Return of the Maverick. Sue MacKay

      CHAPTER ONE

      ‘WHAT time did you set out biking this morning?’ the woman behind the counter asked as she totted up how much Erin Foley owed for her groceries.

      ‘Six.’ Erin rolled her shoulders, the muscles tight from bending over the handlebars. Her body felt warm, taut, fit. A hot shower would cap off a great ride and prepare her for the day ahead at the medical centre.

      Savita shook her head. ‘You’re nuts. Sane people are still in bed at that hour.’

      Erin grinned. ‘You were here when I went past on my way out.’ Scooping up the milk and pot of margarine, she pushed them into her backpack. Glancing at her watch, she scowled. ‘First day back from my holidays and I’m going to be late for work.’ First day working with the new GP. However temporary he was, he probably wouldn’t be impressed with her tardiness.

      Not unless he was also a cyclist, and understood the need to train for mountain bike challenges. But she already knew he rode a Harley rather than pedalling an Avanti. Did he ride his motorbike to work? Take it on house calls? That would have the patients talking. Less chance of being late with a Harley too.

      Savita laughed. ‘You caught me out. I got here just after five-thirty.’

      ‘And you think I’m nuts? See you tomorrow.’ Erin grabbed her bread, spun around and ran slap bang into someone standing right behind her. The loaf of bread fell from her fingers as she strove to keep her balance. Her other hand slapped against hard chest muscle.

      Large hands gripped her upper arms. ‘Easy,’ growled a deep voice from somewhere above her head.

      Erin instantly stepped back against the counter, trying to ignore the broad chest filling her sight. The stranger dropped his hands immediately. Shifting sideways, she tried to manoeuvre around him, but he moved at the same moment in the same direction. Briefly they danced around each other, trying to pass, until Erin stopped. ‘Your move.’

      She flipped her head back to say more and blinked. Not because of the harsh summer sunlight streaming through the door, although with the morning temperature already in the mid-twenties that was glaring enough. No. It was the man standing right in front of her who’d taken her breath away.

      The strikingly big man.

      His white cotton shirt contrasted with the tanned skin of his throat, and was tucked into casual navy-blue trousers that fitted his hips and thighs to perfection. Her lungs squeezed, tried to take in air as he reached down to pick up her dropped loaf.

      ‘Your bread.’ Amusement laced that bass tone.

      ‘Thank you.’ Snatching the plastic-wrapped loaf from his extended hand, she shoved it into her backpack before slinging it over her shoulders, determined not to stare. But she failed. Noted how his arms now folded over his chest accentuated everything underneath that shirt. Lots of well-honed muscles pushed out the crisp fabric.

      Erin swallowed with difficulty. Forced herself to look away. Unfortunately her gaze dropped, down to those thighs. Dear heaven. A sharp ache snagged her bottom lip where her teeth bit in. Sweat trickled down between her shoulder blades. Her fingers shook so that she had trouble getting the two ends of the pack’s straps to click together across her abdomen.

      Men were not supposed to look like this. Good enough to eat. More than good enough to want go to bed with.

       You don’t know who he is. And you want to sleep with him?

      She blinked again, trying to blot out the image