Found: A Father For Her Child

‘Charlie?’ A sinking feeling formed in the pit of her stomach. He couldn’t be. ‘You’re Dr Charles Wentworth?’ she asked, hoping desperately that he was just there doing some locum work for the good doctor who she’d assumed to be years older.

‘The very same.’ He nodded. Surely she wasn’t his appointment? ‘And you’re…Dr Douglas?’

Carrie nodded, temporarily unable to form words.

Charlie stared in dismay at her smart businesslike suit. Navy blue. Rich, red, silky blouse. Pinstripes. No tie-dye in sight. Pinstripes—hell! ‘And you’re here to…’

She nodded again. ‘Audit you.’

The wall clock ticked so loudly in the silence it might as well have been a bomb. Charlie recovered first, ignoring the ominous ‘A’ word and its implications to the viability of the centre. He’d lived under the cloud of closure since he’d opened the clinic five years ago.

‘You’re a doctor?’ What the hell?

Carrie lifted her chin. She’d never had to justify her title before and she was damned if she’d do so now. For the next month she was in charge here so it was imperative that she assert her authority immediately. Having him think less of her qualifications, ones she’d worked long and hard for, ones her parents had worked two jobs and re-mortgaged the house for, rankled. ‘Yes, I am.’

Charlie was flabbergasted. He couldn’t have been more surprised than if she’d told him she was a hooker. ‘A medical doctor?’

‘Yes, Charlie, a medical doctor.’

‘You could have fooled me.’

She shrugged, trying for nonchalant when in reality her heart was hammering madly in her chest. Surely he could hear it? ‘I’ve been in management for a while now.’

‘I thought only middle-aged has-beens went into management.’

No. Sometimes young has-beens did, too. ‘It’s a legitimate career option these days. I’m on track to become the youngest hospital MD in Australia.’

Whoa—real party girl. ‘So, what, when other little girls wanted to be fairies and princesses, you decided to chose something more—’ boring ‘—practical?’

Carrie felt her spine stiffen. She was used to subtle male put-downs. Making her way in a male-dominated career had given her a thick skin and a very low tolerance level for fools. Why did he make ambition seem so dirty? Would he have asked her the same question had she been a male? Where was the man from last night who had so tenderly handed Dana to her?

‘Do powerful women threaten your masculinity, Charlie?’

OK. This conversation was bizarre. She was standing before him in her fashionable pinstriped suit—hell, pinstripes—that moulded curves he hadn’t even been aware of last night. Her collar was up on her soft, wine-red shirt—very chic—and it clung to the very interesting rise of flesh that strained against the buttons, barely succeeding in concealing her cleavage.

Indignation burned in her eyes behind trendy frameless glasses that sat high on her perfectly straight nose. She had some shiny gloss stuff on her full lips, the only make-up he could detect, and they glistened. Her wavy hair was pulled back, restricted in some kind of clasp thingy, not a stray hair in sight.

She was the epitome of a modern businesswoman. Composed. Professional. Collected. And a far cry from the cot case of last night. Pale. Shaken. Hyperventilating. Try as he may, he just couldn’t reconcile the two images. It was as if last night hadn’t even happened.

‘Not at all,’ he said dismissively. ‘Actually, I find powerful women very sexy. Hell, I even married one. I just couldn’t think of anything worse if I tried. Management.’ He shuddered. ‘All that paperwork.’

Carrie swallowed. Did he find her sexy? The idea was as seductive as it was preposterous. She reeled in her straying thoughts. What the hell did she care if he did or not? Whatever happened to asserting her authority? She was going to need to be twice as hard with this man now he’d already had her at a disadvantage. Now he’d seen her so vulnerable.

‘Yes,’ she said briskly, bringing the conversation back to the matter at hand. ‘Apparently paperwork’s not your forte.’

Charlie chuckled. Paperwork was the bane of his life.

Carrie pursed her lips disapprovingly. He could find this as amusing as he liked but it was just irresponsible as far as she was concerned. When you were running a business, particularly with someone else’s money, you had to be fiscally accountable.

‘It’s taken me a while to decipher some of your figures, particularly the last year’s, and a lot of it’s incomplete. To finish my investigation I’ll need to see all your business files, bank records, activity statements and so on.’

Charlie stared at her, his ire rising. She was looking so prim and proper. So together. So unlike the woman from last night. She held the upper hand and she knew it. The future of the clinic depended on the outcome of her report. ‘I have some of them ready. I’ll have to get the rest together for you,’ he stonewalled.

Carrie heard the flint in his voice. She glared at him. Did he think because he had already seen her at less than her best that she was just going to fold and meekly surrender? He needed to know now that the woman he’d seen last night had been a complete anomaly.

‘You’ve had over a week to get this information together,’ she growled, trying to keep her temper in check. ‘I don’t appreciate these stalling tactics.’

Tactics? ‘Lady, what the hell is it you think we do here all day? I don’t have time to scratch myself most of the time. Trying to locate five years’ worth of documentation with the few snatched minutes that I get isn’t possible. You know, I’m trying to practise a little thing called medicine here. Not that I expect you to understand that.’

Carrie felt the barb hit her in the chest and put her hand on her hip to steady herself from the impact. She’d wanted to be a doctor ever since she’d been able to say the word. Being judged by him professionally and found to be lacking was a new experience for her. Especially when he was basing his assessment on last night’s performance. That was hardly fair. It had been four years since she’d had a clinical role. Her management skills, on the other hand, were very highly praised. It was like comparing apples and oranges.

‘Please, don’t call me lady. Doctor or Carrie will be fine.’ The frost in her voice could have frozen a lake.

‘I guess it’ll have to be Carrie, then.’ If she wanted to be called Doctor she was going to have to earn it!

She got his meaning loud and clear. And ignored it. ‘I’ll start with what you’ve got,’ she said haughtily. ‘How about you show me around, allocate me an office and I’ll get started?’

Charlie gave a harsh laugh. He couldn’t believe he’d lain awake all night thinking about this woman. Did she have any idea what it was like at the coal face any more?

‘This isn’t some posh city specialist clinic, Carrie. We don’t have offices to spare. There’s only mine and the one opposite.’ He pointed to the door behind her across the hallway and watched the line of her neck and the interesting pull of fabric across her chest as she twisted to check it out.

‘It’s used most days by our regular clinic holders so you’ll have to vacate it during those times. Other than that there’s the staffroom.’

Carrie glared at him. How was she supposed to work being shifted from pillar to post all the time? ‘I need somewhere without constant interruptions.’

Charlie almost smiled at her, half expecting her to stamp her foot. She was annoyed? Good, she was bugging the hell out of him. She didn’t look so prim and proper any more, he noted with satisfaction. So untouchable. She looked ruffled. Like she wanted to swear.

Her chest rose and fell a little faster, straining the button holding everything together. Her teeth bit into the soft fullness of her lower lip. She looked a little frazzled. A little like last night. She looked touchable. Very touchable.

He shrugged. ‘They’re your choices.’

Some choice. ‘Which one will have the fewest interruptions?’

He snorted. ‘Ever heard of the chaos theory?’

Carrie gripped the handle of her briefcase tighter. ‘Gee, no, I must have been off painting my nails or polishing my tiara the days we discussed that in physics.’

He laughed despite his exasperation. ‘All right, OK, sorry. Well, forget it. This place is chaotic and, trust me, there is no underlying order.’

Carrie waited patiently, hand still on hip, barely resisting the urge to tap her foot. She quirked an eyebrow at him.

Charlie sighed. Whether he liked it or not, he was stuck with her. ‘The staffroom’s your best bet.’ He rose to his feet. ‘Follow me. I’ll show you around.’

Carrie stood aside as Charlie brushed past her. She caught a faint whiff of his aftershave and fought the urge to hurry, to keep pace with his long-legged stride. Every sensible cell in her body was telling her to keep her distance. And she was listening.

He was dressed as casually as he’d been last night. Trendy ultra-long shorts that fell just past his knees and another pre-school-inspired T-shirt. Since when had a man’s clothes been so fascinating?

He took her out to the front area first. ‘This is the reception area.’ Charlie checked his watch. ‘Angela should be in soon.’