The Playboy Doctor's Marriage Proposal. Fiona Lowe

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      ‘Em, got a minute?’ His hand automatically reached out to detain her, his fingers suddenly feeling hot as they brushed the surprisingly soft skin close to her elbow.

      She spun round, breaking the contact, her expression questioning as she glanced at her watch. ‘About one minute. Why?’

      He leaned against the wall. ‘Still the same Em, always in a hurry.’ He smiled. ‘I just wanted to say thank you.’

      She twisted a strand of hair around her finger in an almost embarrassed action before flicking her gaze straight at him with her friendly smile. ‘Hey, no problem. It was a fun way to spend my day off.’ She gave a self-deprecating laugh and shrugged. ‘I could hardly walk away and leave you with Jason and Patti, now, could I?’

      He spoke sincerely. ‘I would have been in deep trouble if you had. You headed off a potential nightmare.’

      ‘Thanks.’ He caught a ripple of tiny movement as her shoulders rolled back slightly and her chin tilted a fraction higher as she absorbed his praise.

      He flashed her a wide, cheeky smile. ‘You said you had fun and we make a great team so how about you come and do it again, say, five days a week?’

      The constant motion he associated with Emily suddenly stalled. For one brief and disconcerting moment, every part of her stilled.

      Then she laughed, her eyes darkening to the colour of polished iron ore. ‘You’re such a tease, Linton. Back in February, you spent two weeks bragging to me about your “fabulous team”. Where are they now?’

      He sighed. ‘Love, marriage, babies—the full catastrophe.’ The words were supposed to have come out light and ironic. Instead, bitterness cloaked them.

      Emily rolled back and forth on the heels of her tan cowboy boots, her brow creased in thought. ‘So you’re serious?’

      He caught the interest reflected in her eyes. He almost had her. ‘Absolutely. I’m offering you a twelve-month position of Unit Manager, aka Charge Nurse of A and E.’

      Lacing her fingers, she breathed in deeply, her baggy rugby top catching against her breasts.

      His gaze overrode his brain, taking control of its focus and sliding from her face to the stripes that hinted at breasts he’d never noticed before. Quickly realising what he was doing, he zoomed his vision back to her face.

      Tilting her head to the side, she gave him a long, penetrating look, her eyes a study of diffuse emotion. ‘It’s an interesting offer.’

      Yes! She was tempted to take it on. Life was good. He rubbed his hands together. ‘Fantastic. I’ll get HR to write up the contract and -’

      ‘I don’t think so, Linton.’

      Her firm words sliced through his euphoria. ‘But—’

      ‘Thanks anyway for the thought.’ She rolled her lips inwards and nodded her head slightly. ‘So, I guess I’ll see you around.’ She turned and walked away.

      The retreating sound of her cowboy boots on the linoleum vibrated through him. He wasn’t used to ‘no’. He didn’t like ‘no’ at all.

      CHAPTER TWO

      THE strong and greasy aroma of shorn wool hung in the air as Emily vigorously swept the ancient floorboards of the shearing shed, the thump and swish of the broom soothing her jangled nerves.

      Linton Gregory wanted her to work for him. For a second she hugged the delicious thought close.

      No, Linton Gregory wants you to work in his department for a year. Note the difference.

      Ever since she had been a little girl she’d come out to the shearing shed when she’d needed to think. Or to hide. With four brothers to contend with, that had been reasonably often. She’d come and lie in the softness of the offcuts of wool, stare up at the rough-hewn beams, count the tiny sparkles of sunlight that shone though the pinprick holes in the corrugated-iron roof and find a sense of peace.

      Now she was all grown up and far too big to lie in the hessian wool bags, so she swept and quarrelled with herself. For the last hour she’d been caught in an argument loop.

       His offer is pure expediency. Nothing personal.

      And deep down she knew that. Which was why when he’d asked her to work in A and E, she’d said no. Working side by side with Linton had been hard enough twice a year for two weeks. Working side by side five days a week for a year would completely do her in. She’d be an emotional basket case by the end of that time.

      Her subconscious snorted. And you’re not now?

      She thumped the broom hard against the truth. She’d been a basket case from the first moment she’d laid eyes on Linton one year ago.

      And she hated herself for it. She was twenty-five, for heaven’s sake. A crush at fifteen was normal. At twenty it was forgivable. At twenty-five it was laughable in a tragic and pitying way.

      Especially after everything she’d been through with Nathan. After that debacle, she’d promised herself she would never be that foolish again. She needed to keep her heart safe. But some promises seemed impossible to keep.

      ‘Emily? You in there?’ Her eldest brother’s voice hailed her from outside.

      She sighed. Her family knew her too well. If she’d really wanted to hide out she should have gone somewhere else. ‘Yes, Mark, I’m here.’

      ‘Thought you would be. You’ve got a visitor.’

      She turned and leaned the broom up against the corrugated-iron wall and called out, ‘OK, I’ll come back to the house.’

      ‘No need. We can talk here.’

      She swung round, her heart pounding wildly like a runaway horse. Her brain immediately recognised that smooth, deep voice which held as many resonant tones as the colours of polished jarrah. Somehow she managed to halt the gasp of astonishment that rocked through her. He was the last person she’d expected. Linton had never visited her at home. In fact, he’d never visited her, full stop.

      He leaned casually against the wall, all six feet two of him. His soft-soled Italian leather shoes had been silent against the worn boards more used to the firm tread of boots. His devastating smile hovered on his lips, tinged with the slightest uncertainty. But every other part of him controlled his space with magnetic charisma, from the tips of his blond-brown hair to the hem of his designer trousers.

      Emily glanced down at her torn jeans and her brother’s old and faded T-shirt, and groaned inwardly. At the best of times she felt frumpy and gauche, but she was usually in her Flying Doctor’s uniform rather than her hide-from-the-world, comfort clothes.

      She tugged at her hair and pasted a welcoming country smile on her face. ‘Linton! What a surprise. What brings you out to Woollara Station?’

      He pushed off the wall, toned muscles tensing and relaxing, propelling him forward toward her in one continuous, smooth movement. His lips curved upward into a full smile. СКАЧАТЬ