Shock registered on Dan’s face. ‘This is Sarah Livingston. My locum.’
Not his friend. Probably never would be. What a pity.
‘Are you really?’ the woman asked Sarah, her face lighting up with a speculative gleam as her gaze moved to Dan and back. ‘Wonderful.’
Sarah gulped. Don’t get any bright ideas about matchmaking. If Oliver’s defection had taught her anything it was not to trust as easily as she had last time. Besides, Dan Reilly was far too unsophisticated for her liking. Except that sculpted body did fascinate her. Maybe she could cope with unsophisticated—as an interlude. Hadn’t she thought about having fun with men who didn’t want anything more demanding? But an affair with this man? Not likely. That could complicate things when she had to step into his shoes at the local hospital.
Dan continued the introductions. ‘Jill’s our head theatre nurse, and a barmaid in her spare time. She’ll get you whatever you want, though a slug of brandy would do you a sight more good than tea.’
Sarah retorted, ‘Suggestion noted.’ Forget the interlude. If she ever progressed to having an affair it would be with someone personable and fun, not grumpy and domineering.
Jill leaned across the counter. ‘Welcome to Port Weston. Since we’ll be working together, give me a call if you have any questions about work or anything else. Or if you’re ever hankering for a coffee, I’m available.’
‘Thanks for that.’ At least someone was pleased to see her here. ‘You must be busy, with two jobs.’
‘Malcolm, my husband and Dan’s brother, runs the pub except when he’s out rescuing fools who don’t read warning signs.’ Jill banged two glasses on the counter. ‘What’ll it be?’
‘Two brandies.’ Dan didn’t consult Sarah, instead told her, ‘Malcolm’s the search and rescue coordinator.’
‘He was one of the men who’d carried Anders in?’ No wonder Jill looked worried.
‘Yep.’ Dan sipped his drink appreciatively.
‘I’ll bet he went straight back out to sea after handing his charge over to you.’ Jill glared at Dan.
‘Hey, steady up. You know there’s no way I could’ve stopped him. A team of Clydesdale horses couldn’t have.’ Dan reached across and covered Jill’s hand with his.
There were tears in the other woman’s eyes. ‘I know, but he worries me silly. One day he won’t come back from a rescue mission.’
Sarah found herself wanting to hug Jill. And she didn’t do hugs. Not very often anyway. Certainly not with people she’d only just met. But, then, she wasn’t normally rattled by a man like Dan either. Or any man, come to think of it. Must be something in the West Coast air.
Dan said to Jill, ‘Don’t think like that. You know you wouldn’t change him for anything.’ Then he turned his attention back to Sarah. ‘We’d better get out of our wet clothes. You’re shivering non-stop.’
‘I’ll get some dry things from my car in a moment.’ Sarah took a large swallow of brandy, gasping as it burned a track down her throat. ‘Wow.’
‘Wait till the warmth spreads through you, then you won’t be twisting your nose sideways like that.’ Dan actually smiled. A long, slow smile that at last went all the way to his eyes.
Blue eyes. So what? It was a common colour. But other blue eyes didn’t remind her of hot, lazy days at the beach. Or make her toes curl up in anticipation of exciting things to come. Like what? Who cared? Anything with this man would be exhilarating. Was it possible to become drunk in thirty seconds? Because that’s how she felt.
‘Where’re your keys? I’ll get your bag, save you getting another drenching.’
So he could do ‘nice’. She dug into her jacket pocket, handed her keyring to him. ‘My car’s out the front.’
His fingers were warm against hers as he took the keys. ‘I know. It’s the odd one out amongst the dirty four–wheel-drives and family wagons.’
‘It fits in where I come from.’
‘I’m sure it does.’ Dan hauled the heavy front door open with a jerk. ‘Malcolm still hasn’t shaved this blasted door, Jill.’
‘Tell him, not me.’ Jill topped up Sarah’s glass even though it wasn’t empty. ‘Here, a bit more won’t hurt you. There’s no colour in your cheeks.’
‘Thanks, but I’d better go easy on it.’ What she really needed was food.
‘A hot shower will do you wonders. You can use our bathroom.’
A blast of cold air hit her as Dan poked his head around the door, looking bemused. ‘Which bag?’
‘The small one.’ Hopefully that contained everything she needed.
‘You didn’t bring a small one,’ Dan retorted. ‘Why do some women have to cart their whole wardrobe everywhere they go?’
‘Guess that’s a rhetorical question.’ Sarah stared at the closing door.
‘Guess he’s exaggerating?’ Jill’s smile warmed her.
‘Definitely not all my clothes.’ Already she liked Jill enough to relax with her. Could she be making a new friend? What was the point? She’d be gone in three months. There again, a friend would be good. She missed the three women she’d known since high school and done all her growing up with.
They’d gone to university together, coming out well versed in life and clutching degrees to their proud chests. Two doctors, one architect and an advertising guru. Three marriages, three mothers; and then there was her. Sometimes she knew she didn’t quite belong to the quartet any more. Conversations over dinners and coffee seemed to revolve around children and school timetables, husbands and schedules—things Sarah didn’t have a clue about.
Jill was still talking. ‘Dan’s okay behind that rugged exterior. A pussy cat really. You’ll get along fine.’
Sarah knew pussycats, even those in disguise. Dan didn’t fit the bill. Tiger was a more apt description. Stealthy when he had to be. Fast when he went for the kill. There was a mix of strength and stubbornness in the set of his chin. His classic handsome features were made interesting by a too-wide mouth and a ragged scar on the point of his chin.
‘Here you go, the small one,’ Dan said from behind her, causing her to jump. Definitely stealthy.
Jill asked Dan, ‘Can you show Sarah to my bedroom? The rescue crew can’t be far away and they’ll be wanting food.’
At the mention of food Sarah’s stomach turned over. ‘I’ll be as quick as I can, and then I’ll give you a hand,’ she told Jill. Whoa, back up. She’d help? In a pub? She’d get messy and greasy.
New year, new life, remember?
‘Along here.’ Dan led the way out to the back and into the private quarters. He opened a door and let her precede him into a double bedroom. ‘The bathroom’s through there.’
He smelt of damp wool and warm male as she brushed past him. No trace of expensive aftershave or hair product. A clean, uninhibited masculine scent. Sarah hesitated, looked back over her shoulder at him, a sudden longing for something she couldn’t put her finger on gripping her.
‘What about you?’ She was suddenly, oddly, nervous.
Placing her case in the middle of the floor, he turned to leave. His look was cool, his mouth a straight line. ‘There’s another bathroom next door.’
As