Flirting with the Socialite Doc

* * *

Izzy watched Zach stride out of the reach of the lights of the pub to where his police vehicle was parked beneath a pendulous willow tree. Argh! If only she’d checked the car park before she’d launched into her I-don’t-want-you-here speech. How embarrassing! She had just made an utter fool of herself, bad enough in front of him but practically the whole town had been watching. Would she ever live it down? Would everyone snigger at her now whenever they saw her?

And how would she face him again?

Oh, he might have kept his face as blank as a mask but she knew he was probably laughing his head off at her behind that stony cop face of his. Would he snigger as well with his mates at how she had mistaken him for a— Oh, it was too awful to even think about.

Of course he didn’t look anything like a stripper, not that she had seen one in person or anything, only pictures of some well-built guys who worked the show circuit in Vegas. One of the girls she’d shared a flat with in London had hung their risqué calendar on the back of the bathroom door.

Idiot.

Fool.

Imbecile.

How could you possibly think he was—?

‘So you’ve met our gorgeous Zach,’ Peggy McLeod, one of the older cattleman’s wives, said at Izzy’s shoulder, with obvious amusement in her voice.

Izzy turned around and pasted a smile on her face. ‘Um, yes... He seems very...um...nice.’

‘He’s single,’ Peggy said. ‘His ex-fiancée changed her mind about moving to the bush with him. He and his dad run a big property out of town—Fletcher Downs. Good with his hands, that boy. Knows how to do just about anything. Make someone a fine husband one day.’

‘That’s...um, nice.’

‘His mum was English too, did you know?’ Peggy went on, clearly not expecting an answer for she continued without pause. ‘Olivia married Doug after a whirlwind courtship but she never could settle to life on the land. She left when Zach was about eight or nine...or was it ten? Yes, it was ten, I remember now. He was in the same class as one of my sister’s boys.’

Izzy frowned. ‘Left?’

Peggy nodded grimly. ‘Yep. Never came back, not even to visit. Zach used to fly over to England for holidays occasionally. Took him ages to settle in, though. Eventually he stopped going. I don’t think he’s seen his mother in years. Mind you, he’s kind of stuck here now since the accident.’

‘The accident?’

‘Doug Fletcher rolled his quad bike about eighteen months back. Crushed his spinal cord.’ Peggy shook her head sadly. ‘A strong, fit man like that not able to walk without a frame. It makes you want to cry, doesn’t it?’

‘That’s very sad.’

‘Zach looks after him all by himself,’ Peggy said. ‘How he does it is anyone’s guess. Doug won’t hear of having help in. Too proud and stubborn for his own good. Mind you, Zach can be a bit that way too.’

‘But surely he can’t look after his father indefinitely?’ Izzy said. ‘What about his own life?’

Peggy’s shoulders went up and down. ‘Doesn’t have one, far as I can see.’

* * *

Izzy walked back to her cottage a short time later. The party was continuing without her, which suited her just fine. Everyone was having a field day over her mistaking Zach Fletcher for a stripper. There was only so much ribbing she could take in one sitting. Just as well she was only here for a month. It would be a long time before she would be able to think about the events of tonight without blushing to the roots of her hair.

The police station was a few doors up from the clinic at the south end of the main street. She hadn’t noticed it earlier but, then, during the day it looked like any other nondescript cottage. Now that it was fully dark the police sign was illuminated and the four-wheel-drive police vehicle Zach had driven earlier was parked in the driveway beside a spindly peppercorn tree.

As she was about to go past, Zach came out of the building. He had a preoccupied look on his face and almost didn’t see her until he got to the car. He blinked and pulled up short, as if she had appeared from nowhere. He tipped his hat, his voice a low, deep burr in the silence of the still night air. ‘Dr Courtney.’

‘Sergeant Fletcher.’ If he was going to be so formal then so was she. Weren’t country people supposed to be friendly? If so, he was certainly showing no signs of it.

His tight frown put his features into shadow. ‘It’s late to be out walking.’

‘I like walking.’

‘It’s not safe to do it on your own.’

‘But it’s so quiet out here.’

‘Doesn’t make it safe.’ His expression was grimly set. ‘You’d be wise to take appropriate measures in future.’

Izzy put her chin up pertly. ‘I didn’t happen to see a taxi rank anywhere.’

‘Do you have a car?’

‘Of course.’

‘Next time use it or get a lift with one of the locals.’ He opened the passenger door of the police vehicle. ‘Hop in. I’ll run you home.’

Izzy bristled at his brusque manner. ‘I would prefer to walk, if you don’t mind. It’s only a block and I—’

His grey-blue eyes hardened. ‘I do mind. Get in. That’s an order.’

The air seemed to pulse with invisible energy as those strong eyes held hers. She held his gaze for as long as she dared, but in the end she was the first to back down. Her eyes went to his mouth instead and a frisson of awareness scooted up her spine to tingle each strand of her hair on her scalp. Something shifted in her belly...a turning, a rolling-over sensation, like something stirring after a long hibernation.

His mouth was set tightly, as tight and determined as his jaw, which was in need of a fresh shave. His eyes were fringed with dark lashes, his eyebrows the same rich dark brown as his hair. His skin was deeply tanned and it was that stark contrast with his eyes that was so heart-stopping. Smoky grey one minute, ice-blue the next, the outer rims of his irises outlined in dark blue, as if someone had traced their circumference with a fine felt-tip marker.

Eyes that had seen too much and stored the memories away somewhere deep inside for private reflection...or haunting.

‘Fine, I’ll get in,’ Izzy said with bad grace. ‘But you really need to work on your kerb-side manner.’

He gave her an unreadable look as he closed the door with a snap. She watched him stride around to the driver’s side, his long legs covering the distance in no time at all. He was two or three inches over six feet and broad shouldered and lean hipped. When he joined her in the car she felt the space shrink alarmingly. She drew herself in tightly, crossing her arms and legs to keep any of her limbs from coming into contact with his powerfully muscled ones.

The silence prickled like static electricity.

‘Peggy McLeod told me about your father’s accident,’ Izzy said as he pulled to the kerb outside her cottage half a minute later. She turned in her seat to look at him. ‘I’m sorry. That must be tough on both of you.’

Zach’s marble-like expression gave nothing away but she noticed his hands had tightened on the steering-wheel. ‘Do you make house calls?’

‘I...I guess so. Is that what Dr Sawyer did?’

‘Once a week.’

‘Then I’ll do it too. When would you like me to come?’

Some of the tension seemed to leave his shoulders but he didn’t turn to look at her. ‘I’ll ring Margie and make an appointment.’