Falling for Dr December

‘Tweaking?’ he asked, with a frown knitting his dark brows. ‘You are on a roll, aren’t you? Do you insult all of your subjects so matter-of-factly?’

Laine stopped what she was doing for a moment and looking at Pierce with a stoic expression replied, ‘It wasn’t an insult. It’s a fact. I edit photos to bring out the best and hide the flaws. Photography is often pure fantasy. I make the subject irresistible. Whether it’s a string of pearls, a leather handbag or an automobile that only two per cent of the population could actually afford to buy. I make it the most desirable possession. Something the consumer cannot live without. I make it shinier than it really is, more beautiful than it might be and in doing so turn it into the stuff of dreams.’

‘So it’s all smoke and mirrors?’ Pierce remarked. ‘No real shots for you. Nothing of any depth. Doesn’t really surprise me. It’s just about selling a product, full stop.’

‘And what gives you the right to say that? You know nothing about me,’ she retorted, getting back to her feet and facing him. ‘I love my gritty real shots, like photographing older people. I don’t remove a single line or make any changes. The character in faces that have seen hardship and joy in equal amounts are priceless. But if I’m contracted to make a product sell, then I will tweak until I can’t tweak any more!’

Laine knew well enough that none of Pierce’s shots would need any editing on her behalf. He had a kind of refined magnetism that would stir any female and she wouldn’t tamper with that.

The last hour in Pierce’s presence had been professionally frustrating but that was the least of her problems. There was something about this man and this situation that was making Laine feel ill at ease. Whether it was Pierce’s very real and very natural sensuality or just being back in Uralla wasn’t clear to her, but something was making her feel uncomfortable.

She was accustomed to models and their ability to turn it on and turn it off, but Pierce didn’t seem to have a switch. He was genuinely this sexy, twenty-four seven. It was innate and palpable and he had an inner strength that shone though. And for some inexplicable reason he was unnerving her.

‘Were you being difficult for the sake of it or was it another reason why you didn’t want to take the step up the ladder?’ she asked, trying to bring the conversation back to business. ‘You really did seem to overreact to my request.’

‘I told you that I didn’t want to be involved. Let’s leave it at that. You won’t convince me that there’s not a better or easier way to raise funds to support your charity.’

Laine turned away again and wound up the cords draped across the floor. She suspected there was more to his reticence in taking that step than just arrogance but she thought better of pursuing the matter. She just wanted to finish the shoot on time and get away from him. With the cords packed up, she closed her laptop, slipped it into her backpack and turned towards him.

‘They did their market research and decided on a calendar. It worked for the firemen last year so the charity chose twelve of Australia’s most eligible general practitioners. And you, Dr Beaumont, have the dubious honour of being the last for the year. You’re Dr December,’ she announced as she zipped up the last of her bags.

‘Call me Pierce, Dr Beaumont is way too formal and correct me if I’m wrong, as I’m sure you will, but I can’t see anything around here that looks at all festive.’ Pierce rubbed his chin and added dryly, ‘What about I remove what’s left of my clothing and you strategically place a Christmas tree in front of me?’

Pierce would never normally have spoken this way to a woman he barely knew. His behaviour was always beyond reproach. Always. But with his feet securely on the ground and his anger subsiding, Laine’s behaviour was bringing out a different, irreverent side of him and he suspected with her New York attitude Laine could take it. And give it back. She clearly wasn’t the shy type.

‘Strategically positioned Christmas tree?’ she muttered as she returned her gaze to him. Suddenly her heart began to race. She had to push the visual from her mind. He was leaning on the desk with his arms folded across the ripples of his tanned chest. She had captured photos of some incredibly good-looking men over the last three weeks, but he was clearly the most handsome. Hands down. She swallowed and tried to think of him as just another subject but he was different from the other doctors. They had been helpful and a little flattered to be asked and two had even very politely invited her out to dinner, which she had equally politely refused, but Pierce Beaumont had an attitude that both annoyed and intrigued her.

She wasn’t sure that he knew just how good looking he was, but she suspected he knew women would not run away from his advances. He wasn’t overly close but there was electricity in the air she had to cut. It made her feel uncomfortable that he was stirring up feelings she didn’t want to feel. She had another two days’ shooting with him and she couldn’t let him get under her skin.

Laine hated to admit it but the sight of his toned body so close to her did make her breathing a little shallow. She bit her lip. This was crazy. She had filmed ludicrously handsome male models for an underwear shoot in a New York subway a month ago and they had left her cold. It had always been a job. But now this country doctor with his defiance and an aversion to ladders was making her feel very self-conscious.

She had to push him away. She preferred being alone. No one to depend on. No one who could leave and make her feel as if her heart had broken in two, wondering whether she could go on. No, Laine Phillips was alone in this world and she liked it that way.

‘Perhaps mistletoe would suffice,’ she replied, as she scooped up her bag and walked towards the door.

Pierce smirked at her remark. He was right, she could dish it up, and do it well. Perhaps another couple of days with this gorgeous brunette, despite the circumstances, would be less traumatic than he imagined. She had spirit. He crossed the room, picked up the heavier bag containing the grip and lighting equipment and walked to the door with it. Reaching for the handle, he opened the door for Laine with his free hand.

‘Mistletoe will definitely not suffice,’ he said as she squeezed past him, the narrowness of the doorway causing her bare shoulder to inadvertently brush lightly across his chest. ‘Not even close.’

CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_f56ac5fd-b318-5fc9-87b6-551b9aca8a6b)

LAINE WAS AMUSED and a little taken aback by Pierce’s comment. This country doctor definitely had an edge to him. He was actually a little more city than she had first imagined. She smiled to herself then decided to delete the mental image that had crept into her mind. Edge or no edge, this trip to Uralla needed to stay professional. The thought of Pierce as anything more than a photo shoot couldn’t happen. Not even a fling. Her flings were very separate from her work.

Gossip spread quickly in the circles in which she travelled and she wasn’t about to become the photographer who overstepped the mark and fell into bed with her models. No matter how tempting it could be at times. It risked a shift in power. It also complicated life and she had never allowed herself to become fodder for rumours. It was one of her rules.

Along with another, which prevented her flings developing into relationships. Her heart was safely tucked away behind a stone wall that was carved with her rules. Her own invisible armour, it kept her safe from ever becoming attached to another person. From ever needing someone, only to find they had gone. From ever feeling secure, only to find she was alone again.

Laine Phillips was a one-woman show. And nothing would ever change that. Definitely not a three-day stop-over in Uralla.

‘You can put your shirt on now,’ she told him, without looking again at his stunning physique. ‘The shoot is over.’

Her professional demeanour was in full throttle now, he thought. Perhaps it had been his remark about the mistletoe, he mused. His intention had been to lighten the mood, but clearly that wasn’t about to happen in the near future. She had shut him down and any light-hearted banter was over. Apparently Laine Phillips was all business.

Drawing breath, he looked at her very pretty face. It was devoid of emotion. He wondered what her story was—what made this very attractive woman so defensive. So aloof and untouchable. Her walls were so high that Pierce wondered if it was more than big-city conceit. This seemed more personal.

Laine Phillips seemed to be a gorgeous island that perhaps no one had ever discovered.

He found it odd that he was making sweeping statements in his own head about a woman he barely knew. He had never summed up a woman so quickly. He had never wanted to before. But she was such an enigma.

‘So shall I meet you at the McKenzies’ property tomorrow morning around four-thirty?’

‘Four-thirty in the morning?’ he questioned her, as he did up the last of his shirt buttons. ‘Are we milking the cows?’

Her eyes smiled. She didn’t give her mouth permission to do the same. ‘It’s the perfect lighting then. Nothing to do with cows. I want to capture you in the wide-open paddock just as the sun rises, with a single eucalyptus tree on the horizon. Single man, single tree. Blatant symbolism.’

‘Single eucalyptus tree?’ he asked with a quizzical frown dividing his dark brows. ‘Have you actually seen the McKenzies’ property or are you just hoping to find a backdrop like that?’

Laine shifted the heavy bag a little on her shoulder. She didn’t want to admit she knew the property like the back of her hand. That she had spent time there when she’d been growing up. She had hoped to avoid questions like this but realised that it was nearly impossible. When she had discovered that Dr Pierce Beaumont, her final shoot in the calendar, was the resident general practitioner in Uralla she had been filled with dread. When the bus had pulled out of the town all those years ago, its final destination Sydney, she had begun to barricade her emotions—one brick at a time. Each signpost she had passed had laid another piece of rock around her heart.

For a few years Sydney had become her home and then New York. She chose cities that prevented her from forming lasting relationships. Cities as cold and detached as the person she needed to become. She wasn’t strong enough to remain in a town as kind as Uralla. She didn’t have any more tears, or anything left inside to save her again. There could never be another heartache, for the next one would most definitely be the end of her. So Melanie Phillips had taken matters into her own hands. She had changed her name just enough to feel like a different person and she’d moved on, successfully burying herself in a busy and demanding life. A life without love and all the risks and sadness it brought.

When she had agreed to the calendar assignment, Laine had had no inkling that she would be spending time in this familiar little town in country New South Wales. She’d assumed it would be capital cities or large beachside towns. Not a town so small it didn’t really factor into most people’s knowledge of Australian geography. It was as pretty as a picture but famous for nothing more than being not too far from the centre of country music in Australia and for having a major highway as a main street. It was a town where you could leave your front door unlocked and know nothing would be taken because the locals were either family or friends.

She had once loved living there and now she assumed Pierce felt the same.

‘I was out at the McKenzies’ this morning. I drove there to check the setting was suitable after my plane touched down in Armidale.’

Pierce’s curiosity was further heightened but he said nothing, keeping his thoughts to himself as he watched her nervously shift her stance. He had no right to question her or ask more about her than she was willing to offer. He was a private person. His past was off limits so why should hers be any different?

His life had effectively started when he’d come to Uralla two years before. He had never spoken about his past or his family, except to say that his aunt had been given custody of him after his parents had passed away when he was a child. The circle of people his father and mother had once called friends had never tried to make contact after the tragedy so they hadn’t factored into his thoughts as he’d grown older. When the parties on his parents’ yacht had ceased, so had their friends’ interest in Pierce.

However, their children had sought him out years later, when he’d been a young adult. At first he’d thought they’d actually cared about their friendship with him, but that belief had been short-lived when it had become clear these long-lost friends had only needed him to pay their tabs. It hadn’t taken long for Pierce to realise that all they really valued was his family money—especially the women. All eager to snare a wealthy husband, they never tried to hide their love of the luxury lifestyle they assumed he would lavish on them if they were to become his wife.

Pierce wanted none of it. He wanted what his parents had never had. Real friends. The type that didn’t care if your car was twenty years old and gave you a place to sleep if you needed it. Although he would never need to be given a helping hand with regard to money—he was indisputably one of the richest young men in Australia. His wealth, generated from his father’s mining and real estate interests, was handled by his business manager in Sydney.

And so, one day, when he’d realised he wanted more from his life, Pierce had simply disappeared from high society and moved to a town he had heard about during medical school. A town that he hoped he would be happy to call home.

The townsfolk never asked more than he was willing to give, they never pried into his past, and he was happy with that arrangement. Everything he’d done after driving down the New England Highway and into Uralla was on the table. Anything before that was not discussed. The circus that had been his life had dissipated just as he had hoped. His new life was too quiet and uneventful to create any interest in the media—in fact, many thought that his inheritance was all gone, the proceeds lost to bad investments.

Out of the eyes of the press, Pierce quietly directed the accountant to make donations in the company name to deserving causes. A silent philanthropist, he never used any of the money in his personal life. And he wouldn’t want it any other way. He knew who his friends were and without the family money there would be fewer enemies. Keeping his past to himself was working quite nicely.

Perhaps Laine had her reasons too. Clearly her accent was Australian, albeit with an international flavour, and he knew she was based in New York. He had just assumed she would have grown up in another big city like Sydney. But somehow she knew her way around Uralla.

‘I know the town, I spent some time here eons ago,’ Laine told him. She didn’t want to get into it so kept the explanation brief. ‘But it’s immaterial. I just need you there at four-thirty and then in the late afternoon I thought we’d head over to Saumarez Homestead. They have a barn with a spectacular panoramic view. I would like to capture you in the doorway just as the sun sets.’

‘Lighting, right?’

‘Yes, lighting and amazing scenery. New England is a stunning part of Australia and I want to do it justice,’ she said, then added, ‘Besides, the early morning shoot will allow you to see patients during the day and then we can head out again around five in the afternoon. Minimal disruption to your day and daylight saving will add value to mine, giving me sufficient time to set up my equipment and still catch the sunset.’