Rescue Heat (22 page)

Ms. Windsor’s only response was a slight lift of a fine brow before she again turned her attention to building a rectangular-shaped pool with Tilly.

He shrugged off his jacket and draped it beside him. He refolded his arms against the urge to retrieve his handkerchief and mop his forehead. With luck Ms. Windsor would attribute the sheen covering his skin to the sauna-high temperature and not to bone-numbing dread.

How could such a tiny figure like his ward create such chaos? His life had never been so out of control. With every clutch of Tilly’s hand on his trousers, with every sob that shook her shoulders, the noose around his neck tightened. He was so battle-weary. So tired from fighting to keep his and Tilly’s lives separate. So exhausted from feeling out of his depth.

When Ms. Windsor appeared unfamiliar with Tilly’s details, panic had hit him like a mini tsunami. He’d been assured by the city expert that she was the best person to deal with his niece’s unintelligible speech. She had to know what to do to help Tilly, for he sure didn’t. He knew nothing about children and even less about parenting. Business ventures, yes, but the terrifying world of rainbow ponies called Stardust, no. It was as though Tilly inhabited some foreign country and spoke a language he didn’t understand. A country that was filled with nothing but fairies, furry animals and…feelings.

He closed his eyes and withheld a groan. Why had Brad chosen him as Tilly’s guardian? He didn’t even know his younger brother had married, let alone had fathered a child.

Kade’s eyes opened to the sound of Tilly’s halting speech as she instructed Ms. Windsor on where to place the next block. At last his ward was talking, or trying to. The sooner she could be assessed, the sooner she could learn to speak and he’d be able to employ someone more qualified than himself to raise her.

The sooner the noose would slip from around his neck.

Mia stared at the sea of names and dates swimming before her on the computer screen. Diagnosing Tilly’s speech delay with her substitution of ‘t’ for ‘k’, and ‘d’ for ‘g’, had been the easy part. Finding enough time to work with her was going to be the problem. She attempted to swallow but her dry mouth had already consumed its quota of moisture. She needed to end this appointment and not only because of the heat. Tension rippled along her vertebrae. She had to get this mirror image of her father, and all that he represented, out of her office.

She swivelled on her chair to look at Kade. He’d removed his jacket and loosened his tie but otherwise he reclined on the sofa as though he were sitting in an air-conditioned Sydney penthouse.

She strove for civility. ‘How long are you planning on staying out west?’

‘However long it takes for Tilly to receive the help she needs.’

Mia blanked out the surprising seriousness of his reply. She might have had less trouble believing him if his expression didn’t equal the chill of her air-cooler when working and if he’d been able to comfort his niece.

‘We might rival Dubai with the heat but you do know there’s no seven-star service out here.’

‘My needs are simple. Food, sleep and…’ he eyed off the contrary air-conditioner, ‘cool air.’

Now was not a good time for laughter to gleam in his blue eyes.

‘Summer here,’ she said in what she hoped passed as a comment and not a snap, ‘only has one temperature setting and today is just a taste of what will be on the weather menu.’

Stiffness reclaimed his features. ‘Is warning me about the weather your way of saying my niece is too hard to work with?’

‘No, not at all.’ She looked toward the play area where Tilly made splashing sounds as Stardust leapt in and out of the pretend pool. ‘Tilly does have a speech delay but with appropriate therapy a positive outcome is achievable.’

‘How long…until my ward’s speech can be understood?’

Had a ragged note of desperation torn through his words? Impossible.

‘With all speech therapy it’s important we retain perspective. Even though Tilly is close to five, she hasn’t mastered the three-year old sounds ‘k’ and ‘g’ that occur at the back of the throat. So she substitutes the easier sounds ‘t’ and ‘d’ instead. Hence ‘Kade’ becomes ‘Tade’ and ‘goat’ becomes ‘doat’. Her programme would involve mastering the ‘k’ and ‘g’ sounds and then, like a ladder, progressing up a series of steps. A single step may take over a week to achieve and I must warn you we can only work on one sound at a time.’

His lips thinned.

Mia gritted her teeth. She was in no mood to be patient with yet another man who demanded an instant fix. ‘This is the outback town of Whylandra, not the Sydney CBD. And this is a child we’re discussing, not a business negotiation. There are no bonuses for reaching targets early.’

‘Believe me, I know.’ He speared a hand through his thick hair. ‘I’m only trying to do the best that I can for my ward.’

Astonishment held her silent. The sincerity of his voice, the earnest line between his brows, he appeared almost…human. She studied the computer screen. The heat was melting her defences, sucking the life out of her common sense. For a nanosecond she’d actually considered the possibility a heart beat beneath his designer shirt.

She’d once thought the same about her father.

‘Have you finalised a place to stay?’ she asked after a long moment.

‘Yes. Berrilea.’

An edge hardened his voice as though he were telling her information she should have already known. The accommodation details must have been in the unsalvageable paragraphs of the client notes.

Berrilea.
She’d heard of little else but the historic property and its helicopter-flying city owner who was returning to the family home. Rumour had it that Whylandra’s only hair salon had doubled its business in the last week. Wait until the bush telegraph got wind that the very eligible bachelor had a ward in tow. Every maternal instinct in the district would be taken off the shelf and polished until it shone. Just as well her interest would be one of strict professionalism.

She bit the inside of her cheek and looked across at Tilly’s sweet flushed face as she played with Stardust and softly hummed. Exhaustion smudged dark bruises beneath her eyes. A single meeting with Mia would sentence the little girl to a three-hour round trip.

‘You couldn’t have picked a further away place to stay,’ she said. ‘Berrilea’s quite a drive from here.’

‘Yes, I know. That’s why your flexibility is much appreciated.’

What was he talking about? She was a speech pathologist, not a gymnast.

‘Of course,’ he said, ‘it goes without saying that I’ll make your co-operation financially worth your while.’

There it was. The single universal truth of her father’s world and of this man’s world. Money solved everything. A world she’d worked so hard to distance herself from.

‘That won’t be necessary.’ Mia was past caring if her words sounded abrupt. ‘It’s my job to help your niece the best way I can.’

She scrolled through the computer time-table. Blood throbbed in her ears. Her frayed nerves were unravelling as fast as the heat dried her blouse. She had to complete this assessment and get this man out of her office. She had to plug the leak on her memories.

On Monday she was heading to Sydney for a fortnight to work with a child called Matilda. Her old university mentor had sent an SOS that Mia hadn’t been able to ignore. Yesterday’s power surge had knocked out the internet as well as the air-conditioner and her travel details and paperwork were trapped in her inbox. But it would be safe to assume she’d have an opportunity to see Tilly before she left for the city.

‘Right, Tilly’s first appointment can be nine o’clock Monday morning.’ She threw Kade a quick glance. ‘Is that suitable?’

He nodded.

She entered Tilly’s details onto the computer. ‘The next appointment will be in two weeks, again at nine o’clock. We can discuss further dates then.’ She typed in the second appointment details and stood. Relief rendered her light-headed. ‘I believe we’re done.’

Kade too came to his feet. ‘Not so fast. I understood our arrangement provided more than a single initial appointment?’

‘Pardon?’

‘I understood that Tilly was to receive back-to-back intensive therapy?’

She squared her shoulders. His sub-zero tone wasn’t going to work on her. ‘We don’t have an
arrangement
.’

Other than for all future appointments you’ll be in the waiting room.

‘Didn’t you receive an email outlining the change in plans?’

‘Change of plans? I’ve received no email. The power surge didn’t only take out the air-conditioner, the internet is down too.’

His gaze narrowed before amusement kindled in his blue eyes.

She pulled her heavy hair off her forehead and fought the slow burn of her short fuse. The loss of her cyber-lifeline to the world had been no laughing matter. Today was day two of battling email-withdrawal symptoms.

‘Well, when it is working be sure to check Dr. Sheldon’s email,’ Kade said.

Her hair slipped through her fingers to fall around her face. ‘Dr. Sheldon? Dr. B–B– Bruce Sheldon from the University of Sydney?’

She didn’t need the return of her childhood stammer to confirm what every beat of her racing heart told her. She’d been again catapulted out of her comfort zone.

‘Yes, that’s the one.’ The left corner of Kade’s mouth lifted. He turned to his niece. ‘You’re looking forward to Ms. Windsor coming to stay at Berrilea with us for a fortnight, aren’t you, Matilda?’

“Go away.” Grace Nguyen tried to push the door shut, but her five foot nothing frame was no match for the six foot surfer god pushing from the other side. Her bare feet slid on the old wooden floor.

Saul Wharton let himself into her home. Then he politely closed the door behind him.

“I hate you.” She glared up at him.

“I’m not feeling too fond of you at the moment, either.” He strolled down the hallway and into the sunny modern kitchen. “Coffee? Good.” He poured himself a mug.

She folded her arms, but retreated step by step as he strolled around the island bench and into the casual living area. She sat abruptly on the arm of a large leather sofa.

It wasn’t that he was menacing or she was afraid of him. It was just that he overwhelmed a person. She’d seen it happen time and again. What Saul wanted, he got. She studied his back resentfully as he stood at the French doors and stared out into the courtyard with its green, leafy jacaranda tree.

He stood with his legs apart, balanced, ready even at rest to spring into action. One hand was hooked in the pocket of his jeans. The faded denim pulled taut across his muscled butt and thighs.

Guiltily, she jerked her gaze away.

As a med student, she’d seen enough male anatomy that one sexy package shouldn’t have the effect of iron filings to a magnet. Besides, she was angry with him. He had no right to meddle in her life or make her look ridiculous. “Why are you here?”

He turned back to her. With his sun lightened blond hair, you expected he’d have blue eyes. But Saul’s eyes were a rich, dark brown. They’d lured more than one woman to foolishness. Just now, though, his eyes were cross. A frown marred his forehead and drew his eyebrows together.

“You’ve made me the bad guy.”

“Me?” she squeaked, and stopped to draw a steadying breath. Anger wasn’t nearly as impressive when your voice went shrill. “You’re the one who claimed we were engaged.”

One eyebrow lifted and his mouth twisted in ironic observation.

It infuriated her. “And don’t say you were saving me. I didn’t ask you to play Galahad.” All the hurt fury of two months ago surged up, as raw as ever. “I don’t believe you even did it for me. You were worried about Carrie. You didn’t want me and my feelings to spoil her day.”

“Carrie can look after herself,” said Carrie’s loving cousin.

The fact that he was right only annoyed Grace more. Carrie was her stepsister, one year older, tall, ash blonde, a friendly socialite princess who dabbled in public relations. She shared a family trait with Saul; what she wanted, she got.

Last December, she’d wanted Ryan Holland.

Grace pushed a strand of black hair out of her eyes. Usually she wore it coiled tightly in a bun, a severe style that she hoped made her seem older and more professional, more worthy of being entrusted with other people’s health. Life as a student doctor was frantic. She didn’t need to waste time assuring patients that no, she wasn’t some visitor’s teenage daughter, and yes, she was qualified to treat them.

Tiredness weighed down her muscles. The hours of a student doctor were long. She’d worked through Christmas and New Year. Other people had families; whereas she wanted to avoid hers. Now with the Australia Day public holiday falling on a Monday, her supervisor had insisted she take the Friday off, too. She’d earned a four day weekend, he said.

She planned to use it to sleep. She grimaced. Yeah, that was her. A real party girl. No wonder Ryan had preferred Carrie. She cut off the thought.

“Believe it or not, I thought I was helping you,” Saul said. “You looked…defenceless.”

She shuddered. The whole evening had been a nightmare. She’d arrived late to her mum and stepfather’s tenth wedding anniversary. She hadn’t told anyone that a patient had died or that she was late because of the time she’d spent with the boy’s family. She’d been feeling vulnerable though.

It had been the best surprise to see Ryan across the room. He was a recently qualified architect, newly arrived in Perth. She’d met him at a local coffee shop, falling into conversation because, well because he looked nice. She’d invited him to one of Carrie’s parties as a way for him to meet new people. He had a quiet way of talking and an easy friendliness that helped her conquer her shyness.

Then she’d barely seen him for a couple of months. Her shifts had changed and they didn’t run into one another at the coffee shop.

Across the crowded patio of her parents’ riverside house, she’d smiled when she saw him. But she’d done her duty first. Found her mum, gave her a hug and a kiss and a small gift. Hugged Stuart, her step-father, who made her mum happy.