Flirting with the Socialite Doc

* * *

Izzy walked back to her cottage a short time later. The party was continuing without her, which suited her just fine. Everyone was having a field day over her mistaking Zach Fletcher for a stripper. There was only so much ribbing she could take in one sitting. Just as well she was only here for a month. It would be a long time before she would be able to think about the events of tonight without blushing to the roots of her hair.

The police station was a few doors up from the clinic at the south end of the main street. She hadn’t noticed it earlier but, then, during the day it looked like any other nondescript cottage. Now that it was fully dark the police sign was illuminated and the four-wheel-drive police vehicle Zach had driven earlier was parked in the driveway beside a spindly peppercorn tree.

As she was about to go past, Zach came out of the building. He had a preoccupied look on his face and almost didn’t see her until he got to the car. He blinked and pulled up short, as if she had appeared from nowhere. He tipped his hat, his voice a low, deep burr in the silence of the still night air. ‘Dr Courtney.’

‘Sergeant Fletcher.’ If he was going to be so formal then so was she. Weren’t country people supposed to be friendly? If so, he was certainly showing no signs of it.

His tight frown put his features into shadow. ‘It’s late to be out walking.’

‘I like walking.’

‘It’s not safe to do it on your own.’

‘But it’s so quiet out here.’

‘Doesn’t make it safe.’ His expression was grimly set. ‘You’d be wise to take appropriate measures in future.’

Izzy put her chin up pertly. ‘I didn’t happen to see a taxi rank anywhere.’

‘Do you have a car?’

‘Of course.’

‘Next time use it or get a lift with one of the locals.’ He opened the passenger door of the police vehicle. ‘Hop in. I’ll run you home.’

Izzy bristled at his brusque manner. ‘I would prefer to walk, if you don’t mind. It’s only a block and I—’

His grey-blue eyes hardened. ‘I do mind. Get in. That’s an order.’

The air seemed to pulse with invisible energy as those strong eyes held hers. She held his gaze for as long as she dared, but in the end she was the first to back down. Her eyes went to his mouth instead and a frisson of awareness scooted up her spine to tingle each strand of her hair on her scalp. Something shifted in her belly...a turning, a rolling-over sensation, like something stirring after a long hibernation.

His mouth was set tightly, as tight and determined as his jaw, which was in need of a fresh shave. His eyes were fringed with dark lashes, his eyebrows the same rich dark brown as his hair. His skin was deeply tanned and it was that stark contrast with his eyes that was so heart-stopping. Smoky grey one minute, ice-blue the next, the outer rims of his irises outlined in dark blue, as if someone had traced their circumference with a fine felt-tip marker.

Eyes that had seen too much and stored the memories away somewhere deep inside for private reflection...or haunting.

‘Fine, I’ll get in,’ Izzy said with bad grace. ‘But you really need to work on your kerb-side manner.’

He gave her an unreadable look as he closed the door with a snap. She watched him stride around to the driver’s side, his long legs covering the distance in no time at all. He was two or three inches over six feet and broad shouldered and lean hipped. When he joined her in the car she felt the space shrink alarmingly. She drew herself in tightly, crossing her arms and legs to keep any of her limbs from coming into contact with his powerfully muscled ones.

The silence prickled like static electricity.

‘Peggy McLeod told me about your father’s accident,’ Izzy said as he pulled to the kerb outside her cottage half a minute later. She turned in her seat to look at him. ‘I’m sorry. That must be tough on both of you.’

Zach’s marble-like expression gave nothing away but she noticed his hands had tightened on the steering-wheel. ‘Do you make house calls?’

‘I...I guess so. Is that what Dr Sawyer did?’

‘Once a week.’

‘Then I’ll do it too. When would you like me to come?’

Some of the tension seemed to leave his shoulders but he didn’t turn to look at her. ‘I’ll ring Margie and make an appointment.’

‘Fine.’

Another silence.

‘Look, about that little mix-up back at the pub—’ she began.

‘Forget it,’ he cut her off. ‘I’ll wait until you get inside. Lock the door, won’t you?’

Izzy frowned. ‘You know you’re really spooking me with this over-vigilance. Don’t you know everyone in a town this size by name?’

‘We have drive-throughs who cause trouble from time to time. It’s best not to take unnecessary risks.’

‘Not everyone is a big bad criminal, Sergeant Fletcher.’

He reached past her to open her door. Izzy sucked in a sharp breath as the iron bar of his arm brushed against her breasts, setting every nerve off like a string of fireworks beneath her skin.

For an infinitesimal moment her gaze meshed with his.

He had tiny blue flecks in that unreadable sea of grey and his pupils were inky-black. He smelt of lemons with a hint of lime and lemongrass and something else...something distinctly, arrantly, unapologetically male.

A sensation like the unfurling petals of a flower brushed lightly over the floor of her belly.

Time froze.

The air tightened. Pulsed. Vibrated.

‘Sorry.’ He pulled back and fixed his stare forward again, his hands gripping the steering-wheel so tightly his tanned knuckles were bone white.

‘No problem.’ Izzy’s voice came out a little rusty. ‘Thanks for the lift.’

He didn’t drive off until she had closed the door of the cottage. She leant back against the door and let out a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding, listening as his car growled away into the night.

* * *

‘So what did your friend actually send you for your birthday?’ Margie Green asked as soon as Izzy arrived at the clinic the next morning.

‘I haven’t opened it yet.’ Because I stupidly left it in Sergeant Fletcher’s car last night.

Margie’s eyes were twinkling. ‘What on earth made you think our Zach was a male stripper?’

Izzy cringed all over again. Was every person in town going to do this to her? Remind her of what a silly little idiot she had been? If so, four weeks couldn’t go fast enough. ‘Because it’s exactly the sort of thing my friend Hannah would do. As soon as I saw him standing there I went into panic mode. I didn’t stop to think that he could be a real cop. I didn’t even know if Jerringa Ridge had a cop. I didn’t have time to do much research on the post because the agency asked me to step in for someone at the last minute.’

‘We have two cops...or one and a half really,’ Margie said. ‘We used to have four but with all the government cutbacks that’s no longer the case. Rob Heywood is close to retirement so Zach does the bulk of the work. He’s a hard worker is our Zach. You won’t find a nicer man out in these parts.’

‘I’m not here to find a man.’ Why did every woman over fifty—including her own mother—seem to think younger women had no other goal than to get married? ‘I’m here to work.’

Margie cocked her head at a thoughtful angle. ‘You’re here for four weeks. These days that’s a long time for a young healthy woman like you to be without a bit of male company.’

Izzy’s left thumb automatically went to her empty ring finger. It was a habit she was finding hard to break. It wasn’t that she regretted her decision to end things with Richard. It was just strange to feel so...so unattached. She hadn’t looked at another man in years. But now she couldn’t get Zach Fletcher’s eyes or his inadvertent touch out of her head...or her body. Even now she could remember the feel of that slight brush of his arm across her breasts—the electric, tingly feel of hard male against soft female...

She gave herself a mental shake as she picked up a patient’s file and leafed through it. ‘I’m not interested in a relationship. There’d be no point. I’m on a working holiday. I won’t be in one place longer than a month.’

‘Zach hasn’t dated anyone since he broke up with his ex,’ Margie said, as if Izzy hadn’t just described her plans for the next six months. ‘It’d be good for him to move on. He was pretty cut up about Naomi not wanting to come with him to the bush. Not that he’s said anything, of course. He’s not one for having his heart flapping about on his sleeve. He comes across as a bit arrogant at times but underneath all that he’s a big softie. Mind you, you might have your work cut out for you, being an English girl and all.’

Izzy lowered the notes and frowned. ‘Because his mother was English?’

‘Not only English but an aristocrat.’ Margie gave a little sniff that spoke volumes. ‘One of them blue-blooded types. Her father was a baron or a lord of the realm or some such thing. Olivia Hardwick was as posh as anything. Used to having servants dancing around her all her life. No wonder she had so much trouble adjusting to life out here. Love wasn’t enough in the end.’

Izzy thought of the veritable army of servants back at Courtney Manor. They were almost part of the furniture, although she tried never to take any of them for granted. But now was probably not a good time to mention her background with its centuries-old pedigree.

Margie sighed as sat back in her chair. ‘It broke Doug’s heart when she left. He hasn’t looked at another woman since...more’s the pity. He and I used to hang out a bit in the old days. Just as friends.’

‘But you would have liked something more?’ Izzy asked.

Margie gave her a wistful smile. ‘We can’t always have what we want, can we?’

Izzy glanced at the receptionist’s left hand. ‘You never married?’

‘Divorced. A long time ago. Thirty years this May. I shouldn’t have married Jeff but I was lonely at the time.’

‘I’m sorry.’

Margie shrugged.

‘Did you have children?’

‘A boy and a girl. They both live in Sydney. And I have three grandchildren who are the joy of my life. I’m hoping to get down to see them at Easter.’

Izzy wondered if Margie’s marriage had come about because of Doug Fletcher’s involvement with Olivia. How heartbreaking it must have been for her to watch him fall madly in love with someone else, and how sad for Doug to have the love of his life walk out on him and their young son.

Relationships were tricky. She knew that from her own parents, who had a functional marriage but not a particularly happy or fulfilling one. That was one of the reasons she had decided to end things with Richard. She hadn’t wanted to end up trapped in an empty marriage that grumbled on just for the sake of appearances.

‘Sergeant Fletcher asked me to make a house call on his father,’ Izzy said. ‘Has he rung to make an appointment yet?’

‘Not yet,’ Margie said. ‘He might drop in on his way to the station. Ah, here he is now. Morning, Zach. We were just talking about you.’

Izzy turned to see Zach Fletcher duck his head slightly to come through the door. Her stomach did a little freefall as his eyes met hers. He looked incredibly commanding in his uniform; tall and composed with an air of untouchable reserve. How on earth she had mistaken him for anything other than a cop made her cheeks fire up all over again. She ran her tongue over her lips before she gave him a polite but distant smile. ‘Good morning, Sergeant Fletcher.’

He dipped his head ever so slightly, his eyes running over her in a lazy, unreadable sweep that set her pulse rate tripping. ‘Dr Courtney.’

Izzy’s smile started to crack around the edges. Did he have to look at her so unwaveringly, as if he knew how much he unsettled her? Was he laughing at her behind that inscrutable cop mask? ‘What can I do for you? Would you like to make an appointment for me to come out and see your father today? I could probably work something in for later this afternoon. I’m pretty solidly booked but—’

He handed her the package the delivery guy had delivered the night before, his eyes locking on hers in a way that made the base of her spine shiver and fizz. ‘You left this in my car last night.’

Izzy could practically hear Margie’s eyes popping out of her head behind the reception counter. ‘Oh...right, thanks.’ She took the package from him and held it against her chest, where her heart was doing double time.

‘Aren’t you going to open it?’ Margie said.

‘Um...not right now.’

Was that a hint of mockery glinting in Zach Fletcher’s eyes? ‘What time would suit you?’ he asked.

‘I...I think I’d rather do it when I get home.’

The glint in his eyes was unmistakable this time, so too was the slight curve at one side of his mouth. His version of a smile? It made her hungry to see a real one. Was he capable of stretching that grim mouth that far? ‘I meant what time would suit you to see my father.’

Izzy’s blush deepened. What was it about this man that made her feel about twelve years old? Well, maybe not twelve years old. Right now she was feeling incredibly adult. X-rated adult. Every particle of her flesh was shockingly aware of him. Her skin was tight, her senses alert, her pulse rate rising, her heart fluttering like a butterfly trapped in the narrow neck of a bottle. ‘Oh...’ She swung back to Margie. ‘What time am I free?’

‘Your last patient is at four forty-five. It’s a twenty-minute drive out to Fletcher Downs so shall we say five-thirty, give or take a few minutes?’ Margie said.

‘I’ll make sure I’m there to let you in,’ Zach said. ‘My father can be a bit grouchy meeting people for the first time. Don’t let him get to you.’

Izzy raised her chin the tiniest fraction. ‘I’m used to handling difficult people.’

His eyes measured hers for a pulsing moment. ‘Margie will give you a map. If you pass Blake’s waterhole, you’ve gone too far.’

‘I’m sure I’ll find it without any trouble,’ Izzy said. ‘I have satellite navigation in my car.’

He gave a brisk nod that encompassed the receptionist as well as Izzy and left the clinic.

‘Are you going to tell me how you ended up in his car last night or am I going to have to guess?’ Margie asked.

Izzy let out a breath as she turned back around. ‘He gave me a lift home.’

Margie’s eyes widened with intrigue. ‘From the pub? It’s like half a block by city standards.’

‘Yes, well, apparently Sergeant Fletcher thinks it’s terribly unsafe to walk home at night without an escort. Typical cop, they think everyone’s a potential criminal. They never see the good in people, only the bad. They have power issues too. You can pick it up a mile off. I’d bet my bottom dollar Zach Fletcher is a total control freak. And a blind man could see he has a chip on his shoulder the size of a boulder.’

Margie smiled a knowing smile. ‘You like him.’

‘What on earth gives you that idea?’ Izzy gave a scornful little laugh but even to her ears it sounded tinny. ‘He’s not my type.’

And I bet I’m not his either.

CHAPTER THREE

ZACH HAD BEEN at the homestead long enough to change out of his uniform, make his father a cup of tea, and take Popeye for a walk down to the dam and back when he saw Isabella Courtney coming up the driveway.

He waved a fly away from his face as he watched her handle the corrugations of the gravel driveway that was as long as some city streets. A dust cloud plumed out in her wake and a flock of sulphur-crested white cockatoos and salmon-pink corellas flew out of the gum trees that lined the driveway before settling in another copse of trees closer to the dam. The chorus of cicadas was loud in the oven-warm air and in the distance the grey kangaroo he’d rescued as a joey, and who now had a joey of her own, hopped towards a few tufts of grass that had pushed up through the parched ground around the home paddock’s water trough.

Popeye gave a whine and looked up at Zach as his body did its little happy dance at the thought of a visitor. ‘Cool it, buddy,’ Zach said. ‘She’s not staying long.’

It was hard to ignore the stirring of male hormones in his body as he watched her alight from the car. She had a natural grace about her, lissom and lithe, like a ballerina or yoga enthusiast. She wasn’t particularly tall, or at least not compared to him at six feet three in bare feet. She was about five-six or -seven with a waist he could probably span with his hands, and her features were classically beautiful but in a rather understated way. She wore little or no make-up and her mid-length chestnut hair was tied back in a ponytail she had wound around itself in a casual knot, giving her a fresh, youthful look.

But it was her mouth his gaze kept tracking to. It was soft and full and had an upward curve that made it look like she was always on the brink of smiling.

* * *

‘Oh, what an adorable dog!’ Her smile lit up her brown eyes so much that they sparkled as she bent down to greet Popeye. ‘Oh, you darling little poppet. Who’s a good boy? Hang on a minute—are you a boy? Oh, yes, you are, you sweet little thing. Yes, I love you too.’ She laughed a tinkling-bell laugh and stood up again, her smile still stunningly bright as she stood and faced Zach. ‘Is he yours?’

Zach had to take a moment to gather himself after being on the receiving end of that dazzling smile.

Earth to Zach. Do you read me?

He wondered if he should fob Popeye off as his father’s but he had a feeling she wouldn’t buy it for a moment. ‘Yes.’

She angled her head at him in an appraising manner. ‘Funny, I had you picked as a collie or kelpie man, or maybe a German shepherd or Doberman guy.’

He kept his expression blank. ‘The station manager has working dogs. Popeye’s just a pet.’

She brushed a tendril of hair away from her face that the light breeze had worked loose. ‘This is a lovely property. I couldn’t believe how many birds I saw coming up the driveway.’

‘You’re not seeing it at its best. We need rain.’

She scanned the paddocks with one of her hands shading her eyes against the sun. ‘It’s still beautiful— Oh, there’s a kangaroo and it’s got a joey! He just popped his head out. How gorgeous!’

‘That’s Annie,’ Zach said.

She swung around to look at him again. ‘Is she a pet too?’

‘Not really.’ He waved another fly away from his face. ‘Her mother was killed on the highway. I reared her by hand and released her back into the wild a few years ago, but she hangs about a bit, mostly because of the drought.’

Her eyes widened in surprise. ‘You reared her yourself?’

‘Yeah.’

Her pretty little nose was wrinkled over the bridge from her small frown. ‘Like with a bottle or something?’

‘Yep. Six feeds a day.’

‘How did you juggle that with work?’

‘I took her with me in a pillowcase.’

She blinked a couple of times as if she couldn’t quite imagine him playing wet-nurse. ‘That’s...amazing...’ She looked back at the paddock where Annie was grazing. ‘It must be wonderful to have all this space to yourself. To be this close to wildlife and to breathe in such fresh air instead of pollution.’

Zach saw her finely shaped nostrils widen to take in the eucalyptus scent of the bush. He picked up a faint trace of her fragrance in the air: a flowery mix that was redolent of gardenias and vanilla. The sun caught the golden highlights in her hair and he found himself wondering what it would feel like to run his fingers through those glossy, silky strands.

Get a grip.

He thrust his hands in his pockets, out of the way of temptation. She was a blow-in and would be gone before the first dust storm hit town. His track record with keeping women around wasn’t flash. His mother had whinged and whined and then withdrawn into herself for ten years before she’d finally bolted and never returned. His fiancée hadn’t even got as far as the Outback before the call of the city had drawn her back. Why would Isabella Courtney with her high-class upbringing have anything to offer him?

She turned back to look at him and a slight blush bloomed in her cheeks. ‘I guess I should get on with why I came here. Is your father inside?’

‘Yes. Come this way.’

* * *

Izzy stepped into the cool interior of the homestead but it took her eyes a moment to adjust to the dim interior after the assault of the bright sunlight outside. A man who was an older version of Zach sat in an armchair in the sitting room off the long, wide hallway; a walking frame was positioned nearby. He had steel-grey hair at his temples and his skin was weathered by long periods in the sun but he was still a fine-looking man. He had the same aura of self-containment his son possessed, and a strong uncompromising jaw, although his cheeks were hollowed by recent weight loss. His mouth had a downward turn and his blue eyes had damson-coloured shadows beneath them, as if he had trouble sleeping.

‘Dad, Dr Courtney is here,’ Zach said.

‘Hello, Mr Fletcher.’ Izzy held out her hand but dropped it back by her side when Doug Fletcher rudely ignored it.

He turned his steely gaze to his son. ‘Why didn’t you tell me she was a bloody Pom?’

Zach tightened his mouth. ‘Because it has nothing to do with her ability as a medical practitioner.’

‘I don’t want any toffee-nosed Poms darkening my doorstep ever again. Do you hear me? Get her out of here.’

‘Mr Fletcher, I—’

‘You need to have regular check-ups and Dr Courtney is the only doctor in the region,’ Zach said. ‘You either see her or you see no one. I’m not driving three hundred kilometres each way to have your blood pressure checked every week.’

‘My blood pressure was fine until you brought her here!’ Doug snapped.

Izzy put a hand on Zach’s arm. ‘It’s all right, Sergeant Fletcher. I’ll come back some other time.’

Doug glared at her. ‘You’ll be trespassing if you do.’

‘Well, at least the cops won’t be far away to charge me, will they?’ she said.

Doug’s expression was as dark as thunder as he shuffled past them to exit the room. Izzy heard Zach release a long breath and turned to look at him. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t think I handled that very well.’

He raked a hand through his hair, leaving it sticking up at odd angles. ‘You’d think after twenty-three years he’d give it a break, wouldn’t you?’

‘Is that how long it’s been since your mother left?’

He gave her a grim look. ‘Yeah. I guess you twigged she was English.’

‘Peggy McLeod told me.’

He walked over to the open fireplace and kicked a gum nut back into the grate. His back and shoulders were so tense Izzy could see each muscle outlined by his close-fitting T-shirt. He rubbed the back of his neck before he turned back around to face her. ‘I’m worried about him.’

‘I can see that.’

‘I mean really worried.’

Izzy saw the haunted shadows in his eyes. ‘You think he’s depressed?’

‘Let’s put it this way, I don’t leave him alone for long periods. And I’ve taken all the guns over to a friend’s place.’

She felt her heart tighten at the thought of him having to keep a step ahead of his father all the time. The pressure on the loved ones of people struggling with depression was enormous. And Zach seemed to be doing it solo. ‘Has his mood dropped recently or has he been feeling low for a while?’

‘It’s been going down progressively since he came out of rehab.’ He let out another breath as he dragged his hand over his face. ‘Each day I seem to lose a little bit more of him.’

Izzy could just imagine the toll it was taking on him. He had so many responsibilities to shoulder, running his father’s property as well as his career as a cop. ‘Would he see someone in Sydney if I set up an appointment? I know it’s a long trip but surely it would be worth it to get him the help he needs.’

‘He won’t go back to the city, not after spending three months in hospital. He won’t even go as far as Bourke.’

‘Does he have any friends who could spend time with him?’ she asked. ‘It might help lift his mood to be more active socially.’