Vicki, who looked a bit older than Meryl, glanced up from the computer and smiled at him over the top of her bright purple glasses. ‘Lovely to have you here, Dr D., and, like Meryl said, just yell. My only rule is that you bring the histories back to me as you greet your next patient so they can be filed or else things get lost. Oh, and I made you a ginger fluff sponge and it’s in the kitchen so help yourself to as much as you like because you do look a bit on the thin side, dear.’
He opened his mouth but words escaped him. It was like work had just collided with his mother—instructions and praise all rolled into one with a slightly disapproving look thrown in. ‘Ah, thank you for the welcome and the cake.’
They both nodded and smiled and then Vicki returned to her computer screen and Meryl disappeared down the corridor.
‘I see you’ve met Meryl and Vicki.’ A familiar tinkling laugh sounded behind him.
He turned around to find a smiling Kirby walking toward him. Her hair moved in sync with her body, brushing across her shoulders and floating around her face. On Saturday she’d been wearing Lycra running gear. Today she wore a summer dress with a close-fitting scoop-neck top that hugged her waist before opening out into a short full skirt that showcased her shapely long, tanned legs. Bright red painted nails peeked out of strappy sandals.
Heat poured through him and zeroed in on his groin, making him dizzy. His reaction to her was so much stronger than two days ago and that made no sense at all. On Saturday she’d had a bare midriff and figure-hugging clothes on so of course his body had reacted. Hell, he’d been pleased it had because it meant things were finally getting back to normal despite the fact he’d always preferred brunettes.
But today far more clothes covered Kirby’s body and yet the hidden curves tantalised even more. He dragged his gaze up from the hint of creamy breast back to her face and prayed she hadn’t noticed his lapse of professionalism. He might have been known for dating many women but he’d always kept work and pleasure distinctly separate. He never dated someone he worked with directly so he definitely needed to get back into the work saddle again if those lines were blurring.
He rubbed his jaw. ‘Those two are like a hurricane. Are they always like that?’
‘Always.’ A more serious expression played around her mouth. ‘But don’t be deceived—they really know their stuff and the clinic runs like clockwork. Vicki’s children are adults and living in Melbourne now so I think she’s missing mothering and she’s making up for it with us.’ Her eyes danced, softening the indignant look that streaked across her face. ‘Although I’ve never had a cake made for me.’
He answered without thinking. ‘You can have as much as you like. I really don’t eat cakes.’
‘First no coffee and now no cake?’ She tilted her head enquiringly, a glint of interrogation in her eyes. ‘Next you’ll be telling me you don’t drink.’
He smiled, falling back into old habits in an attempt to deflect her. ‘I do drink but only top-shelf wine on special occasions.’ He didn’t really want to talk about why he’d given up cakes and cream. ‘So how about you show me around the clinic and the emergency department of the hospital and then I can get started.’
Work. After all, that was why he was here. He itched to throw himself into a busy day because working seemed a heck of a lot safer than talking about himself or ogling a colleague’s décolletage.
‘Can I run something past you?’ Kirby caught Nick between patients.
‘Sure. What’s up?’ His eyes darkened to the colour of moss as he swung around on the office chair, his gaze fixed firmly on her.
A gaze so intense that her skin tingled. Get over yourself. You asked the man a question and he’s giving you his undivided attention, just as a colleague should. She gripped Melinda Nikoloski’s history and focussed on the facts. ‘I’ve got a thirty-five-year-old woman with general fatigue, enlarged glands, persistent cough, raspy voice and episodes of shortness of breath.’
‘On bare facts alone it sounds like summer flu.’ His mouth tweaked up on the left in a thoughtful smile. ‘But you wouldn’t be running it past me if you thought it was flu.’
She slid into the chair next to his desk, grateful for his intuition. Grateful that he was here. Leaping into this job a year before most people started a GP rotation had stretched her, but she’d been desperate to leave Melbourne, desperate to distance herself from everything that reminded her of what she’d lost, and Port had been desperate enough to accept her. ‘The previous doctor saw her a month ago, made a diagnosis of flu and prescribed bronchodilators for the shortness of breath.’
He tapped his silver pen on a notepad. ‘So how is she now?’
‘Not much better.’ Kirby chewed her bottom lip in thought. ‘She could be anaemic, like many women in their mid-thirties are, so on Friday I ordered a routine full blood examination and those results should be back shortly, but even so, I have a nagging feeling about it. Totally non-scientific, I know, but nagging none the less.’
Understanding lined his face. ‘Listening to your gut feeling is an important part of being a good doctor. Out here you don’t have access to the full weight of diagnostic tests that you get in a large hospital.’
He sat forward, his hands flat on the spun cotton of his summer trousers which so casually covered what she imagined to be solid, muscular thighs. ‘A persistent cough and shortness of breath can too easily be attributed to asthma. As we’ve got an X-ray machine, let’s do a chest X-ray. It’s a simple test and hopefully we can rule out a lung mass.’
‘But she’s not a smoker and has no other risk factors.’
He shrugged. ‘There are other masses that can be found in the chest. But that said, it’s important to remember that non-smoking females are dying from lung cancer because it’s being missed in the early stages of the disease. Granted, the air down here is cleaner than other places but you don’t know what she’s been exposed to.’ He tugged on the hair just behind his ear, his voice rising slightly. ‘Hell, we don’t know half of what we’re exposed to in the air or in our food.’
His heartfelt reaction surprised her. He sounded more like an environmentalist than a doctor. But, then again, he did grow organic vegetables and he didn’t drink coffee. Two things she knew he hadn’t done two years ago because Virginia had basically told her everything about this citified man who’d loved the good things in life. ‘OK, I’ll organise a chest X-ray. Thanks.’
‘No problem, it’s what I’m here for.’ He spun back on his chair, his attention returning to the article he’d been reading when she’d walked into the room.
Familiar disappointment slugged her and she tried to shrug it off because there was no reason to feel like this. Nick had done his job well. Very well. He’s the mentor, you’re the student. That’s what you want and that’s what you’re getting.
She continued to remind herself of that against the strange hollow feeling in her gut as she walked back to her consulting room. Glad of something to do, she picked up the phone and called Melinda, asking her to come in for a chest X-ray.
Melinda sat in the chair, her face pale with black smudges under her eyes. She rubbed her knee. ‘I think