Annie’s attention returned to the car outside as a blatantly male figure emerged. An inexplicable shiver of unease tingled down her spine. The man had his back to them as he locked the driver’s door, his athletically muscled frame encased in jeans and a well-worn leather jacket. As he walked towards the building with a loose-limbed stride, his warm breath vapourising in the frigid air, the wind teased his dark hair and he turned his head, raising a hand to brush the wayward strands back from his face, giving Annie her first proper glimpse of him.
Shocked, she stepped back from the window, struggling to contain her horrified gasp as recognition slammed into her. The disturbingly familiar body and the patrician profile were unforgettable.
For a breathless moment Annie was sure she had to be hallucinating. A tremor rippled through her. No! No way could Nathan Shepherd be here. Not at her hospital. It was a trick of the light or some unaccountable blip in her imagination. It wasn’t true. Nathan was not in Strathlochan.
Trying to steady her breathing and ignore the way her heart was thudding wildly in her chest, she turned away, deaf to Olivia’s excited appraisal and the chatty greetings as more staff arrived for their shifts.
With shaky fingers Annie set down her still-full mug, her need for caffeine forgotten, and left the staffroom. She walked partway down the corridor and stopped to peer round the corner. The transparent Plexiglas panels in the rubber swing doors leading to the busy A and E department allowed her a better view of the man who now stood at the reception counter.
There was no mistaking that strong, handsome face and sexy body. Nathan was in Strathlochan. And, judging by the way he was looking over a set of notes and giving advice to one of the nurses, and the official ID tag hanging around his neck, it was true he was here to work. In her department! Hell and damnation. Every part of her quivering with shock and alarm, Annie leaned against the wall, her breath locked in her throat, her fingers clenched into fists at her sides. What was she going to do?
‘Annie, are you all right?’ An older nurse, in the process of bringing a patient in a wheelchair back from the radiology department, if the large envelope containing X-ray images was any guide, paused at the swing doors.
‘Sorry?’ Annie blinked, focusing on the matronly woman’s concerned face. ‘Um, yes. I’m fine, Gail.’ She flinched at the lie, knowing she was anything but fine. ‘Thanks.’
Gail smiled and nodded towards the bustling reception area. ‘Quite something, isn’t he?’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Our new doctor. Nathan Shepherd. He’s taken over while Trevor Wilkinson is on long-term sick leave. Started yesterday. He’s quite reserved but an excellent doctor. And very easy on the eyes! He made a real impact with both staff and patients. Especially Olivia…but that doesn’t surprise anyone!’ Gail grinned conspiratorially before pushing through the doors and wheeling her charge towards the plaster room.
The sound of Gail’s footsteps and the noisy hum of the department receded as the doors closed, but it took Annie a moment to move. Oh, God! Battling a fresh wave of shock, she hurried to the ladies’ restroom, went into a cubicle and shut the door, needing privacy. In a daze, she sat down. This wasn’t a dream from which she was about to wake up. It was a nightmare. And far, far too real.
‘No! No, no, no…’ Annie bent forward and buried her face in her hands. ‘This cannot be happening. How can fate be so cruel?’
Nathan was here and she was going to have to see him, talk to him, work with him. Sitting back, she closed her eyes and pressed the heel of one hand to the pain that now gripped her chest. Nathan Shepherd. The man she had expected to marry. The man she had determined would be the father of her children. The man she had loved more than she had imagined it was possible to love anyone. The man who had rejected her and broken her heart five years ago.
Now he had reappeared unexpectedly in her life, and one brief sight of him gave the lie to any belief that she had forgotten about him—had recovered from him. One look had brought back all the pain, all the love, all the hurt, all the memories. It was as if the years had been stripped away and every feeling, every nerve-ending, was exposed and raw again. She realised with sick despair that there had been nothing but a temporary sticking plaster masking her wounds, lulling her into a false sense of security. In one unguarded moment the covering had been cruelly ripped off to reveal how little she had healed, leaving her open, hurting, vulnerable.
Nathan’s arrival in Strathlochan was a disaster of unimaginable proportions. Annie wrapped her arms around her midriff, seeking comfort as wave after wave of memories washed over her in an unstoppable tide. When she heard the outer door open, to admit a couple of laughing women, she clamped one hand over her mouth to stifle the moan of anguish her recollections had produced.
Nathan…
Shaking, she sat in silence, anxious not to be discovered, breathing a sigh of relief as the two women shut off the water taps, finished whatever they were doing and left the cloakroom. The door closed on more of their carefree laughter. Annie doubted she would ever feel so light-hearted again.
The hours of her shift stretched ahead like the worst kind of punishment, and she wished she could hide out in this cubicle until it was time to go home. But she couldn’t shirk her responsibilities. Patients needed her. Colleagues depended on her. She wouldn’t let them down. And she could not allow Nathan’s presence in the department to turn her back into the broken person she had been when she had arrived in Strathlochan after their break-up. A break-up that had followed just a few months after the sudden and unexpected death of her beloved father, when she had already been so vulnerable. She was stronger now—more confident, more mature, successful in her career. It had been a hard slog, but she had done it. Whatever it cost her, Nathan would not take that progress away from her as he had taken away her dreams.
Knowing that someone else could come into the restroom at any moment, Annie forced herself to move. Her heart thudded against her ribs as she left the cubicle and checked her appearance in the mirror. She was determined to maintain a cool façade, despite the nerves that were tangling inside her, making her feel sick and unsteady. But Nathan would never know what seeing him again did to her. Somehow she would survive this shift, and then she would decide what to do. For once she gave thanks for Olivia’s excesses. The nurse had unwittingly alerted her to Nathan’s presence, giving her some time to prepare. Better this than the shock of coming face to face with him without prior warning.
Glancing at her watch, she groaned. It was time for the shift hand-over. Unable to linger indefinitely, she sucked in a deep, steadying breath, raised her chin in defiance, then opened the door and walked down the short corridor to confront her past.
Despite her good intentions, her steps faltered when she spotted Nathan on the far side of the group of staff gathered around senior consultant Robert Mowbray. Nathan had changed into the customary green scrubs worn by doctors in the department. A stethoscope was looped around his neck over his photo ID badge, drawing attention to his strong shoulders and broad chest. Thankful to hang back, sheltered from Nathan’s view by a crush of other colleagues, Annie endeavoured to concentrate as members of the previous shift detailed the patients still being cared for within the department.
Unsettled, she adjusted her position until she was able to observe Nathan without him being aware of her. Her chest tightened and her heart gave an irregular and worrisome flip as she assessed her former lover, taking in his familiar stance and the intentness of his expression as he jotted down some notes. She was unsurprised by his thoroughness. Nathan had always been dedicated to patient care. It was one of the many things she had admired… loved…about him. The pain inside her intensified. Her traitorous gaze drank him in, as if needing to quench an endless and long-endured thirst.
His dark brown hair was as rakish as ever—untamed and in need of a cut. She remembered what it had been like to sink her fingers into that hair, could almost feel again the luxuriant silken thickness of it against her skin. As she watched, he raised a hand and absently brushed a fallen lock back from his brow. Strong, capable hands. Hands that could heal. Hands that