Healed by Their Dolphin Island Baby
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Marion Lennox
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16
PROLOGUE
‘BEN, THIS IS my fiancée, Dr Anya Greer.’
Mathew’s chest puffed up with satisfaction. All was well in his world, and he was pleased to let his colleague from university days know it.
‘Anya, this is Dr Ben Duncan, who’s kindly agreed to act as locum for us during our honeymoon.’
Dr Ben Duncan had had little to do with Dr Mathew Cummins since they’d trained together, but he knew him to be a skilled, if slightly pompous, clinician and he was interested in meeting the woman he was about to marry.
But why did the realisation that Mathew’s bride was gorgeous surprise him?
The woman smiling a greeting had, he gathered, just come from performing a minor procedure in Theatre and she was dressed in green hospital scrubs. She was almost a head shorter than him. Her shiny black hair was caught back in a sensible knot but curls were wisping outward. Her skin was warmly honey-coloured, her smile was wide and her eyes twinkled at him as she held out her hand.
‘I’m very pleased to meet you.’ Her voice was soft and welcoming. ‘I hope Merriwood doesn’t give you too much trouble while we’re away.’
And as he took her hand he was caught by the last thing he’d expected. A stab of...jealousy?
What the...? Where had that come from?
Mathew could keep marriage, he thought, jerking himself back from unwanted sensations, almost in shock. He wanted nothing to do with relationships. The ache in his back, the weakness in his left leg—surely they were enough to remind him of the disaster emotional connections caused. The tragedy of his marriage had been the result of just such instant attraction. A moment’s impulse. A lifetime of regret.
Mathew was doing it much better, he told himself. Apparently he’d known Anya since childhood and they’d been friends for ever. This marriage, Mathew had told Ben—and yep, there’d been pomposity in this statement as well—was based on sense and a shared commitment to the good of the town.
Wow. To marry a woman this gorgeous because of sense and a commitment to the town...
Um, stupid thought. No doubt there’d be hot sex in there as well, and years of kids and fun and family.
Meanwhile he’d held Anya’s hand for just a bit too long. He released it and backed away, leaning heavily on his cane.
‘Congratulations,’ he said, somewhat inanely. ‘I wish you both joy.’
‘Thank you,’ she said, still smiling. But had the twinkle faded a little as she glanced at Mathew? ‘I’m sure we’ll have it. In spades.’
Joy.
Anya had finished work for the day—well, for three weeks, until she and Mathew returned from their honeymoon. The staff had waved her off with excitement. When she reached the car park someone had wrapped her little sedan in streamers and tied tin cans to the back. She considered removing them, but then decided people would love seeing her car tootle through the town wrapped like this, jangling loudly enough to bring them all out to see.
The town would love this.
Wasn’t that what this was all about?
No, she told herself firmly. It was about a wedding. Joy. She and Mathew, for ever and ever.
So why, as she drove home, was she thinking of a tall, lean, dark-eyed guy leaning heavily on a cane, smiling at her with warmth, holding her hand as he’d smiled? She could still almost feel that hold.
Was this last moment panic, a stupid, fleeting thought that there were more men out there? Other men than Mathew?
Oh, get a grip. She turned the corner of her street and her mum was out on the lawn waiting for her. Someone must have warned her that her daughter would be driving home in style. Neighbours were out, too, laughing and cheering as she emerged from her decorated car.
Everyone was so happy about this wedding.
And so was she, she told herself.
Joy. It was there for the asking. A happy ever after with Mathew.
The feel of a strange doctor’s hand in hers...
That was last-minute nerves, she told herself. Forget it. She had a wedding to prepare for.
And back at the hospital...
‘Come out with us tonight,’ Mathew urged Ben. ‘It won’t be a wild buck’s night, just Dad and my uncles and a couple of mates I can depend on not to try and get me drunk.’ He glanced at Ben’s cane. ‘I figure you’re the same. If you’re still on painkillers you won’t be drinking.’
‘I’m not,’ Ben said shortly. ‘But thanks, no.’
‘Oh, I understand,’ Mathew said, suddenly contrite. ‘It’s only been twelve months since you lost Rihanna. You’ll hardly be wanting to think about weddings. You go to bed, mate. Your apartment kitchen has the basics, but I can ask Beth, our hospital cook, to send something more substantial.’
‘I’m okay.’ Ben’s face tightened. ‘I can look after myself.’
‘Yeah, but...you know you only have to ask. One thing I’ve prided myself on, the staff here are trained to be kind. Anything you need...’
‘Thanks, but no,’ Ben said, and managed to swallow the rest of his thoughts.
Anything he needed?
He did not need kindness.
