’re eating? Toast? Is there anything else on the menu?’
‘Menu?’ She glared at him. ‘This isn’t a restaurant, Dr Macaulay.’
Not only was the man content to torment her and totally disrupt her working life, he now expected her to feed him gourmet food. She took a deep breath as she removed the toast—now stone cold—from the toaster.
She knew she wasn’t being very welcoming but she couldn’t help it. The man drove her nuts!
‘Look, let’s start again, shall we?’ Suddenly he looked tired as if he, too, was worn out by the tension between them. ‘I’ve had a long journey and I’d appreciate some food until I can go shopping myself.’
He made her feel churlish and she blushed slightly, wondering what on earth had happened to her normal warm hospitality. Alice would have been horrified if she’d been present.
Admitting defeat, she gave a sigh. ‘Please, feel free to help yourself to anything you can find, Dr Macaulay.’
As soon as the words left her mouth she wished she hadn’t spoken. A man like Seb Macaulay wouldn’t find much that would interest him in her fridge or cupboards.
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, Joanna, when are you going to drop the formality and call me Seb?’ Amusement vied with irritation as he got to his feet in a lithe movement. ‘All this ‘‘Dr’’ business is a bit over the top, don’t you think? We trained together. I’ve known you since you were plain Joanna Weston.’
And that was exactly was what she’d always been, of course. Plain Joanna Weston. Very plain.
She felt a shaft of pain and was suddenly hideously conscious of the crumpled skirt she’d been wearing since she’d been called out in the night and the fact that she hadn’t brushed her hair all day.
‘I like formality,’ she said briskly, telling herself firmly that she didn’t care what he thought. ‘And the patients like it. It makes them feel secure.’
‘Rubbish.’ Seb was totally dismissive of her statement. ‘People judge you on your actions and behaviour—not on your title.’
Refusing to be drawn, Joanna buttered her cold toast and took an unenthusiastic bite.
Seb watched her with an expression of disbelief. ‘Is that seriously all you’re eating?’
‘I like toast,’ she muttered, not bothering to add that she didn’t have the energy to tackle anything else.
‘Well, you at least ought to add some protein to it.’ He strolled over to the fridge, jerking open the door to examine the contents. There was a long silence and then he glanced up, visibly stunned. ‘Now I know why you’re reduced to eating toast. Don’t you ever shop?’
Joanna lifted her chin defensively. ‘I haven’t had time to shop, Dr Mac—Sebastian.’
Or change her clothes, or sleep...
‘Seb.’ He enunciated the word carefully, as if she were a toddler that he was teaching to talk. ‘My name is Seb. For goodness’ sake, practise it a few times until it feels comfortable.’ He peered back into the fridge. ‘What on earth have you been eating all week? There’s nothing in here.’ He reached into the fridge and pulled out a small piece of cheese covered in mould, which he looked at with distaste. ‘For crying out loud, Jo, there’s more bacteria in your fridge than in a path lab.’
‘I don’t like cheese.’ She glared at him. ‘And I’ve asked you before not to call me Jo.’
He ignored her, still staring into the fridge as though he expected to catch some hideous disease. ‘What did you have for lunch?’
‘Sorry?’
‘Lunch.’ He looked at her as though she were an alien from another planet. ‘You know, the food that we generally consume in the middle of the day to give us the energy to carry on with our lives. What did you have?’
Joanna looked at him blankly, wondering why her eating habits were of such interest to him. ‘I don’t know. I—Nothing.’
Suddenly he was still. ‘You didn’t eat lunch?’
‘I was busy.’
His breath hissed through his teeth. ‘You’re a doctor, Joanna. You should know better. How do you expect to be able to carry your workload without fuel? No wonder you nearly fainted earlier.’
‘I didn’t nearly faint—I just got up too quickly.’
‘Right.’ The disparaging look he gave her told her that he didn’t believe her. ‘What did you have for breakfast?’
‘I was at the hospital.’
‘For God’s sake, woman!’ He slammed the fridge shut and ran a hand through his dark hair, his expression exasperated. ‘When did you last eat?’
‘I’m eating now,’ she said pointedly, taking another bite out of her toast.
‘I mean proper food,’ he growled. ‘That’s no good for you at all.’
Shaking his head with disbelief, he turned on his heel and strode back through to the hall, delving into his jacket pocket for his car keys.
‘Where are you going?’ She followed him, torn between outrage that he’d been so blunt and a faint hope that he’d decided he couldn’t possibly work with her and was leaving her in peace.
‘Shopping.’ He shrugged his broad shoulders into his jacket and turned to face her, his expression ominous. ‘You’re almost burnt out, Joanna. You’re starving hungry and exhausted, and unless you do something about it fast you’re going to collapse. Go and have a relaxing bath—that’s if you know what the word ‘‘relaxing’’ means, which I seriously doubt—and I’ll go out and buy us both something decent for supper. Something that isn’t covered in mould or hairs and isn’t at least two months past its sell-by date.’
With that he yanked open the door and crunched across the drive to his sports car without a backward glance.
* * *
Fate was definitely not smiling on him.
Seb opened the boot of the car, removed the shopping bags and glanced at the house.
Joanna Weston. Who would have thought it?
Of all the women in the world he had to be marooned with, it had to be Joanna Weston. The irony of it nearly made him laugh. When George Mills had rung him and asked for his help, he’d anticipated a few months of peace and quiet in Devon. A complete contrast to his normal life. To be honest, he’d been pleased at the offer. The past year had been particularly hectic and traumatic, and he’d been looking forward to leading the fairly normal existence of a GP in a semi-rural practice. When he’d heard how small the community was and how isolated the house, he’d been imagining it as his desert island. Somewhere he could relax.
He walked up to the house and pressed the doorbell. The trouble was, Joanna Weston was most definitely not his idea of a desert-island woman. Being marooned with her was likely to be an extremely irritating and uncomfortable experience. The woman didn’t know the meaning of the word ‘fun’.
It was strange really, he mused as he waited for her to answer the door. Normally he got on well with women. In fact, it was keeping them at a distance that was usually the problem. But that had never been the case with Joanna. She was one of the few women he’d ever met who was totally uninterested in him as a man. Actually, she seemed totally uninterested in any man. Since the day he’d met her at medical school she’d had her nose buried in a book.
He gave a wry smile and rang the bell again. Maybe he should look on the bright side. At least he didn’t have to be on his guard with her. Normally he was very careful in his interaction with women, very careful to avoid misunderstandings. But at least with Joanna he could relax. There was absolutely no chance at all that she would ever fall for him. Which was actually rather refreshing.
Realising that she had no intention of letting him in, he gritted his teeth and stepped back, glancing up at the windows.
Was she playing games again or was she in the bath? Or maybe she’d already fallen asleep? The woman had looked totally wiped out, which was hardly surprising considering her lifestyle. Joanna Weston was a workaholic.
With a muttered curse he dumped the shopping on the gravel and strode round to the side of the house, looking for another entrance.
‘Sebastian?’
Hearing his name, he turned and crunched back along the gravel to the front door. Joanna was hovering awkwardly, dressed only in a long white dressing-gown, her hair wrapped in a towel. Obviously she’d just stepped out of the bath and she looked strangely vulnerable, clutching the dressing-gown in her small fist, the dark shadows of tiredness under her eyes accentuated by the pallor of her skin.
She looked different and he frowned slightly, trying to work out why. Her eyes. Blue. Deep blue. Almost violet. Like a Caribbean sea on a bright summer’s day. Why hadn’t he ever noticed that before?
Because, he reflected thoughtfully, he was normally so busy being irritated by her that he never gave a thought to how she looked.
‘I’m sorry. I forgot to give you a key.’
Suddenly she seemed aware of his scrutiny and took a step backwards, clutching the dressing-gown as if she was afraid he might drag it away from her.
Seb almost laughed at the mere thought. It took more than a pretty pair of eyes to bring out the animal in him. Despite what many people thought, he was extremely choosy about his female companions.
‘I’ve bought us some supper.’
Without giving her time to argue, he strode past her into the hallway and made straight for the kitchen.
He hauled the shopping onto the table and started unloading the contents of the overstuffed bags into the cupboards and the fridge, still staggered by how empty they were. What had the woman been living on?
Turning his attention to supper, he quickly stir-fried some chicken with fresh ginger and garlic and added some vegetables and noodles.
‘I didn’t know you could cook.’
She’d swapped the dressing-gown for a blue T-shirt and an old pair of faded jeans that clung lovingly to her slim thighs. Until that moment he’d never actually noticed her body before, but he saw now that she was tiny—more delicate than he’d realised.
Pulling himself together, he lifted the pan off the cooker and served the contents onto two plates then watched in amazement at the speed with which she devoured her portion.
She might be slight in build but there was absolutely nothing wrong with her appetite.
‘Do you want some more?’ He couldn’t keep the amusement out of his voice and she raised her small chin defensively.
‘I was hungry. And it was delicious.’
‘Then eat—I suspect you’re catching up on a week’s worth of food,’ he said gruffly, standing up and heaping another large helping onto her plate. ‘The fridge is now full so there’s no excuse for you to faint in my arms again.’
She glared at him, her fork frozen in mid-air. ‘I didn’t faint in your arms—’
‘Joanna you’re exhausted,’ he said flatly, ‘and it’s hardly surprising. You’ve been carrying the workload of two GPs, and on top of that you obviously haven’t been eating properly. You nearly fainted.’
Her eyes shot daggers at him and then suddenly her slim shoulders slumped. ‘Maybe I did,’ she mumbled, ‘and I suppose I owe you a thank you. For shopping and for cooking.’
‘Well, that’s a first.’ He leaned back in his chair, a smile playing around his mouth. ‘Joanna Weston thanking me for something.’
‘Yes, well, don’t get too used to it,’ she said awkwardly. ‘I haven’t slept properly for four nights. I’m not myself.’
He could see that she hadn’t slept. She looked exhausted. And pretty.
He shook himself slightly. Joanna Weston was definitely pretty. Why hadn’t he ever seen it before?
Because normally she hid herself behind drab clothes. Suddenly he was intrigued. Maybe there was more to her than he’d thought...
Seeing her almost dropping off at the table, he cursed under his breath. Joanna was totally exhausted.
‘You ought to be in bed.’ He stood up, the chair scraping on the kitchen floor. ‘Just tell me where I’m meant to sleep and then you can go and get some rest.’
The drowsiness was gone in a flash and her blue eyes flew open. ‘Where you’re meant to sleep?’ Her voice was a horrified squeak. ‘I have no idea where you’ll be sleeping, Dr Macaulay, but it isn’t here.’
Dr Macaulay. So they were back to that.
He counted to ten—slowly.
‘George told me I’d be staying at the surgery,’ he said, emphasising his words carefully so that there could be no misunderstanding, ‘and you know it makes sense. This place is enormous. There’s plenty of room for two people to live together here and not see each other.’
She stared at him. ‘Are you trying to tell me that you haven’t sorted out any accommodation for yourself?’
‘I didn’t need to.’ He tried hard to control his mounting irritation. ‘When George asked me to help out it was on the understanding that I’d stay in the house. There was never any question of sorting out accommodation.’’
A long silence followed and her gaze slid away from his. It was clear from her expression that she’d forgotten. ‘Maybe that’s true,’ she conceded finally, ‘but obviously I didn’t know it was you.’
Seb ground his teeth. She might be prettier than he’d first thought but she was just as aggravating!
‘Just point me to a room, Joanna,’ he growled, his patience stretched to the limit. He’d never known a woman who could get under his skin like this one did! ‘I’m staying here and that’s final. And if you’re worried about your virtue, don’t be. I think we both know that there’s no chance of either of us ever finding the other attractive. The best we can work towards is an amicable working relationship.’
The look of utter disbelief she shot in his direction left him in no doubt that she thought he was asking a great deal. It was obvious that she thought it extremely unlikely that they’d ever manage anything remotely approaching amicable.
And maybe she was right.
If there was a vulnerable side to her—and he was beginning to think he’d imagined it—then she kept it very well buried.
‘All right,’ she said finally, her expression grudging. ‘You can stay, but a few house rules first.’
Seb closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. Now what?
‘I’m a very private person, Dr Macau—I mean S-Seb.’ She corrected herself quickly and paused slightly before continuing. ‘I’d appreciate it if you would stay in your corner of the house and not come over into mine.’
What was she expecting? That he was going to jump on her in the night? She should be so lucky!!
‘I’ll try and remember that,’ he said dryly, his humour returning as he suddenly realised just how much fun this could be. Every time he wandered into her side of the house she’d throw a wobbly. ‘Any more rules I should know about?’
‘I set the burglar alarm before I go to bed.’ Suddenly her eyes slipped away from his. ‘If you’re out late, you’ll have to turn it off and reset it when you come in.’
So she was nervous in this big house on her own. Well, well, she most definitely did have a vulnerable side.
‘I’m sure I can manage that.’
‘OK.’ She ploughed on. ‘About night calls...’
‘We won’t be doing any,’ he said, smoothly interrupting her in mid-sentence, ‘at least not for the time being. I’ve arranged out-of-hours cover for the next few weeks.’
She gave a gasp of outrage. ‘How dare you? I don’t—’
‘You’re exhausted, Joanna,’ he said sharply, cutting through her protests before they’d really begun, ‘and I don’t know the area. Between us we’re a liability. Once George comes back you can do what you like. Until then, we’re taking whatever help we can get. Now, go to bed before you faint again.’
She shifted uncomfortably. ‘I’ve already told you, I did not faint.’
He gave her a warning look. ‘Either you go to bed voluntarily in the next ten seconds,’ he said with exaggerated patience, ‘or I’m going to carry you there.’
She stood up immediately, as he’d known she would. ‘I’m going,’ she said with quiet dignity, ‘because I’m too tired to argue with you—’
‘Alleluia,’ he muttered, and she lifted her chin and walked to the door, glancing over her shoulder as she tugged it open.
‘Don’t think that the subject is closed. You had no right to change my arrangements for night calls without discussing it with me. This is my practice and from now on I make the decisions.’
With that she walked through the door and marched up the stairs, slamming what must have been her bedroom door firmly behind her.
* * *
The next morning Joanna stared at the packed waiting room in disbelief.
‘Where have they all come from?’ she asked Laura in horror. ‘How can all these people suddenly have become ill overnight?’
‘They’re not ill,’ Laura said with a giggle. ‘They’ve just seen that incredible car in the car park and they’ve come to take a look at the owner! Talking of which, where is he?’
‘I have no idea,’ Joanna said shortly, picking up the post and flicking through it quickly. ‘I’d assumed he’d be here to start surgery, but doubtless—’
‘I am here.’ Seb’s deep voice came from behind her and she turned, her sharp retort dying on her lips as she met those cool blue eyes.
‘Good. We’re going to be busy,’ she said stiffly, and he gave a careless shrug.
‘I can cope with busy. I assume you just want me to see George’s patients?’
‘Yes—thank you. Laura will help you if you have any problems,’ she said, and then gritted her teeth as she noticed the adoring look on Laura’s face. Oh, for heaven’s sake! What was it about the man that turned her entire sex into fools?
‘Anything at all you need, Dr Macaulay,’ Laura was saying breathlessly. ‘Anything at all, just give me a shout.’
Her meaning was crystal clear but Seb’s response was suitably neutral.
‘Thanks, Laura.’
Neutral or not, Joanna wasn’t prepared to take any chances.
She nodded to Laura and then followed him through to his consulting room. ‘Just one more thing, Seb.’
He settled himself at George’s desk and flicked on the computer. ‘What’s that?’
Joanna steeled herself. ‘Please, don’t seduce my receptionist. Laura is very young and very impressionable. She couldn’t possibly cope with a man like you.’
There was a long silence and then his eyes lifted to hers. ‘A man like me.’ His mouth twitched slightly. ‘As I said last night, you know nothing about the sort of man I am.’
‘I know that you’re the sort of outwardly flashy, macho male that girls like Laura fantasise about.’
Just as she had about Charlie when she’d been Laura’s age.
She almost laughed at her own thoughts. Laura’s age? The truth was that she wasn’t that much older than Laura was—she just felt it.
Joanna rubbed her aching temples with slim fingers. Goodness, she was tired. One undisturbed night didn’t seem to have made any difference at all to the way she felt.
Seb’s handsome face was expressionless and for once he didn’t answer her.
She took a deep breath and tried again. ‘I accept that you’re not responsible for the fact that women throw themselves at you. I’m just asking you not to give her any encouragement.’
Finally he spoke. ‘Did I give her any encouragement just now?’
She hesitated. ‘No, but—’
‘And I don’t intend to,’ he said quietly, leaning forward in his chair and returning his attention to his computer. ‘Relax, Joanna. And don’t worry about Laura. If it becomes a problem, I’ll take care of it.’
Joanna licked dry lips. ‘She’s got a massive crush on you already.’
‘Then I’ll handle it,’ he said calmly, his eyes flickering down the list of patients who’d booked to see him. ‘It won’t be the first time, trust me.’
She could well believe that. Women had always behaved really foolishly around Seb, and it was fairly easy to see why. He was rich and breathtakingly good-looking—qualities enough for most women.
But not her. She knew better.
‘All right, then, I’ll leave you to get on with your surgery. If you have any problems during your surgery, press the top right-hand button on the phone—it connects with my room.’
She gave Seb a brief nod and left the room, eager to get on with her own surgery.
Her first patient was Vera Peters, an eighty-two-year-old lady whom she saw from time to time with minor illnesses.
‘Hello, Mrs Peters, have a seat.’ She greeted the old lady warmly, wondering what the problem was. There were no clues in the notes. ‘What can I do for you today?’
‘My skin has flared up again,’ Mrs Peters grumbled, ‘It’s really causing me problems.’
Joanna examined her carefully and gave a nod. ‘I can give you some cream for that,’ she said quickly, tapping away at the computer. After a few moments a prescription issued from the printer.
‘Well, that was simple,’ the old lady muttered, taking the prescription with a nod of thanks. ‘I wish you could do something about my John as easily as that.’
‘John? Your husband?’ Joanna knew that the couple lived in one of the flats on the edge of the village. From what she knew, they seemed to manage very well. ‘What’s the matter with him, Mrs Peters?’
‘He’s stealing,’ Vera Peters said crossly, clutching her handbag firmly on her lap and pursing her lips. ‘That’s what’s wrong. He’s stealing everything in sight.’
‘Stealing?’ Joanna looked at her in astonishment, surprised by the violence in the old lady’s voice as much as by what she was saying. She’d always thought of her as a very gentle sort, the last person in the world to be aggressive. ‘What’s he stealing, Mrs Peters?’
‘Things that aren’t his.’ Her fingers tightened on the handbag. ‘Last week he took my handbag, this week it’s my coat. I suppose he thought I wouldn’t notice, with the weather being so hot, but he was wrong! I did notice.’
At least the man wasn’t on the rampage in the local shops.
Joanna cleared her throat, trying to clarify what she’d just heard. ‘So you’re saying that your husband is stealing things from you?’
‘Yes!’ Vera glared at Joanna and then thumped her fist on the desk. ‘And it’s got to stop. And it’s not just stealing. Sometimes he moves things just to annoy me.’
Sensing that the old woman was very upset, Joanna reached across the table and gave her hand a squeeze, her voice gentle. ‘What does he move, Mrs Peters?’

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