Dating the Millionaire Doctor (11 page)

She was ready to walk away.

‘Jake…thank you,' she whispered, holding out her hand in an absurdly formal gesture of farewell—but suddenly she couldn't say anything more because he had her in his arms and he was kissing her, in a crazy way, in a way that said he wanted her, he needed her, she was his woman.

This had nothing to do with reality, she thought wildly, but she let herself be kissed. Of course she let herself be kissed.

And kissed and kissed.

This was still about last night. It was about the letting down of barriers—the beginning of her new life.

It had nothing to do with her wanting this man.

She couldn't want him.
She couldn't.

But for just a moment, well, maybe for just several moments, she surrendered to him, and she felt her body light from within. She felt beautiful. She felt wanted. Jake was kissing her, holding her, her breasts were moulding to his chest, her feet were hardly touching the ground—and she felt all woman.

And when finally he let her go, when finally he put her
away from him and held her at arm's length, she felt as if her world was shifting.

She felt breathless and bruised…and like she couldn't bear to walk away.

And it seemed that neither could he. ‘Come to Manhattan with me,' he said, and her world didn't just shift; it threatened to roll right over.

‘Come to Manhattan?'

‘Tori, this thing between us…'

‘What…thing?'

‘The thing that says I want you,' he said simply.

Simple? There was nothing simple about this. What was he asking? She stared up at him, dazed beyond belief.

‘Tori, I don't understand this,' he said softly, tugging her close again, kissing her hair. ‘I've never felt like this. I've never expected to feel like this. But now… I'm due to start work back in Manhattan next week and how can I leave? How can I walk away from you?'

‘I guess…you don't have to leave,' she whispered, trying to make sense of what he was saying. ‘You own two houses here.'

‘This is my father's world, not my world,' he said, and suddenly he sounded more sure of his ground. He sounded forceful, determined, even a little angry that she could make such a suggestion. ‘I'm an anaesthetist in a large teaching hospital. I'm good at what I do. I've worked hard to get there. But you and I…'

‘You and I.' She said the words slowly. ‘You and I? There's a “we”? Jake, you don't have room in your life for a puppy. Yet you ask me…'

‘Plenty of doctors have wives.'

Wives
. The word hung between them. It felt like a threat, Tori thought, suddenly bleak beyond description.
Plenty of doctors have wives.

Was he asking her to marry him? What a thought. What a way to bring it up if he was.

‘So…these doctor's wives…they don't need big yards?'

His brow snapped downwards. ‘What the… That's not what I'm saying.'

‘So what are you saying? You're asking me to marry you?'

‘I don't know,' he said explosively. ‘I hadn't even thought of marriage. But the way you make me feel… You just do something to me.'

‘You're saying it's my fault?'

‘I'm not talking about fault.'

‘No,' she said bleakly. ‘But you don't want this. To feel like this.'

‘I can't pretend. I never intended to…'

‘Of course you didn't, and I won't be proposed to against your better judgement,' she said, suddenly angry. ‘To be slotted into your life in the few minutes you're home between work and sleep? In a place where there's no one I love? How can you ask that of me?'

‘We could take Itsy and Rusty back with us. We could get a larger apartment.' He raked his hair and she thought, He really hasn't thought this through. He hadn't even known he was going to ask her to join him until the words were out of his mouth. Now he was trying to figure out how he could make it work. ‘We could make arrangements,' he said.

‘I don't want to make arrangements,' she snapped. Anger had arrived now, coming to her aid in a red hot mist. He thought he was attracted to her, so he'd take her home, like a puppy from a pet shop, without even doing the groundwork.
Plenty of doctors have wives.
What sort of statement was that?

‘I'd take up space in your life, Jake Hunter, and you don't have space to give,' she told him, knowing she was right, even if it hurt like crazy to say it. ‘My community is here. My work
is here. My life is here. It's not sitting in some drab New York apartment waiting for you to get home at night.'

‘It's not drab.'

‘What colour is it?'

‘Grey, but—'

‘I rest my case.'

‘Tori, this is stupid.'

‘It is, isn't it,' she said, and suddenly, inexplicably, the anger died. For somehow she knew where he was coming from. He was as confused as she was, and as blown away by the unexpectedness of it. ‘I know,' she said, much more mildly. ‘You're feeling about me the way I'm feeling about you, like we have something special. But honestly, we don't. We had a…a frisson. Like a lightning bolt or something that shocked us and made us think we were special. Only you know what happens after lightning hits? You run in case it hits again. You don't want to be a part of my life, Jake, and I can't think I could possibly be part of yours. So let's just get over it.'

There was a long silence while anger dissipated. While sense prevailed.

‘If that's what you want…' he said at last.

It's not what I want, she thought. But what did she want?

She wanted him to sweep her into his arms and carry her off into some magical happy ever after—only he didn't even have a yard for a dog. Where was the happy ever after in that?

‘We need to say goodbye,' she said, struggling with her dignity, and Jake looked down into her eyes for a long, long moment and then finally he nodded.

‘We do.'

Her anger was completely gone now. This was Jake, the man she'd loved last night. The man she could still love. The man she might even learn to trust. Anger was gone, but sadness took its place. Regret that a different time, a different place, could have worked.

‘Goodbye,' he said softly, and she thought, I will not cry, I will not.

But then he smiled down at her and suddenly she didn't want to cry. She tilted her chin and met his gaze square on. This wasn't about loss. This wasn't about grief. It couldn't be.

Jake had been a watershed, a magical, romantic way to start her new life. He'd been her knight in shining armour, she thought mistily, and while the thought remained she stood on tiptoes and kissed him, lightly this time, and gently.

‘My Lancelot.'

‘Lancelot?' He sounded confused.

‘You were my white knight, right when I needed you most.'

‘A white knight,' he said, sounding revolted, and she grinned.

‘Only for two days,' she said. ‘While I played damsel in distress. Only now I'm not. So thank you, Jake. Off you go, then—back to New York, to your medicine. I wonder if there're more damsels in distress in Manhattan.'

‘I suspect most women where I come from know how to rescue themselves.'

She didn't like that. It sounded as though she needed to get a bit of spine. She straightened and she pulled her hands away and she put as much spine in her voice as she could.'

‘I'll remember you for ever,' she said, firmly and surely. ‘I'm sure I could have rescued myself, but it was much more fun being rescued by you. Thank you very much, Dr. Hunter. I'm sorry I can't follow you to Manhattan. I'm sorry I couldn't buy Bitsy as well as Itsy, and I'm sorry you don't have a yard. Meanwhile we need to move on. We both have our careers to get back to.'

And somehow she smiled—and he mustn't know just how hard that smile was—and she climbed into the car and started the engine.

‘Goodbye, Tori,' Jake said, but her car was already moving.

 

He felt sick. He stood in the car park of his father's lodge and watched until he could no longer see her car.

He'd let her go.

He had to. He'd asked her to come with him and she'd refused. What did she expect? That he stay here?

He thought back to the little scene back at Shoebox Mansions, to her impromptu clinic. People needing her. People expecting her to help at any time.

He compartmentalised his life. He'd go nuts if he accepted that kind of need.

But then… He turned and Glenda was on the verandah, watching him watch Tori leave. ‘Oh, my dear,' she said and he thought, She understands.

How could she understand? She didn't know him.

She'd known his father.

Community.

No, he thought savagely. What had his mother said? It was insidious. It sucked you in.

His life was in Manhattan and he had no place here.

‘Dinner's ready,' Glenda said but her message was much deeper.

‘You go in,' he told her.

‘We're waiting for you.'

It'd be a long wait, he thought. He had limits.

He was not his father's son.

‘We're waiting,' Glenda said again, gently, and he gave up and walked inside with her.

He could do dinner. He just couldn't do the rest of his life.

S
HE
bought a sewing machine and hemmed curtains. Yes, this home was temporary. Yes, she'd eventually think about rebuilding up on the ridge or selling and finding something else permanent, but right now that decision still seemed too hard.

Sewing was therapeutic, trying to keep trailing drapes from Itsy. So was taking a complete break from injured wildlife.

So was letting herself think about Jake.

He was just a memory, she told herself, a gorgeous guy who'd helped her move on. He'd been her five-minute date who'd turned into her two-day stand.

But the thought of him still made her smile.

She should do something about getting a job, she thought as the days wore on. She shouldn't settle here and let herself dwell on Jake.

But she wasn't dwelling. Or not exactly. She was simply savouring what had happened. Why she felt different.

This morning she'd sewn for a whole hour. Enough. She wouldn't mind a small nap.

This must be the lessening of pressure, she thought as she and Itsy and Rusty headed for bed. It was another reason she wasn't accepting a job right now. She was too tired.

‘We match,' she told they dogs. They got up and bounced
into frenetic activity for an hour or so; Itsy wore Rusty out, wore herself out and then, both exhausted, they slept.

Rusty loved it; he loved Itsy, and Tori loved watching them. But she was as exhausted as they were.

‘We're like litter mates,' she told them, letting them sneak up to her end of the bed.

And she slept, dreaming of Jake.

 

He should have forgotten her by now, or at least he shouldn't be thinking of her as often as he was.

He needed more challenging cases, he decided. His patients were all too healthy. He worked steadily through a surgery list that he purposely left even longer than usual. He administered anaesthetic, he monitored his patients like a hawk—almost hoping for a challenge—and they stayed nicely stable and he didn't have to do anything and then his thoughts drifted to Tori.

He should ring her and find out how she was doing. Or not.

He'd rung Rob to find out how the new direction of the lodge was going. He'd spoken to Glenda, who told him how well Doreen was, and that she was back at the lodge already, that she was without pain and that she was getting better every day. Glenda herself was also better. She was starting to be able to grip with her hand. Her life was so much better without pain. Her cat was settling in. There were two more guests at the lodge now, one with a cat and one with two chihuahuas.

And when finally he got to talk to Rob and casually enquired about Tori, Rob said bluntly he hadn't seen her, and his blonde had given him the flick, so he was over women for the moment. Glenda was a bit more forthcoming, but not much.

‘No, dear, we haven't seen her either. Wasn't she taking a job down in the valley? Doreen and I intend to find out where,
so when Pickles needs his shots we can see her again. But Pickles's shots aren't due for another three months.'

Great. He was dependent for news on Pickles's shots. And he didn't have her phone number.

He wouldn't ring it even if he did, he decided. It'd mean…

It'd mean nothing. It was what friends and colleagues did. It'd make sense to ring and ask her how Itsy and Rusty were doing, whether she'd found a job, where her life was going.

He wanted to.

He didn't. He'd asked her to come to Manhattan with him. That request had changed things. Her anger had changed things.

He'd messed up their friendship, so he worked and he tried not to think about her.

He was currently on his fourth case for the day. The patient under his hands was an obese diabetic. All the signs said his triple bypass should be a nightmare, but every one of his vital signs was great. Every monitor showed normal.

The surgical team was chatting between themselves but they let him be. They knew Jake was normally silent. He had the reputation of being aloof.

That was the way he liked it—wasn't it?

Only…it meant there was time to think, and right now thinking was the one thing Jake didn't know how to handle.

 

She wasn't quite sure when she started thinking it, but when she did she couldn't get it out of her head.

It started with a vague sense of unease—a wondering about the sleepiness. Why was she so tired? And then she thought…

And then she tried not to think. Only she couldn't.

It was only that she was thinking about Jake too much, she told herself, but it had her trying to remember.

Her files had been burned along with everything else. The important dates were gone and her memory had holes in it.

Many of the people from the ridge were suffering like
this, she knew. Trauma had left gaps in their collective pasts. Post-traumatic stress disorder?

But giving a name to what was happening wasn't helping. Not when something else might be happening. Or might have happened.

She could phone Susie, she thought, only that'd give voice to her fears.

‘Susie, when did I have my contraceptive implant put in? Am I overdue for renewal?'

She looked up the brand of her implant on the Web—cautiously—and found what she didn't want to read.

Effective pregnancy prevention for three years. After that, marked decreasing efficacy. Replacement must be undertaken within the three-year window.

Decreasing efficacy…

Surely she can't have been due to change. Surely she couldn't be that dumb.

Could she?

She wasn't ringing Susie, she decided. The problem with having a friend as her doctor was that her doctor was also her friend. She'd never be allowed to get away with a simple query. Like, when was…when
am
I due to change.

So wait.

She woke three weeks after Jake had left and nothing had happened—again. She showered and dressed and she felt too nauseous to face breakfast. She took Rusty and Itsy for a walk into town. She came home and she felt like a sleep again. Only first she'd just check out the package she'd brought from the local pharmacy.

She looked.

A thin blue line.

She stared at it for maybe ten minutes. It didn't change.

She tried the second packet.

Another blue line.

Shock held her motionless. Strangely, though, she wasn't devastated. She couldn't be. Even though she was stunned, there was a tiny part of her that admitted…joy? Dumb or what, but there it was.

Maybe subconsciously she'd been expecting it. The lethargy that had enveloped her for the past few weeks almost seemed to have prepared her.

She went out onto the front porch of her shoebox and stared at the distant hills.

She was pregnant.

She was twenty-nine. She had a great career—slightly stalled at the moment but ready to resume any time she wanted. She had heaps of insurance money.

She could have a baby.

She
was
having a baby.

Like Micki.

Her sister's face was suddenly before her, laughing, joyful. ‘Tori, feel. He's kicking. My baby's kicking.'

Her hand went to her tummy and pressed.
My baby.

And with the thought came a surge of joy so great it threatened to make her head explode.

‘We're having a baby,' she told the dogs, trying the words out to see how they sounded.

After so much destruction… Life.

She was carrying Jake's baby.

‘I'm going to have to tell him,' she told the dogs.

To not tell him was unthinkable.

Would he be angry? She deserved his anger. She'd promised him she was safe.

‘It's early days, though.' She was talking out loud, thinking out loud. ‘Something could happen.'

No. Both hands were on her tummy now, as if somehow she could protect it.

Nothing would happen to this baby.

‘So tell him,' she whispered. ‘Phone him tonight.'

She couldn't. She wasn't brave enough. He'd think she'd lied to him. He'd think…

‘I have to explain,' she whispered, and then the phone rang.

‘Doc Nicholls? We heard you were at a bit of a loose end. How do you feel about a flying trip to the States?'