Partners By Contract

‘He’s an old woman!’ Connor grouched.

‘He’s a warm and caring person, and very dedicated—a perfect GP,’ Phoebe corrected in a shaky voice. Will brought out the maternal instinct in most women and Phoebe was no exception.

‘Since when,’ she asked, an antagonistic note creeping into her strained voice, ‘did you want to be a GP anyhow?’ Four years ago he’d just been made a senior registrar in one of the top neurological units in the country. If he’d stayed on that course he would undoubtedly have been a consultant now and, more importantly, he wouldn’t be here in her car, filling it with a warm, sexy Con smell.

‘Perhaps I was inspired by Will. Of course, I can’t aspire to his level of dedication but, despite my lack of warmth, some people think I’m quite good at the job,’ he drawled sarcastically.

Phoebe had never doubted it, and if she had, a day of treating his patients would have put her straight. They’d all made it quite clear that Connor wasn’t just a hard act to follow—he was an impossible act to follow!

‘You’re good at everything, Con,’ she observed with a resigned little sigh. Especially kissing...he was excellent at kissing. Don’t go there Phoebe. Don’t think about his mouth...don’t think about anything!

‘Except being a husband.’

CHAPTER TWO

PHOEBE’S stomach churned with self-disgust. Connor’s bleak pronouncement was confirmation of all her worst nightmares.

This was all her fault!

You did it, you fix it, Phoebe. Nice in theory, but in reality she was swamped by a wave of inadequacy. If this had been a heart with an irregular beat or a broken limb, she’d have known what to do, but it wasn’t—this was something they didn’t teach you how to fix in medical school!

It had been bad enough to lose the closest friend she’d ever had because of a moment of weakness, but to learn that he was so guilt-ridden about what they’d done that he considered himself a failure as a husband was just too awful to contemplate. Just when she’d thought she’d finally come to terms with her own guilt, she had his to sort out.

‘Don’t you think you’re being just a tad over-dramatic, Con?’ she began tentatively.

She heard the anger in his hissing intake of breath. Good, anger was infinitely preferable to that terrible desolation she had seen in his face moments before. ‘I have to admit I’m surprised to hear you speaking like that.’

‘Truthfully you mean?’

‘You know perfectly well you’re talking a load of rubbish!’ she countered, a sliver of desperation creeping into her tense tone.

‘Do I?’

‘Sure you do. If it wasn’t so silly, I’d laugh,’ she claimed.

‘You’ve got a nice laugh.’

The sheer unexpectedness of this comment and the strange driven note in his voice made her involuntarily stiffen.

‘Just an observation,’ he added in a much less alarming tone.

Phoebe’s hands relaxed slightly on the steering-wheel.

‘But you’re completely wrong about me being a good husband.’ His lips twisted in an expression of sour distaste. ‘I was actually a disaster from beginning to end.’

Phoebe caught her lower lip between her teeth. She was so embarrassed she could hardly get her words out, but she supposed it needed to be said.

‘I suppose you’re thinking about...’ She shook her head, unable to say it.

‘No, I’m not thinking about the unmentionable.’ Actually, there had been very few days over the past four years when he hadn’t thought about it, thought about Phoebe...

His mocking drawl hurt. ‘It’s not funny,’ she reproached gruffly. Perhaps making light of it was part of his coping mechanism.

‘I’m not laughing.’

A brief sideways peek revealed this to be true. His spectacular eyes were burning in his rigid countenance. Phoebe hurriedly looked away, deeply relieved she had a legitimate excuse to do so.

‘Are you?’ he challenged huskily, directing a diamond-hard searching glance at her clear-cut profile.

‘Am I what?’

‘Thinking about it?’

‘Why would I?’ she blustered. ‘It’s not as if anything actually happened.’ Her laugh sounded almost authentic.

‘In fact, you hardly remember,’ he drawled sarcastically.

Phoebe felt the heat rise up her neck. ‘I remember, but let’s keep this in proportion, shall we?’

‘By all means,’ he agreed smoothly. ‘I’m assuming your version of keeping things in proportion involves skipping the country?’

Sarcastic beast! ‘It was just a...a kiss...’ The fine muscles in her pale throat quivered. ‘Penny would have understood.’ She wished she really believed that.

‘She did.’

His cryptic comment only served to deepen Phoebe’s confusion, and it showed in her wildly fluctuating colour.

‘What a day!’ he sighed, rotating his neck from side to side to alleviate the knots of tension that were tying his spine in knots. ‘I pop in to catch up on my paperwork...’ He yawned.

‘You shouldn’t be doing paperwork,’ she responded automatically. She was relieved he’d changed the subject.

‘And I find our brilliant new locum is none other than my elusive sister-in-law.’

Her relief seemed a bit premature. ‘I didn’t set this up, Con,’ she told him urgently.

‘And here’s me thinking you missed me,’ he drawled.

Only about as much as she’d have missed her right arm.

‘Bad luck about the knee,’ she heard herself babble brightly. Wasn’t that the sort of things that casual acquaintances said when they bumped into one another? ‘Was it the anterior cruciate ligament? Isn’t that usually the most common skiing—?’ Now I sound like a medical textbook!

‘To hell with my knee!’ he blasted.

‘I’m trying, Con.’ He didn’t seem to appreciate how hard.

‘Trying to do what?’

Now she knew he was being deliberately obtuse.