Dating the Millionaire Doctor (5 page)

So he wanted to kiss her but he couldn't. She didn't even want his help cleaning this house—and he had to respect her wishes.

‘I'll see you down at the lodge,' he said, more harshly than he intended. ‘Before dinner?'

‘See you then,' she said without looking up. ‘Thank you, again, Jake.'

So that was that. He turned and left, leaving Tori shoving welfare clothes into welfare boxes. Packing up life as she knew it—and moving on.

While a little dog watched Jake's car until it disappeared from view.

 

The place was a mess. She gazed around the house and thought she couldn't just walk out. It wasn't fair.

She should have let Jake help, and maybe if it hadn't been Jake she would have. But then Jake wasn't anyone else. The
man had her thoroughly off balance. The equilibrium she'd striven so hard to reach had been tossed off course by the death of one little koala—and then by the way she'd reacted to Jake.

For this was more than grief.

Barb said she had to move on. Her head told her she couldn't, but her body was telling her it was more than time.

So she'd thought he was lovely and she'd sobbed all over him. What a turn-on. She headed into the bathroom to fetch her toiletries. Despite what she'd told Jake there was a mirror there, and she saw what she looked like. A nightmare.

‘Just forget it,' she said fiercely to a pile of second-hand clothes she had no use for. ‘Your body would react to anything in pants right now. You're needy and weepy and pathetic. So get a grip and don't even begin to think that Jake Hunter's seeing you as anything more than a basket case.'

She sniffed.

‘And don't go blubbering about that as well,' she snapped to her reflection, and headed back to the bedroom and kicked the closest cardboard box, which promptly collapsed. She stared at it as if it'd personally betrayed her—and then the phone rang.

‘Doc Nicholls?'

‘Yes.'

‘It's Combadeen Cleaners,' a woman's voice said. ‘We've been paid to clean the place you're using up on the ridge. Cart away garbage. Give stuff to welfare. Scrub. Do whatever you want.'

‘You've been paid?' she said cautiously.

‘This guy—Jake Hunter?—apparently he owns the lodge as well as your place? He said you're moving out. If it's okay with you, he said you do what you want, then leave the rest for us. When you're finished, leave a key on the kitchen table. We'll collect it tonight. We'll clean and lock up after our-
selves. But it's only if you want us. He made that clear. We've been paid already but it's up to you.'

It's up to you.
Jake understood. He was helping, but on her terms. The offer took her breath away.

For the past six months she'd been in charge. She'd been giving instructions. She'd organised.

Jake had listened to what she'd said, but he'd heard the underlying message and he'd organised around her.

The woman was giving her time to think about it. She gazed around her, at six months' chaos of a house being used as an animal hospital.

She should do it herself.

Jake was bossy, she thought. He was autocratic. He also scared her, just a little, the way he understood.

Logic said she should stay right away from Jake Hunter and his grandiose gestures.

It wasn't going to happen. She sniffed again and thought if she cried one more time today she'd need an IV line to replace fluids.

‘Thank you,' she said simply. ‘I accept with pleasure.'

 

Would she come?

Jake paced the lodge and thought he should have been more insistent.

Why was it so important she accept?

He didn't know. He only knew that it was.

S
HE
'
D
done what she could. The cleaners could deal with the rest. Tori sat in her little white van with Rusty close beside her, and thought leaving wasn't as easy as it sounded.

Stupid or not, it was a grief in itself. Moving away from the ridge…

She and Rusty had spent the first dreadful nights after the fire on Barb's couch. Then, when they'd found Jake's place and settled that it could be a staging post for injured wildlife, it had seemed sensible that she move in here. Six months later she was still not looking further than her next patient. Until now.

Rusty was staring out the window with longing, along the road that led to her burned-out home.

Home.

She closed her eyes. It didn't help to be angry—she knew that—but the rage she felt towards Toby was still real and dreadful. That she could have imagined she loved him… He hadn't come near her since the fire, which was just as well. He was a coward of the worst kind—and she'd thought she'd loved him.

So don't trust your stupid heart again, she told herself. Move on from the ridge but do not trust.

She was trying to get her tired mind to think.

Maybe accepting Jake's invitation for accommodation at the lodge was a mistake, she decided. But staying up here tonight in the empty refuge seemed unthinkable, and landing on Barb again was equally impossible. There were relocatable homes set up down in the valley for anyone displaced by the fires. She could move into one of those.

But not tonight, she thought. She'd give herself this night of respite.

A night with Jake?

No.

This was a night at a lovely guesthouse, she told herself fiercely. It had nothing to do with Jake. It was a night of indulgence before moving onto practicalities. To the dreary other side…

She glanced at Rusty, sitting passively beside the cardboard box that held all her worldly possessions, the practical things—changes of clothes, toiletries, things she'd had to find to survive.

She would survive. She and Rusty.

‘And we'll come back to the ridge,' she told the little dog as he looked mournfully along the road towards where they used to live. ‘Dad and Micki and Benedict, and Mutsy and Pogo and Bandit—they're still here. Just a little bit, but they're still here.'

But for now they had to leave.

‘We'll come back,' she said again, and she flicked the engine into life and drove out the gate—and to Rusty's great sorrow she turned right instead of left, down into the valley instead of where they'd left so much. ‘I promise you, Rusty. We'll come home.'

 

She was coming. She rang Rob and it was all Jake could do not to listen in on the extension.

‘You're really worried about her,' Rob said when he finished.

‘She's had a tough time.'

‘So has half this valley.'

‘I don't know half this valley,' he growled. ‘I know Tori.'

‘Only since yesterday… Right,' Rob said thoughtfully. ‘So shall we give her the honeymoon suite?'

‘What?'

‘The best,' Rob said patiently. ‘The one I tried to put you in. It's expensive.'

‘Yes, but charge her half-rates.'

‘You don't want to give it to her free?'

‘If we don't charge her, then she won't come.'

‘And you want her to come.'

‘Yes,' he snapped, and Rob grinned.

‘I see,' he said thoughtfully. ‘Shall I ring Barb, then, and tell her the five-minute dating was a success?'

‘Just try it.'

‘That's what I thought,' Rob said. ‘Okay, not yet. But I'm thinking I might get Mrs. Matheson to pull out all the stops. It's time we had a great dinner.'

‘Nothing special,' Jake said.

‘You don't want to scare her?'

‘Rob…'

‘I know,' his manager said, placating. ‘But I'm thinking lobster. She can think we have it every night, because we're not trying to impress her at all.'

 

‘Manwillinbah Lodge.'

She turned into the driveway and she could scarcely believe she was on the same planet as the place she'd just left. The lodge looked gracious and inviting, long and low and sprawling. Beyond rambling rose gardens were acres of grapevines, just coming into bud. It looked not where she belonged at all.

Why was she panicking?

She shouldn't be here. She should be somewhere she could be alone to think things through. Though hadn't she had enough time to think things through, and where had that got her?

But before her muddled thoughts could take her any further, her car door was tugged open, and Jake was looking in.

‘Hey,' he said softly. ‘I was starting to think I'd need to come up the mountain and fetch you. Welcome, Tori. Welcome, Rusty.'

He was smiling. That smile was enough to make a girl panic all on its own. ‘I was just coming to tell you…to tell Rob I wasn't coming,' she muttered. ‘And to thank you for the cleaners.'

He nodded, suppressing his smile. ‘That makes sense. Or not. The cleaners were my pleasure. As for not staying… You want to have dinner while you tell us why not?'

‘I can't stay here,' she said wildly, gesturing towards the house.

‘Why ever not?'

‘I don't fit.'

‘You fit in fine,' he said. ‘Our only two guests were burned out themselves. They're here to sleep.'

‘I don't have any clothes.'

‘Odd,' he said thoughtfully. ‘You'd have thought I'd have noticed no clothes.'

‘You know what I mean.'

He did. His gaze met hers and she knew he understood. ‘You look great,' he said softly. ‘Tori, you look lovely. Jeans and T-shirt are practically uniform here and no one's going to judge you even if they weren't. Dinner's on the table in an hour. That gives you time to have a bath first.'

‘You're saying I'm dirty?'

‘I'm saying there's a heated spa bath on your balcony with a view to die for. It's totally private. If you're dirty to start
with, there's only you to notice. Unless you want me to come scrub your back?'

‘No!'

‘No?' He was laughing now, and suddenly she found herself smiling back. Okay, she thought, maybe this wouldn't be as bad as it seemed. She didn't need to trust. She only needed to stay for a night. And tomorrow…

‘Worry about right now,' Jake said gently and, chameleon-like, his laughter was gone again. It was replaced by a gentle concern she found disconcerting.

Insidious. Impossible to resist.

Inviting her to trust. Terrifying.

‘Okay, no back-scrubbing,' he said, and he put out a hand to help her from the car. ‘Nothing but bath, food, sleep, and if that's not what you need I'll eat my medical degrees. There's no pressure, Tori. You're our welcome guest.'

His hand was waiting. Just waiting. All she had to do was accept.

‘I won't bite,' he said softly. ‘Rob's in the house, as is our housekeeper, Mrs. Matheson. There are two elderly ladies lying on Rob's fabulous lounges on the balcony watching the cockatoos. One's wearing dungarees, one's wearing tweed. Life's safe here, Tori. It's a refuge, if you like. You provided refuge for your battered wild creatures. Now it's time for you to take refuge.'

‘I don't need—'

‘I think you do. Barb thinks you do, too.' He hesitated but then continued. ‘Maybe I should confess I phoned Barb this afternoon. When she heard your koala was dead she was all for rushing up the mountain and taking you home herself. Only I gather Barb has a husband, five sons and a menagerie. We both thought you'd be best here. So what's it to be, Tori? Here, or Barb's, because no one's going to let you stay in a motel by yourself tonight.'

‘Even if I want to?'

‘If you really want, then we'll pay for a five-star hotel in the best part of Melbourne,' he said. ‘And you needn't think I'd have to personally pay—according to Barb half the valley would have their hands in their pockets in a minute to help you. So what's it to be?'

Still his hand was held out to her.

What was it to be?

She could still drive away. She knew she could.

There was a bath inside. A bath!

And Jake.

There was the problem.

She looked up at him. He smiled.

She couldn't trust.

She didn't need to trust. This was a night in a guesthouse, nothing more.

She took a deep breath. She tried to smile back. She put her hand in his and let him pull her up.

The tug had her rising too fast. She almost overbalanced, but he had her steady, catching her shoulders, holding.

He was so near.

She should pull away—but didn't.

‘Tori…' he said uncertainly, and she just looked at him. Sex on legs, she thought absently.

No. He was much, much more.

Get a grip, she thought frantically and shoved her hands up, breaking his grip. She came close to falling back down into the car—but didn't. Thankfully. A girl had some pride.

‘I… Thank you,' she muttered and managed to get herself round to the other side of the car to retrieve her cardboard box.

‘I like your luggage,' he said, and grinned.

‘Eat your heart out, Mr. Gucci,' she said, managing a smile in return. ‘This is so next year's catwalk.'

‘I believe it is,' he said. ‘If there's anyone who can start a trend it would be you.'

‘Enough with the compliments,' she said, feeling…disconcerted. No, more than that, totally flummoxed. ‘You promised me a bath.'

‘I did. Let me carry your box.'

‘I can manage myself,' she said with an attempt at dignity. ‘Once upon a time I depended on others. I don't do that any more.'

‘It's only carrying a box,' he said mildly.

‘No,' she said softly, as she carted her belongings up the steps and into the house. ‘Believe me, it's much, much more.'

 

She lay back in the vast spa; she let the bubbles float up around her and she felt as if she was floating herself. From here she could see all the way across the valley floor. There were candles lit around her, gardenia with maybe a hint of citrus. The housekeeper had lit them as she'd settled her into the room.

‘And don't worry about privacy,' she'd said. ‘There's oneway glass so you can see forever but no one can see you, even if there was someone outside, which there isn't. The one-way glass is brilliant. Jake had it installed just after his father died.'

‘Jake did that?'

‘He wants this place to be the best. It was his stepmother's passion, and we want to carry it on.'

Jake's stepmother's passion… There was a lot here she didn't understand, that she hadn't thought through.

She knew this place had been built by the local doctor and his wife. Charlie McDonald had cared for this community for as long as most people remembered. He'd cared for her mother during her long illness, allowing her to die at home surrounded by her family and her beloved animals. Tori remembered him with deep affection, and with gratitude.

He'd lived in Combadeen and his wife had run the lodge. The place up on the ridge had been his weekend retreat, so they'd been weekend neighbours. But just after she'd started university he'd retired to the city, and she'd not heard of him until his funeral.

And now…

The old doctor was Charlie McDonald. Jake was Jake Hunter.

Illegitimate? Who knew with mixed families?

She tried to remember community gossip. There was talk of a son at his funeral. She remembered a faded baby photo on Dr. McDonald's surgery wall. That must be Jake.

She'd find out. She had all the time in the world to get it right, she thought dreamily as she sank deeper into bubbles. But then she thought, No, she was only here for a night until she organised something more permanent, and Jake himself would return to New York. There'd be no time for questions.

The thought left her curiously bereft.

But at least she could sleep tonight, she reminded herself. She glanced through into the bedroom, at the enormous bed piled with white-on-white eiderdowns and feather pillows. A woman could melt into a bed like this.

As opposed to melting into a man like Jake Hunter?

She was delirious. That was the only possible explanation for where her mind was taking her. She was
not
thinking of doing any melting into any man.

All she had to do to stop that was to think of Toby. Betrayal. A heartache that would never leave her.

Jake was different.

Maybe or maybe not, she thought sharply, but Jake was heading back to New York and he didn't want to even indulge in five-minute dating, much less anything else. She was tired beyond belief and her mind was playing tricks.

So get out of the bath, get to dinner, so you can go to bed.

Right. She wiggled even deeper under the bubbles.

‘Tori?'

Uh-oh. Jake's voice brought her bolt upright. ‘Tori, are you okay?'

‘I'm fine,' she managed, feeling…discombobulated. She was covered in bubbles and she was bright pink. Had she locked the door? She didn't think so.

‘Dinner's ready. I've fed Rusty, but do you want yours here or in the dining room?'

In here, she thought, but then maybe he had it with him. Maybe if she said the word the door would open.

‘In the dining room,' she squeaked.

‘You want a hand out of the bath?'

‘No!'

She heard him chuckle. ‘Hey, I'm a doctor, remember? I'm used to human bodies.'

‘You're not
my
doctor, and you're not used to this one. Go away.'

‘Yes, ma'am,' he said and there was silence—and she pulled herself awkwardly out of the bath and thought maybe, just maybe, she should have let him in.

Maybe she even wanted to.