‘Completely useless.’ Mary gave a wan smile. ‘But thank you for your thoughtfulness.’
‘So you don’t think it’s leukaemia?’ Kyla closed the door of his consulting room and stood with her back to it. ‘Really?’
‘Shelley looks well and there’s no history of trauma. I’ve examined her thoroughly and her liver and spleen feel normal and there’s no evidence of lymphadenopathy.’
‘So what are the bruises?’
‘Obviously until I see the results of the blood count I can’t be sure, but I think she probably has ITP. Idiopathic thrombocytopenic purpura.’
Kyla frowned. ‘I’ve heard of it but I don’t know much about it and we’ve certainly never had a patient. What’s the treatment?’
‘Depending on the platelet count, it may just be a case of watchful waiting. In someone of Shelley’s age the condition will probably be acute and it will resolve over a few months.’
‘And if it doesn’t?’
He gave a faint smile. ‘What’s happened to your cheerful, optimistic nature, Kyla?’
‘I just like to know the options.’ She looked away, struggling with her body’s powerful response to his smile. He was indecently attractive. ‘Mary is a friend of my mother’s. She had Shelley late in life and she’s very precious. I need to have all the facts at my disposal.’
‘In a small number of children it can be chronic, and she might have to avoid contact sports.’ he shrugged ‘.but so much depends on the blood tests. If her platelets are at a reasonable level then it becomes less of a problem. It’s really too soon to try and predict the future for her.’
‘So you’re saying that she could just recover spontaneously?’
‘That’s right.’ He studied her closely. ‘You look as worried and upset as her mother. It doesn’t do to get too involved with your patients, Nurse MacNeil.’
His comment stung and her shoulders stiffened defensively. ‘Well, that’s the theory certainly.’ She lifted her chin. ‘Try living on an island where you know everyone, Dr Walker. And, then try staying detached. It’s a pretty tall order, I can tell you. And frankly, I don’t think I’d like to be the sort of person who didn’t care what happened to her patients.’
He frowned. ‘Kyla—’
‘And now, if you’ll excuse me, I have things to do.’ She tugged open the door and left the room, taking several deep breaths in an attempt to control her temper. How dared he suggest that she was too involved with her patients?
She cared about them.
What was wrong with that?
Thoroughly unsettled, she went back to her own consulting room and finished the clearing-up she’d started before Janet had asked her to see Shelley.
Infuriating man, she thought as she pushed a box of dressings back into the cupboard and slammed the door shut. He may be amazing to look at but he was cold-hearted and unemotional. Which made him completely wrong for her.
Evanna was right.
It would be safer to steer clear of him.
Ethan vaulted over the fence that separated the two cottages and walked up the garden.
The doors to the kitchen were open and he could see Kyla standing in front of the stove, singing along to the radio. Her blonde curls were pinned haphazardly to the top of her head and her feet were bare. She wore a pair of faded jeans that rode low on her hips, exposing a tempting expanse of smooth, tanned abdomen. She was lean, fit and incredibly sexy, and something dangerous stirred inside him.
He gritted his teeth and reminded himself that he couldn’t afford the luxury of becoming involved with this woman.
Life was about to become complicated enough without the extra dimension that a relationship would inevitably bring.
He was just working out the best way to begin what needed to be said when she glanced up and saw him. The singing stopped.
‘I have a perfectly good front door with a working doorbell.’
‘I heard you singing so I thought I’d come round the back.’ He ignored her frosty tone and strolled into the kitchen. ‘You can stop glaring at me because I’ve come to apologise.’
‘You’re saying that you were wrong?’
‘No.’ She had beautiful eyes, he decided. In fact, the whole package was beautiful. ‘I still think it doesn’t do to get too involved with patients, but I can see that it might be hard to do that on an island like this. And you’re very caring, there’s no doubt about that.’ And it was impossible not to respond to her.
Suddenly he wanted to touch her. Really touch her. He wanted to taste and feel and immerse himself in the woman she was.
‘Caring is what makes this community so special.’
‘I’m sure that’s true. But isn’t it also true that caring too much sometimes makes it difficult to do your job?’
A shadow darkened her blue eyes and her slim shoulders sagged slightly. ‘Perhaps. But it’s hard to change your personality, Ethan. You just have to work with what you’ve got. This is me. This is who I am.’ Her simple statement encompassed the differences between them and guilt gnawed at his insides.
She was open and honest. Transparent.
Whereas he …
Her quiet declaration reminded him that she knew nothing about the person he really was.
He clenched his hands into fists by his sides to stop himself from reaching out and hauling her against him. To make any sort of move would be inexcusable when he was hiding so much from her.
Cold and hard were adjectives that many women had applied to him but so far no one had thrown ‘immoral’ at him, and he didn’t intend them to start now.
‘I just think that you can do your job better if you can stay slightly detached. It makes it easier to think clearly.’
She gave a sigh and turned back to the pan on the hob. ‘You sound like Logan. He always manages to get the balance right. I’m terrible. I take everything much more personally, but I can’t help it.’
‘And that’s what makes you a nice person.’ He realised that it was true. Even during the short time he’d been on the island he could see that she gave a great deal of herself to her job and to the community. ‘What are you cooking?’
‘Soup from a can. I can hardly bear the anticipation.’ She stared at the gloopy liquid with a distinct lack of enthusiasm. ‘I’d offer you some but frankly I wouldn’t want to poison you. You’re better off with whatever you have in your own fridge.’
‘There’s nothing in my fridge apart from milk and beer and neither of those is going to make a decent meal. Is there a good pub on the island?’
‘The Stag’s Head. Down on the quay. Given that they know what you did for Doug, I doubt you’d even have to pay for your supper. You’ll probably get a hero’s welcome.’
‘I don’t mind paying but I need to eat something soon. I missed lunch.’ He leaned forward and turned off the hob. ‘Let’s go.’
She stared at him and then at the saucepan on the hob. ‘I’m eating soup.’
‘Not any more. You’re eating in the pub with me.’
Her eyes narrowed. ‘What if I don’t want to eat in the pub?’
‘You’d rather eat congealed soup of indeterminate origin?’ He watched her shudder and gave a smile. ‘Come on. We both know that a stranger walking into that place is going to be given the third