Wedding in Darling Downs. Leah Martyn
obviously still with him. Perhaps it would help her to talk to a different practitioner, Emma thought philosophically. Heaven knew, she herself had no extra time to allot to her needy patients. Well, even if Declan helped only one of her patients in the short time he was here, it was a plus. Deciding there was no use hanging round in reception, she went through to the staffroom.
Declan found her there. He gave a rat-a-tat on the door with the back of his hand to alert her.
Emma’s head came up, her eyes blinking against his sudden appearance. ‘Hi…’
‘Hi, yourself.’ One side of his mouth inched upward and a crease formed in his cheek as he smiled. ‘I smelled coffee.’
Emma averted her gaze to blot out the all-male physical imprint.
In a couple of long strides, he’d crossed the room to her.
Emma lifted the percolator, her fingers as unsteady as her heartbeat. ‘Milk and sugar’s there on the tray.’
‘Thanks.’ He took the coffee, added a dollop of milk and lifted the cup to his mouth. ‘Could we sit for a minute?’
Emma indicated the old kitchen table that been in the staff room for as long as she could remember. ‘You were a long time with Carolyn. Everything OK?’ she asked as they took their places on opposite sides of the table.
‘I hope so.’ Declan’s long fingers spanned his coffee mug and he said thoughtfully, ‘We talked a bit and I suggested a few things. Some tai chi, a good solid walk in the early evening could help her relax enough to induce a natural sleep. Even a leisurely swim would be beneficial.’
‘The school has a pool but it’s not open to the public.’
‘Pity. She’s obviously quite tense.’
‘And it’s a situation that’s happening more and more,’ Emma agreed. ‘Grandparents taking on the caring role for their grandchildren. Even here in this small community, there are families in similar circumstances as the Joneses.’
Declan took a long mouthful of his coffee. ‘Does Bendemere have anything like a support group for them? Somewhere they can air their fears and worries in a safe environment?’
Emma resisted the urge to shriek. ‘This isn’t the city, Dr O’Malley. We’re a bit short of facilitators and psychologists who could lead a group.’
‘But a doctor could.’
Was he serious? ‘Don’t you think I would if I could?’ she flashed. ‘I’m so stretched now, I—’
‘No, Emma, you’re misunderstanding me.’ His look was guarded and cool. ‘I meant me—I could help.’
‘You?’ Emma huffed her disbelief. She wasn’t understanding any of this. ‘Are you saying you want to stay on here?’
‘You need a practice partner, don’t you?’
‘But you know nothing about the place!’ Emma’s thoughts were spinning. ‘Nothing about the viability of the practice. Nothing about me.’
He stared at her for a long moment. ‘I know you’re Andrew’s daughter.’
‘And you’d make a life-changing decision on the basis of that?’ Emma’s voice had a husky edge of disquiet.
Oh, hell. He was doing this all wrong. No wonder she was confused. He’d meant to lead up to things gently and objectively, explain himself, choose his words carefully. But just getting his head around Emma’s crippling workload, the plight of Carolyn Jones and others like her had spurred him on to get matters sorted and quickly.
‘Emma—’ He paused significantly. ‘I didn’t just come here to offer my condolences. There’s another reason why I’m here in Bendemere.’
Emma tried to grasp the significance of his words. ‘Perhaps you’d better explain.’
Declan watched as she drew herself up stiffly, almost as if she were gathering invisible armour around her. He knew what he was about to tell her would come as a shock, maybe even wound her deeply. But he had to do it. ‘Your father contacted me shortly before his death. He offered to sell me his share of the practice. I’m here to arrange payment and finalise the details of our partnership.’
Emma’s mouth fell open and then snapped shut. She clutched the edge of the table for support, becoming aware of her heart thrashing to a sickening rhythm inside her chest. ‘I don’t believe Dad would have done something like that.’
‘I have a letter of confirmation from your father and the legal documents.’
‘Dad wouldn’t have just thrust someone on me. Someone I didn’t even know!’ She felt the pitch of her anger and emotion rising and didn’t care. ‘And I don’t have to accept your money, Dr O’Malley, nor do I have to take you on as my practice partner.’
Declan’s gaze narrowed on her flushed face, the angry tilt of her small chin. Damn! He hadn’t reckoned on any of this. ‘It was what your father wanted, Emma.’
Emma gave a hard little laugh. ‘Emotional blackmail will get you absolutely nowhere, Dr O’Malley.’
‘Please!’ With a reflex action Declan’s head shot up, his vivid blue gaze striking an arc across the space between them. ‘Give me a little credit. I realize this has come as a shock to you. And I’m sorry. I’d hoped Andrew might have given you some idea of what he wanted, paved the way a bit, but obviously time ran out on him. But we can’t leave things here, Emma. We really can’t.’ His mouth compressed briefly. ‘I suggest we take a break and let things settle a bit. I’m staying at the Heritage Hotel. We could link up there later this evening and talk further. Dinner around seven. Does that suit you?’
‘Fine,’ Emma responded bluntly. It seemed she had no choice in the matter.
‘Let’s meet at the bar, then.’ Declan grabbed at the grudging acceptance.
Chapter Two
EMMA hitched up her little shoulder bag and determinedly pushed open the heavy plate glass door of the restaurant. She loved this place. As it was winter, the lovely old fireplace was lit, sending out warmth and flickering patterns to the wood-panelled walls. The atmosphere was charming and tonight was the first time she’d come here since…Her teeth caught on her lower lip. She and Dad had come here often. The Sunday lunch at the Heritage was legendary.
But this evening her dinner companion was someone far different than her father.
Heart thrumming, Emma made her way along the parquet flooring towards the bar. Declan was there already. She saw him at once, his distinctive dark head turning automatically, almost as if he’d sensed her approach. A shower of tingles began at the base of her backbone, spiralling upwards and engulfing her. She swallowed. He was wearing dark jeans and an oatmeal-coloured sweater that looked soft and cuddly. Oh, get real, Emma! Cuddles and Declan O’Malley were about as compatible as oil and water.
‘Hello again.’ Declan nodded almost formally. And blinked. Wow! Gone was the harassed-looking medico. Emma Armitage could have sauntered in from the catwalk. She was wearing black leggings and a long-sleeved, long-line silver-grey T-shirt, a huge silky scarf in a swirl of multicolour around her throat. And knee-high boots. ‘You look amazing.’
‘Thanks.’ Her shrug was so slight he hardly saw it. ‘I love your outfit too.’
So, the lady did have a sense of humour after all. A quirky one at that. Declan’s grin unfolded lazily, his eyes crinkling at the corners. ‘We seem to have that sorted, so let’s try to enjoy our evening, shall we? Would you like something to drink?’
In a leggy, graceful movement, Emma hitched herself up on to one of the high bar stools. ‘A glass of the house red would be nice, thanks.’
For a while they talked generalities and then Declan glanced