Книга - Resisting Her English Doc

Resisting Her English Doc
Annie Claydon


Running from her past…Towards a future together?In this Single Dad Docs story, dancer Fleur Miller, recovering from career-ending injuries, is impatient to get off Maple Island. But handsome new arrival English doctor Rick Fleming seems determined to push her buttons! The island Fleur once called home now holds only painful memories, but her intense connection with single dad Rick soon challenges Fleur to reimagine life there—with a family of her own.







Running from her past...

Towards a future together?

In this Single Dad Docs story, recovering from career-ending injuries, dancer Fleur Miller is impatient to get off Maple Island. But handsome new arrival, English doctor Rick Fleming seems determined to push her buttons! The island Fleur once called home now only holds painful memories, but her intense connection with single dad Rick soon challenges Fleur to reimagine life on the island—with a family of her own.

Single Dad Docs quartet

Book 1 – Tempted by Her Single Dad Boss by Annie O’Neil

Book 2 – Resisting Her English Doc by Annie Claydon

Look out for the next two books, coming soon:

Book 3 – The Single Dad’s Proposal by Karin Baine

Book 4 – Nurse to Forever Mom by Susan Carlisle

“The way this story started drew me into the story immediately.... However, it was the epilogue that wrapped this story up perfectly....

—Harlequin Junkie on Forbidden Night with the Duke

“... Ms. Claydon has delivered a really good read in this book where the connection between this couple was intense; the romance was heart-warming and special...and the ending had me loving the hero’s determination to prove to the heroine that she’s the one for him.”

—Harlequin Junkie on From Doctor to Princess?


Cursed with a poor sense of direction and a propensity to read, ANNIE CLAYDON spent much of her childhood lost in books. A degree in English Literature followed by a career in computing didn’t lead directly to her perfect job—writing romance for Mills & Boon—but she has no regrets in taking the scenic route. She lives in London: a city where getting lost can be a joy.


Also by Annie Claydon (#u51b0865f-2d0c-52ad-8fad-da88745a9bfe)

From Doctor to Princess?Firefighter’s Christmas Baby

Single Dad Docs collection

Tempted by Her Single Dad Boss by Annie O’Neil Resisting Her English Doc

And look out for the next two books

The Single Dad’s Proposal by Karin Baine Nurse to Forever Mum by Susan Carlisle

Available February 2019

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk).


Resisting Her English Doc

Annie Claydon






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


ISBN: 978-1-474-08970-8

RESISTING HER ENGLISH DOC

© 2018 Annie Claydon

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


To Susan Carlisle, Annie O’Neil and Karin Baine.

The very best people to share an island with.


Contents

Cover (#u2efcebd5-6559-5863-8528-c1ba2af5208d)

Back Cover Text (#ud40ffc66-1c60-557d-ac76-1015e81605a8)

About the Author (#ua1a5e769-dbd3-5941-85aa-c1054510eef6)

Booklist (#u6b92dd46-4cca-5a6e-a595-9ae5e4200439)

Title Page (#u63da565d-472e-5ee4-8dce-76cf75d96387)

Copyright (#ua5a1e9e6-7750-561c-89bc-0254ae0f7b35)

Dedication (#uc96cfa20-33ee-50a9-ab7f-01d8e219b983)

CHAPTER ONE (#u854fe2ce-f481-52b5-ba17-8e51b8f314ef)

CHAPTER TWO (#u1815a9ce-d372-5cf7-afcf-0ce1091ba640)

CHAPTER THREE (#u71a614b8-a453-53f3-81da-a86cf32be543)

CHAPTER FOUR (#ucfac17d1-841b-5a5f-8e05-cf8fc2f9908f)

CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINETEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)




CHAPTER ONE (#u51b0865f-2d0c-52ad-8fad-da88745a9bfe)


RICK FLEMING FELT as if he was more than two weeks away from London. Much more than an ocean away. His old job and his family and friends seemed as if they were a world away.

Coming to the Maple Island Clinic was much more than just a new job. The island itself, situated two miles off the coast of Boston, was more than just a new place to live. It felt as if it just might be the end of a journey, one that had taken on the quality of a pilgrimage in his mind.

He’d promised his wife this before she’d died, four years ago. Their daughter had been just a baby, and all Ellie knew of her mother was what Rick could tell her. This was a chance for Ellie to see more of her grandparents in Boston, and for her to call America home, the way that Lara had done. And it was Rick’s chance to learn whether he might call somewhere home, too.

“I hope you’re settling in.” Alex Kirkland, the director responsible for rehabilitation, was ensconced in one of the easy chairs in his office, clearly the spokesperson for the two-man welcoming committee. His co-director, Cody Brennan, who led the surgical team, sat silently to one side.

“Yes, thank you.”

“And how’s Ellie?”

“She’s good. I brought her in to visit the clinic’s daycare center yesterday, and this morning she didn’t even look back to say goodbye to me when I left.”

Alex chuckled. “I know that feeling. I’m really happy that Jake looks forward to spending time in daycare after school while I’m still at work, but he might spare a thought for his dad’s feelings and pretend that he’s sorry to see me go. You’re both settling in at the lighthouse?”

“Ellie loves it. We stayed with her grandparents in Boston for a week before we came here, and on a clear day you can just see the tip of the lighthouse from the roof of their apartment block. She’s been insisting on going up to the viewing gallery every evening to wave them goodnight before she goes to bed.”

Alex and Cody both smiled. Being able—no, encouraged—to talk about Ellie’s needs as part of his own work experience was novel, but Rick had already realized that it was the norm here at the Maple Island Clinic. Two single fathers, who’d wanted to give their children the best, had founded a clinic that combined professional excellence with the very best daycare facilities. This was Rick’s dream job, in more ways than one.

“I’ll be going through your case-load with you over the next couple of days.” Alex picked up a patient file from the coffee table in front of him, slipping effortlessly from childcare to clinic business. “But I’d like to draw your attention to one of the patients I’m considering adding to your list. I think that your background in counseling, as well as physical rehabilitation, might put you in a unique position to help her.”

Rick took the file, opening it and scanning the details quickly, before his eye was drawn to the photograph stapled inside the front cover. One look at the blue eyes, staring candidly at the camera, and he forgot about everything else. Long, dark hair framed a face that no one in their right mind could fail to consider beautiful, but her eyes held something more. The promise that this woman was a force to be reckoned with.

“Fleur Miller came to us before Christmas.” Alex’s voice cut through the spell that seemed to bind Rick to the image. “She was part of a theater group—See the Beat.”

“I think I’ve heard of them. They specialize in theatrical dance and acrobatics.” He remembered them from one of those late-night arts programs that he’d had a habit of dozing through, instead of going to bed.

“Yes, that’s right. Fleur had a bad fall and sustained extensive injuries. They’re all in the file.”

Rick concentrated on the print, trying to ignore the photograph. Severe concussion, a broken shoulder and collarbone, a fractured hip and a knee that had been so badly damaged that the joint had required replacement.

“Is all her surgery complete?”

“Everything major. She has a ganglion on her wrist, probably caused by the trauma of the fall, but that’s relatively insignificant and we’ve decided to wait until she’s moving around without crutches. Cody will take care of it then.”

“She should be almost recovered by now, though. Eight weeks at the Boston Harbor Hospital, and then several more weeks here.”

“Yes, physically she’s doing well. Emotionally, not so much. She’s a model patient, smiles at all the nurses, does what she’s told when the physio’s watching her. But when she’s alone, she just lies down on her bed and stares at the ceiling. We reckon she’s having a good day when we find her staring out of the window.”

Rick frowned. He wasn’t usually mistaken about a face, and he thought he’d seen determination in Fleur’s. “Has the clinic’s mental health team been involved?”

“Yes, they have, but she’s stonewalled them. Her attitude is that loss is a perfectly normal thing for a person to feel, and that we should just leave her alone while she deals with it.”

“She has a point. With these injuries it doesn’t look likely that she’ll be returning to a career in dance anytime soon, if ever. Everyone needs a bit of time to grieve, whatever the nature of their loss.”

Alex and Cody knew that too. And all three men knew that there must be a time for moving forward as well. In the time it had taken Rick to kick-start his own life, after Lara’s death, he’d almost lost everything else that he’d cared about. It sounded as if Fleur was in danger of making the same mistake that he had.

Alex broke the short silence. “We think that Fleur has found herself a comfort zone, and she won’t venture out of it. She’s made up her mind that she can just sit her time out here.”

“Which isn’t what the clinic’s all about,” Rick mused. It was one of the topics that Alex and Cody had discussed with Rick during a series of in-depth video interviews. The clinic aimed to prepare its patients for life, and not just attend to their medical needs.

“No, it isn’t. We’d like to hear some ideas on how you think you might get through to her.”

“Everyone else has failed,” Cody interjected with a frown. It was clear that both Alex and Cody were taking this personally. Committed doctors had a habit of thinking that way.

Rick took a few moments to read through the patient profile. Fleur had grown up on the island, leaving when she was fifteen to go to theater school in Boston... Her parents were still on the island, visited every day and were supportive... No financial issues...

Almost against his will, his gaze was drawn back to the photograph. The confidence in Fleur’s gaze suggested that this was someone who knew how to meet the world headlong. Someone who could fight. Rick dismissed the thought that if she could be persuaded to fight him there was the strong possibility that he might enjoy every moment of it, and then come crawling back for more. Fleur Miller would be nothing more than a patient who presented him with a medical conundrum.

“If Fleur’s reached the kind of standard she has in dance, then she’s clearly no stranger to meeting a challenge.” Rick ventured an opinion. “Perhaps the difficulty for her now is that she can’t see any challenge ahead of her. I can imagine that for someone like her, that must be very demotivating.”

“And your solution?” Alex pursed his lips.

Rick grinned. “This is a wonderful place, but maybe that’s just the problem. It’s making everything a bit too easy for Fleur. We need to find something that will confront her and give her a reason to start fighting. I think that then the underlying emotional issues that are getting in the way of her recovery might become more apparent and we’ll have a chance to address them.”

Alex exchanged a glance with Cody, and then nodded. “Agreed. And we can rely on you to pursue that approach?”

It made sense. He was a new face, and that meant a fresh start and a chance to succeed where others had failed.

“Yes. I’d welcome the challenge.”

The next hour was devoted to a bombardment of names, smiles and handshakes as Alex and Cody took him on a whistle-stop tour of the clinic. This place had everything. But the smiling faces, the state-of-the-art gym equipment and the beautiful setting didn’t provide the one thing that he guessed his newest patient might need.

He spent half an hour with Ellie at lunchtime. She had obviously been exploring her new surroundings, and excitedly showed him around the daycare center. Their second goodbye of the day was only marginally less harrowing than the first, but Ellie took it in her stride, running back to the play area where she’d already made some friends.

Rick walked determinedly to the private room marked on Fleur’s notes. The door was open, and he could see a figure lying on the bed, her back to the door. She didn’t move when he knocked so Rick walked inside.

“Hello, I’m Dr. Richard Fleming. I’m going to be overseeing your rehab for the next few weeks.”

The woman rolled slowly onto her back, giving him a smile that was clearly a matter of doing what was expected of her. “You’re new here, aren’t you?”

It was like a before and after. The woman in the photograph didn’t know the meaning of failure. The one in front of him looked beaten. It was nothing to do with the fact that her dark hair was in a messy plait instead of a shining waterfall around her shoulders, or that she had a small healed scar on her lip. It was everything to do with the blank look in her eyes.

“Yes. Fresh off the plane.” Rick sat down in the easy chair beside her bed to signal that this wasn’t a flying visit.

“You’re... English?”

“Yes, from London.”

She gave a small nod. Rick reckoned he could have told her that he was from Mars and she probably would have shown the same indifference. But he was going to get a reaction out of her, and if he had to work for it, then so be it.

He opened the file he’d brought with him, deliberately angling it on his lap so that Fleur couldn’t see the contents. “As I’m going to be your new doctor, I’d like to review your case notes with you.”

“All right.” She didn’t move.

“And that’s better done while you’re sitting up.”

The sudden, momentary flash of defiance in her eyes stirred something deep in Rick’s gut. If he managed to succeed in what he was setting out to do, there would be a whole new set of problems to contend with. But he’d deal with those, because Fleur was going to start fighting, and the most obvious place to start was to give her a reason to fight him.

He resisted the temptation to position one of the pillows behind her back, leaving her to do it for herself. When she was settled, he unclipped his pen from the top of the file, scanning the paper in front of him as if he was reading something that she wasn’t allowed to see.

“You’ve completed all of your physiotherapy sessions...”

“Yes.”

“And...your progress is satisfactory. Shall we say three out of five?”

From the look on Fleur’s face, Rick would bet that she had never been marked as a three out of five for anything.

“Three out of five?”

“Yes, I think that’s fair.” Rick ticked one of the boxes on the form he’d prepared. “And how do you rate the clinic, in terms of meeting your needs?”

“The clinic’s great. It’s the best there is.”

Rick nodded. “Well, the clinic’s only as good as the results we can achieve. So I suppose that’s a three out of five as well.” He shook his head disapprovingly, and marked it down on the form.

Fleur sighed. “Alex and Cody aren’t going to like that very much.”

“I imagine not.” Rick glossed over the matter and turned his attention to the next question.

The first thing Fleur had noticed about him was that he was handsome. Tall, with a shock of corn-colored hair and a square jaw. It looked as if he was nicely built under that white jacket as well. And the accent...

His accent was to die for. He sounded like a gentleman, but his blue eyes had just a hint of the rogue in them. But this Dr. Fleming seemed intent on diverting her attention from his very obvious appeal by making himself as obnoxious as possible. Fleur endured the three out of five. And since the two out of five that he then gave her for motivation was clearly intended to annoy her, she ignored that as well.

What did he know? He knew nothing about the island, and nothing about her. She agreed to his examination, letting him check the movement in her right leg and shoulder. Not thinking about his scent, or the way that she suddenly felt she had something to prove to him.

“Your shoulder’s improving well.” He seemed almost reluctant to say anything positive about her progress, and Fleur couldn’t help smirking when he turned his back.

“Yeah, I had a bit of trouble using the crutch with my right arm at first. But it’s a lot easier now.”

He nodded, thoughtfully. “Seems you’ve adapted well. To using crutches, I mean...”

He managed to make even that sound as if it wasn’t good enough. He reminded her of her first proper dance teacher, who had pushed her through challenge after challenge, and then on to dizzying success. Fleur didn’t want to think about that. Dance was over. Not a part of her life anymore. That kind of vivid lightning didn’t strike twice in the same lifetime.

“I’d like to see you walking. Nothing too taxing—I’d just like to observe.”

Another hoop for her to jump through. But she could walk. She could blank her mind to everything, and put one foot in front of the other. And there was always the chance that Dr. Rick Fleming might concentrate on observing and stop talking.

He was getting to her. Rick had caught Fleur in an eye-roll when she’d thought he wasn’t looking. And the weary apathy had given way to something a little more tight-lipped.

But Rick needed something more from her. If that meant he was going to have to act out the role of villain, then so be it.

“We’ll be going out of the department, so you might like to get changed.” Fleur would look wonderful in anything, even the shabby, stretched-out sweatpants and top she was wearing now.

“All right.” Her restraint was impressive. Rick hadn’t been aware that he could be quite this annoying, but Fleur was stubbornly refusing to react. If she could be persuaded to divert those energies to getting rid of her crutches and walking, then she’d make a great deal of progress.

She reached for the buzzer to summon one of the nurses and Rick leaned forward, grabbing it from the bed.

“You can get dressed on your own. The nurses aren’t here to wait on you. They have patients who really need their help to attend to.”

Actually, they didn’t. The nurse-to-patient ratio here was way better than it was at the busy hospital in London where he’d last worked, and even there the nurses would have found time to help any patient who asked. But Rick could see that his jibe had hit home. He got to his feet, putting the buzzer on the windowsill, next to a bunch of flowers and well out of Fleur’s reach.

Instead of giving him a piece of her mind, Fleur swung her legs over the edge of the bed, reaching for the elbow crutches that were propped up beside it. One fell to the floor and when Rick didn’t move, she gave a little huff of frustration, picking it up herself and making her way slowly over to the wardrobe.

She swung the doors open and Rick got to his feet, looking over her shoulder at the contents. A selection of neatly folded sweatpants and tops were stacked within reach, and on a higher shelf there was a pile of colorful, gauzy scarves, pushed right to the back.

“Want a hand? Or can you reach the scarves on the top shelf?”

She turned, a look of incredulous thunder on her face. “You’ve already made it quite clear that I can dress by myself. I think I can just about manage to decide what to wear...”

He was getting there. One more push and she’d explode.

“I’ll let you get on, then. If I give you half an hour, will that be long enough for you to do your hair and make-up?”

He threw the words over his shoulder as he made for the door. Any woman in her right mind would find his attitude outrageous, and Rick was beginning to feel very guilty about the lengths he was going to in order to provoke a reaction from her.

He realized, too late, that turning his back on her wasn’t a good idea. Rick heard one of her crutches fall to the floor and when he looked round Fleur was reaching towards the dressing table that stood next to the wardrobe.

Nice throw!

A box of tissues came whizzing through the air, aimed straight at his head. Rick dodged, and the box thudded against the wall. Fleur reached for her next missile, her movements suddenly less stiff, more fluid.

He’d done what he’d come to do. As he closed the door hurriedly behind him, he heard the hairbrush clatter against it. He could hear Fleur muttering angrily and the wardrobe doors slamming shut. Then silence.

“That’s more of a reaction that we’ve had in the last few weeks.” Alex had been reviewing case notes with one of the nurses, and he’d walked over to the door. Rick wondered whether he might have gone a little too far.

“I don’t blame her. I was just about ready to throw something at myself...” Rick mouthed the words, sotto voce.

Both men inclined their heads toward the door, listening for any indication that Fleur might be in difficulties. Rick heard her curse and his hand moved instinctively to the door handle. Then her voice sounded again, not quite muffled enough to disguise the anger in it.

“One out of five for bedside manner, Dr. Fleming. And I think you’d look particularly fetching with a crutch wrapped around your head...”

Fleur had divined that he was outside, listening at the door. Both he and Alex instinctively took a step away from it.

“I take it you’ve read the health and safety at work policy we sent you?” Alex raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, I did. But she’ll have to catch me first, if she wants to do any real damage.” Rick gave a smile, as if to insinuate that wasn’t likely to happen. The thought of Fleur, alive with anger and taking a swing at him, made his heart beat a little faster. She would undoubtedly be magnificent.

“You haven’t been talking to Maggie, have you?” Alex did him the favor of interrupting his thoughts before he got carried away.

Maggie...? Rick remembered now. Maggie was the hydrotherapist, with red corkscrew curls. They’d been introduced during the tour of the clinic and the way that Alex and Maggie had seemed to be touching, even though they’d been standing a good two yards apart, had made Rick wonder if they were more than just colleagues. The memory of how it felt to be that close to someone had unsettled him a little.

“No. Should I have?”

“If Dr. Fleming wants to know about taking it to the limit, then Maggie’s the one to ask.” The murmured observation came from the nurse that Alex had been talking to, who had followed him over, clearly wondering what the doctors were doing with her patient.

“Yes, she is.” Alex seemed to be savoring the thought and then snapped suddenly back into professional mode. “I’d better be getting on. I’ll leave you to...continue. With whatever degree of caution you think appropriate.”

Rick watched Alex walk away, wondering whether his new boss entirely approved of his approach. When he turned to the nurse, she was smiling.

“Don’t worry. We all used to call Alex ‘Dr. Protocol’. Then Maggie widened his perspective.”

“You have nicknames for all the doctors?” Rick wondered whether he’d been given one yet.

“Just the ones we like.”

He’d better not ask, then. “I’d like you to keep this room under observation for a few minutes, please.”

The nurse raised her eyebrows. “You mean you want me to take over from you and listen at the door?”

“Just in case Miss Miller falls.”

“I don’t think she will. She’s pretty steady on her feet now, she doesn’t really need the crutches.”

Persuading Fleur to get rid of the crutches was already on Rick’s mental list. One thing at a time, though. “All the same, I’d feel better if you’re keeping an eye...ear open. I’ll be back in half an hour to...um...”

“Annoy her a bit more?” The nurse was smiling. “Okay, Doctor. Whatever you say.”




CHAPTER TWO (#u51b0865f-2d0c-52ad-8fad-da88745a9bfe)


FLEUR KNEW EXACTLY what he was up to. If Dr. Richard Fleming thought that he could make her care again, when everything she’d worked so hard for was lost, he had another think coming. She should be with her theater company, not here, cooling her heels and putting up with a doctor who thought he could have everything his own way.

The smile was a problem. Fleur’s plan, to do whatever she was told so she could get out of here as soon as possible and take the boat back to the mainland, hadn’t seemed in any danger, until he’d smiled. And when he’d layered frank disapproval on top of that, it had been too much for her.

The more she thought about it, the angrier she got with herself. And the angrier she got with herself, the more she hated him.

That wasn’t going to get her anywhere. She’d play him at his own game, and show him that she was more than a match for him.

Rick returned to find the nurse still stationed at Fleur’s door. She nodded in response to his silent question, and Rick knocked quietly. No answer.

If that was the way she wanted to play it... Rick gestured to the nurse and she opened the door a little way, looking into the room. Then she withdrew, motioning him in. Fleur was sitting on the chair next to her bed, a pair of wireless earbuds in her ears. Rick could hear the quiet shh-shh of music.

He wondered if it was the music that had restored the glow to her face. Fleur had changed into a pair of blue sweatpants teamed with a knitted top, the wide neck falling by design from one shoulder. Her hair was caught in a loose, shiny tumble by a colored scarf and her already luminous eyes looked bluer and implausibly bigger. She was stunning.

Something told Rick that Fleur was fighting back. And the thought that he’d crawl over broken glass for one of her smiles told him that she was already winning.

She took the earbuds from her ears, leaning across to tap her phone and switch off the music. “We’re going for a walk, then?”

“Yes.” The less he said at this point, the better. He’d get over the feeling that Fleur could do whatever she liked, whenever she liked, and then he could start applying a bit more pressure.

“Good.” She flashed him a smile and his knees started to shake. “One thing, though.”

“What’s that?”

“I get it. Alex and Cody are playing the nice doctors. You get to play nasty doctor.”

She was onto him. Rick had expected nothing less of her, but that wasn’t going to stop him. He could still say the things that had tactfully not been mentioned so far, and he could still challenge her.

“What makes you think I’m playing nasty. Maybe that’s just how I do things.”

She reached for the crutches and got to her feet, her speculative gaze never leaving his face. “Maybe it is. I’m a big fan of old black and white horror movies, so that accent of yours is throwing me a bit.”

Rick was willing his facial muscles not to respond to her smile, but it was a losing battle. “So I sound like an old Hammer Horror movie to you, do I?”

“A little. The spooky Count Dracula, with a cut-glass accent. Living in a dark old stately home.”

She was taking him apart, piece by piece. This was much more difficult than dodging whatever she cared to throw at him. If he wanted to reach her, he’d have to give more of himself than he felt entirely comfortable with, but he was going to reach her.

“Stately homes aren’t my thing. I’m more of an inner-city kid. Let’s walk. It’s about time for afternoon coffee so we can go down to the main lounge.”

“I prefer the glass breezeway...you can see the ocean. You know where that is?”

Rick knew where that was—it led from the main clinic building to the surgical wing. Benches and planting made it a place where patients could feel connected with the outside during the winter.

They left the department, dawdling more and more slowly along the corridor together, as each matched the other’s pace.

“When are you going to start stepping out? So I have to make an effort to keep up with you?” she asked.

Right. So she already knew all those tricks. “I’m not planning on it. Clearly you can’t keep up...”

“Clearly not.” This time her obstinacy took the form of agreeing with him.

“It’s not such a bad thing. We can get to know each other a bit better on the way.”

“We could, I suppose...”

That worked. Fleur suddenly started to speed up, walking away from him. Rick hung back, studying her gait. She was tense, obviously afraid of falling, and seemed over-reliant on the crutches. But even that couldn’t conceal the straight back and graceful movements of a dancer.

He caught up with her as she reached the breezeway, and she waited while he opened the door. It seemed that Fleur found closed doors an impenetrable barrier, and he’d have to address that with her very soon. She walked across to one of the benches, which faced the sea, and Rick collected two cups of coffee from the machine in the corner, adding milk and sugar to the tray and setting it down on the bench between them.

“Since you’re new here, you can take as much time as you like to appreciate the view.”

It was clearly an invitation not to bother her for a while. The view was spectacular, snow piled on the ground with a backdrop of the iron-gray, restless sea. But somehow he couldn’t take his eyes off Fleur.

He pushed one of the cups toward her slightly. “Milk and sugar?”

“I’ll take some milk. Sugar’s all yours.”

“I don’t take sugar...”

He’d played straight into her hands, and she curled her lip. “That’s a pity, you could do with a bit of sweetening up.”

She could sweeten him up any time she liked. Rick rejected the thought, reminding himself that she was a patient. “So why did you choose the Maple Island Clinic? Since you’re obviously not overwhelmed with enthusiasm about being here.”

“I’m an islander. My parents live here and they’ve paid for my rehab.”

“You’re not giving them much value for money, though.”

She quirked her lips down. Rick had found a sore spot. “They can afford it. I wanted to go into rehab in Boston, but Dad wouldn’t hear of it, he wanted me to come here. There wasn’t much I could do about it, seeing as I wasn’t in a position to run away.”

Run away from what? Not the clinic surely? The Maple Island Clinic was proud of its reputation for being the best.

“So you come from the west side of the Island?”

She shook her head. “You’ve already noticed there’s a difference, then.”

“I’m told that the west side has a lot of very nice houses, and great views of Boston. The east side has the open sea and the harbor...”

“That’s right. We’re real islanders, not rich visitors. Both my parents were born here. They live near the harbor. My dad’s a writer.” The pride in her voice was unmistakable. It sounded as if she wasn’t running away from her parents either.

“What does he write?”

“You’ve heard of the Ava Reynolds stories?”

Crime mysteries with a twist, featuring a hard-nosed New York cop heroine. “Yes, I’ve read a few of them. I liked them a lot.”

She nodded, seeming to relax a little and obviously pleased by what he’d said. “You have his latest one?”

“No, not yet.”

“I’ll get him to sign a copy and bring it in.” She quirked the corners of her lips in a wry smile. “Ava plays good cop, bad cop. Might give you a few pointers.”

“That’s great, thanks. Maybe your dad’s thought of a permutation that I can use.”

“Aren’t you underestimating yourself? You seem to have a good selection of permutations already. Anyway, doctors don’t go in armed.”

“No, we don’t.” But it might make him feel a little more equal to the situation if he did.

“And did you read the one where Ava seduces a confession out of her perp? You can’t do that either.” She grinned.

Yes, he was well aware of that. Rather too aware of it, as the thought didn’t usually occur to him. “I have other methods.”

Fleur picked up her coffee, taking a sip. “I look forward to seeing them.”

“You will. You’re in custody here for a couple more weeks yet.”

“Don’t I know it. As soon as you cut me loose, I’ll be on the ferry back to Boston.”

Running away again. Rick still couldn’t work out what from. “What’s so great about Boston?”

“You didn’t spend time there before you came here? If you had, that would be obvious.”

“My daughter and I spent a week there before we came here. My late wife was from Boston, and we used to visit a lot to spend time with her family, so I know the city a little.”

Suddenly the mask dropped. No more wisecracks, but instead Rick saw genuine sympathy in her eyes. “I’m sorry...”

“It’s all right. It’s been four years and...” Rick shrugged. “Time doesn’t necessarily heal, but it does make things a lot less sharp around the edges.”

“This is why you came here? To be close to where your wife grew up?”

“Great childcare and clinical excellence played a big part in my decision. But, yes, I want Ellie to know about her mother and what it’s like to live in America. And to give Lara’s parents a chance to see her a little more often.”

Fleur nodded quietly. “So you’re here for good.”

“For the foreseeable future. The island seems to be a great place for children to grow up.”

“Take it from an island kid. It’s not as great as it looks sometimes.” Fleur quirked her mouth down.

“How so?” A little tingle at the back of his neck accompanied the thought that he might be getting closer to the reason for Fleur wanting to leave so badly.

She looked at him thoughtfully. “How old is your daughter?”

“Four.”

Fleur nodded. “Actually, the island’s a really great place when you’re four. When you’re a teenager, though...we get a lot of mainlanders coming over during the summer. Sometimes people do things on holiday that they wouldn’t necessarily do at home.” She seemed to be choosing her words carefully.

For one tantalizing moment Rick thought she was going to tell him what he wanted to know. Fleur’s mask of self-sufficiency slipped, and he saw pain and vulnerability. But then she shrugged. “Everywhere has its risks. Maple Island has a lot going for it.”

“Like living in a lighthouse.” If Fleur couldn’t be persuaded to talk about the risks, maybe she’d be a little more forthcoming about the benefits.

Her face lit up suddenly. “You’ve got the lighthouse? I love the lighthouse, we used to play up there as kids and the old guy who used to live there would chase us off. I heard that the cottage has been extended and refurbished as a rental home.”

“Yes, that’s right. There’s a room up in the tower as well, and the views are spectacular. It’s written into the lease that we have to make sure there’s a light on every evening in the lantern enclosure, even though it’s not needed for navigation anymore.”

Fleur chuckled. “Absolutely. It’s an island tradition.”

“Hopefully the time switch will keep working, then.”

“I wouldn’t worry. Half the town will notice if the light goes out, and you’ll get plenty of calls to let you know.”

“That’s a relief.” A thought occurred to Rick. Patients who were well enough were encouraged to visit the small harbor town, which was just a mile away from the clinic. It would be good to try and coax Fleur out of her self-imposed confinement.

“I was wondering. If you wanted to take a trip down to the town, then maybe...you could show me around a bit?”

She shook her head suddenly. “You really don’t know much about Maple Island, do you? During the winter people will be falling over themselves to get to know a new face in Main Street. You’ll be fine. I’m better off staying here.”

“Watching the sea?” Squandering the chance she had of top-notch medical professionals to help with her rehab in favor of wanting to cross those white-capped waves, back to Boston, as soon as possible. It was a waste.

Her wistful look told Rick that maybe she knew that already. “You mean watching the ocean. You’ll have to get used to things being a little bigger here...”




CHAPTER THREE (#u51b0865f-2d0c-52ad-8fad-da88745a9bfe)


WHEN RICK KNOCKED on the door of Fleur’s room the following afternoon, and heard her call for him to come in, he hesitated, wondering if there was a booby trap waiting for him. The nurse had reported that she’d been in there alone, with the door closed, for over an hour, and that there had been sounds of activity coming from the room.

He admonished himself with a shake of his head. Fleur was a patient, and whatever she could dish up he was equal to.

Or...pretty much equal to, at least. When he breezed into the room, he found her sitting in the easy chair next to her bed. She was fully dressed, her long hair tumbling across her shoulders. Looking...

Well was the word he needed. She looked well. Amazing or gorgeous shouldn’t be part of his vocabulary. Her pale cheeks had a little bit of color and she was up and dressed. In his professional opinion, she looked well.

“Hi.” She looked up from the paper spread across her knees and gave him a smile. Rick choked back the temptation to smile back.

“Hello. How are you today?”

“Well...how do I look? Do you approve?” She shot him an innocent look, which didn’t quite chase the knowingness from her eyes.

“It’s not for me to approve or disapprove.” Caught in her gaze, Rick gave the honest answer.

“Ah. So you were trying to annoy me yesterday. That’s good. There’s a lot to dislike about a man who’s chauvinistic enough to tell a woman what to wear.”

Rick was lost for an answer. And the sudden thump of his heart, which went with the idea that Fleur might actually be looking for something to like about him, wasn’t even slightly appropriate. It didn’t matter whether she liked him or not, he was here to do a job.

“Mom and Dad popped in this morning...just for ten minutes. They left me a coat and then scooted off again. Things to do all of a sudden.”

So her mother had responded to the suggestions he’d made when they’d spoken on the phone last night. That was good, but pretending that her parents had just happened to choose today to find something else to do, instead of sitting with Fleur for hours as they usually did, would clearly be a mistake. She knew full well what he’d done.

“If you want some company, you have to go and get it.”

“So you’re reckoning on starving me of company, so I’ll submit to your plans.” Her lip curled, as if she’d caught him out in a piece of bad judgement. “What’s first on the list, braving the cold outdoors?”

Rick had thought that going out might wait for a couple of days. Fleur had been cooped up inside for a long time now, and the cold wind that had been howling in from the sea this morning might be a little too much for her to contend with straight away.

“Maybe today’s not quite the day for that...” He glanced toward the window. The sky was heavy with cloud and it looked as if it might snow again soon.

A smile spread across Fleur’s face. “You’ll have to toughen up a bit if you’re going to live here. This is what we islanders call a nice winter’s day.”

Maybe she’d overreached herself. Rick had taken his time over fetching his coat, and it had given Fleur time for second thoughts. She was so afraid of falling still. And there were certain people that she definitely didn’t want to bump into in Main Street.

But chickening out now would only prove him right. It would prove that she couldn’t face Maple Island, and Fleur wasn’t going to give him that satisfaction. She pulled her hat onto her head, zipping up her coat and putting on her gloves. Even though they were unbearably warm inside, she’d have her crutches to deal with at the door of the clinic, which meant she had to think ahead.

As they walked slowly toward the entrance of the clinic, she could feel sweat dribble down her spine. This wasn’t the time for nerves. She could see an SUV parked up, just two steps away from the glazed doors of the clinic. Fleur took a breath and made for the doors, relying on her crutches to steady her instead of his outstretched arm.

The cold wind hit her hard when she stepped outside. Maybe she had spent a little too long inside. Rick opened the passenger door of the car, and Fleur hesitated, not sure which leg she should lead with. Finally she allowed Rick to help her.

“Okay. I’ve got it...” She settled herself into the front seat of the SUV, unable to let go of her crutches. They were all that stood between her and falling, and right now she felt that she was on very shaky ground.

She’d never been afraid before. When she’d performed, she’d always checked her own equipment, the way that the other dancers did. She’d been confident that the flying rig wouldn’t let her fall, but then she’d fallen. Since then she’d been unable to handle the possibilities for disaster that almost every situation presented.

“At least you’re not going to make me walk into town...” She attempted a joke, even though she was shivering.

“I’m not sure I fancy walking along here at the moment.” He was driving slowly out of the car park. The snow plow had left a clear path for them but snow was piled up on each side of the road.

“No one does.” It was comforting that in one thing, at least, she knew better than he did. “There’s a beach path. A bit windy in the winter, but it’s still a nice walk.”

He smiled. “Perhaps you’ll show it to me. Another day.”

Yeah. Another day. All Fleur could think about at the moment was getting through the next hour or so. That was more than enough.

She had grit. Rick was under no illusions that most of that was directed at proving him wrong, but that was fair enough. When she’d stepped out of the front door of the clinic he had almost felt her panic, even though she’d been trying very hard to hide it.

Although it was pretty much impossible to get lost on the straight road into town, giving him directions seemed to calm her a little, as if it put her back in control. When keep going, straight ahead wore out, and she lapsed into silence, he leaned forward to switch on some music.

It was the wrong music, but it had the right effect. Fleur chuckled suddenly. “This is your favorite band?”

“No, it’s Ellie’s... My daughter.”

“And here I was thinking I’d found your Achilles’ heel. That you get into the groove with ‘Nellie the Elephant’.”

“I’m not admitting to that. Change it over if you want.” Fleur was already humming along with the music and he wondered whether she’d stretch forward or just leave it playing.

She leaned forward slowly.

“‘Driving’...” She scrolled through the list. “Perhaps not, we don’t have far to drive. ‘Soul’... Is that your soul or just soul music?”

“Just soul music.” Rick wasn’t ready to admit to having a soul at the moment, because that soul was telling him that a couple of laps around the island with Fleur wasn’t out of the question. Just so he could extend this time alone with her.

“Well, that’s not likely to give me any insight, then...” She aimed a sidelong grin at him. “‘Old Favorites.’”

She stabbed at the playlist title with her finger, leaning back in her seat. When the music started she smiled. “Well that’s unexpected.”

“I like sixties music.” He’d loved going through his grandmother’s old records when he’d been a kid. Learning how to operate the portable gramophone that she’d kept in the corner of the sitting room so he could play them. It had felt as if he’d had a proper home. Later, he’d danced to this music with Lara in the sitting room of their flat in London.

“So do I. We’ve done a few sets around this kind of thing. Summer of love and all that...” Fleur was suddenly silent. It seemed that the music meant something to both of them, in different ways. Something that was lost forever.

The mood didn’t last for long. As they entered the Main Street of Maple Island’s only town, she looked around suddenly. “Can we stop here? At the library?”

The library looked more like one of the older houses on the island than a public building, a stone-and-brick-built structure that had obviously been well tended over the years. But when Rick drew up, he could see the notice outside.

“I’d like to go in and get some books, if that’s okay.”

It was better than okay, this was exactly what he wanted. Fleur managed to get the car door open, shifting her legs round and planting one of the crutches tentatively on the ground.

“No...” She frowned. “That’s not going to work, is it...?”

“No, it isn’t. You must know how to use weight and balance, Fleur, from your dance training.”

She shot him a Don’t remind me look, putting her hand on his shoulder. Clearly even this memory of what she’d lost was difficult, but she didn’t resist him as he pivoted his weight to bring her out of the car and onto her feet. If every patient had such an instinctive understanding of how the inertia of two bodies could work together, then not so many nurses would have bad backs.

But as soon as she was out of the car she let go of him, leaving him to walk beside her between the piles of snow on either side of the path. Rick readied himself to steady her if she slipped, but she was obviously intent on doing without his help. Fleur maneuvered herself carefully up the stone steps at the front of the building and then walked past Rick as he held the door open, leaning on a pair of swing doors that stood ahead of her to open them.

The interior momentarily took Rick’s attention from her. Gleaming wooden shelving, which looked as if it had taken many years’ worth of wax and care, protruded from the walls to the right and left. In the center, an open space held heavy, old-fashioned library tables, one of which was stacked with newspapers. A second tier of shelves, above the first, was reached by two curved wooden staircases and a gallery.

“Pretty impressive, eh?” He realized that Fleur was looking up at him, studying his reaction.

“Very. When does this date back to?”

“The middle of the seventeen hundreds...”

“Seventeen thirty-two. Ezra Van Den Berg was one of the island’s founders and he left his home and all his books to the island, to provide a library for future generations.” The quiet lilt of a woman’s voice sounded behind them. “I was wondering when you’d get around to paying us a visit, Fleur.”

Rick turned to see a neat, dark-haired woman in her forties, wearing flat shoes and a slim, black trouser suit. The overall effect might have been sensible, if it wasn’t for the chunky necklace, each of the wooden beads uniquely carved. Fleur grinned at her.

“I haven’t been released from custody yet. This is Dr. Rick Fleming. Rick, this is Pamela.”

“Pleased to meet you, Rick. I hope you’ll visit us often.”

“I will. This building is spectacular. It was Ezra Van Den Berg’s home, you say?”

“Yes, it was, although it doesn’t look much like the way it did when he lived in it. He left money and instructions for the interior to be completely remodeled, and so a two-story residence turned into this.”

Fleur grinned. “Yeah. Apparently one of the walls almost fell down when they knocked out the internal supports. Which one was it, Pam?”

“That one over there.” Pamela gestured to her left. “They had to hold a local fundraiser to rebuild it. Watch yourself up on the gallery, it tends to tilt suddenly in high winds. You’re here for some books, Fleur?”

“That’s the general idea.” Fleur settled herself into one of the high-backed wooden chairs and Pamela nodded, turning to climb the spiral staircase that led to the upper gallery. She disappeared between two rows of shelves, obviously on a mission.

“The gallery tilts...?” Pamela didn’t seem like someone with a penchant for practical jokes, and she’d issued the warning with an impressively straight face.

Fleur snorted with laughter. “No, of course it doesn’t, this place would survive a hurricane. Pam tells the tourists that there’s a ghost up there as well.”

“Right. And the library’s still run by the family?” He’d noticed the shiny nameplate on Pamela’s desk. Pamela Vandenberg.

“Hush, I wouldn’t say that too loudly...” Fleur put one finger to her lips. “Pam’s a qualified librarian with an English degree, and she got this job before she got married. Her husband’s a bona fide descendant of old Ezra, but she doesn’t much like it when people assume that it’s a matter of nepotism.”

Rick nodded. “There’s a lot to learn about this island...”

“You bet there is. Don’t worry, though, you’ve got me to keep you on the straight and narrow.”

Something about Fleur’s smile hinted at the fact that she’d be more than happy to see him blunder into a faux pas. Rick shrugged the idea off. He was the one who had declared war, and if she wanted to respond, that was exactly what he’d hoped she might do.

“You’ll be able to get your own books in a few weeks’ time.” He nodded toward the steps up to the gallery.

Fleur regarded the balconies thoughtfully. “Pam knows everyone’s taste and she’s great at suggesting books. Anyway, you do know that heights aren’t really my thing at the moment.”

It was the first time that Fleur had voiced her fears, and her vulnerability hung in the quiet air between them. Her gaze met his, and Rick felt as if he was in free-fall, tumbling into the depths of her blue eyes.

“Yes... I do.” For a moment it seemed that she was as transfixed as he was. Then the sound of footsteps, descending from the gallery, broke the spell. Pamela walked briskly toward them, dumping a pile of books onto her desk and consulting the computer screen in front of her.

“Have you got a bag? We’ve had some very nice bags made up, to help raise funds.” Pamela gestured toward a pile of canvas bags, with “Support your Local Library’ emblazoned across them.

“I’ll take one of those, please.” Rick reached for his wallet.

Pamela pushed a donation box toward him and while he was still sorting through the unfamiliar notes, Fleur reached up, taking one from his hand and pushing it into the box.

“Thank you, that’s very generous. For twenty dollars you can have one of these...” Pamela reached under her desk, pulling out a pile of brightly colored bags, which sported a line drawing of the library building.

“You choose, Fleur.” She’d have to get to her feet to look through the pile, and Rick wondered if she would. She shot him a grimace, leaving the crutches propped against the back of the chair and leaning on Pamela’s desk to shuffle forward a couple of steps.

“Pink’s nice...” There was mischief in her smile.

“Yes. Ellie will like pink.” Clearly Fleur hadn’t seen him walking along Kensington High Street with a one-year-old in a body sling and a pastel print bag full of baby paraphernalia. He was hardly going to baulk at a pink library bag.

Pamela was sorting through the books, and checking them into the computer. “I thought you might like to revisit Raymond Chandler, Fleur. Since you have the time to appreciate some of his subtler twists.”

“That’s great, thanks.” Fleur nodded.

“And these are two very good new mystery writers...” Pamela started to load the books into the bag, glancing at Rick. “And would you like to sign yourself and your daughter up for a library card, Rick? We have a children’s reading club here on Thursday afternoons, and the nursery staff at the clinic’s daycare center usually bring along any of the younger children who’d like to attend.”

“Um... Yes, thank you. That would be very nice, I’m sure that Ellie would love it...”

“I’ll go and find a form for you to complete.” Pamela disappeared through a doorway behind her, and Fleur looked up at him.

“You’ll get used to everyone knowing who you are and what you do. No one can escape the island network for very long.” Fleur quirked her lips down. It seemed that she didn’t think that was an entirely good thing.




CHAPTER FOUR (#u51b0865f-2d0c-52ad-8fad-da88745a9bfe)


HE WAS DETERMINED. She’d give him that. Fleur had made him pay twenty dollars for a bright pink bag that most people donated ten for, and then subjected him to the indignity of carrying it into the hardware store, so that she’d have something to put her purchases into. She’d chatted to the proprietor, leaving Rick to loiter next to the counter.

He loitered well. Easy on the eye, meeting the other customers who came in and out of the store with a smile and a Good afternoon. Dressed in a dark jacket and scarf, he looked impeccable and Rick was seemingly unfazed by the fact that everyone already seemed to know who he was, and he had no idea who they were. He’d learn.

“I’ve got to go and pick up a cake for someone’s birthday.” He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket as they left the store. “Would you stay here with the bags while I pop across to get it?”

“Sure... Where do you have to pick the cake up from?”

“Over there, I imagine. Won’t be a minute.” He was already making his way down to the crossing, and Fleur sucked in a breath, ready to call after him. Maybe not. If someone else hadn’t told him already, maybe she’d just let Rick find out for himself.

He waited for the lights to change, even though there was only one car on the road, which wasn’t likely to hit him on account of it having stopped, to allow its occupant to have a conversation with someone on the sidewalk. No one had told him that either. Islanders only considered jaywalking an offence during the summer when the roads were busy, or if Sheriff Brady happened to be looking directly at them.

She sank down onto the bench outside the hardware store and watched as he entered Sunbeam Victuals and Delectables. Rick wound his way through the tables and chairs, speaking to the young man with blue dreadlocks behind the counter. The smile dropped from Rick’s face as Phoenix Flame Jones marched past him, flinging the door open, his outstretched arm inviting him to leave in no uncertain terms.

Rick hesitated for a moment, and then did as he was told. Forgetting all about the crossing, he walked straight across the road, frowning as he caught sight of Fleur laughing behind her gloved hand.

“That’ll be a dollar fine you owe Sheriff Brady for jaywalking...” She grinned up at him.

“Fair enough. Direct me to his office and I’ll go and pay it. Are we even now?”

“Even?” Not yet. But, then, he couldn’t know quite how much Fleur hadn’t wanted to come into town today.

“Yes. I get it, Fleur, you don’t need to spend your time here, you want to go back to Boston. So you sent me into the wrong cake shop.”

“It’s a bakery. And I didn’t send you anywhere.”

“No, and you didn’t tell me there were two bakeries either. Or that there was some kind of cake war going on, and I’d be invited to put the clinic’s high-fat, old-fashioned, unhealthy birthday cake where the sun doesn’t shine.”

Fleur tried to keep a straight face, and failed miserably. “That’s a little unfair. Fiona’s cakes are lovely, and a birthday cake’s allowed to be a little high fat. It’s only once a year, after all.”

“I didn’t get the chance to say that, before I was ordered out.” Rick turned, looking across the street to where Phoenix Flame was standing in the window of his vegan establishment, glowering at him. “I suppose I’m banned for life now.”

“Oh, don’t worry. If you go in and order a low-fat soya latte and a chia-seed muffin, they’ll forgive you. Everyone likes it when someone sees the error of their ways.”

“Don’t they just.” He raised an eyebrow, and a trickle of embarrassment ran down Fleur’s spine. Maybe he’d like it if she saw the error of her ways, but Rick wasn’t in possession of all the facts.

“Brady’s Bistro and Bakery is down there.” Fleur ignored the obvious dig, and pointed toward the other end of the row of shops.

“Brady’s...? Wait a minute, the sheriff owns a bakery?”

“It would be handy, wouldn’t it? You could pay your fine and pick up your cake at the same time. But, no, Fiona and Tom Brady own the bakery. Jim Brady is Tom’s younger brother and he’s the sheriff. See, I’m a mine of information, and all you have to do is ask.”

Rick rolled his eyes. Perhaps he was beginning to realize just how irritating it was to have someone be one step ahead of you all the time. He picked up the pink library bag, and turned, opening the passenger door of the car.

“Get in.”

A woman who seemed to know and be liked by everyone, but who preferred to stay away from the town and skulk in her hospital room. It was a mystery worthy of any self-respecting crime novel, and one that was baffling Rick. He drove the length of Main Street until he reached a shop with gleaming paintwork and a neat fifties-style sign.

“This is the one?” He maneuvered into a parking space outside.

“Yes.”

“You’re sure? Because you’re coming in with me this time.”

“Okay. I’ll get you a grilled cheese sandwich.” She grinned at him. “One of the official residence requirements for the island. One of Fiona Brady’s grilled cheese sandwiches.”

“One of many, I’m thinking...”

“Hundreds.”

Fleur managed to get out of the car without his help this time, walking slowly across the sidewalk toward Brady’s Bistro and Bakery. A young, red-haired girl rushed forward to open the door for her, moving chrome-topped tables and chairs out of the way to allow Fleur through to one of the booths against the wall.

“What will you have, Fleur?” Their smiling waitress obviously knew Fleur too.

“We’ll take two grilled cheese sandwiches please, Jess. Make sure the tea’s good and strong, my doctor friend needs it. He’s just been into the Sunbeam bakery and asked Phoenix Flame if he’s got the cake for the clinic.”

The red-haired girl giggled, her cheeks flushing. “I’ll get Aunt Fiona to put the cake in a box for you.”

Two cups and saucers, edged with fifties-style patterns, were set on the table, followed by napkins and cutlery. The sandwiches looked crisp and well filled, set on matching plates. Fleur picked up the teapot and poured the tea.

Now was as good a time as any to broach the subject. Fleur couldn’t get back to the hospital without him, so she was about as much of a captive audience as she was ever going to be. There were plenty of breakables around, but he was just going to have to take that risk.

“So...the island’s a great place. From what I’ve seen of it so far.”

She nodded. “It’s lovely.”

“But you want to get back to Boston.”

“Yes, I do.” Fleur’s attention was on her sandwich as she nibbled carefully at one corner so as not to burn her mouth.

“I can help you with that. But it’s not going to be as easy as you think.”

She looked up at him. “And how easy do I think it’s going to be? Since you seem to know everything.”

Rick knew enough. He knew all about having his life shattered, and making every mistake in the book as a result of that. And he knew how hard it had been to pick himself back up and put it all together again.

“You think that Boston’s just a ferry ride away. That all you have to do is wait out your time at the clinic.”

“I wouldn’t say I was waiting it out. You know full well that I’ve been to all my physio sessions, even if I do only get graded as three out of five for them.” She treated him to a little jut of her chin, before turning her attention back to her food.

“I want more than that.”

“Why?”

Good question. Rick had two answers, and he gave her the one that her doctor ought to give. Wanting to be the one who saw Fleur’s zest for life rekindle in her eyes wasn’t relevant.

“Because you’re capable of more. You’re not failing at anything, and that’s because you’re not trying hard enough.”

“What? You want me to fail?”

“Yes, I want you to fail. And then I want you to get back up again and again until you eventually succeed. Don’t tell me that you don’t know how to do that.”

She twisted her mouth. “I know how to do it. But that life’s over for me now.”

“No, it’s not. It’s just a different challenge. Even if you can’t perform on stage again, it doesn’t mean that you can’t dance a little, and lead an entirely normal life.”

Fleur’s snort told him all he needed to know. She wasn’t happy with a normal life, she wanted the extraordinary. And nothing less meant anything to her.

“All right. But I’m going to write a new treatment plan for you. It’s going to set the bar a lot higher, but if you can complete it, then you won’t just be able to walk onto that ferry, you’ll be able to run onto it.”

“And if walking onto it is enough for me?”

“Fine. Stick to the old treatment plan. Be a loser.”

He could see the mortification in her eyes. He wanted to comfort her, tell her that she was no loser, and that he’d been wrong to suggest she might be. Then the determined set of her jaw stopped him.

“You think you can shame me into doing your treatment plan? You can’t, because you don’t know me. But I’ll do it anyway, just to show you that you’re not always right.”

Tenderness pumped through his heart. Being the bad guy wasn’t as easy as Rick had thought, but it was getting the response he wanted. That was all that mattered. Fleur’s welfare was all that mattered.

“Nothing would make me happier, Fleur. For you to show me that I know nothing...”

She twisted her lips into a smile. “Okay. Don’t let up on me now. That’s really confusing.”

She started to drink her tea, her attention caught by a group of women entering the tea shop. They piled a mountain of thick winter jackets into the young waitress’s arms and pushed four tables together to accommodate them all.

One caught sight of Fleur, smiling and waving. Fleur gave a half-hearted wave back, seeming suddenly ill at ease. Then another of the women whispered something to the woman next to her, and Rick caught the mention of Fleur’s name.

So what? Fleur was back on the island again and that was sure to excite comment. Rick was under no illusions that his own name had been bandied back and forth up and down Main Street as well. But this felt different. The woman who had whispered to her companion was contorting her face into a look of frank disapproval.

“Stupid little liar... Mollie still blames her for all of it...” The woman’s mouth framed the words and she stabbed her finger onto the table in front of her as if to emphasize the point. Her companion nodded.

The words meant nothing to Rick, but Fleur had clearly heard them too and they meant a great deal to her. She moved across the bench seat, shrinking against the wall, out of range of the women’s stares. Rick opened his mouth to ask what was going on, but Fleur refused to meet his gaze.

The chatter amongst the group of women rose and fell. Rick turned his attention to them again, and found that three of them were now looking straight at him and Fleur.

Defending her effectively was going to be problematic, since he had no idea what was going on here. But the look of mortification on Fleur’s face had cut him to the heart. She was here because he’d made her come. If Fleur couldn’t face these women, it was up to him to do it for her.

He smiled, returning their stares. “Good afternoon, ladies.”

Two of the women looked away quickly. One didn’t, but Rick could see that her cheeks were suddenly red with embarrassment. She nodded in his direction and then picked up the menu, as if it was the most important thing in the world and she had to study it immediately.

“I want to go.” Fleur’s voice was almost a whisper. When he turned to her, she forced a smile, clearly trying to cover her distress. “It’s getting noisy in here. It’ll be a waste of your time if I can’t hear you nagging me properly.”

Now wasn’t the time or the place to push. Jess was nowhere to be seen and Rick turned, signaling to a woman with a strawberry-blonde ponytail who’d appeared from the back of the shop with a large cake box and was walking toward them.

“Mrs. Brady...?”

“Call me Fiona.” It sounded a lot like an order. “Nice to see you, Fleur.”

Rick heard another quiet trill of conversation from the other table, and Fiona glanced over at the women, a couple of whom were beckoning to her, obviously ready to order. Ignoring them completely, she stationed herself between Fleur and the women, as if to shield her from them. It was clear that nothing much escaped the formidable Mrs. Brady, and Rick liked her already.

“You’re looking well, Fleur.”

“I’m better every day. Thanks, Fiona.”

“Good.” Fiona nodded and turned her attention to Rick. “I hear you thought you’d get your cake from that other place.” The name of the Sunbeam bakery clearly wasn’t spoken on these premises, and Fiona’s tone of mild rebuke was the same as if she’d been correcting an errant five-year-old.

“I’m new here.” Rick hoped that might excuse him. “These grilled sandwiches are delicious.”

“And the tea...?”

“Just right. Thank you.”

“Praise indeed, Fiona.” Fleur unexpectedly came to his rescue. “Impressing an Englishman with your tea.”

Fiona beamed beatifically. “It’s a pleasure to have you here, Doctor. I hope we’ll see you again soon. You too, Fleur.”

Fleur clearly knew how much the bill would be without asking, and she reached into her pocket and stuffed a couple of notes into Fiona’s hand. Then she started to get into her coat, obviously still in a hurry to leave. Fiona escorted her to the doorway, leaving Rick to follow with the cake.

Kissing Fleur’s cheek seemed like a clear statement of intent on Fiona’s part. She opened the door, waving as Fleur made her way across the sidewalk to the car. Rick thanked her, although he wasn’t entirely sure what for, and Fiona beamed at him, her face hardening into a no-nonsense look as she turned away. If a war of some kind had broken out in the bakery, Rick didn’t much fancy the women’s chances.

“Is there anywhere I can turn the car around?” Rick settled himself behind the steering wheel. Fleur was clutching her hands together on her lap, frowning. That might just be the thing that perturbed him the most. When he’d confronted Fleur, she’d hit back at him, but these women seemed to have got the better of her.

“Further up.” She turned the corners of her mouth down. “Or you could just keep going. The road from the clinic leads all around the island. That’s the trouble with this place—even if you think you’re going straight ahead, you end up right back where you started.”

They drove back to the clinic in silence. Fleur had just been starting to enjoy herself when the mothers’ meeting had convened at Brady’s. Ten pairs of eyes to scrutinize her. Ten tongues, which were just itching to run through Fleur’s scandalous moment one more time, and pass judgment on her.

She almost wished that Rick would come up with another of his challenges. Those she could deal with. It was the island that she couldn’t deal with, and which had sent her scurrying for cover again, like the defeated fifteen-year-old who had left promising herself she would never again call it home.

But Rick was silent too, perhaps understanding that she’d had enough. All she wanted to do was to curl up in her bed at the clinic, and forget about everything.

She was tired now, and she let herself lean on Rick’s arm as they entered the clinic and made their way back to her room. Fleur allowed him to help her off with her coat too, and submitted to his gentle flexing of her shoulder and leg, to check that their excursion hadn’t overstrained them and to relax the muscles.

“You did really well today.” When he murmured the words, they didn’t seem condescending, the way that they so often did when the other hospital staff had praised her efforts. But he was wrong. She was beaten, and somehow Rick seemed to know it.

“So you’re letting up on me now?”

“I’ll come and see how you’re doing tomorrow morning.” He flashed her a smile, picking up the TV remote and handing it to her. Fleur preferred it when he told her to get it herself.

Once he’d left the room, she switched the TV on, reaching for the fruit bowl next to her bed. A piece of paper was tucked in amongst the small, sweet oranges, and when Fleur unfolded it she saw that it was one of the leaflets that had been displayed prominently on Pamela’s desk.





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