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Winter Wonderland Wishes: A Mummy to Make Christmas / His Christmas Bride-to-Be / A Father This Christmas?
Abigail Gordon

Susanne Hampton

Louisa Heaton


Winter Wonderland WishesA Mummy to Make ChristmasDr Phoebe Johnson might have sworn off all men and moved all the way to Australia to escape her cheating fiancé, but her new boss – dashing Dr Heath Rollins – is just so hard to resist…Could the single dad make her Christmas dreams come true?His Christmas Bride-to-BeDr Glenn Bartlett never expected to find love again after losing his beloved wife. But when Dr Emma Chambers tumbles into his life at Christmas she shows him how to live again and fills him with hope for the future. But first he has one very important question to ask!A Father This Christmas?Dr Eva Corday never expected to see Jacob Dolan ever again – especially not working as the new doctor in her A&E department! Now he’s back, Jacob’s more irresistible than ever. Yet Eva must protect the secret she’s kept hidden– their adorable three-year-old son!







About the Authors (#uac37a972-452e-56b1-a828-7026e8ac2f2f)

Married to the man she met at eighteen, SUSANNE HAMPTON is the mother of two adult daughters—one a musician and the other an artist. Susanne loves everything romantic and pretty, so her home is brimming with romance novels, movies and shoes. With her interest in all things medical, her career has been in the dental field and the medical world in different roles—and now Susanne has taken that love into writing Mills & Boon Medical Romance.

ABIGAIL GORDON loves to write about the fascinating combination of medicine and romance from her home in a Cheshire village. She is active in local affairs, and is even called upon to write the script for the annual village pantomime! Her eldest son is a hospital manager, and helps with all her medical research. As part of a close-knit family, she treasures having two of her sons living close by, and the third one not too far away. This also gives her the added pleasure of being able to watch her delightful grandchildren growing up.

LOUISA HEATON first started writing romance at school, and would take her stories in to show her friends, scrawled in a big red binder, with plenty of crossings out. She dreamt of romance herself, and after knowing her husband-to-be for only three weeks shocked her parents by accepting his marriage proposal. After four children—including a set of twins—and fifteen years of trying to get published, she finally received ‘The Call’! Now she lives on Hayling Island and, when she’s not busy as a First Responder, creates her stories wandering along the wonderful Hampshire coastline with her two dogs, muttering to herself and scaring the locals.

Visit Louisa on Twitter, @louisaheaton (http://twitter.com/@louisaheaton), on Facebook, LouisaHeatonAuthor, or on her website, louisaheaton.com (http://www.louisaheaton.com).


Winter Wonderland Wishes

A Mummy to Make Christmas

Susanne Hampton

His Christmas Bride-to-Be

Abigail Gordon

A Father This Christmas?

Louisa Heaton






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


ISBN: 978-1-474-08178-8

WINTER WONDERLAND WISHES

A Mummy to Make Christmas © 2015 Susanne Panagaris His Christmas Bride-to-Be © 2015 Abigail Gordon A Father This Christmas? © 2015 Louisa Heaton

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.

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


Table of Contents

Cover (#u613d2f39-ba71-51d8-90ba-cb039998ff40)

About the Authors (#ub33d78f7-6a4a-5196-94a6-a9619e5f418d)

Title Page (#ud9f76277-9e2e-51a7-babd-3dae9876ad30)

Copyright (#u4be6deb7-785c-5a37-a1f0-2038dc845cbb)

A Mummy to Make Christmas (#u75976aae-9fb5-5ff1-902e-9a67852b4d43)

Dedication (#u2e0a3d32-613d-5770-93da-f09b4f0f8f91)

CHAPTER ONE (#u326ba799-178d-5420-81d6-09a300cc2ac9)

CHAPTER TWO (#u8109b038-f7fe-5f49-b662-a534f093d043)

CHAPTER THREE (#ud7ea79f8-bdc3-5139-91b2-65a771984b66)

CHAPTER FOUR (#ub1b2bd0d-822d-5a09-a1f6-59b3bb749987)

CHAPTER FIVE (#ue86ab133-309f-5cd6-a88a-7f0d2bf40660)

CHAPTER SIX (#u80942ba6-d21b-5ef3-baeb-33922c745ca1)

CHAPTER SEVEN (#u392852a6-a53f-5e62-9a27-c7347f85e4d4)

CHAPTER EIGHT (#u48f84e0f-2f2e-56a3-9f6e-a4fc83f60efa)

CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)

EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)

His Christmas Bride-to-Be (#litres_trial_promo)

Dedication (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ONE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWO (#litres_trial_promo)

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)

EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)

A Father This Christmas? (#litres_trial_promo)

Dedication (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ONE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWO (#litres_trial_promo)

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)

EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)


A Mummy to Make Christmas (#uac37a972-452e-56b1-a828-7026e8ac2f2f)

Susanne Hampton


As I was putting the final touches to this book I was

given the news that my amazing editor Charlotte was

moving along her career pathway and would no longer

be working with me. So this will be my final dedication

to her and my last written recognition of her guidance,

patience, much needed honesty and unwavering belief

in my work. However, what I have learnt from her over

the last five books will travel with me on my writing

journey, so in many ways all of my books and writing

success in the future will be a dedication to

Charlotte Mursell.

Thank you, Charlotte.




CHAPTER ONE (#uac37a972-452e-56b1-a828-7026e8ac2f2f)


DR HEATH ROLLINS momentarily looked away from the emails on his laptop computer, across the living room of the family home, to see his father sitting by the lace dressed bay window in his favourite armchair. With the mid-morning sunlight streaming into the room, he was intently reading the paper. Heath smiled a bittersweet smile as his gaze roamed to the old oversized chair, upholstered in green and blue tartan. It was a piece of furniture his mother had tried to have re-covered or removed from their home for many years but Ken Rollins had been adamant that it stayed. And stayed exactly as it was. It was a Clan Sutherland tartan, of the Highland Clans of Scotland, Heath would hear his father tell his mother, and it had direct links to the maternal side of his family. She would tell him that family connections or not, it was an extremely unattractive chair that looked out of place in their new French provincial decor. Frankly, it was hideous and it just didn’t belong.

His mother and father had argued about very little except that chair. But, unlike all those years ago, now his father was stuck in that now slightly worn chair for hours on end, his leg elevated and his knee freshly dressed after surgery. And there were no more arguments about the chair as Heath’s mother had passed away twenty years ago.

Heath then caught sight of his own suitcases, stacked against the hall wall, with the airline tags still intact. He would shortly be taking them to the room that would be his for the next month. His attention returned to the email he was drafting to the Washington-based podiatric surgeon travelling to Australia to work with his father. As he perused her résumé to find an email address, he couldn’t help but notice her impressive qualifications and certifications. A quizzical frown dressed his brow as he wondered why she had chosen to relocate to Adelaide and consult at his father’s practice. Then he dropped that line of thought. It was not his concern.

‘I hope you don’t mind the last-minute change in plans, Dr Phoebe Johnson,’ he muttered as he pressed ‘send’ on the keyboard, hoping that even if she had turned off her computer she would receive the notification via her mobile phone. ‘It looks like you’ll be working with me not my father. At least until he’s back on his feet again.’

Phoebe Johnson had switched off her cell phone an hour earlier. There was no point in having it on as there was only one person who would try to reach her and she would go to any lengths to avoid another conversation with her mother.

Unfortunately her mother had found her.

‘Why on earth are you leaving Washington? It’s been over three months since you postponed the wedding, Phoebe. It’s time you set a new date.’

‘I cancelled the wedding, Mother. I didn’t postpone it.’

Completely dumbfounded, and shaking her head, Phoebe stood on the steps of her rented brownstone apartment, her online printed boarding pass and her passport both gripped in one leather-gloved hand while the other searched for keys in her oversized handbag. The second of her matching tweed suitcases was balanced precariously by her feet, and her heavy woollen coat was buttoned up against the icy December wind that was howling down the narrow car-lined street.

She found her keys and, aware that the meter was running on the double-parked cab, hurriedly locked the front door. She was in no mood for another confrontation and frustrated that at the eleventh hour it was happening again. Her mind was made up. She was not looking back.

‘How can you work things out if you go rushing off to another country? Surely you’ve punished Giles enough for his indiscretion?’ her mother continued, not at all deterred by anything Phoebe had said, nor by her imminent travel plans. ‘I’m certain he’s learnt his lesson.’

Phoebe tugged down her knitted hat, at risk of blowing away in a chilly gust, then made her way down the snow-speckled steps with her last suitcase and handed it to the cab driver, who had been tapping his foot impatiently on the kerb.

‘It isn’t a punishment, Mother. I ended it. I gave the ring back, returned the wedding presents and told Giles that I never want to see him again. It’s about as final as it gets. And I’ve thought this through until I’ve gone almost mad. You don’t seem to understand—I no longer love Giles and I don’t want to see him again. Ever. To be honest, I’m surprised that after everything he’s put me through you’d want him to have any part in my life.’

She paused as she looked long and hard at her mother, completely bemused that they saw the situation so very differently.

‘He’s not the man for me. I don’t know if there even is a man for me, but right now I’m not looking. I want to put all my energy into my work and I refuse to waste another second on Giles.’

With that said, Phoebe headed to the waiting cab. The headlights of the oncoming traffic were reflected on the icy road as night began to fall.

‘That seems so harsh. He really does regret his behaviour. His mother told me so over our bridge game yesterday,’ her mother continued as she followed Phoebe, her pace picking up with each step. ‘Please see reason, Phoebe. Giles is committed to making it up to you. He’s apparently not at all his usual jovial, outgoing self at the moment. He’s taken the postponement very seriously. Esme said he’s quite sullen, and that’s not like him. She thinks he’s turned over a new, more responsible leaf. He’s sown his last wild oat.’

She placed her gloved hand over Phoebe’s as her daughter reached for the door handle of the cab. Stepping closer, she dropped her voice almost to a whisper.

‘Darling, you could do worse. Giles is so very handsome—and let’s not forget his family tree. His ancestors arrived on the Mayflower.’

Phoebe rolled her eyes in horror that her perfectly coiffed mother, dressed in her favourite New York designer’s latest winter collection, was pulling out both the looks and the ancestry cards. She watched the driver close the trunk, walk to his door and climb inside.

Pulling her hand free, she responded in an equally low voice. ‘Let me see … My sulking but extremely good-looking ex-fiancé, with his impeccable lineage, is apparently committed to me but isn’t averse to sleeping with other women. Please, Mother, let’s not try to paint him as something he isn’t. I don’t think he is capable of loving anyone but himself, and I don’t believe for a minute that he’s turned over a new leaf. And, frankly, I don’t care. He ruined any chance of us being husband and wife when he chose to cheat on me.’

She kissed her mother goodbye and climbed into the cab, then dropped the window to hear the last of her mother’s not so wise words.

‘Darling, as your grandmother always said, every man is entitled to one big mistake in life.’

‘He slept with both of my bridesmaids the weekend before our wedding—that’s not one big mistake … that’s two enormous, deal-breaking mistakes!’ Phoebe’s voice was no longer soft or controlled and she didn’t mind if the cab driver heard. Her frustration had limited her ability to care.

‘If you want to be technical, it’s two…. but couldn’t you see fit to consider it Giles’s one weekend of poor judgement and call it the same mistake?’

The cab pulled away and Phoebe slumped back into the cold leather seat. Over the rattling of the engine she heard her mother’s parting words.

‘Darling, don’t forget—Christmas is a time for forgiveness.’

Phoebe was abruptly stirred from her unpleasant recollection of the pointless argument that had occurred less than twenty-four hours previously. An impeccably groomed flight attendant was standing beside her seat, accompanied by a young girl in a lime-green sweater and matching pants, with a mass of golden curls, a red headband and a big smile. Everything about her was a little too bright for Phoebe at the end of a long-haul flight.

The little helper reached across to Phoebe with a basket of cellophane-wrapped candy. ‘If you chew something it will stop your ears getting blocked when we land. Would you like one?’

Phoebe wasn’t sure what she wanted, but politely smiled and accepted a sweet. She would never hurt a child’s feelings. She had no idea what Phoebe had been put through, and she envied her innocence just a little. The young girl had no idea that boys grew into cads.

‘Thank you,’ she said, and as the pair moved on to the next passenger Phoebe unwrapped the candy and slipped it into her mouth.

She wasn’t sure of anything. She should be a happily married woman back from an eight-week honeymoon in Europe, but instead she was a single woman about to arrive in the land Down Under. And this trip was probably the first of many she would make on her own.

Midway over the Pacific Ocean she had looked out of her tiny window into complete darkness. It had represented her life … the huge unknown.

The very thought of ever trusting a man again was ludicrous. She would more than likely see out her days as a spinster, she’d told herself as she had flicked through the choices of inflight entertainment when the rest of the passengers had been sound asleep. Her head had been much too busy thinking about things that she knew she couldn’t change, and her thoughts had been as unrelenting as they’d been painful.

All men were the same—well, except for her father, she had reminded herself, as she’d realised there was nothing she’d wanted to watch on her personal screen and pulled down her satin night mask to try and shut out the world. He was one of the last decent men and then they broke the mould.

Susy, her best friend since junior college, who had left Washington two years previously to work as a barrister for the Crown Prosecution Service in London, agreed with her. She had sworn off relationships after her last disastrous rendezvous three months prior.

Men were not worth the effort or the heartbreak, the two friends had decided over a late-night international call before Phoebe’s flight. They’d both eaten copious amounts of ice cream in different time zones as they’d commiserated. Susy had been devouring her feel-good salted caramel treat after returning home from a long day in court, while Phoebe had been scraping the melted remnants of her cookies and cream ice cream at just past midnight, Washington time.

‘They’re just not worth it,’ Susy had said into the phone as she’d dropped her empty bowl and spoon on the coffee table, kicked off her shoes and reached for a throw.

‘Absolutely not worth even a second of our time,’ Phoebe had agreed. ‘They are full of baloney—and I’m not talking about the good Italian mortadella. I’m talking the cheap and nasty supermarket kind of baloney.’

‘My sentiments exactly.’

‘Men and women shouldn’t even be on the same planet.’

‘Not even the same universe,’ Susy had replied, reaching for the bowl of luxury candies her mother had sent over for her recent birthday. She’d still been suffering from post-break-up sugar cravings. ‘I think the entire male race should be banished. Except for your dad, though, Phoebs—John’s a real sweetie, so he can stay. Mine hasn’t called since my birthday, so he can take a jet to another planet for a while with the rest of them.’

Not long after their decision to relocate the earth’s male population Phoebe had felt her eyes getting heavy and had said goodnight to her friend. She was glad she had such a wonderful friend, but very sad that they had both been hurt by callous men. She had no clue why they had both been dealt bad men cards, but she was resolute that it would never happen again.

Because neither of them would ever date again.

From that day forward it would be all about their careers.

The plane dropped altitude to land. The sun was up and Phoebe looked from the window to see varied-sized squares of brown and green crops making a patchwork quilt of the undulating landscape. It was nothing like landing in Washington, where she lived, or New York, where she had undertaken her medical studies. Australia couldn’t be further from either, in distance or in landscape, and for that reason she couldn’t be more relieved.

She was a little anxious, but she was a big girl, she kept reminding herself. It would be a healing adventure. A time to bury the past and focus on furthering her career in podiatric surgery. And time away from her mother. As much as Phoebe loved her, she doubted she would miss her while she was still clearly on Team Giles.

Phoebe did, however, have a strong bond with her father John, and would miss him and their long chats about local and world politics, theology, and to which particular rat species Giles belonged. Susy was right—her father was one of the last good men. Over the years he had taught Phoebe to seek out answers, to find her path and not to be afraid to experience life and the joys the world had to offer. He had told her always to demand in return the same good manners and consideration that she gave to others, and most importantly to smile … even if her heart was breaking. There were always others far worse off.

And, much to the chagrin of his wife, John had agreed that time away from Washington and the wedding debacle was the best idea for Phoebe.

‘We are now commencing our descent into Adelaide. Please ensure your tray table is secured and your seat is in the upright position. We will be landing in fifteen minutes and you will be disembarking at gate twenty-three. The current time in Adelaide is eleven-thirty. Your luggage will be available for collection on Carousel Five. Adelaide is experiencing a heatwave and expecting an extremely hot forty-three degrees for the fifth day in a row. For our overseas passengers, that’s a hundred and nine degrees Fahrenheit—so shorts and T-shirts would be the order of the week, since the hot spell is not ending for another few days! We hope you enjoyed your flight and will choose to fly with us in the future.’

Phoebe rested back in her seat and her mind drifted back to the snow-covered streets of Washington that she had left behind. And to her cheating fiancé and quite possibly the world’s worst bridesmaids … She thought of her position at the university hospital … and of how, after the flight attendant’s announcement, she might quite possibly die of heat stroke on her first day in a new country …

Fifteen minutes later, a disembarked and ever so slightly dishevelled Phoebe looked around the sea of strangers waiting with her in line at Customs and questioned herself for heading to a country where she didn’t know a soul. But then reason reminded her that the alternative would be crazier.

Staying with the very charismatic but totally insincere Giles. Accepting his pathetic ‘last fling’ excuse and her mother’s unrelenting need to defend his abominable behaviour due to his impressive family tree … Giles’s womanising would have his notable ancestors with their seventeenth-century Pilgrim morals turning in their graves.

She shook her head as she moved one step closer to the booth where a stern-looking official was scrutinising the passports of the very weary long-haul travellers wanting to enter the country.

Despite her stomach churning with nerves at the prospect of being so far from home, particularly at Christmas, she knew she had done the right thing. Remaining in her home town wasn’t an option as the two families were joined at the hip, and that closeness wasn’t allowing her to heal and move on. Thanksgiving had gone a long way to proving her right, with both families and a supposedly contrite Giles gathering and expecting her to join them. She’d refused, but she had known immediately that Christmas gatherings would be no different.

If she’d stayed it would have given her mother a glimmer of hope that she would rekindle her relationship with Giles. That an ensuing wedding of the year in Washington might be on the cards again, and that the wedding planner would once again ask Phoebe’s father to check the diary of the Vice-President to ensure he could attend.

In Phoebe’s mind there was absolutely no chance that she would wed a man who had been unfaithful. She couldn’t turn the other cheek and ignore his indiscretions. It was the twenty-first century and she had choices. She wanted to be a man’s equal partner in life. That was what she needed and if she never found it then she would not take second best. She would rather spend her life alone.

For better or worse with Giles would mean Phoebe always hoping his behaviour would get better, but knowing he’d more than likely get worse. The further away she stepped from her ex-fiancé the more she suspected he had done her a huge favour by showing his true nature before the wedding. No doubt, she surmised, having a wife who wouldn’t ruffle feathers but would instead add value to his reputation by having her own medical career, and whose father was a Presidential advisor, had all been part of Giles’ political game plan.

It had become painfully clear once she’d broken up with him that Giles had manipulated her for his own benefit. She thought she had fallen in love, but now she wasn’t so sure. Perhaps it had been a little rushed, and she’d been caught up in the idea of happily-ever-after once the wedding momentum had started. All of her friends except for Susy were engaged or married and it had seemed a natural progression.

The wedding had been set up so quickly by her mother who, along with Washington’s most popular wedding planner, had had everything moving at the speed of light.

Susy had accepted the role of her maid of honour, and the two young women had been excited about seeing each other after so long, but the day before she’d been due to fly out Susy had called and broken disappointing news. She was unable to leave London as the jury had not returned the verdict on a very prolonged case. In her own words, she’d said she’d have to miss the wedding of her best friend in the world in order to see some bad guys locked away for a very long time in an English prison.

Deflated and disappointed, Phoebe had understood, but it had left her with only two distant cousins in her bridal party. She had agreed to include the young women, who were both twice removed on her mother’s side of the family, because she had been secure in the knowledge that Susy would be beside her for the days leading up to her wedding and with her at the altar of the Cathedral Church of Saint Peter and Saint Paul.

She barely knew the girls. She hadn’t seen them in over five years and from what she had heard they were party girls who were living on the west coast and their antics in social media were a constant source of embarrassment to their respective families.

It had been decided that it was time they returned to Washington and settled down. They were both single and in their early twenties, and the families’ combined strategy had been to use the wedding as their wayward daughters’ entrée into the right circles. They’d hoped that a society wedding would help the girls meet potential husbands and leave their wild life behind them.

Unfortunately that had never happened. They’d flown in a few days before the final dress fittings and managed to ruin Phoebe’s life in the process.

Looking back, Phoebe realised that everything about that day had been wrong, but at the time she hadn’t been able to step back far enough to see it for what it really was. But now she could. The three months since the scheduled wedding day that never happened had given her time to see Giles for the man he was. Controlling, calculating and ambitious. There was nothing wrong with ambition, but, fuelled by his other character flaws and good looks, it made for a man who would do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted—and apparently with whomever he wanted. A misogynist, with a lot of family money and connections.

Phoebe would be eternally grateful to the best man, Adrian, who had delivered the bad news the day before their nuptials. She appreciated that it had been a difficult call for him, but knew he had spent a number of months working closely as a political intern with her father and respected him enormously. Adrian had told Phoebe that he cared too much for her and her family to stand by and let Giles hurt her. He’d broken the boys’ club rules and she knew he would no doubt pay the price with his peers. She also knew that her father would do his best to support him, but Adrian was not motivated by professional gain and that made his act even more admirable. Honesty in the political arena was rare, and Phoebe and her father were both grateful.

Phoebe’s head was spinning as she was finally called up to one of the immigration booths. She dragged her hand luggage behind her and handed over her passport. Then, with everything in order, her visa was stamped and she was waved through to collect her luggage.

‘Enjoy your stay, Miss Johnson.’

Phoebe’s lips curved slightly. It was an attempt at a smile but she was still not sure how she felt and whether she had just made another of life’s bad calls—a huge error she would live to regret almost as much as accepting the first date with Giles and, six short months later, his proposal in the opulent wood-panelled and chandelier-filled dining room of that five star hotel in Washington.

The ring was a spectacular four-carat diamond, set in platinum, and it had been served on a silver platter alongside her crème brûlée dessert. A single strategically placed violin had played as Giles had fallen to one knee. But it had only been a fleeting kiss on the forehead he’d given her when she’d agreed to be his wife.

It hadn’t been a passionate relationship, but she had still believed their life together could be perfect. He wasn’t one to show public displays of affection and she had accepted that. In hindsight, she suspected he preferred to look around at all the enamoured faces in the room rather than at hers. He had enjoyed the attention the proposal had focused on him. In person and in the media.

As she shuffled through the airport to collect her checked baggage Phoebe drew a deep breath and thought about the irony of his reticence in showing any public display of affection with her while enjoying very private displays of affection with other women. And she felt sure there had been more than the two she knew about. It was all about appearances. And what happened behind closed doors seemed inconsequential to him.

She shuddered with the thought of how close she’d come to being his wife. And the lies that would have been the foundation of their marriage.

No matter what lay ahead, her life had to be better than that.




CHAPTER TWO (#uac37a972-452e-56b1-a828-7026e8ac2f2f)


THE MOMENT PHOEBE saw the sign ‘Welcome to Adelaide’ she decided she would quiet her doubts. There was no room for second-guessing herself. She was already in her new home. This is it, she said to herself silently as she collected her luggage and then made her way to the cab rank. No turning back now.

The airport was only twenty minutes from the centre of town, where she would be living. The town she would call home for six months. Six months in which she hoped to sort out her life, her head, and if possible her heart—and forget about the man who had seduced her bridesmaids.

‘You were supposed to meet potential husbands—not hump the groom!’ she muttered under her breath.

Phoebe noticed the cab driver staring at her strangely in the rear vision mirror. His eyes widened. She realised that her muttering must have been audible to him and she bit her lip and looked out of the window in silence.

Phoebe paid the driver, giving him a generous tip. She had been told it was not necessary in Australia, but it was second nature. He placed her suitcases on the pavement and tucked the fare into his pocket. She was left standing in the heat.

It was a dry heat, like the Nevada desert, and it engulfed her like a hot blanket dropped from the sky. She was grateful that she had changed on the two-hour stopover in Auckland, and was now wearing a light cotton sundress and flat sandals. She lugged her heavy suitcases, one at a time, up the steps to the quaint single-fronted sandstone townhouse that she prayed had air-conditioning. The suitcases were so heavy it would have cost a small fortune in excess baggage if her father hadn’t insisted on paying for her first class flight.

On Phoebe’s personal budget, post hand-beaded wedding dress, along with the purchase of the maid of honour’s and the bridesmaids’ dresses, beautifully crafted designer heels for four, three pearl thank-you bracelets and half of a non-refundable European honeymoon, she could only have managed a premium economy flight. But she’d been so desperate to leave Washington for the furthest place that came to mind she would have rowed to Australia just to get away from the drama of the cancelled wedding and her desolate mother.

Phoebe drew another laboured breath. A week ago she’d known little of Adelaide, save the international bike race and the tennis that took over the city in January. Her career as a podiatric surgeon specialising in sports-related conditions made her aware of most large-scale sporting events worldwide. She hoped that her skills would be utilised in Adelaide, a city ten thousand miles from home. She was there with no clear plan for the future. She did, however, have a job.

Her father had been wonderful. It was fortunate for Phoebe that his role at the White House gave him the knowledge and connections to assist her, which meant that her application to practise in Australia had been fast-tracked. She met all of the criteria, and her credentials were impeccable, so approval had been granted.

She’d had the option of a small practice in Adelaide or a much larger practice in Melbourne that focused entirely on elite sportsmen and women. While the second option was her dream job, it was still a few weeks off being secured, and Phoebe had liked the idea of leaving town immediately. She had also done some research around the sole practitioner, Dr Ken Rollins, a podiatric surgeon in his early sixties with an inner-city practice and the need for an associate for six months. The position sounded perfect. His research papers were particularly interesting and Phoebe looked forward to working with him.

So she was more than happy with her decision. They were two very different opportunities, but she felt confident she had made the right choice.

Opening the door to her leased townhouse was heavenly. It was like opening a refrigerator. The air-conditioning was on high and the blinds were half closed, giving a calm ambience to the space. There was a large basket of fruit and assorted nibbles on the kitchen bench. Her father, no doubt, she mused.

She dropped her bags, closed the front door and wandered around the house for a moment before she found the bedroom and flung herself across the bed. Embarrassed at remembering what she’d said to herself in the cab, she kicked off her shoes and then reminded herself that the driver would have witnessed far worse than a jet-lagged passenger’s mutterings. The pillow was so cool and soft against her face as she closed her heavy eyes. Exhaustion finally got the better of her and she fell into a deep unexpected sleep.

It was nearly four hours before Phoebe stirred from her unplanned afternoon nap. Her rumbling stomach had woken her and she remembered the basket she had spied on her arrival. The fruit was delicious, and she had opened the refrigerator door to find sparkling water, assorted juices, a cold seafood platter, two small salads and half a dozen single serve yoghurt tubs.

Thanks, Dad.

She smiled. She knew her father must have called the landlord and arranged for the house to be stocked. She knew, despite what she said, that he felt to blame for the way everything had turned out as he had introduced to her young, ‘going places’ political intern fiancé.

John Johnson had thought Giles was a focussed young man with a huge career ahead of him and he’d had no hesitation in introducing him to Phoebe. He’d been polite, astute, with no apparent skeletons in the closet, and from a well-respected Washington family. But they had all been hoodwinked.

There was no way that John could have foreseen the disaster. And he had done everything in his power to get her away from the situation when it had turned ugly. Phoebe would never blame him for anything.

After eating, Phoebe showered and sent her father a text message to let him know she was safe and sound and to thank him for everything he had arranged. Then she raised the air-conditioning temperature enough to ensure that she didn’t freeze during the night before setting the alarm on her phone and climbing back into bed.

She just wanted to be fresh and not suffering the effects of jet-lag.

Eight hours later, as Phoebe lifted the blinds and looked across the Adelaide parklands, she felt refreshed. She had never flown such a distance and had expected to be exhausted, but she was feeling better than she had in months. It was as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

The view from her bedroom window was picturesque. The morning sun lit up the large pinkish-grey gum trees towering over the beautifully manicured gardens. The flowers were in bloom in the garden’s beds and it was like a pastel rainbow. It was a new beginning.

She reached for her phone and took a snapshot, sent it to her father in a quick text, then headed for the shower. She wasn’t about to be late for her first day on the job. She wanted to get there early and learn the ropes before the patients arrived. Working with an older, more experienced specialist would be a learning experience for Phoebe, and she was excited by the prospect. It would keep her mind off everything she had been through.

Ken Rollins’s papers focussed on his holistic and conservative approach in treating lower limb conditions, using a variety of modalities such as gait retraining, orthotic therapy, dry needling and exercise modification. Phoebe had printed the most recent before she’d left Washington and she’d read it on her flight over. He would be a great mentor.

It was going to be a much-needed change and Phoebe couldn’t be more optimistic. After all, she had heard Adelaide was the place to raise children or retire, and it had the highest aging population of any other capital city, so she assumed there would be a lower than average population of single men. Single, arrogant, self-serving men, all incapable of remaining faithful. There truly couldn’t be a better city in the world for her at that moment, but for the fact that she knew she would miss Christmas with her family. It was her favourite time of year. But it was the price she had to pay for her sanity.

As Phoebe stepped out of her house half an hour later the heat of the day was already building. She felt glad she had chosen a simple cream skirt that skimmed her knees, a black and cream striped blouse and black patent Mary Jane kitten heels with a slingback, so she didn’t need to wear stockings. Her shoulder-length chestnut hair was pulled into a high ponytail and she had applied tinted sunscreen, a light lip gloss and some mascara.

She hoped the practice rooms would be as cool as her townhouse. Her previous address at this time of the year was freezing cold at best and icy on bad days. She knew she wouldn’t cope in the heat for too long, but felt confident that the inner-city practice would be cool as a cucumber.

Unfortunately, as she discovered five minutes later, she couldn’t have been more wrong. The air-conditioning at the practice had been working overtime during the heatwave. Phoebe had arrived when the city had been sweltering for close to a week. The infrastructure of the old building was buckling and clearly the air-conditioning had been the first thing to succumb. It was like a sauna as she entered, and she wondered if it wasn’t cooler outside than inside the old building.

A bell above the door had chimed as she’d walked in but the waiting room was empty and it appeared no one had heard her enter. Standing alone in the uncomfortable, stifling air she felt sure that in minutes she would be reduced to a melting mess. Not a great first impression, she surmised as she looked around anxiously, all the while hoping that Ken Rollins would appear at any minute and take her into the air-conditioned section of the practice. There had to be an air-conditioned part.

Then, in the distance, she heard a noise and saw a very tall male figure walking down the corridor towards her. She blinked as she saw that he was bare to the waist with a white hand towel around his neck. She pinned her hopes on the fact this man was working on the air-conditioning and that he was good at his job, because she was wilting quickly. And she doubted her more senior boss would enjoy working in these conditions either.

She couldn’t help but notice as he drew near that the man was wearing dress pants and highly polished shoes. Although nothing covered his very chiselled, sweat-dampened chest.

‘I’m looking for Dr Ken Rollins. I’m Dr Phoebe Johnson from Washington.’

‘You’re Phoebe Johnson?’ the man said, with a look of surprise on his handsome face and doubt colouring his deep voice.

‘Yes, I am. Did he tell you I was arriving?’

The man wiped his forehead and then his hands on the towel he was carrying, then stretched out his free hand. ‘I’m Heath Rollins, Ken’s son, and I’ve been expecting you.’

His voice was sonorous and austere. And the frown on Phoebe’s face did little to mask her confusion. Why on earth was he expecting her and why was he half naked?

‘So are you here to repair the air-conditioning for your father?’

‘Not exactly. I’m attempting to repair the air-con, but I’m not a repairman—not even close as you can tell by how hot it still is in here. I’m a podiatric surgeon from Sydney.’

Phoebe was more confused than ever. Why did Ken Rollins have his podiatric surgeon son trying to fix the air-conditioning unit? And why wasn’t Ken there to meet her?

‘Is your father in with patients already?’ she asked as she looked around her surroundings, hoping that the older surgeon would suddenly appear and clear up the confusion. And bring his son a shirt so he could cover up.

‘No, he’s not …’

‘Is he running late?’

‘No he’s not,’ he replied without any hint of emotion in his reply. ‘I’m actually standing in for him for the next four weeks.’

Phoebe quickly realised as she shook his hand that the man standing before her was potentially her new boss. She took a few steps back from the very warm handshake and looked warily at him. She had signed on to work with Ken Rollins. This Dr Rollins was definitely not in his sixties. Disastrous, was the first thought that came to her mind. The second thought, as she looked at his lightly tanned physique, was not in any way ladylike and nothing she wanted to be considering with this man. Or any man, now that she had sworn off the species. It was not what she needed. In fact this was close to a catastrophe.

She had envisaged an older, established and experienced mentor to work closely with for five days a week over the next six months. This was supposed to be a professional development opportunity. And the man standing before her stripped to the waist was anything but professional development. He was not what she wanted and nor did she have the capacity to deal with him either. With the combination of Heath Rollins’s half-naked physique and the heat in the room Phoebe knew she had stepped into the fire—literally.

‘Where exactly is your father?’ she asked. ‘And why are you stepping in for him?’

As she spoke she was doing her best not to be distracted by his very toned body or his equally gorgeous eyes. But it was a struggle, and she faced the prospect that the cruel hand of the universe had just replaced her playboy fiancé with someone even more handsome, if a comparison was to be made. And she had to work with him until almost the middle of the following year. Six long months.

She settled her eyes on the stubble-covered cleft in his chin, then moved them to his soft full lips, framed by dimples and slightly smiling, and then finally she looked up and discovered his brilliant blue eyes.

She had to admit that he was a very different type from Giles. This man had more cowboy good-looks, while Giles was the Wall Street slick type. But she didn’t want any type of good-looking and she was far from happy with the arrangement. Good-looking men were all the same, and a long-haul trip to the other side of the world only to find that fate had ordered her another one was not what she had wanted.

Suddenly she felt a little dizzy. The heat was closing in by the minute. She mopped her forehead with a tissue as she reached for a seat and promptly sat down with a sigh. Her plans had gone terribly awry and the added lack of air-conditioning made it unbearable. This was nothing close to the first day she had planned in her mind.

‘I sent you an email outlining the changes,’ he said, his lean fingers rubbing his chin. ‘You shouldn’t be surprised.’

‘What email?’ she managed as she looked around for something to use as a fan and grabbed a magazine, which she moved frantically through the air in front of her face in the hope that it would cool her down.

‘The one that clearly explained my father was in an accident two days ago, fractured his patella and had to undergo surgery, so you’ll be working alongside me until he returns.’

‘So he’s coming back?’ she asked, with a little relief colouring her voice. ‘When, exactly?’

‘In about a month, if his rehabilitation goes as planned. It wasn’t a complete reconstruction, so he should be back on deck a lot sooner than after a full recon.’

Phoebe nodded and bit the inside of her cheek as she considered his response. At least it was four weeks, not six months. She felt a little better about the time frame but the confirmation that Heath was going to be her boss, for however short or long a time, was still not news she needed to hear.

She kept her improvised fan moving through the thick air, trying to bring some relief to the situation. Against the oppressive heat it was little use; against news of the working arrangements it was no use at all. For the next four weeks she would be working with a man too handsome for his own good and definitely for the good of all the women who fell victim to his charm. But, thinking of what she had just escaped, she knew she would never fall for a man like Heath. Not that she was on the market for anyone anyway.

She loosened the belt cinched at her waist to allow her to breathe a little more easily in the mugginess that was wrapping around her.

‘You’re looking extremely pale,’ he said, with something she thought sounded like a level of concern. ‘I’ll get a glass of water for you.’

Phoebe swayed to and fro in her seat, watching as Heath crossed back to her with a plastic cup he had filled from the water cooler. She took a few sips, then shakily handed him back the cup. Just as the polished wooden floor became a checked pattern that surged towards her in waves. As she fought the swirling focus that made her feel more disorientated by the minute, she wondered why any of this had happened to her.

Was there any way she could escape the heat? Why did Ken have to wreck his knee now? Why did she have to work with this man for the next few weeks?

Suddenly there were no more questions. The stifling heat finally claimed her. And Dr Phoebe Johnson fainted into Heath’s strong arms.




CHAPTER THREE (#uac37a972-452e-56b1-a828-7026e8ac2f2f)


‘GOOD, YOU’RE BACK with us.’

Phoebe heard the deep timbre of a male voice very close, and when she opened her eyes she realised just how close. She was facing some well-defined and very naked male abdominal muscles, only inches away from her. Her brow formed a frown as she realised she recognised the distinctly Australian accent. It was her temporary boss—and in her direct line of vision was his bare tanned stomach.

Still lying down, she attempted to let her eyes roam her surroundings—until she was finally forced to look up and see Heath looking down at her. She couldn’t read his expression. He wasn’t frowning, but nor was he smiling. His look was serious. Concerned. And the concern appeared genuine. She discovered her resting place was an examination table. And soon realised there was a cool towel on her forehead and that a portable fan was stirring the heavy air and moving the fine wisps of hair that had escaped from her ponytail.

‘She’s lucky you were there to catch her. Sorry—I stepped out to get a cool drink and missed her.’

Phoebe heard a second voice. It belonged to a female but she couldn’t see anyone from her vantage point. It made sense to her, even in her disorientated state, that for him to have set so much in place so quickly, such as the cool towel and the fan, he had to have had some assistance.

‘I must apologise, Phoebe. I’d hoped to have the air-con up and running before you arrived,’ Heath said, in a serious, professional tone that belied his appearance. He looked more like a private dancer than a stoic doctor. ‘I’m not surprised you passed out. Aussie summers can be tough if you’re not used to them.’

Phoebe was so embarrassed when she realised what had happened. She stirred from her horizontal position, but still felt light-headed so didn’t attempt to sit completely upright immediately. But while she slowly moved she remembered a little of the conversation they had shared—including the news he had imparted to her. ‘You’ll be working alongside me.’ Silently she begged the universe to tell her it wasn’t true.

The last thing she needed was a man like Heath. She needed to be thinking about her career as a podiatric surgeon and she wanted to be taught by an experienced older practitioner. This new arrangement was not a dynamic she had even considered as a possibility when she’d agreed to work in Adelaide. She’d thought it would be six months of respite. An emotionally healing time packaged as a working sabbatical.

‘Here’s some water,’ the young woman said as she stepped into view, and she handed Heath a glass with a plastic concertina straw. ‘It’s not too cold.’

Phoebe squinted as she tried to focus. The woman looked to be in her mid-twenties. Blonde, quite tall, very pretty, with a lovely smile. Phoebe suddenly felt Heath’s strong arm lift her upright, yet there was no warmth in the way he held her. It was as if she was an inanimate object.

‘Hold on to your cold compress and sip this,’ he said as he curved the straw to meet her lips.

He held the drink steady with one hand while the other still supported her. His bedside manner she would have described as ‘reserved’ at best.

Phoebe held the cold towel in place as she slowly sucked the water through the straw and felt immediately better for it. But the sight of her skirt no longer demurely skimming her knees did not make her feel good at all. Most of her legs were bare, for the world and Dr Heath Rollins to see, and she was horrified.

‘I’ve had enough, thank you,’ she said as she moved her mouth away from the drink and then, struggling to keep the towel on her head, she tried to lift her bottom slightly and release the hem of the skirt.

There was little covered at all. Fainting and baring parts of her anatomy that should be saved for the beach, or more intimate encounters, was definitely not a great start to this already less than desirable working relationship. She had secured the job purely on her references, and now she could only guess what he was thinking as she reached down to gain some dignity.

‘Here—let me help you.’

His hands lifted her gently and with ease. Her heartbeat suddenly increased with the unexpected touch of his hands on her bare skin. Suddenly she did not feel like an inanimate object. And this time her giddiness wasn’t from the heat of the room. His closeness while he held her up made the job of adjusting her clothing difficult. She finally wriggled the skirt into place and swung her legs around, subtly encouraging Heath to release her and step back.

Clearing her throat, and raising her chin a little defensively, Phoebe looked at Heath as if he were almost the perpetrator of the incident. ‘How exactly—?’ she began and then paused for a moment. ‘How did I get here? I don’t remember leaving the reception area. I do remember feeling very hot, then light-headed, but where was I when I fainted?’

‘You passed out on a chair in the waiting room, and I carried you in here and put you on your side. You were out for less than a minute. As soon as your head was level with your body you came to.’

The way he spoke was quite clinical and detached, but she still managed to feel uneasy at the mental picture of him scooping her up in his arms and carrying her to the examination bed with little or no effort.

Her eyes briefly scanned his firefighter physique before she blinked and turned away. Ken Rollins would be back before she knew it, she told herself. Then all would be right in her world again. This was just a hiccup in her plans. And if Heath’s attitude was anything to go by she had nothing to worry about. His body might have been created for sin but his manner certainly hadn’t.

‘Thank you. I’m sorry I created such a fuss.’ Her tone quickly mimicked his coolness.

‘These things happen, but you seem fine now,’ he said as he stepped back further and turned to face the other woman.

‘Tilly, you can finish up. I think we’re fine here. Thanks for cancelling the next two days’ patients. The air-con should be repaired by Thursday. You can pick up the twins from childcare early and stay home for a couple of days.’

‘Are you sure, Heath? I can come in and do some accounts and general office catch-up work tomorrow.’

‘No,’ he replied firmly, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. ‘It’s like a sauna today and it will be worse tomorrow. It’s a health and safety issue to be working in these conditions.’

‘All right—have it your way,’ Tilly said as she reached over and kissed him on the cheek. ‘See you at home tonight, then. Oh, and Dr Johnson? I hope you feel better soon.’

‘Thank you, but please call me Phoebe.’

Phoebe looked down at the young woman’s hand as she left the room and saw a wedding band and stunning solitaire diamond. They were married. And they had twins. Of course they did. They were perfect for each other. Two stunning blonde Aussies, sun-kissed and fabulous. She could only guess how gorgeous their children would be.

Phoebe wondered if she had read Heath incorrectly. Perhaps he wasn’t a Giles clone. Perhaps he was an austere but loving husband who just happened to be very good-looking and in Phoebe’s still emotionally raw state that had incorrectly translated to him being a potential cad. All good-looking men had been tarnished by Giles. And she had clearly been scarred.

She suddenly felt very self-conscious, and a little sad at her own ability to jump to conclusions. Perhaps all men were not the same … Just the one she had chosen. And Susy’s recent choice too.

Moving awkwardly on the examination table, she tried to inch her skirt down further to cover her knees.

He shook his head. ‘You don’t have to rush to cover up. I’m not looking at your legs, if that’s what you’re worried about.’

Phoebe felt instantly embarrassed. She began fidgeting nervously and smoothing the rest of her clothes into place, and then tidying her hair in an attempt to gain composure without saying a word. There was nothing that came to mind that wouldn’t make her appear even sillier and more self-conscious, so she stayed silent.

Heath watched the way she was fussing. He found her behaviour so far from the image he had created in his mind of a podiatric surgeon from Washington with impeccable references, who was triple board certified in surgery, orthopaedics, and primary podiatric medicine. She was also a Fellow of the American College of Foot and Ankle Surgeons, the American Academy of Podiatric Sports Medicine and the American College of Foot & Ankle Orthopaedics & Medicine. All of those qualifications had had him picturing someone very different. He’d thought she would be brimming with confidence, more than a little aloof. And definitely nowhere near as pretty.

Dr Phoebe Johnson had taken Heath by surprise …

Phoebe’s blood pressure had slowly returned to normal and she felt more steady physically.

‘So, what would you like me to do? I guess if you’ve cancelled the patients there’s probably no point me being here. I can take some patient notes back to my house and read over them.’

She looked around and ascertained where she was in relation to the front door and the reception area, where she assumed her bag would be, and headed in that direction. His wife, she assumed, had already left.

‘There’s definitely no point you staying here, and to be honest your first two days’ patients are post-op and quite straightforward,’ he told her as he followed her out to where her bag was resting by a chair. ‘Here is probably the worst place to be. We don’t want a repeat performance.’

The waiting room and reception area was even hotter as it faced the glare of the morning sun on the huge glass panes.

‘If you’re sure I can’t do anything here, then I’ll see you on Thursday.’

She reached for the front door and he stepped closer to her to hold the door open. Her face looked angelic, and he was intrigued by her. He momentarily wondered why, with all her experience and qualifications, she wanted to work in Adelaide, of all places? Suddenly he felt curious. She was just nothing like he had imagined. He could work out most people, and he prided himself on being able to know what made them tick. But not her. Not yet.

When he’d glanced over her résumé in search of her contact details he had worried that she would not find the practice enough of a challenge, with her interests and her extensive experience in sports podiatry, but then had conceded that she had made her professional choice and it was none of his concern. And if she did grow bored and move on before the six months were up—again, it was not his concern. He wouldn’t be there long enough for it to have any impact on him. His father could find a replacement if she did.

‘Okay, I’ll see you on Thursday.’

‘Yes. I’ll see you then,’ Phoebe responded as she walked past him into a wall of warm, dry air.

She wasn’t sure if it was warmer outside than in, but it felt less humid—although she quickly realised neither was particularly pleasant. It was still early, but the pavement held the heat from the day before and she could tell it would be blisteringly hot in a few hours.

‘I hope you find a way to stay cool.’

Without much emotion in his voice, but clearly being polite, he said, ‘I think I’ll take my son to the pool later on today. Maybe you should hit the beach or a pool—there’s quite a few around. There are some indoor ones too. Oscar’s looking forward to finding some other children to play with.’ Before he turned to walk inside he added, ‘I hope you find a way to stay cool too.’

Phoebe stopped in her tracks. ‘I thought you and your wife had twins?’ she called back to him from the bottom step, with a curious frown dressing her brow.

‘No, my sister Tilly has twin girls, but they’re only two and a half years old. Oscar’s five,’ he told her, with a little more animation. ‘Tilly’s like a mother to Oscar while we’re in town, and it’s been good for him since it’s just the two of us the rest of the time. I’m sure as they grow up the cousins will all be great friends, but right now Oscar really doesn’t find them much fun at all.’

He looked back at Phoebe with an expression she couldn’t quite make out as he paused in the doorway, as if he was thinking something through before he spoke.

Phoebe turned to leave.

‘It’s ridiculously hot out there,’ he remarked, catching her attention. ‘If you have time perhaps we could pop round to the corner café and grab a cool drink. I wouldn’t want you fainting on the way home. I can answer any questions you have about the practice.’

Phoebe could see he was a very serious man—nothing like Giles, with his smooth flirtatious manner. But there was something about Heath that made her curious. She reminded herself that she would never be interested in him in any way romantically, but with his demeanour she didn’t flag him as a threat to her reborn virginal status. And she did want to know about the running of the practice so she decided to accept his invitation. He was her boss after all.

‘I have time.’

Phoebe had decided on the quick walk to the café that she did not want to discuss her personal life and that she would not enquire about his. She knew enough. He was Ken Rollins’s son. He was filling in for a month, and he was the single father of a five-year-old boy. That was more than enough. Whether he was divorced or had never been married was none of her business and immaterial.

She wasn’t going to be spending enough time with Heath for his personal life to matter. Four weeks would pass quickly and then he and his son would be gone. She wasn’t sure if she would ever even meet the boy. It wasn’t as if a medical practice dealing with feet would be the most interesting place for a child to visit, she mused, so their paths might never cross.

‘Thank you,’ she said as she stepped inside the wonderfully cool and thankfully not too densely populated coffee shop.

‘They make a nice iced coffee,’ Heath told her as they made their way to a corner table and he placed his laptop containing patient notes beside him. ‘It’s barista coffee, and they add ice-cold milk and whipped cream. They do it well.’

‘Sounds perfect—but perhaps hold the cream.’

‘Looking after your heart?’ he enquired as he pulled out the chair for her.

In more ways than one, she thought.

It was a surprise to Phoebe how easy she found it to talk with Heath. While he was still reserved, and borderline frosty, he was attentive and engaged in their discussion. He asked about her work at the hospital in Washington and their conversation was far from stilted, due to their mutual love of their specialty. With Giles, she had not spoken much about her work as he hadn’t seemed to understand it and nor had he wanted to. It had been plain that he wasn’t interested and he’d never pretended to care. It had been all about his career aspirations and how they could achieve them together.

‘I’ve seen your résumé—it’s impressive, but definitely geared towards sports podiatry. My father’s practice is predominately general patient load along with the occasional sportsman or woman—not the focus I assume you’re accustomed to. How do you think you will adjust to that?’

‘Sports podiatry is a passion of mine. I’ve been working in a fantastic unit within a large teaching hospital, where we offer a full spectrum of services for the athlete—including physical therapy and surgery, with an emphasis on biomechanics. My focus outside of essential surgical intervention was primarily on orthotic treatment directed to correct structural deficiency and muscular imbalance. But in general my goal is to return any patient, regardless of their profession, to their maximum level of function and allow them to re-engage in an active life.’

Heath agreed with all she was saying, but added, ‘I understand—I just hope you don’t begin to feel that this practice is not what you signed up for.’

‘No, I love what I do—and feet are feet, no matter what the owners of them do.’

Heath found her answer amusing, but he didn’t smile. He rarely did, and those moments were saved for his son. And there was still that unanswered question …

‘So tell me, Phoebe, if you love the hospital back in your hometown, you enjoy your work and your colleagues, why did you want to leave?’

Phoebe nervously took a sip of the icy drink. It was rich and flavoursome, just as good as he had promised … and she was stalling. ‘I needed a break from Washington,’ she finally responded.

‘A Caribbean cruise or skiing in Aspen would have been easier than relocating to the other side of the world. And if you were looking for alternative employers I’m sure there must be loads of options for someone of your calibre in the US. It’s a big country.’

‘I wanted more than a quick vacation or a new employer. It was time for a sea change.’

‘Like I said, there are a lot of places that would fit that bill on your own continent—and I’m sure with a lot less red tape than it must have taken for you to work Down Under.’

‘I suppose,’ she said nonchalantly, trying to deflect his interest in her reasons for being there, which did not seem to be abating easily with anything she said.

It wasn’t the Spanish Inquisition, but it felt close. Phoebe did not want to go into the details of her failed engagement to Giles. Nor her desperate need to escape from him and her mother to a place neither would find her. And there was no way he would ever hear from her the tale of the bridesmaids from hell bedding the groom. It was all too humiliating. And still too raw.

Heath was her temporary boss and he would be leaving once his father’s knee had healed. The less he knew the better. In fact the less everyone in the city knew about her the better.

‘Your father’s interest in harnessing the power of biomechanics and advanced medical technology to challenge convention and his ensuing breakthrough results were huge draw cards for me to come and work with him. And I wanted to know more about his collaborative approach to co-morbidities. Your father wrote a great paper on the subject of the co-operative approach to treating systemic problems.’

Heath sensed there was more, but he took her cue to leave the subject alone. He appreciated she had a right to her privacy on certain matters. Just as he did to his own. And there was no need for him to know too much, he reminded himself, as they would be working together for a relatively short time and then he would be leaving. Theirs would be a brief working relationship. Nothing more.

But, stepping momentarily away from being her very temporary boss, he had to admit Phoebe was undeniably beautiful.

Phoebe shifted awkwardly in her seat, not sure if Heath had accepted her response and they could move on. Unaware that her glass was empty, she casually took another sip through her straw. Suddenly the loudest slurp she had ever heard rang out. To Phoebe’s horror, apparently it was the loudest the people at an adjacent table had ever heard too, as they shot her a curious stare.

The sound echoed around the café. Phoebe’s eyes rolled with embarrassment. Only half an hour before she had passed out in his arms, revealed far too much of her legs, and now her manners were more befitting a preschooler. She wanted to find an inconspicuous hole and slink inside. Heath had such a serious demeanour she could only imagine what he was thinking. It was, without doubt, the worst first day on the job of anyone—ever.

‘I told you they make the best iced coffee. There’s never enough in my glass either,’ Heath said, his mouth almost forming a smile.

It was the first time, in the hour or so since they’d met, that she had seen him show anything even vaguely like a smile. And it was the most gorgeous almost-smile she had ever seen. Her heart unexpectedly skipped a beat.

Giles would have been mortified, she thought. He would have shot her a glare that told her she had embarrassed him. His body language would have reminded her that it was unladylike without saying a word. She would have felt his displeasure while those around would have had no idea. But Heath didn’t appear to react that way, and it surprised her. Apparently in his eyes it was not cringeworthy behaviour—or if he thought it was he certainly masked it well.

She felt her embarrassment slowly dissipate. Maybe it wasn’t the worst day ever after all. And that was confirmed when he continued the conversation as if nothing had happened.

‘So, how do you see this working arrangement? Are you happy to split your time with taking half of my father’s post-operative patients and the remainder to be new patients, along with a surgical roster?’

‘That sounds great to me. I’m fairly flexible—not a hard and fast rules kind of woman—so we can just see how it all works out, and if we need to move around within those parameters we can discuss it as it unfolds.’

Heath didn’t feel the same way at all. ‘You’ll learn quickly that I’m a rules kind of a man. I live by a number of them, and if I set something up then I like to stick by it. So I’d rather we made up our minds and set up now the way it will play out.’

‘I guess …’ Phoebe replied, a little taken aback by his rigid stance on their working arrangements. She had heard that Australian people were laid-back. Heath didn’t fit that bill at all. ‘But in my opinion most situations have both a teething period and a grey area. There’s generally room to manoeuvre and move around with some degree of compromise if you’re willing to look for it.’

‘Not with me. Once I’ve made a decision, it’s rare that I’ll shift my viewpoint. In fact it would take something extraordinary to make me change my mind.’

While she appreciated Heath’s honesty upfront, she thought she would pity whoever lived with him if they got the bathroom roster wrong. ‘Well, then, since it’s only for a month let’s go with your way. You undoubtedly know the practice and the patient load better than I do, so I’m happy to carve it in stone right now if that’s how it’s done around here.’

Heath appreciated her wit, but made no retort.

An hour later they were still at the café. Once they had agreed to their working arrangements Heath had dropped all other lines of questioning and given Phoebe the low-down on the city she would call home for a few months.

Despite the ease with which they spoke, Heath had still not had his questions answered about Phoebe’s motives for relocating. But he did know she was a lot more adaptable than he was. It made him curious, although he didn’t verbalise it.

With her academic record the surgical world was quite literally her oyster. There would be few, if any, practices or teaching facilities that would not welcome her into their fold with open arms. There was no ring on her finger, but he would not be arrogant enough to assume that there was no man in her life. If there was then he too must be as adaptable as Phoebe, and willing to compromise and let her travel to the other side of the world for work. He was not that type of man.

‘Adelaide is very quiet, I assume?’ she asked as she relaxed back into her chair and admired the artwork on the café walls.

‘Yes—a little too relaxed in pace for me. It’s very different from Sydney, which I prefer. I grew up here, but moved to Sydney about ten years ago when I finished my internship. I was offered a position on the east coast and I took it.’

‘I’d like to see Sydney one day, but I think Adelaide will be lovely for the next six months.’

‘Adelaide’s like a very large country town,’ Heath replied. ‘And that’s the reason I never stay too long.’

‘A large country town suits me. It isn’t the size of the town but more the attitude of the people that matters.’

Heath watched Phoebe as she studied the eclectic collection of watercolour paintings and charcoal sketches on the wall. She was smiling as she looked at the work of novice artists and he could see her appreciation of the pieces. There was no sign of the big town superiority that he had thought she might display, and she didn’t launch into a spiel about comparisons with Washington, as he had expected.

‘That’s what my father keeps telling me when I try to get him to relocate to Sydney. He won’t budge. He likes the growing medical research sector in Adelaide, even if it’s a small city by comparison.’

‘From all reports he’s one of the finest podiatric surgeons in the southern hemisphere. I look forward to meeting him when he’s up to it.’ While Heath had not enquired more about her reasons for relocating, to cement that line of questioning shut she added, ‘Your father’s work is revolutionary in its simplicity, and I respect his conservative approach of proceeding, where possible, with surgery as the second not the first option. His expertise in soft tissue manipulation and trigger point therapy is impressive. A lot of practitioners routinely go for surgery, but your father is quite the opposite, preferring to view his patients through a holistic filter and follow a slightly more protracted but less invasive treatment plan.’

Heath could see that his father’s work had made quite an impression on Phoebe. ‘I hope you’re not disappointed that you’ll be working with me. It’s like ordering Chinese takeout and having pizza arrive on your doorstep.’

Phoebe liked his quirky analogy, although it seemed at odds with his less than lighthearted nature. He was far from a poor second, and she silently admitted that pizza was a favourite of hers. Heath was charming and knowledgeable, and his reserved demeanour was a pleasant change.

Although his rigid viewpoint might possibly test her reserves of patience in the long term, she was very much looking forward to working with him in the short term. She doubted he would disappoint on any level, but professional was the only level she was interested in exploring.

Heath considered the woman sitting opposite him for a moment. She was a highly regarded surgeon in their mutual field, but there was a mixture of strength and frailty to her. It was as if she was hiding, or running away from something. And he wasn’t sure why he wanted to work her out, except that it was as if she was second-guessing herself on some level. He had no idea why she would.

Heath knew that she was an only child, that her father was a Presidential advisor and her mother a Washington socialite, and that she’d spent her high school years at a prestigious private school in Washington. She had openly chatted about that. He also knew that she had graduated top of her class from her studies at the New York College of Podiatric Medicine, and had done her three-year residency at the university hospital.

It would appear she had the makings of someone who could be quite consumed with their own self-importance, but she wasn’t. She was, he’d realised quickly, very humble—because Heath knew of her Dux status from his father, not from her. Phoebe hadn’t brought it up. It was a huge honour and she was omitting it from her abbreviated life story over morning coffee.

In that way she was not unlike his wife, Natasha—a former model and fashion designer who had also been very humble about the accolades she’d been given both on and off the runway.

Natasha had not been at all what Heath had imagined a model would be like the night he’d met her at a fundraising event. He’d been thirty and she only twenty-three. After a whirlwind courtship they’d married, and Natasha had fallen pregnant soon afterwards. They’d both been so excited and looking forward to growing their family.

Heath had come to learn that she worked actively and tirelessly for many causes—including one to support research into a cure for the disease that had eventually claimed her life. And from that day, Heath’s purpose in life—his only focus outside of his work—had been raising their beautiful little boy, Oscar, who had been given life by the only woman Heath had ever loved.

And nothing and no one would ever come between them.

Not his work and not a woman.

It was a promise he’d made to himself five years earlier. The day he lost his wife. The day he’d walked away from the hospital without her and realised he would never again hold her in his arms or wake next to her in the bed they had shared. He’d vowed that day that he would dedicate his life to being the kind of father to their son that Natasha would have wanted.

And he would never wake with another woman in his arms.

He had been true to both promises.

Oddly, sitting with Phoebe, he felt almost comfortable, more at ease than in a long time, and he suspected their mutual professional interests had a lot to do with that. He couldn’t remember the last time he had spoken in depth to a woman about his chosen career and engaged in a meaningful conversation. He had taken lovers over the years, but nothing more than a shared night. He left before dawn, and conversation was at the bottom of the list of his needs on those occasions.

‘I’d better let you go and I’ll head back to the practice and sort out the air-con, or we’ll have melted patients for the next few months,’ Heath told her in a matter-of-fact tone as he stood. ‘It’s only December, and both January and February are hotter months in general.’

Phoebe was taken aback by the way Heath ended their time together. He had invited her to go for a drink and now he was excusing himself quite abruptly. Not that she minded at all. In fact she was relieved, as it gave him no further opportunity to quiz her about her personal life.

‘You mean hotter than this?’ Phoebe asked.

‘Not hotter, but hot for longer stretches.’

Phoebe shrugged. ‘Well, then, I really hope you get the air-conditioner working.’

He paid the tab and walked Phoebe to the door and then out into the street. His body language was stiff and distant again. Any hint of being relaxed had evaporated.

‘I’ll see you in a few days. Take some downtime to recover from your trip and I’ll see you on Thursday morning at eight. If you get a chance, try to head to the beach or a pool. It will do you the world of good.’

Phoebe nodded. ‘Okay, thanks—maybe I will.’ She walked away, then suddenly turned around and called out. ‘Heath, we never discussed Thursday’s patients.’

Heath turned back and looked at Phoebe for the longest moment, then glanced at the laptop tucked loosely under his arm. ‘We didn’t, didn’t we?’




CHAPTER FOUR (#uac37a972-452e-56b1-a828-7026e8ac2f2f)


‘DADDY!’

Heath was welcomed home by tiny arms that wrapped around his knees and hugged him ferociously. He bent down and returned the hug before he picked up his son in his strong arms and swung him around like a carousel ride. Oscar was his reason for living. He had been the beacon of hope during his darkest days. Heath would never let Oscar down. No matter what the future held, he would be his son’s anchor through life. He was the only thing that brought a smile to Heath’s face and love to an otherwise broken heart.

‘How’s my favourite little man?’ he asked, kissing his tiny son’s chubby cheek.

‘I’m good, Daddy.’

Heath lowered him to the ground, then sat on the sofa. Oscar climbed up next to him.

‘Can we go to the pool tomorrow—can we, please?’

Heath considered his son for a moment. He had his mother’s deep brown eyes and he was the apple of his father’s. There was nothing Heath wouldn’t do for him, but he did like to have fun and tease him a little sometimes.

‘I thought you hated the pool? You distinctly told me the other day that you never, ever wanted to go swimming again. You said that you would rather eat live worms than go to a swimming pool!’

‘Don’t be silly, Daddy. I loooooove the pool!’

Heath picked Oscar up and put him on his lap and held him tightly. ‘Then it looks like tomorrow we’re off to the pool, my little man.’

Phoebe enjoyed a lazy sleep-in the next day. It would end, she knew, when the air-conditioning at the practice was repaired, so she made the most of it. Then she had a quick shower, put on shorts, sandals and a T-shirt, and went out to buy a newspaper. While she enjoyed a light breakfast she planned on reading local stories of interest and about the issues affecting the town she would call home for the near future.

When she arrived home there was a delivery man on her doorstep, holding a medium-sized box, which she signed for and carried into the kitchen.

She discovered it was filled with Christmas gifts. All wrapped in colourful paper and equally pretty ribbons. And every one had her name on it.

She rang her father, but it went to voicemail. ‘Hi, Dad. I know you’re probably busy, but thank you so much for my gifts. By the way, how did you get the presents here the very day after I arrived?’

A few minutes later, as she was putting the presents away in her wardrobe, she received a text message.

I posted them a week before you left. Hope you like them. PS I would have been in trouble if you’d cancelled the trip! Xxx

Although she would miss her family, knowing they were only a call or a text away made her feel less lonely.

After breakfast and a thorough read of the newspaper, in a small cobblestoned patio area that had an outdoor table setting for two under a pergola covered in grape vines, Phoebe felt even more positive about her temporary stay in Australia. She was actually enjoying this time to herself, and she decided after completing the crossword and finishing her freshly squeezed orange juice that Heath’s suggestion of spending some time swimming wouldn’t be so bad.

She could do with some sun. A long, relaxing swim at the beach or in a pool was just what the doctor ordered. With no preference, but also no idea where to go, she looked up some local beaches and public pools on the internet.

The beach, she discovered, would mean a thirty-minute tram trip to Glenelg, or there was a pool about a ten-minute cab ride away in Burnside. She opted for the pool.

Searching in her suitcase, she found her floral bikini, sarong and sunblock. She slipped on the bikini, stepped into her denim shorts and popped a white T-shirt over the top. Then, with a good book, a towel, a wide-brimmed hat and a bottle of water in her beach bag, she called for a cab.

Phoebe had found a perfect spot on the lawn area, adjacent to a huge shade cloth and overlooking the pool. She surmised the sun would get intense later, and she would shift into the shade, but she wanted to enjoy a few minutes of the warm rays and assist her vitamin D intake.

The pool was picturesque, with huge gum trees and parklands surrounding the fenced area. There were quite a few families and some small groups of young mothers with babies enjoying the peaceful ambience of the late morning. Children were laughing and splashing in the crystal water of the wading pool and more serious swimmers were head down, doing lengths of the main pool.

Phoebe had spread out her large blue towel and set up camp. She had spied the fruit in the refrigerator before she’d left home, so she had packed an apple and some strawberries in with her water. Slipping out of her shorts and T-shirt, and putting her hair up atop her head, she strode across the lawn and climbed into the water for a long, relaxing swim.

She was right—it was just what the doctor had ordered. Quite literally.

She lay on her back, lapping the pool slowly and looking up at the stunning blue sky through the filter of her sunglasses. Her worries seemed to dissipate—not completely, but more than she had imagined they would when she had alighted from the plane just a day earlier.

Fifteen minutes later she climbed from the pool and dried herself off with her sun-warmed towel before she spread it out and sat down. With her sarong beside her, in case she needed to cover up, she put on her floppy straw hat, pulled out her book and flipped the lid on her sunblock. She thought of how if she was back in Washington she would be trying to get the ice off her windscreen—instead she was about to cover herself in sunscreen. Perhaps there was justice in the world—or at least a little compensation in the form of sunshine.

She poured a little lotion into her palm and began to rub it over her shoulders.

‘Phoebe?’

Phoebe spun around to see Heath standing so tall he was blocking the sun. His chest was bare and his low-slung black swimming trunks left little to her imagination. Beside him was the cutest little boy, with the same blond tousled hair, dinosaur-patterned swim trunks, and a very cheeky smile. But very different eyes. While Heath’s were the most vivid blue, his son’s huge, twinkling eyes were a stunning deep brown.

‘Hello, Heath,’ she managed, a little shocked to find him in front of her, and a little more shocked by how gorgeous he looked in even less clothing than the day before.

‘I didn’t expect to see you here. I didn’t think you’d actually take my advice about getting some sun and a swim.’

‘It sounded like a good idea,’ she replied, trying not to show how embarrassed she felt in choosing the same outdoor pool as Heath. He had described the city as a large country town, but now she wondered how small Adelaide was to have found them in the same place. ‘And I do need to get some vitamin D.’

As she said it Phoebe realised she was wearing only a string bikini, and suddenly felt very self-conscious. She hadn’t thought twice about it with the other pool guests, as she didn’t know them, but for some reason she felt more exposed in front of Heath. She wanted to reach for her sarong and bring it up to her neck, but realised how silly she would appear.

Heath sensed that Phoebe was feeling awkward in that very brief and very stunning bikini. He had witnessed her discomfiture the previous day, when she had been so intent on tugging her skirt into place. But suddenly his eyes just naturally began to roam her body. Every curve was perfect, he thought, before he quickly slipped on his sunglasses, then turned his attention back to his son. Where it had to stay.

‘Oscar.’ Heath began ruffling the little boy’s hair with his hand. ‘This is Phoebe—she’ll be working with me for the next month, while Grandpa gets better.’

‘Hello, Phoebe,’ the little boy responded. ‘You’re pretty—like Aunty Tilly.’

Phoebe felt herself blush. ‘Thank you, Oscar, that is a very nice thing to say.’

‘It’s the truth,’ he replied. ‘My kindy teacher isn’t as pretty as you, but she can sing really well. Can you sing?’

‘No, I’m afraid I can’t.’

‘That’s okay. Don’t feel bad. My grandpa can’t sing either—he tries in the shower, but it sounds terrible and the dog next door barks. He barks a lot. I don’t know if Daddy can sing. I’ve never heard him try to sing. Even when there’s Christmas carols he never sings along.’

‘That’s because my voice is worse than Grandpa’s,’ Heath added, knowing his inability to sing Christmas carols had nothing to do with the quality of his voice. There was much more to it than that. ‘It’s best I don’t try or the dog next door might run away.’

‘You’re silly, Daddy. The dog can’t open the gate.’

Phoebe smiled at their happy banter. It was the first time she had seen a full smile from Heath. The other time there had been only the hint of a smile. She thought he should do it more often.

‘Can I go in the pool now? Can I? Can I? Please, Daddy?’ Oscar’s words became faster and louder as they came rushing out.

‘Sure can.’ Heath said, eager to move away from Phoebe in her skimpy bathing suit. ‘I hope you enjoy your time here today, Phoebe,’ he added before he took his son’s hand. ‘If you need anything we’re not too far away.’

‘Thanks, I’m sure I will be just fine.’

Heath positioned his sunglasses on the top of his head, nodded in Phoebe’s direction and then reached for his son’s hand and walked towards the water’s edge.

Phoebe suddenly felt a little shiver run all over her body. She ignored it. She had no intention of asking Heath for anything or paying any attention to her body’s inappropriate reaction to her boss. It was her hormones, simply out of sorts after the emotional rollercoaster of the last few months, she decided. Perhaps jet-lag was playing a part too.

She had worked with some very attractive medics over the years and he was just another one—nothing more, she thought as she reached for her book. Once Heath Rollins exited from the practice she would never see him again. And that was how she wanted her life to remain. No men and all about her career.

Heath loved being with his son. He always gave him one hundred per cent of his attention when they were together. Oscar was his reason for getting up every day, although he never let the little boy feel that pressure or carry that load. He didn’t want his family to attempt to change that dynamic or to question his reasons for still being alone five years after Natasha’s death. His choices were no one else’s business. He would cover for his father at the practice and then return to Sydney, where he and Oscar would live life the way he wanted. With no interference or futile attempts at matchmaking.

Heath knew that no woman would ever replace Natasha. And, even more than that, he thought every day of how Natasha had been denied the joy of watching her child grow into a man. Some days were harder than others. The sadness, the guilt, the emptiness … Aside from Oscar, Heath’s work was his saviour. It was a distraction that gave him purpose.

But today he felt as if someone else was pulling his thoughts away momentarily. Someone who was not only academically and professionally astute, and beautiful from head to toe, but whose humility appeared genuine. But, he reminded himself as he took Oscar to the bigger pool for a father-son swimming lesson, he barely knew her and he was happy with his life just the way it was. He had Oscar and he had his career and that had been enough for him for five years.

He slipped small brightly coloured goggles over his son’s eyes and held him securely, encouraging him to take big strokes and put his head under the water, and he didn’t look back in Phoebe’s direction. Not once.

Despite her best efforts, Phoebe couldn’t concentrate on her book. Initially she thought it was tiredness that made her read and reread the same sentence until there was no point continuing. But then she realised it was curiosity, or something like it, that drew her to glance back at Heath and his son. Through her sunglasses Phoebe could see how the two were incredibly close, and the love between them was palpable. Heath looked to be the perfect father, and watching them made Phoebe smile just a little.

She had never thought too much about having children. She’d assumed she would, and had looked forward to being a mother one day, but it hadn’t been a driving force in her life. Unlike some of her friends, who had set a date by which they wanted to have the picket fence and three children, Phoebe liked to live her life as it unfolded and had never been one to over-plan. She had spent so long studying, achieving her career goals through long hours at the hospital and in surgery, and then she had got caught up in the wedding …

She blinked away memories that needed to be forgotten and decided, sitting on her damp towel in the sticky heat and looking up at the towering gum trees, that this would be the day she packed them away for good. The pain, the disappointment and the humiliation had no place in her life. She didn’t know what did have a place exactly, but the sadness seemed to be fading in the warmth of the Australian sun and Phoebe finally felt good about life. Three months in the same cold town hadn’t helped, but the distance and the glorious summer weather appeared to be working. Her decision to set sail was one she felt a little surer she would not regret.

With her mind wandering, she hadn’t noticed the two handsome men walking towards her. Both dripping wet, they stood at the bottom of her towel and she came back to the present with a jolt. But a very pleasant one.

‘I hope we didn’t scare you. You looked like you were a million miles away.’

‘About ten thousand, to be exact.’

‘You’re homesick for Washington already?’ Heath asked, almost hoping she would confirm his thoughts and tell him she was planning on returning immediately to the US. That would be fortuitous news for him, because he had a gut feeling that Phoebe’s presence might bring complications into his otherwise contained life.

‘Not at all,’ she replied honestly and, being completely clueless to his hopes, she had lightness in her voice. ‘I was just thinking about how lucky I am to be melting rather than freezing.’

‘If you were a chocolate bar you wouldn’t say that!’ Oscar told her with a big smile, before he scampered back to the wading pool and signalled to his father to follow.

Phoebe watched Oscar run in and out of the pool for the best part of an hour, and she found it difficult not to occasionally look at Heath, who stood watch over his son. She walked to the far end of the pool, as she didn’t want to infringe on Heath and Oscar’s time together. He was a single father, who no doubt worked long hours like most medical professionals, so their time together as father and son was precious. She was surprised that a man who said he didn’t like to compromise certainly appeared to let his son make the rules.

Sitting on the pool edge, she dangled her legs into the water and thought for the first time in her life she had no future plans. Past these next six months in Adelaide she had no clue where she would go. Perhaps back to Washington—perhaps not. There was a newfound security in having no security in place. Nothing set in stone. And no one to let her down since she only had herself to rely upon. No man to break her heart and shatter her dreams. She had a temporary job and an income and that was all she really needed for the time being.

Phoebe Johnson was finally sailing her own ship and she liked it. She hoped that in this town, so far from everyone she knew, she might possibly find herself. But not for a very long time did she want to share her heart, her bed or potentially her future with a man—if indeed she ever did.

She pulled her legs out of the water and headed back to her towel, where she ate her apple and her strawberries and then felt her stomach rumble. It was time to go back to her house for lunch, she decided, and began to pack up her belongings. Heath and Oscar were lying in the shade, eating ice cream, so she waved and quietly headed out to the main road. She planned on hailing a passing cab.

After five minutes, with no sign of any passing cabs, she reached into her bag to dial for one.

‘Daddy, look—there’s Phoebe. Is she waiting for her daddy to pick her up?’

‘I don’t think so, Oscar. She just arrived in town and her father lives in another country a long way from here.’

‘Then we need to take her home. That would be a nice thing to do.’

Although part of him knew extending an invitation to share a ride home was close to the last thing he should do, given his desire to stay away from Phoebe when she had so little clothing on, Heath knew it was the right thing to do. Phoebe knew no one, and she was stranded at the pool after she’d taken him up on his suggestion. She had at least now put shorts on.

There was only one thing to do, he knew, as he took Oscar’s hand and walked slowly over to Phoebe.

‘Can we offer you a ride home?’

Phoebe had accepted the ride back to her home with a still mostly serious Heath and his very excited and happy little boy. She assumed Oscar had inherited his outgoing personality from his mother. The conversation came predominantly from the back seat, where Oscar was recalling his swimming prowess, until they drew near to her house.

‘I’m here on the left—well, I think I am,’ she said, then paused as she questioned the accuracy of her directions. ‘I tried to notice the way the cab driver took me and reverse it in my head.’

‘It’s two down on the right, actually. I have your address,’ he told her as he ignored her directions and kept driving. ‘I noted it from your personal records, which were transferred with the immigration form. It’s listed as your residence for the next six months.’

Phoebe could sense he was being a little condescending, and while he wasn’t exactly rude she still didn’t take kindly to it. She had only been in the country two days, and she thought even to be in the close vicinity of her new home was quite good. She doubted he’d do any better if the tables were turned and he was dropped into Washington.

‘Well, maybe it was transcribed incorrectly and maybe it was the street you just passed—on the left.’

Heath sensed she was being petulant and he found it almost amusing. He had grown up in Adelaide and knew the street she was referring to was home to a food market and some restaurants—not houses.

‘Fine, then I’m happy to turn around and drop you back in the street you think is yours.’

Phoebe knew he had called her bluff, and on such a hot day he had won.

‘No, let’s do it your way and see if you’re right.’

‘Let’s.’

‘You sound like Aunty Tilly and Uncle Paul,’ Oscar suddenly announced from the back seat. ‘They talk like that all the time, but in the end Aunty Tilly always wins.’

Heath froze, and so did Phoebe. Heath knew he was talking about his sister and brother-in-law—a married couple—and that Phoebe would suspect as much. They both went silent, and the rest of the short trip was dedicated to Oscar’s chatter about the pool.

It wasn’t long before Phoebe found herself waving goodbye and thanking her travelling companions before making her way inside her house. Oscar’s comment still resonated with her long after she’d closed the front door. They’d sounded like a married couple bickering.

Initially, looking over at her handsome, almost brooding chauffeur, with his wet hair slicked back and his shirt buttoned low over his lightly tanned chest, she’d felt herself wondering what might have been had they met under different circumstances … before she had been hurt so terribly by Giles.

But as she tried to forget that heartbreak she couldn’t deny that her heart beat a little faster being so close to Heath. His nearness had made her play self-consciously with loose wisps of her hair and swallow nervously more than once as she had looked away from his direction and to the scenery outside of the car during the trip home.

But she wasn’t interested in men and particularly not pompous men who took enjoyment in proving they were right. And romance only brought anguish into her life, she reminded herself. After Oscar’s bombshell she’d realised she had to step back. Right away from any contact with Heath outside of work arrangements, she decided as she dropped her bag of wet things into the laundry.

Pushing the child’s observation out of her mind, Phoebe made some lunch. What could Oscar really know about married couples? Nothing, she told herself, and decided to call her father. It was late in Washington, but he had left a message on her phone so she knew he was still awake.

‘So, what do you think of Adelaide?’

Phoebe wasn’t sure what to tell her father. She hadn’t seen much of the city, save for the airport, a coffee shop, a stifling hot podiatric practice and of course the pool, so her experience was limited. Her view of the parklands was lovely, but she had kept inside a small radius since arriving so thought she wasn’t yet placed to give a great evaluation. And when it came to the people of Adelaide she had spoken to the customs official, her cab drivers, Heath, Oscar and momentarily Tilly.

Not really enough to gauge a whole town, she thought. Immigration had been pleasant, the cab drivers were polite, Tilly seemed sweet, Oscar was cute—and then there was Heath. She really didn’t want to spend time thinking about him. Particularly after Oscar’s comment.

She was confused, but pushed thoughts of him to the back of her mind. He was a conundrum that she wasn’t sure she cared to solve. It could be another woman’s problem, she decided. One good-looking man had already taken too much of her time and energy with no reward. And she was definitely not looking for a replacement. No matter how handsome.

‘It’s super-hot,’ she finally replied.

‘That’s it?’ Her father laughed heartily. ‘You fly to the other side of the world and all you can tell me about the city is that it’s super-hot? Wouldn’t want you to be the only witness for the prosecution any time soon.’

Phoebe realised how vague it had sounded, and she also knew she didn’t need to have her guard up. Her father knew the worst that had happened.

‘I met Dr Rollins, and the practice is great, but the air-conditioning has broken down so we just had coffee yesterday, and today I went for a swim since I have the day off while it gets repaired.’

‘So Ken Rollins is a good man? Do you think you’ll enjoy working with him?’

Phoebe drew breath. She wished she could answer in the affirmative to both questions but she couldn’t. She hadn’t met Ken.

‘Ken’s undergone emergency knee surgery, so his son is looking after the practice.’

‘It’s fortunate for him that he has a son to take over,’ her father replied, then added thoughtfully, ‘But I know you were looking forward to working with Ken after you read his papers. I hope you’re not disappointed?’

It was the second time she had been asked that question. And her answer still stood. She wasn’t disappointed. Confused about the man, and definitely not interested beyond their working relationship, but not disappointed.

‘Working with Heath will be a learning experience.’

‘I hope you enjoy it, then,’ he told his daughter.

‘I hope so too, and if nothing else I’ve got a few months of warm weather ahead,’ she said, trying to remind herself of the only benefit she should be considering.

‘Try feeling sorry for your father. I’ll be shovelling snow at some ungodly hour in the morning. Perhaps you should get some sleep, sweetie. Your flight would have been taxing, and the high temperatures will add to that.’

‘It was a little tiring, but I think …’ Phoebe paused as she heard the beeping of a text message come through. ‘Can you hold for one minute, Dad? I think I got a message …’

‘Sure, honey.’

Phoebe pulled the phone away from her ear and saw a number she didn’t know. She recognised it as local and read the message.

Phoebe, it’s Tilly. I know it’s late notice, but would you be free for dinner tonight around seven at my place? Dad will be here and he’d love to meet you. And I would love to chat properly. Heath can pick you up.

An invitation to have dinner with the family was something Phoebe hadn’t expected and she felt her errant heart race a little with the prospect of seeing Heath again. She knew it was crazy but her response to seeing him again made it obvious she may have a battle ahead. It clearly wasn’t going to be as easy as telling herself the facts. She couldn’t look out of a car window and ignore her reaction. She had to look inside of herself and face the fact that Heath was awakening feelings that she thought she had packed away when she had decided to focus on her career. Suddenly butterflies began to quicken in her stomach.

She didn’t answer the text immediately as she quickly made plans in her head. She couldn’t decline as that would be rude. And she wanted to meet Ken. With her breathing still a little strained, she resolved to get a taxi there on the pretext of saving Heath the trip—when she was only too aware it was to avoid the closeness of him in the confines of his car.

‘I’m back,’ she said, trying to concentrate once again on the conversation with her father. ‘How’s Mother?’

‘She’s fine. At her yoga class and then off to have a manicure, I think—or maybe it’s to have her hair done. I can’t remember. My day’s been taken up with a new healthcare bill that the President wants to pass through Congress. It’s a struggle, but you know me, I’m always up for a challenge.’

‘Always—and you’re so good at it.’

‘Thanks, but the apple didn’t fall too far from the tree. Look at you. Going to the other side of the world after what you’ve been through is quite the challenge too.’

‘Hardly going to change the world here—and you did all the work. I really do appreciate you arranging everything. The house is wonderful, and it’s stocked for a hungry army. Thank you so much.’

‘You are more than welcome—but, speaking of an army, I’d better go, honey,’ her father cut in. ‘Urgent briefing with the Secretary of Defence at six a.m. tomorrow, so I’d better get some sleep before I head out in the wee hours of the morning with salt and a shovel to clear the driveway.’

‘Okay, Dad. Love you.’

‘Back at you—and I hope you have fun, whatever you do.’

Phoebe went into her room and collapsed into the softness of her bed, dropping the mobile phone beside her. She decided to take a shower and think logically about the invitation before rushing in. Perhaps she should decline and meet Ken another time. Perhaps she should avoid Heath in a social situation. Keep it purely professional the way it should be. Stepping under tepid water, Phoebe washed her hair, and by the time she had rinsed out the conditioner she had come to the conclusion that she had to stop over-thinking the situation.

Oscar’s remark had thrown her, and Heath’s attitude had been a little patronizing, but he was right—he had known the way to her home. And she hadn’t. Perhaps she had been a little defensive for no reason other than to push him away.

Her head was spinning and it wasn’t the heat. Her house was wonderfully cool.

‘Get a grip, Phoebe Johnson. Stop creating false drama where there is none. Heath Rollins is not interested in you. It’s dinner with Ken’s family and that’s it. Almost business. And Oscar was way off the mark. He’s only a child, and no judge of what married couples really sound like. You have nothing to worry about. Heath Rollins is not looking for love any more than you.’

So she accepted the invitation … with the proviso that she would catch a cab.




CHAPTER FIVE (#uac37a972-452e-56b1-a828-7026e8ac2f2f)


‘PHOEBE SEEMS LOVELY,’ Tilly said as she placed a large bowl of homemade potato salad on the dining table, where Heath, Oscar, Ken, her husband Paul and her two daughters were seated, waiting for Phoebe to arrive.

Heath watched as Paul, a tall man with an athletic build, by trade an engineer who directed huge construction teams, struggled to keep his tiny girls from climbing down from their booster chairs and heading back to their toys. He was clearly losing the battle, and one of them took off across the room, so he surrendered and set the girls up with a picnic blanket on the floor, added some toys and invited Oscar to join them.

Tilly was a wonderful cook, who never liked to see anyone leave hungry, so she had grilled a selection of chicken shashlik, vegetable patties and gourmet sausages from her local butcher, along with her famous potato salad and a Greek salad.

‘Can someone please remind me why she’s coming to dinner? She’s here to work—not join family gatherings, surely?’

‘It’s called being hospitable to a stranger in town, Heath. And she’s lovely, as I said.’

‘Yes, she’s nice.’ Oscar seconded his aunt’s opinion of Phoebe as he stood up and strained to reach for a slice of bread from the table.

Smiling, his grandfather slid the plate closer to him to make the task easier.

‘You met her too, Oscar?’ Tilly asked as she brought cold drinks to the table.

‘Yes, at the pool,’ Oscar responded as he sat down with his twin cousins again, a big slice of bread in his hand. ‘And we drove her home and she and Daddy talked a lot.’

‘So you all went to the pool together, then?’ Tilly addressed her question to Heath, her eyes smiling.

‘I took Oscar to the Burnside pool and Phoebe happened to be there,’ he responded defensively.

He had experienced more than a few attempts by his sister to matchmake over the years, and he intended to quash this attempt immediately. He wasn’t buying into her supposedly casual conversation that would no doubt lead to something more like an interrogation over his love-life if he allowed it.

‘So, of all the pools in Adelaide, a woman who knows nothing of Adelaide just happened to choose that one?’

Heath’s silence was his answer.

‘So everyone has met the doctor I hired except me?’ Ken asked. ‘Well, at least I’ll get to meet her tonight and judge for myself.’

‘I haven’t met her yet,’ Paul said. ‘But then I didn’t know you’d even hired anyone—I thought Heath was filling in for you.’

‘He is. But the practice is growing, and I needed help, and Dr Phoebe Johnson was highly recommended. I had made arrangements for her to work with me before the accident. From all accounts she’s a brilliant young podiatric surgeon looking for a change of scenery, so I jumped at the chance. Pardon the pun,’ he said as he looked down at his bandaged knee.

‘Very pretty too,’ Tilly remarked.

‘I hadn’t heard that part, but it never hurts to have a pretty doctor in the practice,’ said the older Dr Rollins. ‘So, Heath, do you think you two will get along?’

Heath considered the question and answered in his usual guarded tones. ‘I’ve read her transcripts and she has an impressive record—and the reports from the Washington hospital are great. We chatted yesterday morning at the café for a while, and she seems suited to the role.’

‘Yesterday morning? You mean you took her out after she fainted? Quick work, Heath. I’m impressed,’ said Tilly.

‘Phoebe fainted? Is she okay?’ Ken asked.

‘I didn’t take her out—we had a cool drink to talk about work and, yes, Dad, Phoebe’s fine. The heat just got to her but I’m sure we won’t have a repeat once the air-con is up and running again. You might like to consider renovating the building in the not too distant future.’

He’d added that to change an obvious subject direction that he didn’t like.

‘I could do you a rebuild,’ Paul chipped in. ‘Bulldoze and start again. Prime real estate there, and I’ve been saying for years the old building has had its day.’

Ken looked stony-faced at his son-in-law, to end that line of conversation, and then turned back to Heath. ‘So, when my newest employee is conscious and upright, is she pretty?’

Heath looked around the table and realised they were all poised for his reply. ‘Yes, she’s pretty.’

Tilly smiled a self-satisfied smile, while Ken nodded to himself and Paul winked at his wife.

Heath saw the looks they gave each other and lowered his voice so that Oscar wouldn’t hear the adults’ conversation. ‘Just because I made mention of Phoebe’s appearance, don’t think for a minute that I’m interested in her. It was a response to a direct question. Don’t try and set us up. I don’t need anyone in my life, and if you try anything you’ll be short one staff member. Me. I’ll be on a plane back to Sydney faster than you can blink. Neither Oscar or I need anyone else in our lives.’

‘Are you sure about that?’ Tilly asked with a brazen look.

‘Yes. You know how I feel. It’s been just Oscar and me for the last five years. No woman has come into our lives.’

‘I know, but now Phoebe has. And you’ve already broken one of your unbreakable rules with her. No woman shall meet your son. Well, she has and he seems to like her.’

Just then the doorbell rang, and Heath stood up and walked briskly past the Christmas tree that Tilly had decorated that morning. It was the second time he had walked past it that evening, and both times he had looked at it only briefly and then looked away without making mention of it. He was still not able to face Christmas and all the trimmings. He doubted he ever would again. There was nothing that could make him enjoy the holiday season. He had tried and failed. Christmas was just too painful.

As he opened the door Oscar ran over to join him.

‘Hello, Phoebe!’ Oscar called out excitedly before Heath had a chance to greet her. ‘Aunty Tilly has cooked lots of food, so I hope you’re hungry.’

‘Hello, Oscar,’ she replied, and smiled at his toothy grin and cheeky smile before he ran off, allowing her to lift her gaze to greet Heath. ‘Hello.’

Heath drew a deep breath. Phoebe looked gorgeous. She wore a deep blue halter dress. Her skin was pale against the fabric and looked like delicate porcelain, and her hair was falling in soft curls around her shoulders. Her beauty was not lost on him.

‘Hi, Phoebe—come in.’

He moved back from the doorway and as she stepped inside he couldn’t help but notice as she brushed past him that the back of her dress was cut low and revealed even more of her bare skin. His pulse instantly, and against his will, picked up speed.

‘Phoebe,’ Tilly said as she opened her arms to greet her dinner guest. ‘So lovely you could make it. It’s only casual, but I thought you could meet Dad and chat over a bite to eat since he was feeling a little left out.’

‘It’s my pleasure—thank you so much for inviting me,’ she said, and then, spying the huge Christmas tree, she couldn’t help but comment. ‘That is a gorgeous tree, Tilly. Christmas truly is my favourite time of year.’

The two women walked into the dining room and on their way Phoebe gave her hostess some chocolates she had brought as a thank-you gift. Heath followed, and after hearing the Christmas comment realised that he and Phoebe had less in common than he’d first thought. She was a professional woman, and he had hoped she wouldn’t be the nostalgic type. Apparently, he’d been wrong.

He couldn’t deny to himself that Phoebe was stunning, and in that dress desirable, but he wasn’t looking for a woman to share his life the way his family thought he should. And one night with Phoebe in his bed wouldn’t work any way he looked at it. It would only complicate his life on so many levels, and that was something he didn’t need.

As they entered the dining room, Ken was chatting with Paul.

‘The simple joy of enjoying a pale ale any time I like is my compensation for not being able to operate. But believe me, I would prefer to have the use of my gammy knee than to be sitting around all day,’ Ken said, then paused as he caught sight of Phoebe. ‘Please excuse my bad manners and not standing to meet you,’ he continued with an outstretched hand. ‘I’m Ken Rollins, and you must be Dr Phoebe Johnson.’

Phoebe stepped closer to Ken and met his handshake. ‘Yes, I’m Phoebe, and I’m very happy to finally meet you.’

Ken was impressed with the grip in her handshake. ‘For a slender woman you have a strong handshake. But then you’re a surgeon, so a strong and steady grip is a prerequisite for our shared field of medicine.’

Phoebe wasn’t sure how to react, so she smiled.

‘Please—sit down, I didn’t mean to embarrass you. And sit next to me. I want to hear everything about you that wasn’t written down on your incredibly impressive résumé. I’m sure there’s lots to know.’

‘Fire away,’ she managed to return as she took her seat at the table, hoping his questions would be broad enough to avoid the awkward moments in her recent history.

Tilly began handing the platters of food around and soon everyone was filling their plates, while Paul put the children’s food on their picnic blanket for them to share, then returned to join the adults.

‘So why Adelaide?’ Ken asked as he took a serving of Greek salad, ensuring there was plenty of feta cheese and olives on his plate.

‘The chance to work with you,’ Phoebe replied. ‘I read your most recent paper on improvements to prescribed orthotic devices to control motion and position of the leg during locomotion and I think your work is outstanding. The chance to have you mentor me was too good to pass up.’

‘Well, I must say that is lovely to hear, and I look forward to working with you once my knee is tickety-boo again,’ he told her, with a hint of pride in his expression. ‘So tell me about your family. I picked up from our correspondence that your father works at the White House.’

Ken reached for another shashlik and held the plate so that Phoebe could take one as well.

‘Yes, he’s an advisor to the President. He’s been in the world of politics for over nineteen years. He was in international banking before that.’

‘And you weren’t tempted to follow him into the political arena?’ Heath cut in.

‘Not at all. You see, you’re right—it’s an arena, and that’s why I wouldn’t do it. Sometimes it’s great, but at other times it seems like a fight to the death. I’d rather be repairing bodies than ripping apart political opponents and their policies.’

‘Touché,’ Ken replied with a huge smile.

‘Still, it must be an interesting lifestyle,’ Tilly commented. ‘Do you visit the White House often?’

‘Now and then. But my place is the other side of town, nearer to the hospital. I just hear about it when I visit or call my parents.’

‘I suppose it would be a little like the emergency department of a hospital—with everyone rushing frantically and everything code blue,’ Tilly replied.

Phoebe smiled at her. ‘You’re not too far wrong with that analogy. It’s like everything needs to be delivered or decided yesterday. I would most certainly go mad. My father, however, loves a challenge—he sees the big picture and the changes that need to be made for the disadvantaged and most particularly those with intergenerational problems.’

‘And your mother? What does she do?’ Ken asked between bites.

‘Anything and everything social. Fundraising committees, women’s political auxiliaries—pretty much anything that she believes helps with my father’s career. Along with her bridge club.’

‘So why did you choose medicine?’ Ken asked. ‘With a father in politics and, for want of a better word, a socialite mother, why did you choose to specialise in podiatric surgery?’

‘My best friend Susy’s mother had an accident driving us to school when I was fourteen …’ Phoebe began.

Feeling a little parched from answering all the questions, took a sip of her cold drink before she continued.

‘Anyway, she broke her heel and I was there when the paramedics took her by ambulance to the hospital. Susy and I had both been strapped in the back of the car and didn’t suffer even a scratch. I visited her mother in hospital a few times with Susy, and I became curious and started asking the nurses questions. Then one day her podiatric surgeon came in. I asked him all about the operation and he went into great detail with me and that was it. I knew what I wanted to do with my life.’

‘I’m impressed that you knew at such a young age—’

‘I think that we should let poor Phoebe eat,’ Tilly cut in. ‘She’s been grilled and she’s passed with flying colours, Dad, so now she gets fed and watered.’

They all smiled, and then chatted about themselves so Phoebe could enjoy the delicious dinner Tilly had prepared and also get to know the family.

Everyone but Heath told her something about themselves and their lives. Heath stayed quiet, and Phoebe noticed his jaw clench more than a few times as they talked about Oscar as a baby. It was obvious to Phoebe that it had been a difficult time for him. But why exactly she wasn’t sure, and they all clearly avoided the topic of Oscar’s mother.

‘Do you want to look at the stars?’ Oscar suddenly asked Phoebe as she sat waiting for Heath to bring a drink out to the patio, where everyone had moved after dinner to enjoy the balmy evening.

‘Do you have a telescope?’

‘No, but we can lie on the grass and look up and see them. That’s one of my favourite things to do at night. Grandpa knows lots about stars.’

Phoebe thought it was a lovely idea, and very sweet of Oscar to extend the invitation for her to join him. She stepped out of her shoes and followed him to a patch of lawn just near the patio, where they both lay down on the grass and looked up at the stars twinkling in the ebony sky. The cool ground beneath her bare skin felt wonderful.

‘That’s the saucepan. Can you see it? You have to draw a line between the big star—up there—and the others—just there—and it looks like a saucepan,’ he said, pointing his tiny finger straight up in the air. ‘And it has a handle too.’

‘I can see it,’ she responded as she looked to where he pointed.

They both lay staring at the perfect night sky and Oscar talked with lightning speed about everything his grandfather had told him. Phoebe was impressed with all he had retained, and his interest in astronomy.

‘Perhaps you might grow up and study the stars,’ she said. ‘That would make you an astronomer.’

‘I think I might visit them instead.’

‘So you want to be an astronaut?’

‘Yes. That would be more fun than just looking at them.’ Heath stood in the doorway to the patio and looked out at the two of them, lying in the dark on the lawn, talking. He had no idea what they were saying but he could hear their animated chatter. He felt a tug at his heart, thinking that his wife had missed out on doing just that. And that Oscar had missed out on those important long talks with his mother.

They had both been cheated. And even though his pain lessened with every passing year he wondered if Oscar’s would grow as he realised what he had lost.

“You know, Phoebe’s nothing like I imagined,’ Ken said softly when he saw Heath in the doorway with Phoebe’s drink.

Heath agreed with his father’s sentiments but he would not let him know. He wouldn’t let any family member know, for fear of them trying to make a spark ignite between them. He had found her to be sweet when they’d first met, sexy at the pool, and looking at her now, lying beside his son, he was discovering she was apparently maternal—but that wasn’t a combination he wanted. He preferred sexy with no strings attached, for one-night stands that could never break his heart. Or impact on his son.

‘I think we should probably get going,’ he said to his father. ‘I need to get Oscar to bed—and you as well, Dad.’

‘Don’t fuss about getting me to bed, son,’ Ken told him as he watched Oscar and Phoebe. ‘I’m quite enjoying the company and I’m not that old yet. But, having said that, I imagine young Oscar might be getting tired after a day out.’

‘Let him spend the night with us,’ Tilly offered as she stepped outside and was pleasantly surprised to see her nephew relaxing on the lawn with Phoebe. ‘Then we can get up early and have a swim before it gets hot. I think he’s a little lonely over at Dad’s. I can do some things with him that you—’

‘That I can’t do because they are things only a mother can do?’

‘No, Heath. Not even close,’ Tilly replied in a gentle tone. ‘You’re doing an amazing job with Oscar. He’s adorable and polite and I love him to bits—you know that. But it’s hard with you working long hours, and Dad can’t do anything while he’s laid up, so I thought I’d help out and do something fun while you’re stepping in for Dad. Stop being so hard on yourself.’

‘I’m not being hard—I’m a realist, and I think Oscar is out of his routine over here. He probably misses his nanny and preschool. Once he gets back to Sydney he’ll be fine again.’

‘I’m sure you’re right. But in the meantime let me have him for a day.’

‘Tilly’s enjoying having you both in Adelaide,’ Paul added. ‘And I’m sure she wants to make the most of it. It doesn’t happen often enough.’

‘Absolutely,’ Tilly agreed. ‘Check with Oscar and see if he’s up for it …’

‘Up for what?’ Oscar and Phoebe had left their observation spot on the lawn and walked up quietly without the others noticing.

‘A sleepover and a day with us tomorrow.’

‘Sure am—then I can go swimming with Aunty Tilly in the morning. Can I, Daddy, please?’

‘Well, I guess the decision has been made,’ Heath said, not having expected Oscar to jump at the idea of a sleepover so quickly. He’d thought they were joined at the hip, but perhaps that tie was loosening. And maybe he did need to let Tilly mother him now and then.

‘Do you want to sleep over too, Phoebe? And Daddy could too?’

Heath’s eyes widened in surprise at Oscar’s invitation to both of them.

Phoebe smiled. ‘That’s very kind of you, but I have to go home to my own bed and my pyjamas.’

‘I sleep in my T-shirt and jocks in summer,’ Oscar cut in, with a serious tone in his little voice. ‘You could do the same.’

They all smiled at Oscar’s matter-of-fact response—well, everyone bar Heath. He was still thinking about the void in his son’s life that was becoming more and more obvious. It was one that he’d thought he had managed to fill.

‘Perhaps another time,’ Phoebe said politely, thinking that there was no way she would be stripping down to her underwear for a sleepover with Heath.

Tilly tried not to laugh as she hugged her nephew and, looking at his food-stained T-shirt, she directed a request to Heath. ‘Could you drop off some fresh clothes tomorrow morning in case we want to go out?’

Still deep in thought, he responded, ‘Sure—as long as you’re sure it’s not too much trouble for him to stay?’

‘Not at all,’ Tilly said as she picked up Oscar and put him on her lap. ‘Early-morning swim for you and me, Oscar—and, Phoebe, if you’re not doing anything please come over and join us for a swim.’

Phoebe was surprised at how warm and welcoming the family was, and was very quickly feeling at home, but she declined, thinking that perhaps the offer was Tilly just being courteous.

Heath looked at his sister and then back at Phoebe without saying a word, then he kissed his son goodnight and walked out to the car. He was glad Phoebe had not accepted. She was becoming too close to his family too quickly. And starting to get under his skin a little too. He understood why she was a perfect fit for his family, with her down-to-earth personality, quick wit and sense of fun. He was also very aware that those same traits combined with her beauty were making her far too desirable to him. And he didn’t like it.

She could leave at any minute, and that wouldn’t be fair to Oscar. He didn’t want him to grow close to a person who would walk away. He needed to protect his son from that pain. And, more than that, he didn’t want their life to change.

‘I will see you in the morning,’ he called out before he drove away, with his father and Phoebe in the car.

The sun was setting as the three of them drove through the city to Phoebe’s home. Each one was thinking about the same thing. How quickly and naturally Phoebe was seeming to fit into their lives. Ken was thrilled; Phoebe was surprised—Heath was more worried than he had been in a very long time …




CHAPTER SIX (#uac37a972-452e-56b1-a828-7026e8ac2f2f)


HEATH WOKE AT four and lay staring out his window to the dark sky that was softly lit by a haze-covered moon. He knew the warm air outside would be heavy and still. He rolled onto his back and lifted his arms above his head and thought back over the previous two days, since Phoebe had fallen into his arms.

He didn’t want to be thinking about her—and especially not at four in the morning, lying in bed—but her face wouldn’t leave his mind. When Phoebe had been close to him—close enough for him to smell the scent that rested delicately on her skin and close enough to see the sparkle in her beautiful green eyes—he had struggled to remember why he didn’t want a woman in his life on any permanent basis.

But that was something he had to remember. Particularly now.

His life had begun to change since he’d arrived back in Adelaide.

He had worried for a little while that the life he had built with his son, just the two of them, might not be enough for Oscar one day. And he feared now that that day was almost upon him. But he didn’t want to lose control. Once before he had lost control of a situation—lost his wife and almost lost his mind. He wouldn’t let it happen again. He needed to remain in control and not blindly accept change.

And he couldn’t accept Phoebe as the catalyst for that change.

He was more than concerned after seeing how comfortable the family had been with her. It was moving too fast for him. He had to put the brakes on the level of intimacy he thought they were all building with her. It needed to stop immediately. The air-conditioning repairman had notified him that the work was completed at the practice and while there were no patients booked in until the next day, he would send Phoebe a message just after nine and ask her to call into the practice to go over the patient notes. That would serve his purpose.

He needed to remind her why she was there—and it wasn’t to grow close to any member of his family, and particularly not his son. It was a relationship he didn’t want to see develop and risk it being torn apart when they headed back to Sydney and Phoebe headed back to her home country.

Phoebe woke early, picked up the paper and was halfway through the crossword when she got the call just after eight.

‘Hi, Phoebe—it’s Tilly. Would you like to jump in a cab and have breakfast by the pool with us? I’d pick you up, but by the time I load the diaper gang you could already be here.’

‘I’m not sure …’ She hesitated to accept the invitation. ‘This is your time with Oscar. I don’t want to infringe on that.’

‘Nonsense. I would love to chat to another adult. Away from the surgery my days are filled with nursery rhymes and potty-training, and Oscar could do with another set of eyes on him while he’s in the pool. It is hard with three of them, and my stomach is in a knot trying to keep a watch over them all. At their age it’s a bit like herding cats.’

‘Well, if you’re sure I can help, I’d love to.’

‘It’s settled, then,’ Tilly said. “See you soon—and don’t forget your swimsuit.’

Half an hour later Phoebe was alighting from a cab at Tilly’s home and a very happy little boy was opening the front door before she’d even reached the doorbell. He was wearing his swimsuit, dry flippers and goggles on the top of his head.

‘Hi, Phoebe! Have you got your bathers?’

‘Bathers?’ she asked as she walked up the paved entrance towards him.

‘He means swimsuit,’ Tilly said as she invited Phoebe inside. ‘In Australia we call a swimsuit bathers. You’ll get used to our funny expressions soon enough.’

Phoebe smiled at her hostess, then turned her attention to Oscar, ‘Yes, I have my bathers—so I hope you’re wanting to swim, because in this weather I do!’

Phoebe didn’t hear the three text messages from Heath because she was splashing in the pool with his son, and Melissa and Jasmine were excitedly screaming from the sidelines behind the child-safe fence, blocking out all other sounds. Oscar’s floating armbands were in place but Phoebe didn’t let him go for even a second. They’d had a lovely morning, stopping only for some juice and freshly cut fruit, after which Oscar walked Phoebe around the garden, collecting insects in his bug catcher.

‘I only keep them for a few hours, then I let them go back to their daddies … and their mummies. I think some of them have mummies too.’

‘I’m sure some of them have both, and some just have a mummy or a daddy,’ Phoebe said, then fell silent as he continued walking, collecting and talking.

Oscar suddenly seemed very deep in thought for a five-year-old, and it worried Phoebe a little.

‘My mummy died when I was very little.’

Phoebe felt herself stiffen as he delivered this news. ‘I’m sorry to hear that, Oscar.’ She paused to gain some composure as her heart went out to the little boy. ‘I’m sure she’s looking over you every day.’

Phoebe had not considered the prospect that Heath might be a widower. She wasn’t sure why it hadn’t occurred to her, but now she knew it did go part way to explaining why he was such a serious man, who appeared only to lighten up around his son. Losing his wife and the mother of his child would have been a life-altering tragedy.

‘I was very little. I couldn’t talk or walk and I don’t remember her. But I know her name was—’

‘Hello, you two.’

Heath’s deep voice suddenly called from the back door, interrupting their conversation and making them both turn abruptly.

Phoebe felt her stomach drop. Then it lifted, and then spun as her heart fluttered nervously. She’d thought she had her reactions to Heath under control, but suddenly she discovered she didn’t.

But she had to.

Somehow.

‘Hello, Daddy!’

‘Hi, Heath.’

Heath quickly crossed to them and dropped to his knees. ‘I’m sorry, Oscar, but I’m going to have to take Phoebe to work with me.’

‘But we’re having fun, Daddy, and I want her to stay. She showed me how to swim like a bug and …’

‘Swim like a bug?’ Heath asked, turning to Phoebe with a curious look on his face.

‘The butterfly stroke,’ Phoebe said as she looked at this man whom she now knew had suffered the tragedy of losing his wife. It did put a different filter on the way she saw him, but she didn’t want him to know that. He seemed too stoic to want pity—in fact she suspected pity would drive him into a darker place.

Despite what she now knew she didn’t want it to colour her feelings towards him. She wasn’t looking for love and he was obviously still grieving. Although she was grateful for the insight, as she would understand his motives a little better and make their working relationship easier. She just had to get her emotions under control. And he was dressed again, as he had been the night before, so it made it easier to concentrate.

‘How did you know I was here?’ she asked, trying to mask how sad she felt for them both. And how equally drawn she was to the father and son.

‘Well, you didn’t answer your phone, so on the off-chance that my sister had convinced you to visit I called her and she said you were swimming with Oscar. Unfortunately I’ll have to cut that short and ask you to head back to the surgery with me.’

‘Like this?’ She looked down at her swimsuit covered by a sarong. She had chosen not to wear her bikini that day, and had slipped the one-piece swimsuit under her sarong before she’d left her house. ‘But if the air-conditioning isn’t running maybe this is the right thing to be wearing.’ She tried to be lighthearted. Friendly. At ease. Everything she wasn’t feeling.

Heath had tried not to look at her body, but he couldn’t help but notice how stunning she looked. He definitely didn’t want to be alone with her at the practice in the outfit she was barely wearing.

‘Perhaps not,’ he replied, trying to avert his eyes from her petite curves. ‘I can drop you home to change, if you’d like.’

A little while later, after a quick stop at her house for a change of clothes, they sat reading through the patient notes in the cool surgery. The newly repaired and efficiently running air-conditioner was working perfectly, but Phoebe had the distinct feeling that this activity wasn’t really essential. They were straightforward records that could easily have been read through prior to her meeting with each patient.

She wondered if it wasn’t so much her being at the practice that was important but perhaps more her not being at Tilly’s house with Oscar. She wasn’t sure why but she said nothing, and continued to concentrate for the next two hours on the records that Heath was explaining in great detail.

Occasionally she would glance at the man across from her. His chiselled jaw, with a light covering of stubble, was tense. There was no half-smile. She realised there was no chance of a full smile and she knew why. Despite her resolve to keep it professional, still she felt her heart pick up speed a little when their eyes met by accident. And at that time, they both paused for only a moment in silence. She didn’t know how he was feeling or what he was thinking but there was something Heath was keeping to himself.

And she suspected it was his heart.

Finally she left to go home. It was a short walk, and she wanted the time to clear her head. She now knew that Heath was still suffering from the loss of his wife and although she also knew that Oscar had been little when his mother had died she wasn’t sure exactly how long ago it had happened. Three years? Four years? Even five?

But there was one other thing she knew. Heath must have loved his wife very much, and if it had been half as much as he clearly loved Oscar then, although her life had been cut short, his wife had been a very lucky woman to have known that deep a love and commitment. It was something that Phoebe knew she had never experienced. And probably never would.

‘Why don’t you guys move here permanently?’ Tilly asked, sitting down and pouring herself a cold soft drink after dropping Oscar back at her father’s later that day. Paul had arrived at her home to mind the twins for a little while. ‘I adore Oscar, and I’d love Mels and Jazzy to grow up with their big cousin to keep the boys at bay. I think it makes complete sense.’

‘My thoughts exactly,’ Ken agreed, while admiring the stunning violet and red hues of the setting sun. The lighting provided a canvas for the silhouettes of the towering gum trees that surrounded his home and the scent of eucalyptus floated in the night air.

But Heath didn’t notice anything. He could still remember the scent of Phoebe, sitting so close to him at work, could see her beautiful face, and nothing he did was successful at pushing those images from his mind. He could vaguely hear the mutterings of his father and his sister, but none of it registered. His mind was consumed by thoughts of Phoebe and he felt uneasy. Her sweetness. Her sincerity. She had stumbled into his world and into his arms quite literally, and for some inexplicable reason he couldn’t shake her from his thoughts. But he wouldn’t break another rule. He had to ignore this fleeting infatuation.

Heath came back to the conversation to see two sets of eyes on him, seeking answers. He didn’t like the fact that a family inquisition was developing on the back porch because there was another one going on in his mind and one was more than enough to endure. Two would certainly send him crazy.

‘The air-con is now working and that’s all that matters. Let’s leave it at that. Phoebe is a surgeon, in town to meet the terms of her employment contract. And, by the way, Tilly, she can’t be your babysitter.’

‘My babysitter? That’s a little unfair. She knows no one, and she was alone in her house, and I thought she’d enjoy a swim and a chat. And, FYI, Oscar totally commandeered her for the better part of two hours and that was not my plan—it was his.’

‘Well, I’m here only until Dad’s knee mends. End of story. So I hope Oscar doesn’t get comfortable with the current arrangements. It’s all only temporary.’

With that Heath stood up and went inside to find his son. Reading him a story was always a highlight of his day, but that night it would also serve as his avenue of respite from the barrage of questions about Phoebe.

And for a short while it might also silence those inside his head.

‘I like Phoebe,’ Oscar told his father as he went to turn out the light. ‘She’s neat.’

‘As in tidy?’

‘Daddy, you’re being silly. Not tidy. She’s fun—and she makes you happy too.’

Heath was taken aback by his son’s words. ‘What do you mean by that?’

‘Well, I saw you smile. You don’t smile very much. I always thought you were sad, but now that Phoebe comes over you’re happy more. That makes me happy too. It’s almost like we’re a family—like Aunty Tilly and Uncle Paul.’

Phoebe called London after she’d eaten her takeaway dinner. She wanted to chat with Susy and hoped with the time difference that while it was evening in Adelaide she would catch her young barrister friend before she left in the morning for court in London.

‘Phoebs, how are you?’

‘I’m great—how are you, Susy? And how’s work? Anything interesting that you can talk about?’

‘I’ll put you on loud speaker—trying to finish my make-up before I rush out the door.’

‘If it’s not a good time I’ll try another day,’ Phoebe said as she rested back into the three soft white pillows on her bed.

The ceiling fan was moving the air above her and Phoebe had opened a window on the approaching darkness. She knew she would be in air-conditioning all of the next day and she wanted to sleep with fresh air, even if it was a little warm.

‘No, I’m good to talk. Nothing to report. There was a guilty verdict in the grand theft case, which I was thrilled about, and today I’m selecting the jury for a new IT case. Possession of data with intent to commit a serious offence. Same old, same old.’ Susy laughed. ‘I do love my job. We’ve been securing a high percentage of convictions lately, so it makes it all worthwhile. Unfortunately there’s never a shortage of bad guys needing to be put away. But let’s forget about me—how are you on your adventure Down Under?’

‘It’s hot—melting hot, to be accurate.’

‘Well, I don’t feel even a teeny bit sorry for you, if that’s what you’re hoping for. I spent last night in my Wellingtons, overcoat and scarf, shovelling snow off my car in case I need it in an emergency. I’ll take the Underground into London again today. So, my sister from another mother, stop complaining—’cos while you’re over there, getting a suntan, I’m warding off frostbite!’

Both women laughed.

Then Susy’s voice became momentarily stern. ‘Seriously, Phoebs, has the creep left you alone? And your mother—is she finally coming to terms with the fact that Niles won’t be a member of the family?’

‘It’s Giles …’

‘I know … but I prefer to disrespect him at every opportunity, and forgetting his name is a start.’

‘I promise he’s out of the picture completely. Mother is still not convinced, but I’ve given up on telling her that cheating is a deal-breaker.’

‘Absolutely,’ Susy agreed, in her prosecuting barrister tone. ‘Guilty, charged and dumped. I do wish there was a way to lock him and those tarts away. Pity there’s no legal avenue to put the lot of them behind bars and throw away the key.’

‘In a perfect world there would be, but I’m trying not to think about him any more. Just onwards and upwards. I’m starting work tomorrow with … Heath.’ Phoebe stumbled over his name.

‘I thought you were working with Ken Rollins? Who’s Heath?’

‘His son, actually. Ken needed emergency knee reconstruction. His son’s a podiatric surgeon too, so he’s stepped in to help out for the next few weeks.’

‘I hope you’re not disappointed? I know you were really excited to be working with Ken.’

This was now the third time she had been asked and still her answer remained the same. Disappointed, no … confused, yes … and now she was feeling a little melancholy about what had made Heath the man he was.

‘I was looking forward to working with Ken, but I’m sure Heath will be an equally good operator.’

‘So good to hear you back to your old optimistic self, Phoebs. I’d love to chat and hear all about Heath, but I have to dash. The Underground waits for no one,’ Susy said. ‘Hope sonny-boy is not too nerdy or dull—but it’s only for a few weeks. Talk tomorrow. I’ll call you.’

With that, Suzy hung up.

Nerdy? I wish … Dull? Not in anyone’s book. In fact she had to admit that Heath seemed perfect … if a little battle worn.

Heath arrived at the practice early the next morning. He had a surgical list beginning at one, with two post-operative patients and two new patients in the morning. Phoebe’s day was light—three morning patients and two in the afternoon. Heath had arranged it that way to allow her to settle in.

Generally December was not busy, as most patients delayed non-urgent treatment, particularly surgery, until after the busy holiday season. By the time her patient numbers increased Heath knew he would be back in Sydney and his father would be back on deck.

‘Good morning,’ Tilly greeted her brother as she dropped her bag behind the desk. ‘Loving the cool air in here.’

‘It’s great, isn’t it? Not sure the landlord will be thrilled when he sees the invoice, but it’s worth every penny.’

‘Dad owns the building. He’s the landlord.’

Heath laughed. ‘Yes—and hopefully I’ll be back in Sydney when he gets the bill in the mail. I had it completely overhauled and replaced the motor.’

‘I think he can cover it.’

‘Not sure about that, since he has the most expensive receptionist in the country.’

Tilly rolled her eyes and smiled. ‘You’re in fine form today, Heath. Be nice to your sister or I’ll walk out—and then you’ll be lost without my administrative wizardry.’ Heath headed back to his consulting room, and on the way checked that everything had been prepared for Phoebe. Her patient list was all in order. He had set up her log-in details for the computer and given her access to the database with the patient notes. The room was spotless. Although he refused to admit it to himself, he wanted to impress her.

‘Hi, Phoebe,’ Heath heard his sister say cheerily from the other end of the practice.

‘Hi, Tilly,’ Phoebe replied. She stepped inside, feeling apprehensive and nervous, as if it was the first day at school. ‘It’s a lot cooler than a couple of days ago in here.’

‘Hopefully we can avoid doctors and patients fainting,’ Heath said as he walked briskly down the corridor and into the waiting room.

‘Good morning, Heath.’

‘I’ll show you to your consulting room.’

Phoebe could sense that he had slipped back into his cool demeanour again, but he wasn’t quite as cold and she did not take it personally.

‘I’ll try not to faint on the way,’ she said, in an attempt to lighten the mood.

Heath smirked, but because he was leading the way Phoebe didn’t see. Her view was his broad shoulders, slim hips and the long stride he was taking. And, despite not wanting to notice, it was the best damn view she had seen in days. In fact the last time she had seen anything so impressive was in the very same man at the pool.

‘Nancy Wilson?’ Phoebe called into the waiting room.

A young woman stood up and followed Phoebe into her consulting room, hobbling a little and clearly in pain.

Phoebe closed the door. ‘Let me introduce myself, Nancy. I’m Dr Phoebe Johnson and I’ve stepped in to help Dr Ken Rollins for the next few months. Please take a seat.’ Phoebe had briefly read the patient’s notes and was aware of her medical history of chronic heel pain. ‘I see you have undergone some reconstructive treatments with Dr Rollins.’

‘Yes, but it hasn’t made a permanent improvement.’

‘I see. Did you find any of them had long-lasting benefits? I know it was more invasive, but was the plasma therapy successful from your perspective? Or did you prefer the low-intensity shock wave treatment?’

‘Both were good—but only short term. I’m an ice skater. I hope to compete for Australia in Switzerland in nine months, so I need to be back on my feet and out of pain to train in Europe and then compete. At the moment it feels like there’s a pebble in my left shoe when I walk. On really bad days it’s like a shard of glass.’

‘They are common descriptions of the problem. Please come over to the examination table and I’ll have a look,’ Phoebe said, and assisted the young woman to the narrow table against the far wall. She moved a small step into place with her foot to help Nancy climb up onto the bed. ‘I appreciate you’ve tried the conservative approach, and to be honest, Nancy, sometimes after all else fails there’s no choice but to choose corrective surgical treatment.’

Phoebe eased the soft boot and sock from the woman’s left foot and then, slipping on surgical gloves, began her examination. Although the conservative restorative treatments to increase blood flow and break up scar tissue had assisted temporarily with pain management, Phoebe decided that surgery was the only option.

‘Unfortunately your plantar fasciitis has not improved with past treatments, and your ice skating training has, according to your notes, been compromised for a number of months now.’

‘Yes, I do train, but only for short periods, and then I require ice, cortisone, and when all else fails codeine to manage the pain—and then I lie in bed for hours some days.’

‘Heavy doses of pain relief or cortisone are not long-term options for anyone, but particularly not at your age, Nancy. Nor is being incapacitated in bed an option for an athlete. Your condition is almost epidemic in the United States, with one in ten people suffering from varying degrees of heel pain from scar tissue, and it appears this approach is no longer viable for you, considering your lifestyle. We’ll need to proceed to the next level on your treatment plan, so you can move forward with your career.’

‘Surgery is fine by me. I just want to get it over and finished and get back on my feet—literally.’

Phoebe gently put the sock and soft boot back on the young woman and helped her down from the examination table. She explained the risks of surgery, confirmed that Nancy was in general good health and a suitable patient for surgery, and then walked her out to the front desk for Tilly to make the hospital arrangements and for Nancy to sign the consent forms.

Heath had just seen off his first patient for the day, and was at the reception desk checking up on a late arrival.

‘Were you part of the medical team assisting the disabled athletes at the international games last year?’ Nancy asked Phoebe as they waited for Tilly to check the surgical roster at the Eastern Memorial, where Phoebe would be operating.

‘Yes, I was—but how did you know? The games weren’t held in Australia.’

‘My older brother Jason’s a weightlifter. He lives in Detroit with his wife and baby daughter,’ Nancy continued as she offered Tilly her credit card for the consultation payment. ‘He suffers from congenital amputation of his left leg below the knee, and he had a similar issue to me with his right heel the night before his heat. I remember he told me about a consultation he had with Dr Phoebe Johnson, the podiatric surgeon with the American team. Once I heard your accent I assumed that there couldn’t be two of you in the same specialty.’

‘No—not that I’m aware of anyway,’ Phoebe replied as she finished signing the notes so Tilly could book surgery the following week. She turned back to Nancy. ‘Being involved with the teams was a wonderful experience. Can you please give my best to Jason? If I remember correctly he won a medal—was it silver?’

‘Yes, and he was thrilled to win it. He swore that if it wasn’t for you and the treatment you provided to alleviate the pain he would have pulled out and wasted almost four years of training.’

Heath walked back to his office, unavoidably impressed with this experience that Phoebe had kept close to her chest and not put on her CV. She was even more unforthcoming than him!

He wondered what else he didn’t know about his temporary associate. And he still wondered if this small inner-city practice would prove enough of a challenge for her …

The morning was steady, and by lunchtime Heath was preparing to leave for his afternoon surgical list at the Eastern Memorial. Aware that Phoebe’s last patient for the morning had left, he knocked on the open door of Phoebe’s consulting room.

‘Come in, Tilly.’

Heath paused. ‘It’s not Tilly.’

Phoebe turned from her computer screen, where she was reading through the notes for her first afternoon patient.

‘Sorry, Heath—come in.’

With only fifteen minutes before he had to leave for the hospital, he wanted to catch up and see how her morning had progressed. And he just wanted to see her but couldn’t admit that even to himself.

Before he had a chance to open his mouth, Tilly knocked on the door.

‘This time it has to be Tilly,’ Phoebe remarked as she watched Heath cross his arms across his broad chest.

‘Yep, you’re running out of alternative suspects now.’

Phoebe smiled, then asked Tilly to join them.

‘Sorry to interrupt, Phoebe, but your afternoon patients have both cancelled due to the extreme weather,’ Tilly told her. ‘So it looks like you’ve got the afternoon off.’

‘Oh, no. That’s disappointing,’ Phoebe said, slumping into her chair and not masking her feelings. ‘I feel so guilty, being here and doing nothing.’ She had a strong work ethic and that made sitting around seem a complete waste of time for her and a waste of money for the practice. ‘I’ve had more time off since I arrived than I’ve worked.’

Heath considered her for a moment and then came up with a suggestion. ‘I have an idea to appease your misguided sense of guilt. Why don’t you assist me in Theatre over at the Eastern Memorial this afternoon? I have three on the surgical list and I could do with an extra set of hands—but we’d need to leave immediately.’

Phoebe sat bolt-upright and answered with an unhesitating, ‘Yes!’ as she reached for her bag. ‘Let’s go … I’m all yours.’

Heath nodded, but his body abruptly reminded him that if his life had played out differently and Phoebe really was all his there would be far more pleasurable things he would do with her that afternoon.




CHAPTER SEVEN (#uac37a972-452e-56b1-a828-7026e8ac2f2f)


THE SCRUB NURSE greeted Heath as he prepared for the first patient.

‘Abby, we have Phoebe Johnson, a podiatric surgeon from Washington, joining us this afternoon,’ Heath announced as he turned off the tap with his foot and shook the water from his hands into the scrub room trough.

‘Hi, Phoebe, welcome aboard.’

‘Pleased to meet you, Abby.’

Phoebe slipped her freshly scrubbed hands inside some surgical gloves. Her long dark hair was in a flat bun and neatly secured inside a floral cap, and like the other two she was already dressed in sterile blue scrubs. They entered the theatre just as the patient was drifting off under anaesthesia.

‘So, today’s patient is a thirty-five-year-old professional skateboarder. He’s here for a lateral ankle ligament reconstruction. The ankle has not responded to non-surgical treatment and has been unstable for over six months,’ Heath informed the surgical team, including two observing third-year medical students as he began marking the stained sterile area. ‘Would you like to lead on this one, Phoebe?’

Phoebe was both flattered and pleased to be asked. Heath was a complex man, but a man who treated her as his equal, not only in words but in actions.

Quietly she declined. ‘I’d prefer to assist today. We can switch it around another time, perhaps.’

‘Certainly.’ Heath looked over his surgical mask at Phoebe for slightly longer than required before he averted his eyes back to the patient. ‘I routinely use the modified Brostrom procedure.’ He confidently made a J-shaped incision over the outside of the patient’s left ankle with his scalpel, identified the ankle ligaments and began the process of tightening them, using anchors that he placed on to the fibula bone.

Phoebe appreciated the way he led the students through the procedure by describing the steps clearly and precisely.

‘I’m stitching other tissue over the repaired ligaments to further strengthen the repair,’ he said as he continued, with Phoebe holding the incision open with forceps.

Phoebe had done many of these operations over the years. ‘That looks great, Heath. Very clean and tidy. I’ve had a few when I’ve needed to use tendons to replace the ligaments. I’ve woven a tendon into the bones around the ankle and held it in place with stitches, and occasionally a screw in the bone. I’ve utilised a patient’s own hamstring tendon before. But it made it a much longer operation as I had to take the hamstring tendon through a separate incision on the inside part of the knee.’

Heath nodded in agreement. ‘On more than one occasion I’ve needed to use a cadaver tendon and had to weave it into the fibula bone. There’s many ways to solve a problem like this, and as we know each has its merits.’

Phoebe and Heath worked together as if they had been operating as a team for years—or at the very least months. Their effortless collaboration would be deceptive to any external observers, who might not think that this was their first time together in the operating theatre. Phoebe was able to pre-empt Heath’s next move, and neither of them could deny their natural synchronisation.

‘That went well.’

Phoebe nodded her agreement with Heath’s statement as they scrubbed in for the second operation. Each was exceptionally happy with how well they’d worked together but not wanting to state the obvious.

They made a great team.

The afternoon progressed well, with the other two patients’ procedures completed successfully and on time. Phoebe felt a great deal of satisfaction working with such a skilful surgeon as Heath. His dexterity and knowledge in the field was second to none and, while she was confident in her own abilities, she felt there was still much she could learn from him.

After only a short time in the operating theatre with Heath she could see that he had a level of skill that must come close to his father’s. The knowledge Heath had casually and without ceremony imparted to her already was amazing, and she was excited for the next few weeks until he left for Sydney.

‘I really hope we can do this again.’ The words rushed from her lips with unbridled honesty as she removed her surgical gloves and cap.

Heath watched as her long dark hair tumbled free and fell over her shoulders. In the harsh theatre lights she still looked gorgeous, and he knew that in any lighting her stunning smile and sparkling eyes would bring a glow to the room.

‘I’d like that,’ he said, and again kept his eyes focused on her for a little longer than a casual glance.

Phoebe flinched and felt something tug at her heart. Was it pity for the man? Or desire? She wasn’t sure, but there was something stirring inside.

‘Would you like to grab some dinner? My way to say thank you for assisting in there this afternoon.’

Heath had surprised himself with the invitation, but he enjoyed spending time with Phoebe and it seemed a natural progression for the day. They had a professional connection, and he told himself it was nothing more than a dinner invitation to a colleague.

‘I’ll have to go out and eat anyway. Oscar will be eating at Tilly’s, and Dad will more than likely defrost a TV dinner, so I will need to pick up something or eat alone at a restaurant. You’ll be doing me a favour by sharing a table with me.’

‘If you put it that way …’ she replied.

‘That’s settled, then,’ Heath said as he left to change into his street clothes. ‘As you know, I have your address, so what say I pick you up at seven?’

‘Sounds perfect.’

‘I’ll put Oscar to bed early, since last night was a late one for him, then you and I can have a nice dinner somewhere—maybe even in the foothills. I’ll show you something of Adelaide. It should be a little cooler out tonight, so I’ll find a good alfresco restaurant.’

Phoebe walked into the female change room. There were two other young doctors also changing from their scrubs to day clothes, but they didn’t notice Phoebe and continued their conversation.

‘Did you know he’s back in town?’ an attractive redhead asked the other woman. ‘He’s been here for a week already.’

‘The doctor with the no second date rule?’ the blonde doctor replied as she ran a brush though her short bobbed hair, then put it back on the shelf and closed her locker. ‘Yes, I heard he came back last week and that he’s here for a month.’

‘I wonder how many hearts he’ll break in that time, with his hard and fast rules. And don’t forget the never meet his son rule. There was another one too, but I can’t think of it now.’

‘I think it’s to leave before the sun comes up.’

‘That’s right. Pity he’s so damned gorgeous—if he wasn’t he’d never get away with it.’

They both slammed shut their lockers. ‘But despite all that he doesn’t hide the rules. I hear he’s upfront with all the women he intends to bed. They all know what they’re getting into and not one has ever met his precious son. Dr Rollins is a player, but he’s an honest one.’

Almost two hours later there was a knock on Phoebe’s front door.

Thank God, she thought as she sprayed a light fragrance on her neck and wrists, that this wasn’t really a date. It had the makings of a date, and to others observing it might even look like a date, but to Phoebe it most certainly wasn’t a date. She wasn’t ready for anything close to a date. And after what she’d heard in the locker room she never would be. They would only ever be friends—because she had already met his son, so clearly he wasn’t thinking about bedding her.

Deep in thought, she smoothed her hands over her long white summer dress as she made her way from her room. The halter-style dress, cinched at the waist by a thin gold belt, was made of soft cotton that flowed as she moved. She wore simple flat gold sandals to match. Her hair fell in silky curls around her bare shoulders.

‘Hi, Phoebe,’ Heath greeted her as she opened the door.

‘Hi, Heath. Let me grab my bag and I’ll be right with you.’ She picked up her purse and keys and locked the door behind her as they left.

‘It’s a little cooler this evening, like I predicted, so I’ve left the top down to enjoy the fresh air on the drive but if you’d prefer I can put it up again.’

Phoebe looked past him to see his silver convertible sports car parked by her front gate. Then her gaze quickly returned to him. His white T-shirt was snug across his toned chest and he wore khaki trousers. A single, handsome medic with a sports car would be every woman’s dream. But not hers—not after what she’d heard.

She reached into her purse for a hair tie. ‘You can leave the top down,’ she said and she pulled her hair into a high ponytail.

Heath had to remind himself that he was doing the right thing and providing dinner for a colleague who had done a great job in Theatre that afternoon. And not that she was a woman whose company he was very much beginning to enjoy.

‘So, I thought we’d head up to Hahndorf for dinner. It’s a German town in the Adelaide Hills.’

‘Sounds lovely,’ she said as they walked to his car.

Heath held open the car door and, after lifting the flowing hem of her dress safely inside, closed and patted it, as if he had secured precious cargo. It did not go unnoticed by Phoebe and it made her feel torn—almost like jumping back out and telling him that it was a mistake and she wasn’t hungry.

The car suddenly felt a little like a sports version of a fairytale carriage, and she was not looking for Prince Charming—and by reputation he was far from that gallant. But he was in the car and the engine was running before she could muster an excuse.

‘Hahndorf—is that how you say it?’

‘Yes,’ he said, and moments later had pulled away from the kerb and into the traffic. ‘It’s about twenty minutes up the freeway. Something different—I hope you like it.’

As he said this he turned momentarily to see Phoebe look back at him with her warm brown eyes. She was a conundrum. He sensed so many layers to the woman who sat beside him, and one layer appeared to be a lack of trust. He wondered why. What had caused Phoebe to be outwardly happy and yet as distant as himself on a personal level?

Except around his son. She seemed to let her guard down around him very easily.

Had her heart been broken? he wondered as he entered the freeway and picked up speed.

The drive in the warm evening air was wonderful and their chatter was intermittent as Phoebe admired the scenery of the foothills.

‘It was a pity you didn’t bring our work to Tilly’s the other morning. We could have gone over the patient notes by the pool,’ Phoebe suddenly announced as he slowed a little to take the turn-off to Hahndorf.

Guilt slammed into Heath. ‘I thought it would be easier at the office,’ he said, clearing his throat. He had to keep it simple, when in fact it was so far from that.

Phoebe surveyed the scenery, dotted with massive gum trees that enveloped them as they drove into the quaint town. This evening would be a no-strings-attached walk in the park—or in this case a walk in a German town.

‘I’m looking forward to visiting this town and to eating authentic German cuisine. I’ve never had the opportunity to travel to Germany—or the time, to be honest—so this is my chance to sample it.’

Heath pulled into a restaurant car park. The breeze had picked up but there were no rain clouds, so he left the top of his car down. ‘There are great reviews about the food here, although I’ve not been. Tilly says it’s very nice.’

Heath looked down at his watch. Their dinner reservation was not until seven forty-five, so they had fifteen minutes to spare.

‘Would you like to walk for a few minutes? Take in the sights of the town? It’s not quite the size of New York, so fifteen minutes should have it covered.’

Phoebe turned to catch what she thought was a smile from Heath.

They walked along the narrow footpath and stepped inside the small antiquity shops still open for the tourist trade and window-shopped at those that had closed.

Heath was enjoying the time with Phoebe.

‘I think we can head back to the restaurant, if you’re ready,’ he told her as they stepped from a bric-a-brac shop where Phoebe had been admiring the vintage hand-embroidered tablecloths and runners. ‘The sauerkraut is probably primed to go.’

Phoebe laughed and followed his lead to the casual eatery, where the maître d’ showed them to a table outside and provided them with menus. There were lights strung up high across the alfresco dining area, and their small table had a lovely street view. She felt more relaxed the more she thought of Heath as a colleague. A very handsome colleague, who bedded other women but would never bed her.

‘I love that all the speciality dishes are served with creamy mustard potato bake, sauerkraut, red wine sauce and German mustard. It seems so authentic. Hahndorf really is Adelaide’s little Germany,’ Phoebe said as she looked over the menu.

Heath ordered a crisp white wine and some iced water while Phoebe tried to focus on the menu. It all looked wonderful, and there was a varied selection within the list of traditional German fare. Her mouth twisted a little from side to side as she carefully considered her options. Her finger softly tapped her bottom lip as she weighed up her decision.

Heath fell a little further under the spell she didn’t know she was casting—one he was finding it almost futile to ignore.

‘I think …’ She paused to reread, and then continued. ‘I think I would like the smoked Kassler chops, please.’

‘Sounds great. I’ll go with the Schweinshaxe—crispy skin pork hock is a favourite of mine.’

With that he signalled the waiter and placed their order. The waiter returned moments later with the drinks, before leaving them alone again.

Phoebe was staring at the people walking by and at the cars slowly moving down the single-lane road that meandered through the town. She was thinking about Washington, covered in snow, while she was enjoying a balmy evening in the foothills on the other side of the world.

‘A penny for your thoughts?’

‘It will cost you a quarter.’

‘A quarter of what?’

‘A quarter of a dollar.’

Heath rubbed the cleft in his chin and considered her terms. ‘Tell me honestly—are your thoughts right now worth twenty-five cents?’

‘I guess unless you pay up you’ll never know,’ Phoebe returned with a cheeky smile.

Heath decided to call her bluff and, reaching for his wallet, found a twenty-cent and a five-cent coin. He placed both on the table and pushed them towards her with lean strong fingers. ‘Well, your thoughts are officially mine now.’

‘I was thinking about Washington …’

‘International thoughts are always more expensive, so I can see why there was a price-hike from a penny to twenty-five cents,’ he teased. ‘So go on.’

Phoebe bit the inside of her lip. ‘That’s it.’

‘That’s it?’

‘Yep. I’m afraid you probably didn’t get your money’s worth after all,’ Phoebe said with her head at a tilt. ‘It was always going to be a gamble. When the stakes are high and you play big … sometimes you lose.’

Heath’s lips curved a little at her response. He suddenly had the feeling that spending time with Phoebe would never be a loss.

‘That was delicious—thank you so much.’

‘You’re most welcome,’ he replied as they made their way along the now darkened street.

Street lamps lit their way, but the sky was dark and dotted with sparkling stars. The breeze had picked up a little over the almost two hours they had spent eating and conversing, but it was refreshing, not cold, and it carried along with it the gentle wafts of eucalyptus and other native bushes.

Phoebe filled her lungs with the beautiful fresh air. Both had purposely steered the conversation away from their personal lives and discussed issues aligned to their careers.

‘We can head to my father’s home, if you like, to have a coffee with him.’ Heath wanted to prolong his time with Phoebe, but in a way that was safe for both of them.

‘Isn’t it a bit late to be calling on your father?’ she asked as they left the freeway and headed towards the city residence.

‘My father is a night owl. He has been for many years. He was always the last to bed. I remember coming home in the early hours of the morning sometimes, maybe from a pub crawl with uni friends, and he would still be up reading.’

‘And your mother didn’t mind?’

Heath drew a shallow breath. Although it had been a long time since his mother had died he still felt the loss.

‘My mother was killed in a light plane crash returning from Kangaroo Island. She was a social worker and had been over there consulting about issues with the high rate of school truancy. She was working on strategies to keep the children on the island engaged, and she called my father just before she boarded, very excited with the outcome. She told him that they had made significant progress and that she would tell him all about it when she arrived home. The plane went down ten minutes after take-off from Kingscote, in bad weather that had come in quickly.’

‘I’m so sorry to hear that.’ Phoebe’s hand instinctively covered her mouth for a moment. She felt her heart sink with the news he had just broken. That meant he had lost two women he had loved. That was a heavy burden to carry for any man.

‘How old were you at the time, Heath?’

‘Sixteen—so it will be twenty years this July since she was killed.’

The desolate expression on Phoebe’s face told Heath how she was feeling. She knew she had no words that could capture the depth of his sadness so she didn’t try to speak.

‘I think, to be honest, he has no reason to go to bed early any more. There’s no one waiting so he stays up late—unless he has an early surgery roster … then he goes to bed at a reasonable hour.’

‘And he’s never wanted to remarry?’

‘No. He and my mother were soul mates. He didn’t think he would find that again, so he never looked.’

‘That’s sad. There might have been someone just perfect …’ Phoebe replied—then realised that she was overstepping the mark, by commenting about someone else’s love-life when her own had been a disaster, and stopped.

‘Perhaps. But he’s never recovered from losing my mother. Some people never do. They just can’t move on.’

Phoebe wondered if Heath was the same as his father. Cut from the same cloth and faithful to the woman he had lost. Never having healed enough to be with someone else.

They travelled along in silence after that, until Heath pulled up at the front of the beautiful old sandstone villa that his father had called home for so many years, and where he was staying for just a few weeks. Standard white roses, eight bushes on each side, lined the pathway.

Someone must have been watering them in the extreme weather, Phoebe mused as she walked past them, tempted to touch the perfect white petals. Their delicate perfume hung in the night air. The front porch light was on and the home had a welcoming feel to it. It was as if there was a woman still living there, Phoebe thought as she made her way to the front door with Heath.

He unlocked it and they both stepped inside.

‘Hi, Dad, we’re home. I hope you’re decent. I have Phoebe with me, and you don’t need to scare her in your underwear, or worse.’

Phoebe felt a smile coming on at the humour in his greeting and it lifted her spirits. She looked around and was very taken by the beautiful stained glass around the door of the softly lit entrance hall. And she felt comforted by the lighthearted side of their father-son relationship. It was not unlike the way she related to her own father. The warmth, respect and humorous rapport were very similar.

‘I’m outside on the patio.’

Heath dropped his keys onto the antique hall stand and then led the way down the long hallway, through the huge country-style kitchen, complete with pots and pans overhanging the marble cooking island, to the back veranda. From what she could see of the house in the dim lighting it was pristine, and she wondered if it was the work of Ken or if perhaps he had a cleaning service to keep it looking so picture-perfect. It didn’t look like two men were living there.

Phoebe excused herself to visit the bathroom while Heath walked through the French doors to the patio.

‘There you are,’ he said to his father, who was sitting in the light of the moon.

‘Yes, just sitting alone with my thoughts. And here’s one of them. Don’t look at me as a role model—look at me as a warning … It’s not a real life without a woman to share it. Don’t leave it too long to look for love again.’




CHAPTER EIGHT (#uac37a972-452e-56b1-a828-7026e8ac2f2f)


THE NEXT DAY Phoebe was sitting in the cool of her house. It was the weekend, and the previous days had gone by quickly. She had been busy consulting at the practice, but she was a little disappointed that the opportunity to operate with Heath had not arisen again. The way they had pre-empted each other’s needs during surgery still remained in her mind and she looked forward to the opportunity to do it again.

Heath had been at the hospital, presenting some tutorials for the third-year medical students, but they’d caught up at the practice briefly, and talked over any questions that Phoebe had had about her patients. She had reminded herself that with his rules they would never be more than friends, but despite her still simmering feelings that she needed to ignore, he was still a fascinating friend to have.

Phoebe was enjoying her work, but the jet-lag had finally caught up with her and she’d wanted to have plenty of rest to ensure she didn’t compromise her patients, so she had enjoyed a couple of early nights.

Wondering what to do on a Saturday, she put on a load of washing, did some yoga and although she considered calling her father, it was still Friday in the US. No doubt he would be busy, dealing with some political emergency, so she decided to leave it until the end of his day—which would be just after lunch for her. She didn’t dare call her mother, to hear yet another sales pitch about her repentant ex-fiancé, so she decided not to make any calls.

It was much too hot to head to the park or the Botanic Gardens so, while the washing was on its spin cycle, she picked up a magazine that she had purchased at the airport and left on the coffee table and thought perhaps later she would visit the museum or an art gallery.

Suddenly the doorbell rang. With a puzzled expression she looked through the window to see a delivery truck parked outside her home. She tentatively opened the door. Surely there wouldn’t be another delivery? It would be the second since she’d arrived in town.

‘Phoebe Johnson?’

‘Yes.’

‘Great,’ the man replied, lifting his baseball cap slightly and handing her an electronic device with a signature pad. ‘I have a delivery for you. Sign here, love, and I’ll bring it in.’

Phoebe signed, then watched as the man disappeared back to his truck. He opened the large double doors and stepped up inside. There were some loud banging and dragging sounds coming from the back of the truck and Phoebe’s brows knitted in confusion. She had no clue who would be sending her something. And how big was this delivery?

Suddenly the delivery man emerged and jumped down from the truck. He pulled a huge box out onto the road. Then another two smaller packages. He also pulled down a trolley, and piled everything on top and headed back in Phoebe’s direction.

‘Are you sure all of that is for me?’

‘Dead sure, love,’ he said, as he waited for her to step aside so he could wheel it inside.

Phoebe followed him and told him to leave it to the side of the living room, near the kitchen doorway. He offloaded all the items and then left, closing the front door behind him.

Phoebe scratched her head as she searched for the delivery note and discovered it was from a local department store. She headed into the kitchen, found some scissors and began to cut open the largest of the three packages.

A moment later she squealed in delight. It was a Christmas tree. But as she pulled it gently from the oversized box she could see it was a very special type of tree.

The branches were the deepest forest-green, and looked so real. She moved closer and smiled as she could smell pinecones. It was just like the tree she’d had back home when she was very young. It was still her favourite Christmas tree of all time, and she had looked forward every year to her mother and father bringing it down from the attic and spending the night decorating it, with tinsel and lights, and baubles with their names handwritten on them in gold. Even the dog had had a personalised bauble …

But the branches had broken one by one over the years, and eventually the tree had had to be replaced. They hadn’t been able to find the same one. And the new one had been nice but it was a slightly different green and it didn’t smell like pinecones. It just hadn’t been the same …

She heard her phone ringing in the other room and raced to pick it up.

‘Do you like it?’ the very recognisable voice asked. ‘I asked them to text me when they’d delivered it. In the catalogue it looked like the one we had when you were a little girl.’

‘It is—it’s just the same! Thank you so much, Dad. I love it, and it was so sweet of you.’

‘Well, I couldn’t have my little girl the other side of the world and all alone for her favourite time of the year without a tree,’ he told her.

‘But there are two more boxes.’

‘You can’t have a tree without decorations.’

Phoebe felt a tear trickle down her cheek. ‘I miss you.’

‘Miss you more—but I have to head back in to deal with another crisis. Middle East is on the agenda again today,’ he said, then added, ‘I want to hear all about work and your new home. I’ll call you again soon.’

‘Thank you again, Dad. Love you!’

‘Ditto, sweetie.’

Phoebe had planned on putting up her Christmas tree that night, but she got a call from Tilly, inviting her to dinner. It was Ken’s birthday.

They were such a social family, and it was stopping her from feeling lonely, so she accepted. It meant spending time with Heath but she hoped that with the family around and by catching yet another cab, she would keep that professional distance between them. But as it was Ken’s birthday she realised she would need to race into the city for a gift.

She closed the giant box and dragged it across the polished floorboards into the second bedroom, and then put the boxes of decorations in with it. She looked forward to putting it up another day.

As she closed the door she felt a little ache inside. This should have been her first Christmas with Giles, in their own home as husband and wife. She didn’t miss him, but she still felt sad that she was spending it so far from home.

The birthday dinner was lovely. It was the whole family again, and Ken loved the astronomy book Phoebe gave him. Heath was pleasant, but he seemed a little preoccupied as he sat at the end of the table with Oscar by his side.

Knowing what she did about his past, she didn’t press him to be anything more than he could be, but she enjoyed his company and found that during the evening that he seemed to grow less guarded, and even smiled once or twice at her stories of growing up in the US. And she managed, with a concerted effort, to keep her butterflies at bay.

The next few days sped by. The weather had thankfully cooled slightly—enough that Phoebe felt the need for a light sweater one night. She had planned on putting up the tree over the weekend, but on Sunday she had slept in and read some patient notes to prepare for Monday’s surgical schedule, so it was still packed away.

Ken invited her over on Wednesday for ‘hump day takeout’. This time it was just the four of them. And that night Heath took the seat next to her.

Oscar smiled at his grandpa.

And his grandpa hoped Heath was taking his advice on board.

They chatted about work, and then about their lives outside of work. The conversation between Heath and Phoebe continued on the patio as a light breeze picked up and Oscar was tucked up in bed.

‘Does it feel like second nature, being in Adelaide now?’ he asked.

‘It does. In fact this whole experience is strange in that it feels almost like déjà-vu in familiarity. Your family are wonderful—so down-to-earth and welcoming.’

Phoebe looked out across the garden from the wicker chair where she sat. The landscaping wasn’t modern and manicured, like Tilly’s, it was more like a scene from The Secret Garden. The flowerbeds were overflowing with floral ground cover, large old trees with low-hanging branches lined the perimeter of the generous-sized property, and there was an uneven clay brick pathway leading to an archway covered in jasmine.

It was beautiful and timeless and she felt so very much at home in Ken’s house. All that was missing, she thought, was a Christmas tree and a hearth in the living room. The hearth would never happen in temperatures over one hundred degrees, but perhaps she could work on bringing a little bit of Christmas to the three men who lived there.

‘My family have their moments,’ Heath told her.

‘Don’t they all? But yours don’t appear to interfere in your life, which is great.’

Heath shook his head. ‘Believe me, they try—but I put a stop to it quickly.’ Then he paused. ‘The way you said that sounded a little Freudian. Am I to gather that your family does?’

Phoebe ran her hand along the balustrade next to her. ‘Sometimes.’

Heath sat down in the armchair next to hers. ‘Did they try to interfere in your decision to come to Australia?’

Phoebe rolled her eyes and sipped her soda and lime as she recalled the last conversation she’d had with her mother, by the waiting cab.

‘I’m taking your expression to be a yes,’ Heath commented.

‘Well, a yes to my mother—but my father was supportive from the get-go,’ she said, putting the glass down on the table.

‘Why was that?’

‘He knew I needed a break from Washington and he wanted to help.’

‘But your mother didn’t think you needed a break?’

‘Hardly …’ she lamented. ‘She wanted me to stay and work it out.’ Phoebe instantly realised that she had said too much, but the words were already out.

‘Work what out?’ he asked, leaning forward in the chair with a perplexed look on his face.

‘Oh, just things … You know—things that she thought needed to be worked through and I thought needed to be walked away from.’

‘No, I can’t say I do know what you mean, Phoebe.’

She sighed. She knew she had to elaborate, but she had no intention of going into all of the detail. ‘Relationship issues. Some of those just can’t be sorted out.’

‘With another family member?’

‘No, thank God—he never made it into the family.’

‘Ah … so an issue with a man, then?’

‘Yes, with a man.’

‘So you ran away to the colonies of Australia to get away from a man?”

‘Uh-huh …’ she mumbled, and then, looking at the question dressing his very handsome face, she continued, ‘Now you know everything there is to know about me, it’s your turn. What is Heath Rollins’s story? Have you ever run away from anything?’

As she said it she wanted to kick herself. She knew his story, and it was a sad one that begged not to be retold. He had lost both his mother and his wife. And Phoebe suddenly felt like the most insensitive woman in the world to be asking that question.

‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. Please ignore me.’

Heath considered her expression for a moment. There was sadness in her face, almost pity. ‘You know about my wife?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, you know I did run away from something, then. From overwhelming grief and a gaping hole so big that I never thought it would heal.’

She closed her eyes for a moment. ‘I can’t begin to know what that feels like.’

He sat back in his chair again in silence, with memories rushing to the fore. ‘Did my father let you know or was it Tilly?’ His voice was calm—not accusing, but sombre.

‘Neither,’ she answered honestly. ‘It was Oscar. He told me the other day, when we were in the garden at Tilly’s. He said that he was very little when his mother died and doesn’t remember anything. I assume he must have been a toddler.’

Heath was surprised that Oscar had opened up about it to Phoebe. He rarely spoke of his mother, and particularly not to anyone he didn’t really know.

‘He was five months old, actually—when Natasha died. He never had the chance to know his mother. To walk beside her or even to hold her hand.’

‘Oh … I don’t know what to say except that I’m so sorry, Heath.’ As she sat on the chair next to him she felt her heart breaking for him. ‘After a loss as devastating as that it must have been so hard for you to even begin to find your way through the grief and cope for the sake of your son.’

‘It was hard for all of us, watching her die. Knowing there was nothing we could do. It was the hardest time of my life and I was powerless to stop it. I felt guilty for allowing it to happen, for not making her have treatment earlier.’

Phoebe didn’t ask what had taken his wife’s life. It wasn’t for her to know. But she could see he was still wearing the guilt. ‘You can’t make a person do what you want if it’s not their wish. They have to do what is right for them, even if it’s not what we see as right. I’m sure she had her reasons for not starting treatment.’

‘Yes—Oscar was the reason. She was twenty weeks pregnant when Stage Three breast cancer was diagnosed, and although she could have safely undergone modified chemotherapy during the pregnancy she refused. She wanted to wait until she had given birth, then start the treatment but with the hormones surging through her body she understood there was a chance it would spread. But it was a risk she wanted to take. In my mind, with the oncologist’s advice, it was one she never needed to even consider. They took Oscar four weeks early, but the cancer had already metastasised. She underwent surgery and chemo but she knew it was useless. She had done her research and was aware that there was little chance of her surviving.’

‘What an amazingly selfless woman.’

‘More than you can know. But at the time I was angry with her, for leaving me with a baby to raise and no wife to love.’

Phoebe watched Heath wringing his hands in frustration.

‘I can understand your feelings, but I guess I can also understand your wife had a right to do what she thought was best. Sometimes what two people in love want is not the same, and it’s not that either is wrong, or not respecting the other, it’s just that they see things differently. Their life experience and values alter their perspective. And she was a mother. I can’t say it from any experience, since I have never had a child, but I am sure carrying a baby would change everything about how you see the world.’

‘But she was so young, and she had so much to live for—no matter how I try I will never understand. I love Oscar so much, and I’m grateful every day for him being in my life, but it was a huge and difficult choice she had to make. And I feel guilty for what happened because it means Oscar is growing up without a mother.’

Phoebe was puzzled at his feelings of remorse. She understood the sadness, but not the guilt. ‘I don’t know why you would say that. Your wife made the decision—not you.’

‘But I should have made her have the chemo. I should have never let her delay it. And perhaps I shouldn’t have married her so young. If she hadn’t married me then she wouldn’t have rushed into having a child, and when she was diagnosed she would have gone ahead with treatment.’

‘Heath, you can’t know that for sure. Natasha might not have been diagnosed until it was too late anyway. A young woman in her twenties wouldn’t have been having mammograms, so it might have gone undetected for a long time—by which time she might have faced the same fate. It’s something you will never know. But you have a very special little boy. And you can’t harbour any blame—it’s not good for Oscar.’

Heath nodded, but Phoebe could see his thoughts were somewhere else, struggling with his memories.

He was thinking back to the day Natasha had died.

It had been Christmas Day.

The next day Phoebe woke early, still thinking about everything that Heath had told her. While the heartbreak Giles had inflicted on her had been soul-destroying at the time, she knew now that it had been for the best. But nothing about Heath’s heartbreak was for the best. His wife had died and left behind a little boy who would never know her. And a man who couldn’t fully understand or accept her reasons.

She felt a little homesick for the first time, and called her father.

‘I assisted in surgery last week, and I’m heading in today to the practice, and then tomorrow I’m in Theatre again,’ she told him as she ate her muesli and fruit breakfast with her mobile phone on speaker. ‘And I finally met Ken Rollins.’

‘That’s great. I bet you quizzed him about his papers.’

‘I did and he was so generous with his knowledge.’

‘How long will his son be filling in before he leaves and heads back to his old position?’

Phoebe’s mood suddenly and unexpectedly fell as she listened to her father and was reminded that Heath and Oscar were only transient in her life. She had enjoyed spending time with Heath out of work hours. No matter how much she was looking forward to working with Ken, she knew she would miss Heath. He was charming company when he lifted his guard, and he had managed to make her feel important with the way he listened to her and engaged in their conversations.

He was a far cry from the distracted man who had once held the title of her fiancé. And she suddenly felt a little sad that Heath would be gone in a few short weeks. She knew she wanted more. What that was, she wasn’t sure—but she knew even after such a short time there would be a void in her life when he left.




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