Flirting with the Socialite Doc. Melanie Milburne

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      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 СКАЧАТЬ