Partners by Contract (2 page)

Phoebe, deeply embarrassed by the scrutiny, turned a pretty pink.

‘Miss Patterson is an excellent practice manager,’ she observed, frantically trying to steer the subject into less personal channels.

‘And a first-class cow,’ Grace supplied cheerfully.

Phoebe, who had a lot of sympathy with this view, was hard put not to echo this sentiment.

‘And she’s going to marry the boss,’ the student added.

‘Who,’ Grace asked, ‘told you that?’

‘Why, she did,’ came the bewildered response. ‘Well, not in so many words, but I got the impression she and Dr Carlyle were...’

You and me both, thought Phoebe, adding a fresh pad of prescription sheets to her bag and trying not to look as though she had anything more than a passing interest in the subject. After all these years, it was nothing to her personally if Connor chose to marry—in fact, she’d be happy for him. She’d concluded that it was just his supposed choice of bride that had been making her feel uneasy.

‘She wishes!’ Fran snorted with a dismissive laugh.

‘Well, they went on holiday together, didn’t they?’ Kate asked, puzzled.

‘There’s together and then there’s
together
,’ Grace explained. ‘There was a place left in the chalet that madam and her mates were renting in France and she persuaded Connor to go along. I don’t expect she bargained for him busting his knee. A bit of a passion-killer, a ruptured cruciate ligament.’

There was a group wince at the thought of the painful knee injury, feared by all sensible athletes. Not only was it excruciatingly painful when one of the main ligaments supporting the knee tore, there was also a lengthy period of recuperation after the surgical repair.

‘At least he’s had it sorted straight away. These ski resorts generally ship you back home to languish for months on our waiting list. I suppose it helps if you went to school with the surgeon,’ Fran mused cynically. ‘I get the impression our Ellen is a bit miffed because he didn’t want her to stay behind and play Flo Nightingale.’

‘I hate to play devil’s advocate,’ Grace interjected, ‘but it didn’t happen until the last day of the holiday. That gave Ellen ten days...’

‘To do what?’ The student enquired innocently.

‘Use your imagination, Kate,’ came the scornful response.

Phoebe already was, as her churning stomach could have attested.

* * *

‘Can I help you, sir?’ Sally asked the tall man who made his halting progress towards her desk. She stifled a tiny sigh of appreciation. Whilst she was deeply and madly in love with her Marty, that didn’t stop her looking, and this splendid specimen of manhood was seriously worth looking at!

Several inches above six feet, broad of shoulder and snakily slim of hip, he had the body of an athlete, albeit an injured one at present. She tried not to goggle too obviously as he approached.

‘And who might you be?’ The stranger had a distinctively deep voice with a fascinating sexy rasp.

‘I’m Sally...Miss Winter...’ The blue eyes—which, as
she later explained to her best friend, seemed to be able to see right into her soul—made her even more flustered.

‘I’m here to see Dr Edwards.’

‘Do you have an appointment?’

The blond head was shaken and Sally, who had spent the previous Saturday morning and more money than she could afford having highlights put in her mousy locks, felt a surge of jealousy. The streaks in this man’s thick corn-coloured hair were obviously natural, as were his ultra-long dark eyelashes that framed his sky blue eyes. There was just no justice in the world!

‘I’m sorry but he’s fully booked up...’ She consulted the computer screen. ‘He could see you tomorrow morn—Sir, you can’t go back there... Sir...!’ Her alarmed cries as the tall figure went, as cool as a cucumber, right through the door marked P
RIVATE
brought Will Edwards, sandwich in hand, out of his consulting room.

‘Who’s being murdered?’ he began, then he spotted the figure swinging towards him on crutches and choked on his lettuce and bacon. ‘Good heavens! What the hell are you doing here?’

The intruder grinned and the flash of white teeth not only increased his gorgeousness factor but sent his danger factor soaring also. Sally prayed they weren’t dealing with a violent lunatic because even with those crutches she was pretty sure he’d make mincemeat of nice Dr Edwards.

‘Shall I call the police? I told him not to, but he didn’t take any notice of me,’ Sally piped up, anxious to establish her innocence from the outset.

‘Don’t worry, Sally, he rarely does,’ came the dry response. ‘Your confidence in my ability to run things is touching, Connor, really touching,’ Will sighed.

‘Then he’s—’

‘The boss, our esteemed senior partner—that’s right
Sally,’ Will confirmed, without removing his critical gaze from his friend’s face. ‘A tan hides a multitude of sins, Con, but it can’t work miracles. You look awful,’ he announced frankly.

‘Always the enviable bedside manner,’ drawled Connor, who did indeed feel pretty awful after the flight from Geneva. ‘These bloody crutches,’ he growled as he knocked into a decorative bank of pot plants.

Sally ran to clear his path, feeling deeply indignant that nobody had seen fit to mention that their boss was a seriously gorgeous hunk! Her mum still drooled over Robert Redford and this bloke was a dead spit for the actor in his hey day.

‘I’m sorry I gave you a fright...Sally, is it?’

Will watched the Carlyle smile work its magic with the air of a man who wasn’t seeing the female response to this phenomenon for the first time. In less scrupulous hands that smile could have been a lethal tool, but fortunately Connor had more scruples than most—except when he got a bee in his bonnet about some injustice or other. Then he was inclined to use whatever means necessary and make everyone’s life thoroughly uncomfortable into the bargain.

‘Oh that’s all right. I’ll just...shall I, Dr Carlyle?’

‘Yes, you do that, Sally,’ Will remarked, giving the girl a gentle push in the right direction. ‘Dr Carlyle and I have a lot to talk about.’ He rounded grimly on his friend. ‘Such as why the hell aren’t you still in hospital in Geneva, Connor?’

‘The truth is, Will, I was bored out of my skull.’

His friend and partner snorted. ‘The truth is, you don’t think this place can survive without you at the helm.’

‘A man wants to pull his weight and all his friends can do is accuse him of being a control freak,’ a frustrated Connor grumbled, repressing a grin. You couldn’t pull the
wool over Will’s eyes. He leant against the wall and adjusted one of the Velcro straps which held the protective padding that swathed his injured leg from thigh to ankle.

‘Pulling your weight! You couldn’t pull a pint!’ Will retorted scornfully. ‘I worry about you, man. I enjoy my work as much as anyone, but with you it’s an...an obsession!’ he accused. ‘How long had it been since you took a holiday—what, four, five years? And you wouldn’t have gone if I hadn’t all but bought your ticket and put you on the plane!’

Connor touched his injured leg. ‘Does that mean you’re taking responsibility for this, too?’ he wondered dryly.

‘You shouldn’t have been trying so hard to impress the lovely Ellen with your prowess,’ Will retorted, grinning unsympathetically.

‘Is she around?’ Connor asked casually.

‘Holed up with a rep. Shall I call her for you?’

‘Don’t disturb her on my account,’ Connor insisted, a wary light in his eyes.

Even if he’d been in the market for a light-hearted relationship, it had soon become clear that the lovely Ellen had something a lot more serious in mind. It was hard to believe that all the cosy moments—and there had been many—had occurred without a little bit of forward planning on somebody’s part.

‘Did romance blossom on the slopes?’

‘Mind your own damn business.’

‘Would it be such a bad thing if it did?’

‘Is that a rhetorical question?’

‘I’m only saying this because I’m your mate, Con, but don’t you think it’s about time you got a life?’ Will suggested cautiously. Con could be quite touchy about personal matters.

Suddenly everybody thought they knew what he needed.
Connor struggled to keep his growing irritation under control. The trouble with Will was he’d made such a good job of the whole marriage and babies thing that he was labouring under the false impression it was simple. Connor knew otherwise.

‘We can’t all be such a well-rounded individual as yourself, Will. Do you mind if I sit down?’ Connor asked, easing his weight onto his good leg.

‘Of course...of course. I suppose you’ve come straight from the airport? I thought as much! You imbecile,’ Will growled affectionately. ‘If a patient of yours acted like this you’d be blowing your stack,’ he confidently predicted, opening the door of his office wider and kicking a swivel chair out his partner’s way.

‘Any more new faces I should know about, Will?’

‘Only the locum, who I will not hear a word against,’ Will warned sternly. ‘She’s the answer to a harassed GP’s prayers.’

Connor’s darkish, well-defined eyebrows rose quizzically. ‘That good?’ He propped his crutches against the desk and prepared to lower himself cautiously into a convenient chair.

‘Better. I rather hoped she might consider staying on. The authorities are still making loud noises about us taking on another partner.’

They’d been thinking about taking on another pair of hands for some time. The practice had grown to the point where it was too large for the partners and their junior Alan Field to cope with, but they hadn’t got around to doing anything about it.

‘I sounded her out, making it clear the offer would be dependent on your approval.’

‘Of course.’ Connor responded dryly.

‘But...’

‘No go?’

‘’Fraid not, which is a shame because she fits in so well. Everyone likes her—well, almost everyone.’

Before Connor could plead for a bit of clarification on this last point Will grinned widely at some point over Connor’s shoulder.

‘And speaking of the angel,’ Will began, raising his voice, ‘here she is. Phoebe, come along and meet our senior partner!’ he called out to the group of women who were making their way down the carpeted corridor.

His words were greeted with an assorted selection of astonished squeals, cries and a gentle stampede.

‘Connor, back!’

‘The man can’t keep away from us.’

The babble around Connor became a distant irritating buzz. He must have responded and said the right things because people carried on smiling and laughing. He probably did, too, though inside shock had his guts in a frozen fist.

Phoebe’s case slid in slow motion from her nerveless fingers and, without her being aware of it, she grabbed hold of the radiator beside her, the heat making no impact on her icily cold hand. In fact, nothing made much impact at all but those electric blue eyes—more intense than any laser and just as precision-focused—which were fixed unblinkingly on her face.

She didn’t know how long it took for the thundering in her ears to become a gentle roar or her vocal chords to thaw.

She cleared her throat and willed her lips to form a casual smile.

‘Hello, Con.’ No needy tremor—thank goodness—just a slight huskiness.

He didn’t respond and, very conscious of the watching
eyes, Phoebe moved forward with a firm, confident tread that belied her inner turmoil. She thought about extending her hand, but had second thoughts. It would be too embarrassing if he refused to accept the gesture of friendship. She thrust it instead into the pocket of her fitted trousers.

She forced herself to look directly at him, the experience about as soothing as plugging herself directly into the national grid.

What changes there had been were subtle—a more pronounced suggestion of muscularity about his broad shoulders and chest, and possibly the fine lines that radiated from spectacular eyes and bracketed his firm sensual mouth were more deeply engrained than they had been four years ago—but essentially he was still the same Con that Phoebe recalled.

Not a person prone to self-deception, Phoebe didn’t have the luxury of pretending even to herself that it was only shock that had sent her nervous system spiralling out of control. She’d often wondered how she’d cope if she saw him again. Now she knew—she wouldn’t! This wasn’t information she felt any desire to share.

‘You two know one another...?’ Will looked from one to the other, a perplexed expression on his pleasant face.

‘You could say that. We lived together for three years.’ This casual bombshell was delivered totally straight-faced. Not unnaturally, it caused jaws to drop. ‘How are you, Phoebe?’

If that had been a deliberate attempt to unsettle her, he needn’t have bothered—she was already semi-catatonic. Against a backdrop of thunderous heart-pounding Phoebe gave a brittle smile.

‘I’m fine...just fine.’ She prayed she wouldn’t prove herself a liar by falling in a heap on the floor. ‘Such a surprise...’ she gulped. No lie this time!

She’d spent the last four years filling the gap this man had left in her life. Now she knew how spectacularly unsuccessful she’d been.

‘For me, too.’ Their gazes meshed. Phoebe flinched. Connor’s expression didn’t suggest that the surprise had been a pleasant one. She’d anticipated some residual hostility, maybe even a dollop of cringing embarrassment if and when they eventually met up again, but not this level of cold, savage fury.

‘We shared a flat as students, though Con was a couple of years ahead of me.’

If Con wasn’t going to go into details, neither was she. Their audience heard her hasty explanation with a disappointed air.

‘This is quite a coincidence, Con.’

‘Is that what it is?’

Her chin went up. ‘You always were the sharp one,’ she responded tensely. ‘The truth is out, folks,’ she announced flippantly. ‘I’ve been stalking the man for years—on account of his magnetic personality and startling good looks, you understand.’

Her words were greeted with general laughter. Phoebe hoped that the person her words had been aimed at had received the message. All she needed now was for Con to run away with the idea she had in some way contrived this situation.