‘No. Yes.’ He thrust her back from him. ‘God, Nikki, you’re so lovely. You stand there and all I want to do is make love to you and…’
‘And what?’ Nikki said gently. ‘Luke, you accused me of shutting the world out. Aren’t you doing the same thing?’
‘Leave it, Nikki,’ he said roughly.
‘No.’ Nikki shook her head, her red-gold hair tossing from side to side. ‘You’ve hauled me from my splendid isolation and now…now you’re telling me I’m really alone after all.’
‘You’re not alone. You have your daughter… Beattie…this town…’
‘Oh, yes. That’s not what you said a week ago.’
‘Nikki, it doesn’t matter.’ Luke’s eyes hardened. ‘Whatever I said, whatever I’ve done doesn’t alter the fact that I want no one. I should never have made love to you, because, of course, you want more…’
Nikki’s green eyes flashed. She took a deep breath. ‘You arrogant toad!’ she spat.
‘I meant…’ He rubbed his hand wearily through his hair. ‘Nikki, I didn’t mean that to sound…I just mean that lovemaking implies emotional commitment and I can’t give that. Not now. Not ever.’
‘Not ever’. The phrase echoed harshly around them. Nikki took a ragged breath and leaned against the door. At least he was honest. Last night…Last night she had thought it would be enough. Now…Now she hated his damned honesty.
She hated him. He was avoiding the issue. Running. Just like her father. Just like Scott…
So what was left? Their professional relationship. She could tell him to get out of her house now-or somehow she could act professional. One doctor to another…
‘How was Mrs Birchip?’ she asked suddenly.
‘Mrs Birchip?’ Luke looked blank.
‘The lady you spent the night with.’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘You did a house call to Verity Birchip,’ Nikki said coldly, striving desperately for a return to normality. ‘And it kept you all night.’
‘Oh.’ Luke’s blank look suddenly faded and he managed a smile. ‘Mrs Birchip thinks she has heredity.’
‘Heredity?’ It was Nikki’s turn to sound blank.
‘She read somewhere that heredity can cause all sorts of problems, so she thinks she’s got it. I suspected a bad cold, but she’s sure it’s heredity.’
‘You know, I wouldn’t be the least bit surprise if she’s right,’ Nikki said slowly. ‘It would explain a lot.’
And Luke managed to grin. ‘Yeah…’
So this was all there was. Over. A fine romance, Nikki thought bitterly. Gone the way of all the loves in her life. Walking away from her.
Nikki drew in her breath. ‘I guess…I guess I’d better go to bed, then.’
‘I think you should,’ Luke said gently. His smile faded. ‘Nikki, I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t.’ It was practically a cry. She bit her lip and then gestured to the pile of papers on his desk. ‘I’m…I’m sorry I interrupted you. What…what were you doing?’
‘I’m writing a newspaper column.’
Nikki’s eyes widened. ‘A news…What sort of newspaper column?’
‘“Who Cares?”’
‘“Who Cares?”’ Nikki stared in amazement. In disbelief she crossed to the desk and stared down. There were loose sheaves of handwritten pleas for help, and attached to each was a neatly written paragraph. Nikki picked up and read the first note.
Dear Doctor,
My fifteen-year-old daughter has one breast bigger than the other and I can’t get her to agree to visit our family doctor. I know she’s scared stiff she’ll be like this forever…
Then there was the response, carefully worded under the major heading ‘Who Cares?’.
And Nikki didn’t have to read the response. She had read ‘Who Cares?’ every week for the past eighteen months with a growing sense of admiration for the measured, careful and caring responses given by the anonymous answering doctor. She knew just what the reply would be-a careful reassurance, amusing anecdotes of ‘lopsided adolescents I have known’ as well as a plea to back up the reassurance by a visit to the girl’s own doctor.
Nikki let the sheaf of papers fall to the table. ‘You’re the doctor behind “Who Cares?”,’ she whispered. She stared. This was making less and less sense. The column must pay well. Why then was he doing locums?
‘Yes.’ He came abruptly forward and pushed the papers into a folder. ‘I started doing it while I was ill.’
‘For the money?’
He laughed without humour. ‘You guessed it. And besides…’
‘It’s a job you can do without people.’
‘Nikki, I’m not trying to avoid people.’
‘Only involvement.’
‘Look who’s talking.’
‘You still think I’m trying to avoid involvement?’ Nikki demanded. She put her hand wearily to her eyes. ‘I think…I think I’m cured.’
He looked hard at her then, his eyes narrowing. ‘Nikki, I-’
‘You don’t want to hear,’ Nikki finished for him. ‘Well, you’re going to. You came up here for God knows what reason, but whatever your motive you decided on a nice, Boy Scout objective. Get Dr Russell out of herself. Involve her with the human race again. Teach her to love.’
‘Nikki, I didn’t mean-’
‘I don’t care what you meant.’ Tears welled up in Nikki’s eyes and she turned away. ‘And I don’t care what you were trying to do. All I know is that I love you…’
There. The words were said. She could do no more. This man was all she wanted in life and she had laid her heart on a plate for him to take. If he wanted it…
It seemed he didn’t. He stood motionless for a long moment and then came to turn her gently towards him. ‘Nikki, don’t,’ he said gently.
‘Cry? Why the hell not? Isn’t falling in love with yet another man who doesn’t want me something to cry about?’ She wrenched back away from him, her fingers searching for the doorknob while she watched his face. It was bleak and hard. Whatever she said would make no difference.
‘Nikki, I’m sorry,’ he said softly. Implacably. There was no love for her in the words.
‘I’ll bet you are,’ Nikki whispered. She shrugged. ‘And so am I.’
Her fingers found the knob and twisted. Nikki turned and walked out of the room. Regardless of sleeping children and housekeeper, she slammed the door. Hard.
She hadn’t stalked more than three feet from the door when the front doorbell rang.
Nikki stopped dead. Now what?
Her hand flew up to her tear-stained face. Great. If she was needed now…
Luke’s bedroom door opened again as he too heard the bell. ‘I’ll go,’ he said roughly. ‘You’d better wash your face and pull yourself together.’
Great. Professional caring and sympathy. And to make it worse he was right. Nikki watched him stride along the passage and if she’d had something in her hand she would have thrown it. Something hard and big, she thought savagely. Something that would break into a million fragments and release some of the awful tension within her.
Instead of which she went meekly back into her bedroom to repair some of the ravages of the last few minutes.
She had hardly started before Luke was back. His knock on her door showed as little respect as Nikki had for the still sleeping occupants of the house.
‘Nikki, I need you.’
Like hell you do, Nikki thought bitterly. You don’t need anyone, Luke Marriott. She didn’t say it, though. Instead she let her robe slip to the floor, hauled on the dress she’d been wearing that afternoon and opened the door. ‘What’s wrong?’
He narrowed his eyes. ‘Are you fit to operate?’
‘Of course.’ Nikki’s hands were fumbling to fasten the front buttons on her dress, and once again she cursed fate at having sent Luke to stay in this house. She was forced to be intimate in such surroundings.
‘We’ve a nasty tear and fracture to repair A fisherman got his hand caught in a cray-pot rope. It’s darn near torn off his thumb.’