Dating the Millionaire Doctor (3 page)

‘So you're here to put this farm on the market,' she continued briskly. ‘That's fine, but first I need to thank you.' She abandoned her bucket, put her hands out and grasped his, holding them in the same strong grip of the night before, a grip that made him wonder how he'd ever thought her a mouse. The connection felt strangely…right.

But Tori wasn't noticing connections. She was moving right on.

‘I can't tell you how grateful we've been,' she said. ‘It's been fabulous—and Barb said you won't take any rent. It's been truly lifesaving.' She looked across at the little koala in her cage, and her business-like tone faltered a little. ‘And now you'll sell. That's fine. We don't need it any more. As soon as this one goes…'

‘She's the only one here now?'

‘We release as soon as we can,' she said, efficient again. ‘Wild animals respond to captivity with stress. There's a few that are too damaged to survive on their own, but we've relocated them all now to bigger animal shelters. Places where they can have as close to a normal life as possible. So yes, there's only this little one here now. And me.'

He frowned. ‘You're living here?'

‘I… Yes. I hope you don't mind. It's easier.'

‘You're on twenty–four-hour call?'

‘Not many of my patients buzz me. It's not as hard as it
sounds.' She was opening the door onto the verandah and ushering him out, almost before he was aware of what she was doing.

There was a small dog lying on an ancient settee by the door. He'd seen him as he arrived. He was some sort of terrier, a nondescript brown-and-white mutt who hadn't bothered checking Jake out when he arrived. Too old to care? He glanced up now, gave a feeble wag of his tail and then went back to what he was doing.

Which wasn't sleeping, Jake realised. He was staring down the valley, as if he was waiting for someone.

Tori touched the dog's ears, and the dog nosed her palm and went right back to looking. Waiting to go home?

‘You'll be looking forwards to going home,'he ventured, and saw a flash of pain, hidden fast. Uh-oh, he thought. Stupid. If she was staying here… She'd be one of the hundreds burned out.

She hesitated and he knew he was right, but it was too late to retrieve the situation. ‘I guess I must be,' she said slowly before he could think what else to say, and she shrugged. ‘No, of course I am. It's time I moved on.'

‘Is that what you were doing last night—moving on?'

‘What I was doing last night was being conned by my friend. I gather you were conned as well. So when do you need me to move out?'

‘I don't—'

‘It'll be soon. You'll need to clean the place up before you put it on the market. There's a lot of smoke damage. Do you want to look through now?' She glanced at her watch. ‘I have a teleconference in five minutes with our local shelter staffers, but you could look around yourself.'

‘I'd be happier if you could show me personally.'

Why had he said that? Surely he could see what he needed from here. What point was there doing a detailed inspection, and why did he need a personal tour from Tori?

She had him fascinated. There was something about the way her hand had shaken his, brisk, efficient, but also…there was something vulnerable about her. Something he couldn't figure out.

She wasn't sounding vulnerable, though. She was organising. ‘I can show you,' she said, ‘but if you want the personal tour it'll have to be later in the day. But tomorrow would be better.'

‘Is nine in the morning all right?'

‘Sure. When are you going back to the States?'

‘Monday.' Six days away.

Suddenly six days seemed okay. If he kept the resort there was only this place to organise. He could be here again tomorrow and be shown over the property by Tori. Those jeans… He'd never seen jeans look this good on a woman.

‘I do need to get in to my teleconference,' she said, a bit sharply, and he pulled himself together. What was he thinking? This woman was a country mouse—a vet who lived on the other side of the world to him. If she hadn't stood him up on a five-minute date…

Was that what this was? Bruised ego?

‘Thank you very much for saving my koala,' she said, starting to edge away.

‘What's she called?'

‘I don't name them. You get attached if you name them.'

‘You don't get attached?'

‘I try hard not to. Now if you'll excuse me…'

‘Of course,' he said, but he was still surprised when she stepped back inside the house and closed the door sharply behind her.

She wasn't a time waster, then, Dr. Nicholls. He didn't waste time either—but he couldn't help feeling piqued. Most women reacted to him differently to the way this woman had.

What was he thinking?

Nothing. There was nothing to think about. He gave himself a mental swipe to the side of the head and headed back to his rental car. He should get back to the States fast if he thought shabby little country vets were cute. If he thought shabby little country vets were fascinating.

 

He wasn't to know that one shabby little country vet watched him until he was out of sight.

Boy, was she hopeless. She twitched the smoke-stained drapes back into place and glowered at nothing in particular. One gorgeous male, and here she was, feeling…weird. Which was dumb. The last thing she needed in her life was another man.

So why had she let Barb talk her into five-minute dating?

Because, with the leaving of the army of volunteers, she'd become so lonely she was starting to talk to walls.

Dad. Micki.

Don't go there.

There weren't even enough animals left to talk to. She returned to the makeshift surgery and stooped to check the little koala. She was barely conscious. So small. So battered.

Maybe it had been a mistake to keep on trying.

‘Live,' she whispered, almost fiercely. ‘You must get better. You must start living again.'

She knew she must, too.

She glanced out the window to the west and flinched like she always did. She could just see the chimney stack which was all that was left of the house she'd lived in forever.

Her dad. Her sister.

‘Move on,' she whispered. ‘Get yourself a nice little town house in the city. You can be a pet vet. Take care of allergies, dew claws, vaccinations.'

Maybe she would. It was just…she didn't feel ready yet.

In a couple of weeks this little koala should be ready to move on to a wildlife refuge and this place would be sold to
be a home again. But not her home. She'd sheltered here for long enough. It was time to face the world again.

She knew she could. She'd schooled herself to be independent.

 

So why was the thought of Jake Hunter walking away so disturbing?

‘So what's the story with Tori?' he asked Rob.

It was after dark. There were only two guests staying at Manwillinbah Lodge right now, and both had gone to bed early. Rob had organised a theatre night—an old showing of
Casablanca
. He'd set up a themed dinner, decorated the sitting room with black-and-white posters, even worn a hat—but both his guests were weary and just wanted their own beds.

They were fire victims, too, Jake had discovered. Both were elderly women, living in temporary accommodation, organising to rebuild. They'd come here for time out, because the process was leaving them exhausted, and all they wanted to do was sleep.

It left Rob dissatisfied, though. He loved being the entertainer, but by eight he was left to entertain himself and his boss. They sat on the back porch and watched the stars and drank beer—and Jake pushed.

‘Tori,' he prodded again. ‘Tell me about her.'

‘I don't even know her.'

‘But Barb's told you.'

‘Nope. There're tragedies everywhere and if you're not told you don't ask. Some people need to talk about it, some people can't. All I know is that she was put in charge of the wildlife rescue effort and she was vet up on the ridge before the fires. I didn't know she was staying on-site but I did say they could use it for whatever they wanted. I told you that when I phoned.'

He had. There'd been a couple of days when the news
coming through from Australia was dreadful. He'd been ready to promise anything.

He still was.

‘I don't want to kick Tori out,' he said now, uneasily. ‘If she still wants to live there…'

‘She doesn't. Barb says as soon as the last animal goes, so will she. It's fine to put it on the market.'

‘Does she have somewhere to go?'

‘I have no idea,' Rob said, giving him a curious glance. ‘I've never met the lady until last night, and five minutes with her didn't give me much time for in-depth questions. Yours was worse—how many questions did you manage in your minute and a half?'

‘Don't rub it in,' Jake growled. ‘I don't make a great speed dater.'

‘I don't think you make an anything dater,' Rob said, pouring another beer. ‘But you've met the lady properly today. What's she like?'

‘Smart. Tired. Worried.' And very cute, he thought, but he didn't say it. Really sexy, despite those appalling clothes.

‘Tired and worried equals everyone up here in the hills,' Rob said, not hearing his afterthoughts. ‘So we're back to smart. How smart?'

‘She's a vet.'

‘And?'

‘And she had the gumption to walk away from me when I was being an—'

‘I know exactly what you were being,' Rob said, and had the temerity to grin. ‘Good for Tori.'

‘She practically told me to leave today, too.'

‘You're kidding. It's your property.'

‘Which she's legally entitled to be on. Oh, she wasn't rude. She evicted me in the most businesslike way. Maybe she's a man hater.'

‘Not if she agreed to dating. So you're interested?'

‘I'm not interested. I'm just concerned. Where has everyone else gone whose houses burned?'

‘Relatives, friends, or there's a whole town of mobile homes—relocatables—set up further down the valley for anyone who needs them. You'll have passed them on your way from the airport.'

‘She'll go there?'

‘Why don't you ask her?'

‘It's none of my business.'

‘So why do you want to know?'

He didn't have an answer. He sat on, staring into the night, and finally Rob left him to his silence.

Leaving Jake alone with half a bottle of beer, a starlit sky and a silence so immense it was enough to take his breath away.

A faint rustle came from beside him. A wallaby was watching from the edge of the garden, moonlight glinting on its silvery fur.

‘Hi,' Jake said, but the wallaby took fright and disappeared into the shadows. Leaving Jake alone again.

He should go inside. He had journals to study. He didn't do…nothing.

But the stars were immense, and somewhere under them, alone up on the mountain, was Tori.

A woman with shadows?

She was nothing to do with him. So why did a faint, insistent murmur in his head tell him that she was?

H
E ARRIVED
at the farmhouse at nine the next morning and nobody answered the door.

He knocked three times. The same van he'd seen yesterday was in the driveway but there were no sounds coming from the house. There was no dog on the settee.

He tried the door and it opened, unlocked and undefended. ‘Hi, Tori,' he called. ‘It's Jake.'

Still no answer.

She'd been expecting him.

Should he come back later? He hesitated and then thought maybe she was in the surgery again, doing something that couldn't be interrupted. He went through cautiously—and stopped at the open door.

Even from here he could tell the koala was dead. The little animal was facing him, curled on her side, still. The cage door was open.

He crossed to the cage and stooped, putting his hand on her fur to make sure. But yes, she was gone. Simply, he thought. There was no sign of distress. The IV lines Tori had attached yesterday had been removed but were lying neatly to the side, as if they'd been removed after death.

She looked as if she'd hardly moved since yesterday.

She'd simply died.

He'd had patients who'd done this—just died. The operation had been a success, yet the assault on their bodies had been too great, their hearts had simply stopped.

Mostly it happened in the aged, where maybe there'd been a question of whether the operation should have been done at all, only how could you convince a patient that you couldn't remove cancer because there was a risk of heart failure? Maybe you tried, but the patient could elect to have the operation anyway.

He hated cases like those. He hated this.

He knelt and saw, closer now and more dreadfully, the full extent of scar tissue. He thought about what this little animal must have gone through in the past six months and he knew that yesterday's decision to operate must have been a hard one for Tori to make.

Where was she?

He glanced around, out through the window, and then he saw her. She was out at the edge of the clearing, and he knew what she was doing.

 

Hadn't she cried enough?

She didn't get attached to her patients. She couldn't. Getting attached was the way of madness.

She was crying so hard she could barely see the ground she was trying to dig.

This was the first of the animals she'd tried to bury. Up until now there'd been volunteers taking away bodies of the animals she'd failed.

This was the end. Her last failure. If she'd known it would turn out like this she'd have euthanised her six months ago.

She'd had to make a decision. She'd got it wrong, and there were no volunteers left to bury her.

So much loss. So much appalling waste. Dad, Micki, one tiny baby with no life at all…

One little koala who somehow represented them all.

‘I can't do this any more,' she whispered and hit the ground with the spade. The spade shuddered back. Was she hitting tree roots?

She swore and hit the ground again. Three spade lengths away, Rusty flinched, as if the little dog felt every shudder.

‘You and me both,' she told Rusty and shoved the spade uselessly down again. This was dumb, dumb, dumb, but she did not want to take the little koala's body down the mountain to the veterinary crematorium.
She did not.

All she could see was the Combadeen cemetery, two graves with brass headstones. Dad. Micki. Micki's with a tiny extra plaque, white on silver.

No.

She shoved the spade down hard again, uselessly. She gulped back tears—and suddenly the spade was taken out of her hands.

Where he came from she didn't know. She knew nothing, only that the spade was tossed aside, two strong arms enfolded her and held her close. And let her sob.

 

He'd never held a woman like this. He'd never felt emotion like this.

Jake was chief anaesthetist in a specialist teaching hospital in Manhattan. Once upon a time he'd spent time with patients, but that seemed long since. Now he handled only critical cases. Patient interviews and examinations were done by his juniors. His personal contact with patients was confined to reassurance as they slipped under anaesthetic, and occasional further reassurance as they regained consciousness.

If there were problems during an operation, it was mostly the surgeon who talked to the family. As anaesthetist Jake took no risks. He did his job and he did it well. There were
seldom times he needed to talk. Now, as he faced Tori's real and dreadful grief, he realised he actively kept away from this type of anguish.

His mother had cried at him all of his life. He'd done with tears.

And this was just a koala.

Just a koala. Even as he thought it, he recalled the limp little body lying alone down at the house, the scar tissue, the evidence of a six-month battle now lost. He looked around him and saw the blackened skeletons of a ravaged forest. His mother had cried for crying's sake. He knew instinctively that Tori's tears were very different.

So much death…

Tori was trying desperately to pull herself together, sniffing against his shirt, tugging back. ‘I'm sorry,' she managed. ‘This is stupid. It was a risk, operating on her. I should have put her down. I should have…'

‘You weren't to know what you should or shouldn't have done,' he said gently. ‘You did your best. That's all anyone can ask.'

‘No, but she was wild. She's been through so much.'

‘You didn't add to that. Tori, you had to give her every chance.'

‘But was I operating for me?' she demanded, sounding desperate. She'd managed to pull back now and was wiping her hand furiously across her cheeks. ‘I named her! How stupid was that?'

‘You told me you didn't.'

‘I told everyone I didn't. All the volunteers I've worked with. The nurses. The drivers. The firefighters who brought animals in. I told them we can't afford to get attached. There are so many. If we get attached we'll go crazy. Let's do our best for every individual animal and let's stay dispassionate.'

There was nothing dispassionate about Tori. She looked
wild. Her face was blotched from weeping. The spade she was working with was covered with ashes and dirt. Her hands were filthy and she'd wiped her hands across her sodden face.

She looked like someone who'd just emerged from this burned-out forest—a fire victim herself—and something inside him felt her pain. Or felt more than that. It hurt that she was hurting, and it hurt a lot.

He wanted to hug her again—badly—but she was past hugging. She had her arms folded across her breasts in an age-old gesture of defence. Trying to stop an agony that was unstoppable?

This was much more than the death of one koala, he thought, as bad as that was. There were levels to this pain that he couldn't begin to understand.

‘Keep yourself to yourself.' His mother's words sounded through the years. ‘Don't get involved—you'll only get hurt.'

Wise advice? He'd always thought so, but right now it was advice he was planning to ignore.

‘What did you call her?' he asked, and she hiccupped on a sob and tried to glare at him. It didn't come off. How could it?

‘Manya'

Why was she glaring? Did she think he'd mock?

Maybe she did. He knew instinctively that Tori was assessing him and withdrawing. As if he'd think she was stupid—when stupid was the last thing he'd think her.

‘Why Manya?' he asked, searching for the right words to break through. ‘What does it mean?'

‘Just…“little one.” It's from the language of the native people from around here. Not that it matters. It was only… I talked to her.' She sounded desperate again, and totally bewildered. ‘I had to call her something. I had to talk to her.'

‘I guess you did,' he said. And then, as she still seemed to be drawing in on herself, he thought maybe he
could
make
this professional. Maybe it'd make it easier. ‘Do you know why she died?'

‘No.' She spread her filthy hands and stared down at them, as if they could give her some clue. She shook her head. ‘Or maybe I do. She's been under stress for months but I thought we were winning. I knew she wouldn't be able to go back to the wild, but there are sanctuaries that'd take her, good places that'd seem like freedom. And she was so close. But one tiny abscess… It must have been the last straw. She was fine when I checked on her at seven, and when I checked at eight she was dead. Everything just…stopped.'

‘It does happen,' he said softly. ‘To people, too.'

‘Have you had it happen to patients?' she managed, and he knew she was struggling hard to sound normal. Her little dog nosed forwards and she picked him up and held him against her, shield-like. He licked her nose and she held him harder.

The dog was missing a leg, he saw with a shock, and his initial impression of him as an old dog changed. Not old. Wounded.

As Tori was wounded.

Have you had it happen to patients?
Tori's question was still out there, and maybe talking medicine was the way to go until she had herself together.

‘Not often,' he told her, ‘but yes, I have. That it hasn't happened often means I've been lucky.'

‘As opposed to me,' she said grimly. ‘I've lost countless patients in the past six months.'

She looked exhausted to the point of collapse, he thought. Had she slept at all last night?

When had she last slept?

‘Your patients are wild creatures,' he said, and he felt as if he was picking his way through a minefield, knowing it was important that she talk this out, but suspecting she could close up at any minute. ‘My patients are the moneyed resi
dents of Manhattan. There's no way a rich, private hospital will cause them stress, and there's the difference.' He hesitated. ‘Tori, let me dig for you.'

‘I can do it.' She put the little dog down and grabbed the spade again.

‘Can you?'

She closed her eyes, gave herself a minute and then opened them. ‘No. This is dumb. I accept that now. The ground's one huge root ball. I'll take her down the mountain and get her cremated.'

‘But you don't want to.'

‘Just…just because I named her,' she whispered, hugging the spade, while the little dog nosed her boots in worry. ‘I wanted her buried here. At least the edges of the bush here are still alive. I wanted her buried under living trees. Does that make sense?'

‘It does,' he said, strongly and surely, and before she could protest again, he took the spade from her hands and started digging.

She was right. The ground was so hard it would be more sensible to cremate her. Only there was something about Tori that said this burial was deeply important on all sorts of levels. So he put all his weight behind the spade and it slid a couple of inches in. Slowly he got through the hardened crust to the root-filled clay below, while Tori watched on in silence.

After a couple of minutes she sank to her knees and gathered the little dog against her.

‘What's his name?' he asked, trying not to sound like the digging was as hard as it was.

‘Rusty.'

‘How did he lose his leg?'

‘Fire,' she said harshly, and he glanced at the little dog in surprise. He'd lost his leg but he wasn't otherwise scarred.

‘He was burned?'

‘Wasn't everything around here?' She hugged him closer and got another nose lick for her pains. ‘But Rusty was lucky—sort of. He was… I found him in the fireplace of…of where I lived. Over there.' She motioned to the neighbouring property. ‘Part of the bricks had collapsed, trapping his leg, but otherwise he was okay. He was my dad's Rusty. He's just waiting 'til he comes home.'

Her voice broke. No more questions were allowed, Jake thought, while she struggled for control, so he kept right on digging.

It took time. Ten minutes. Fifteen. He wasn't in a hurry. This was giving Tori time to catch her breath, figure if she wanted to tell him more.

There were cockatoos screeching in the gums about his head. Apart from the birds and the sound of the spade against the earth, there was nothing but silence.

What had happened to this woman? He shouldn't ask, but finally he had to.

‘So who did you lose?' he asked into the silence, and for a while he thought she wouldn't answer.

Then, ‘My father and my sister,' she said flatly, dreadfully. ‘My sister was eight months pregnant.'

Dear God, he thought helplessly. Where to take this from here? ‘You all lived over there?' he tried.

‘We did. Micki… Margaret… My sister's relationship had fallen apart and she'd come home, so she could have her baby with us. Toby and I were going to look after her for the first few weeks after the birth.' She took a deep breath. ‘But then they died. Dad and Micki and Benedict. Benedict was Micki's baby. A little boy. She was going to call him Benedict. I found Rusty three days later when I finally got back up here, but there was nothing else left. Nothing.'

It took his breath away. He felt ill. But desperately he wanted to help, and somehow he knew that the only way
to do that was to keep on going. Keep digging—and keep on talking.

‘So…Toby?'

‘Toby was my fiancé.'

‘But he wasn't killed?'

‘What do you think?' She laughed, mirthlessly, and buried her face in her dog's soft fur. Her laugh sounded close to hysteria.

He let her be for a moment, pushing the spade deeper into the tree roots. The grave was deep enough, but he knew instinctively that if he stopped, then so would she. She'd get back to the business of living—but maybe talking about the dying would help?

He'd done a bit of psychology in medical school but he'd never practised it. Now, however, what to do seemed to be instinctive. A human skill rather than a professional one? Whatever, it seemed to be working.