The Australian's Bride: Marrying the Millionaire Doctor / Children's Doctor, Meant-to-be Wife / A Bride and Child Worth Waiting For

‘Mike Poulos,’ Mike added helpfully. ‘My parents run the best Greek restaurant you’ll find in North Australia. The Athina. Just over the way in Crocodile Creek.’

‘Spitting distance,’ Emily said. She exchanged a glance with Mike and they both gave the kind of smile that indicated a private joke.

One that excluded Alex. The ceiling fan didn’t seem to be doing much in the way of air-conditioning. He put down his briefcase, dropped his jacket over the back of a cane chair that matched the couch, rolled up his shirtsleeves and gave up any pretence of feeling social.

He wanted a shower. A chance to change his clothes and spend some time with his daughter. Instead, his accommodation was crowded by strangers who seemed to find Greek superstitions a joke, his daughter was still wearing that scanty clothing, and she was currently being ogled by a prime example of testosterone on legs. It was infuriating.

Worse, having caught Susie’s glance, it appeared that she knew exactly how he was feeling and—in her opinion—his discomfort was well deserved.

Then he saw the way she caught her bottom lip between her teeth. It may only have been the second time he’d seen her do that, but he knew a decision of some kind had just been made.

‘Hey,’ Susie said to her friends. ‘You did know you’re not staying here anymore, didn’t you?’

Emily nodded. ‘That’s why we came to find you, to make sure you’d had a chance to talk to Charles.’

‘Your dad’s having the cabin,’ Susie explained to Stella. ‘We’re moving to the hotel. There’s two bedrooms here so you can stay, too.’ She smiled encouragingly. ‘It’s really close to the dormitory and I’ll bet the bed’s a lot more comfortable.’

Stella looked mutinous and Jamie edged towards the door. ‘I’d better go,’ he said. ‘See you at the disco, Stel—’ He grinned. ‘I mean, Star.’

Alex groaned inwardly. The new nickname made his daughter sound like something from a Hollywood gossip column, but it wasn’t worth a battle. Not when Stella was staring at him, clearly expecting one.

‘Am I allowed to go to the disco, Dad?’

It was a challenge. It was also an easy way to defuse any tension between them. It wasn’t the disco that Alex had a problem with, was it?

‘Of course,’ he said.

Stella looked surprised. Pleased but wary. ‘And I can wear my new clothes?’

‘But I’ll have to find another top!’ Emily groaned in mock despair. ‘We can’t be there looking like twins.’

‘Why not?’ Susie was also staring at Alex and her gaze was just as challenging as Stella’s had been. ‘It’s a gorgeous top.’

‘I reckon.’ Mike nodded. ‘What do you think, Jamie?’

But Jamie just grinned again and disappeared with a wave.

Alex was now the focus of everybody’s attention. They were confidently expecting his agreement—even Susie and Stella, who had to know how it would be contradicting his principles. He sighed.

‘Maybe,’ he said. ‘I’ll have to think about it.’

It was too hot to be making decisions that could have unpleasant personal ramifications. He needed a shower. And another beer. And some peace.

‘I’ll get my stuff,’ Susie said into the silence. ‘Why don’t we head over to the resort and give these guys some time to themselves?’

‘Thanks.’ Alex tilted his head towards his briefcase. ‘I’ve got a speech to get written before the opening ceremony tomorrow.’

‘Maybe you could get it done while Stella’s at the disco tonight.’

She wasn’t going to miss an opportunity to tell him how to handle his daughter, was she? Did she really expect him to stay in the cabin and let Stella wander around in her underwear? Dancing with boys?

Except that she couldn’t dance, could she?

Alex moved to go and sit down beside his daughter, the sudden tightness in his throat making it difficult to smile.

He barely noticed the others leaving the cabin.

The camp disco was aimed at the older children and wasn’t due to start until 8:00 p.m. when it would be dark enough for the light show to be appreciated on the beach. One of the rangers, Ben, was an amateur disk jockey. He had his own sound and light system and, like many of the staff on the island, was only too happy to use his skills to provide something the kids would enjoy.

There were plenty of adults who were also looking forward to a spot of dancing, including Susie, Emily and Mike, but their bicycle ride back to the north end of Wallaby Island that evening was interrupted by first Mike’s and then Susie’s mobile phones ringing.

Mike finished his call first and was talking to Emily as Susie flipped her phone shut. Emily was frowning.

‘Charles wants you to fly back to Crocodile Creek? At this time of night? Just to pick up Jill?’

‘There’s no other way she can get here before tomorrow morning. Lily’s sick.’

‘How sick?’ Emily asked with concern.

‘I heard Charles say it was just a cold this afternoon,’ Susie put in. ‘It can’t be too serious.’

‘Doesn’t sound as if Charles thinks it’s too serious,’ Mike agreed, ‘but apparently he couldn’t persuade Jill about that. I think he thinks Jill’s overreacting, but it sounds as though Beth’s on his case now—telling him that any kid who’s feeling miserable needs her mother.’

‘Oh…’ Emily nodded. ‘He’s got a point. And we do owe Charles.’

‘Do we?’

‘Of course we do.’ Emily gave her husband a shove. ‘It was thanks to him that we sorted ourselves out, if you remember. Come to think of it, that involved a helicopter ride, as well. To Wallaby Island, no less.’ She grinned. ‘Just think of yourself as Charles Wetherby’s personal pilot. I can dance without you.’ The grin got turned in Susie’s direction. ‘I’ve got my best friend to dance with.’

‘I’m afraid not,’ Susie said apologetically. ‘Not for a while, anyway. My call was from Miranda Carlisle. You met her the other night, didn’t you? She’s a respiratory physician and the coordinator of the camp kids. She’s worried about one of the boys with cystic fibrosis who’s picked up this bug that’s going around. I’ll have to drop into the medical centre and see if he needs help with some extra physio to clear his chest. I’ll try and get there before the dancing finishes.’

‘Me, too,’ Mike promised.

Emily shrugged philosophically. ‘No problem. You guys go and do what you need to do.’

Surprisingly, for this time on a Friday evening, the new medical facilities on Wallaby Island were humming.

There seemed to be people everywhere and the distinctive shape of Charles’s wheelchair was at the centre of a knot blocking a wide hallway Susie needed to use to reach the inpatient rooms.

Even though it was obvious they were trying to have a private discussion, the high-pitched voice of Lauren Allandale’s mother, Kirsty, was also familiar. Lauren was another of the camp children who suffered from cystic fibrosis. The pretty, fragile-looking teenager had been in here only yesterday, having a nasty gash on her chin sutured, but that didn’t seem to be what was upsetting Kirsty at the moment.

‘We’ve got to evacuate her, Dr Wetherby,’ she was saying urgently, still trying to keep her voice down. ‘For God’s sake, she’s on the waiting list for a lung transplant. Any kind of chest infection could be…could be…’ The woman turned, allowing her husband to wrap his arms around her, burying her face in his shoulder to cry silently.

Rick Allandale may not be as overprotective as Lauren’s mother but his determination to look after his family was obvious in the stare he was directing at Charles.

‘She’s not showing any signs of infection,’ Charles said.

Kirsty’s face appeared again. ‘She almost collapsed! Her hands went all numb!’