Virgin Midwife, Playboy Doctor. Margaret McDonagh

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      She was unlike anyone he had ever known. He had never felt like this about a woman before and he was wary, unsure of venturing into the unknown. In the future, he wanted something different, someone different, and from all he had seen and heard so far, Chloe fitted the bill in every way. Just thinking about her made him smile and sent the blood pumping faster through his veins, a curl of heat flaming in his gut.

      Chloe was the cutest thing he’d ever seen. Wholesome, in the nicest way, she had an earthy, natural beauty, something she seemed completely unaware of. She seldom wore make-up—she didn’t need it. Her skin was smooth, almost translucent, while her eyes, a stunning moss green, shone between long, dusky lashes. Luscious, rosy lips begged to be kissed. At work she kept the luxuriant waves of her long ebony hair restrained in a braid, knot or ponytail, but he ached to see it loose in all its wild glory, to run his fingers through it, bury his face in it, to breathe in the lingering scent of fresh apples and sunshine that always clung to her.

      Restrained was a word that could apply to Chloe in general. Serene and intelligent, she had a quiet humour that appealed to him and a sense of fun that came to the fore when she was relaxed with her friends. He had seen how she devoted all her energies to her mums-to-be and to the newborns she appeared to love with passion. She would make an amazing mother. But it was her other passions that sparked his interest and made him curious. From what he had discovered, Chloe’s life outside work was a closed book—aside from her loyalty to her female friends and the evenings out she spent with them, he had no idea where she went, what she did, or who she did it with.

      No doubt about it, Chloe intrigued the hell out of him. She seemed so together, so content, but she was a very private person and he had found it an uphill struggle to get close to her. At first he had assumed she must have a husband or boyfriend, for sure, but he had been amazed to discover that Chloe had no one special in her life. Furthermore, she was content that way. Why? It didn’t make sense that someone so lovely and smart would be alone. But it left the field open for him. Not that he was making any headway. Chloe kept her distance from him and his own uncertainties about the timing and his suitability for a relationship made him cautious about pushing too fast.

      Completely without artifice, Chloe had an air of innocence about her, one that surprised him, yet soothed his jaded spirit. He was used to women flaunting themselves and making obvious advances—it came with the territory. The Fawkner name and money drew women like iron filings to a magnet. For a time he hadn’t minded. Hell, he had been young and carefree, and he had made the most of the opportunities that had come his way. But he wanted something different now—he wanted Chloe MacKinnon. He just hadn’t expected it to happen so soon and wasn’t sure he was ready. Yet he wasn’t able to keep away from her.

      Not that it had got him very far. For the first few days Chloe had treated him with the same friendly professionalism she bestowed on all her colleagues, but when he had made his personal interest in her known, she had been endearingly and puzzlingly shocked. He might have found her reaction amusing had it not led to her cooling noticeably, turning formal and businesslike, and clamming up more tightly than a bank vault.

      Shaking his head, he ran his fingers through his hair, an image of Chloe vivid in his mind. She had a body to die for, but she had no notion how sexy she was. Even in the short-sleeved white tunic and loose navy blue trousers she wore to work, she turned him on as no other woman ever had. Her figure was stunning. A classic hourglass shape, with lush, full, feminine curves…soft and mouth-watering. His fingers itched to touch, his mouth to taste. But he could never get within a foot of the skittish Chloe and that was beginning to frustrate him no end.

      It was a new experience for him to have to work so hard to gain a woman’s attention, to get her to even speak to him outside work, let alone go out with him on a date. But despite her reserve and his own caution about getting involved with someone so soon, he wanted her more and more each day. The simmering desire nagged at him, refusing him respite, and he couldn’t get her out of his head. Which meant that he somehow had to find a way past those prickly defences. Especially if he ever hoped to take her to bed. The very thought of having her naked, laid out for him, those long, inky-black tresses tumbled over his pillows, that voluptuous body arching under him as he loved her, was enough to make him harder than he’d ever been and so burning with frustration he thought he might go up in flames.

      A knock on his door made him jump. For a moment he imagined it was Chloe—longed for it to be her—even if she had just come to tell him how things had gone with Avril at the hospital.

      ‘Come in,’ he called, his voice rough with desire, his heart racing in anticipation.

      His gaze was fixed on the door as it slowly opened and he almost couldn’t breathe as he waited for Chloe to enter his room. When he saw, instead, that his visitor was senior partner Nick Tremayne, he struggled to swallow the wash of bitter disappointment.

      ‘Oliver, do you have a few moments?’

      ‘Of course, Nick.’ He summoned up a smile. ‘What can I do for you?’

      In the short time he had been in Penhally, Oliver had come to admire the older man. He was an excellent doctor, knowledgeable if a bit aloof, but there were tensions he had yet to understand, especially between Nick and Kate Althorp, the former practice manager who had returned to her career in midwifery and now worked alongside Chloe in the practice. He suspected that Nick was a difficult man to get to know, one who felt deeply but who found it hard to share those feelings, a man who shut himself off and stuck stubbornly to a rigid point of view. Thankfully, Oliver had rubbed along well with his enigmatic boss…so far.

      Exuding impatience, Nick strode across the room to gaze silently out of the window before he turned and moved back to the desk. Looking troubled, Nick folded his tall frame to sit in a chair opposite, his dark hair showing signs of grey, his gaze restless as it darted around the room.

      ‘Is something wrong, Nick?’ Oliver probed after a moment.

      ‘What?’ The older man looked up in surprise, as if disturbed from his private thoughts. ‘Oh, no. No, just a lot on my mind. How are things with you? Settling in all right?’

      Oliver leaned forward and folded his arms on the desk. ‘Very much so. I’m enjoying my time here immensely.’

      ‘Good. I’m glad,’ he murmured, drifting again as if considering something.

      Waiting patiently, Oliver reflected on the snippets of gossip he had heard. He didn’t know the history between Nick and Kate, but it was clear that something had happened between them recently as they were barely speaking. At least, Nick was barely speaking to Kate, Oliver amended. Kate looked stressed and unhappy, while the tension whenever the two were near each other was palpable.

      ‘So, Oliver,’ Nick said, apparently having come to a decision. He rubbed his palms together and shifted on the chair. ‘I have a favour to ask of you.’

      ‘I’ll be pleased to do what I can to help.’

      Nick nodded, sitting back, his expression serious. ‘I noted from your CV that you’ve had a special responsibility for antenatal services in a previous practice.’

      ‘That’s right,’ Oliver confirmed, wondering where this was going.

      ‘I have some extra duties coming up in the next weeks, working with the town committee regarding the twinning of Penhally with a small town in Normandy. It would be of great assistance to me if you could take over my antenatal role. Just for the time being.’

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