‘In my room...’ Finally Joanna sprang to life and she ran back to her consulting room, grabbing the necessary drugs.
‘Why’s her breathing so noisy?’ Katy’s mother had followed them and was hovering uncertainly in the doorway, her face chalk white.
‘It’s called stridor,’ Seb said briefly, his eyes on Joanna as she drew up the injection. ‘It’s because her breathing tubes are swollen. Where did the bee sting her?’
‘On the back of her neck,’ Mrs Ball sobbed, ‘it was such a sunny day I promised her we could have our tea in the park. The flowers are gorgeous at the moment. I didn’t think about the bees...’
Seb held the child while Joanna gave the injection. ‘We need to give her some oxygen and get a line in.’
Joanna nodded agreement and together they worked to stabilise the child. By the time the paramedics arrived, her condition had improved dramatically.
‘I’ll go with her in the ambulance,’ Seb said briefly, and Joanna hesitated.
‘I ought to go—’
‘No.’ Seb shook his head and helped himself to some equipment from her trolley. ‘You’re better off here in case someone calls you out. I don’t know the area well enough. We’ll talk later.’
And with that he strode after the paramedics, leaving her staring, open-mouthed, totally drained after the exaggerated emotions of the past few minutes.
She sank into her chair and stared blankly at the flickering computer screen.
How had this happened?
How had her neatly ordered life been turned upside down so quickly? One minute she’d been safe in her own little world, overworked but very happy with her daily routine. And then Seb Macaulay had strolled casually back into her life and triggered more emotion in five minutes than she’d imagined she was capable of feeling in a lifetime.
After just five minutes in his company she was ready to kill someone. And if he was intent on working as a locum, it was probably going to be him.
CHAPTER TWO
JOANNA was making herself some toast in the kitchen when she heard the heavy scrunch of ambulance tyres on the gravel. Wondering how on earth Seb had persuaded them to give him a lift back, she ran to the door, still worried about little Katy.
‘How is she?’
‘Fine.’ Without waiting for an invitation, he strolled past her into the spacious hallway, a vision of self-assured, arrogant masculinity. ‘They’re keeping her in overnight for observation and then they’re going to run some tests. She might need to carry adrenaline—that was a serious reaction.’
‘It certainly was.’ Joanna frowned as he hung his jacket on the coatstand in the hallway. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’
She’d been desperately hoping that he’d have changed his mind about working as a locum but, judging from the way he was making himself at home, it seemed there was little hope of that.
‘We have things to discuss, Joanna.’
Deciding that there was no time like the present, she took a deep breath and looked him straight in the eye. ‘Dr Macaulay, I’m very grateful that you helped with Katy but it doesn’t change the fact that you and I working together is a ridiculous proposition. I’m sure now that you’ve had time to think about it you’ll agree that it would never work.’
‘It will work,’ he said grimly, ‘because it has to. I promised George Mills that I’d stay and help you until he comes back, and that’s what I intend to do. Katy’s mother sent her thanks to you, by the way.’
Joanna felt a stab of conscience and bit her lip. ‘It’s you she should have been thanking, Dr Macaulay,’ she said stiffly, knowing that it had been his quick thinking and actions that had bought them precious time. If he hadn’t thrust her bodily back into her seat she would have ended up unconscious on the carpet. ‘I apologise for earlier. I felt strange—I don’t know what was the matter with me.’
His gaze was uncomfortably direct. ‘You’re exhausted, Joanna, that’s what’s the matter. How much sleep did you get last night?’
‘Sleep?’ She rubbed her temples with her fingers, trying to marshal her exhausted brain. ‘I don’t know. Not much. I was called out a lot.’
‘Called out?’ He frowned sharply. ‘But you’re on your own here. You can’t be covering days and nights. Surely you’re using one of the local co-operatives to cover the night calls?’
‘George still likes us to do our own calls,’ she muttered, her eyes sliding away from his as she braced herself for his reaction.
There was an ominous silence and when Seb finally spoke his voice rang with incredulity. ‘Are you telling me that, as well as running this entire practice single-handed, you’re still doing all your own night calls?’
‘Well, I’ve been trying to.’ For some reason the anger in his voice made her shiver. ‘Since the last locum left it doesn’t seem to be working—’
‘I’m not surprised!’ He gave her a look of total exasperation. ‘No wonder your reaction times are slow. You must be comatose with exhaustion.’
Joanna was silent for a moment. ‘I am tired,’ she admitted finally, meeting that sharp blue gaze and then wishing she hadn’t. There was something about Seb Macaulay that unsettled her. It always had. Even when they’d been students. He made her feel strange inside and she’d never been able to understand why.
He lifted an eyebrow. ‘So why the hell are you being so stubborn? When are you going to acknowledge that you need help?’
‘I have already acknowledged it, Dr Macaulay,’ she said tartly, his tone of voice rousing her from her exhausted state, ‘but you’re not my idea of help. You’re not what I need.’
‘Not what you need?’ He shot her an incredulous look and started to laugh. ‘You, Joanna Weston, have absolutely no idea what you need.’
‘Please, spare me your expertise in female psychology,’ Joanna said shortly. ‘I do know exactly what I need. A solid, sensible doctor who’ll take his responsibilities seriously. You hardly fit that description.’
‘I hardly think I’d want to,’ he drawled lazily, an ironic smile touching the corners of his mouth. ‘And if that’s the sort of doctor you want to work with, I’d say you’re in for a fairly boring summer.’
‘I’m not looking for entertainment,’ she reminded him. ‘I’m looking for a colleague. Someone to share the work.’
‘Ah, yes, work.’ Seb leaned broad shoulders against the wall and surveyed her from under lowered lids. ‘Your favourite companion. Tell me something, Jo, have you ever spent the night with anything more exciting than a textbook? Do you ever let your hair down—either literally or figuratively?’
‘Not everyone approaches life in the same frivolous manner that you do, Dr Macaulay.’ She gritted her teeth, hating the way he narrowed his eyes as he looked at her. It was as if he was trying to see straight into her soul. ‘Work is very important to me, not that I expect someone like you to understand that. And don’t call me Jo.’
‘Oh, loosen up, will you?’ He raked long fingers through his short dark hair, not even trying to hide his irritation with her. ‘Work doesn’t have to mean major self-sacrifice, you know.’
‘Well, it certainly never is where you’re concerned,’ she replied acidly. ‘Your last