Life Support: Escape to the Country

BOOK: Life Support: Escape to the Country
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A piece of you will always be left at home.

 

When emergency nurse Emma Chirnside's husband dies unexpectedly, she finds herself tangled in lies and secrets. The last thing she expected to receive from him was a heritage listed mansion in her home town of Birrangulla, but with her in-laws causing chaos, she flees to the country, hoping to rebuild her life. Fleeing, it turns out, creates new complications. The estate manager is none other than her teenage crush Tom Henderson.

 

Tom hasn’t thought about Emma since high school. They’d always been friendly – like Emma, Tom knows how it feels to care for a sick mother from a young age – but as far as Tom was aware, they were nothing more than friends. He had no idea of Emma's feelings for him, or the way he'd once broken her heart.

 

When their worlds collide again, Emma realizes the depth of her feelings for Tom, and wonders if she’s been given another chance to find true love. But Tom has demons of his own.

 

Will Tom’s secrets drive them apart and break her heart again? Or will they both get their happy ever after?

 

A sweet medical romance set in the outback of Australia, perfect for fans of Fiona McArthur and Melanie Milburne.

For Jan, the greatest Aunt in the world, who encouraged me to become a nurse.

In the darkness of a crowded Sydney bar, Emma Chirnside sat. Alone, lonely and eight hundred kilometers from home. She skimmed the room. Bars and nightclubs were not her thing – they were the places her girlfriends used to go to flirt with cute guys and dance their troubles away. So why was she sitting in one now, on her own, at nine o’clock on a Monday night, instead of tucked up in a warm bed where she belonged?

Her eyes traveled to the dance floor where women in stilettos and tiny slips of fabric swayed in time to the beating music. They looked young and carefree – as if they could dance all night and still make it to work the next day without dark circles under their eyes. The thought of dancing until midnight on a weeknight made Emma feel very weary. And very old.

“What can I get you?”

It had taken ten minutes to get the bartender’s attention and now Emma’s mind drew a complete blank. She hesitated, knowing if all she asked for was a glass of water, she’d sound like an idiot. She pointed to the colorful drinks another bartender was serving a nearby group of girls.

“I’ll have one of those please.” Could he hear the waver in her voice?

He smirked. “So you want some
love
potion.” He purred and slurred the word in an attempt to sound sexy. Instead he simply sounded sleazy.

She folded her arms across her chest and willed him to lift his eyes higher than her breasts. “Excuse me?”

“That cocktail,” he explained. “It’s called a love potion. Is that what you’re after? Some
love
?”

Warmth spread up her neck to her cheeks and she cursed her pale Irish skin. Despite the semi-darkened bar, he’d have seen his words had hit their mark. Emma knew she was pretty, but while it meant she invariably caught the eye of the opposite sex on many occasions, it didn’t mean she enjoyed it.

“Yes. No. That’s fine. I’ll have one please,” she stammered.

Needing something to do while she waited for him to make the drink, she pulled a lip gloss from her bag and touched up her lips. Moments later the bartender slid the drink across the sticky bar toward her and she handed over her credit card.

“Check, savings, credit?”

She avoided his eyes. “Credit.” Remembering her manners, she added, “Please.”

He waved the card over the machine before handing it back. She slid the card into her wallet.

Thankfully, once he’d received the I’m-not-interested-in-you message, he left her alone and went to serve another customer. She took a gulp of her drink and grimaced.
What was I thinking?
The sickly sweet stomach-turning concoction was disgusting. She took another sip. Still disgusting. She rarely drank alcohol. In fact, at one point, she’d been morally opposed to anyone who drank, so why was she doing so now?

She knew the answer to that.

She had come to escape. She had come to hide. She had come, hoping to be that anonymous woman having a quick drink before bed. So she had ordered and sat, hoping alcohol would dissolve the memories of the past three years into a hazy fog. It wasn’t working.

She perched on the high stool at the bar, moving one foot in time with the music while she shredded a paper napkin and people-watched. Perhaps if she stayed there long enough, people would think she didn’t have a care in the world. Even better, she might be able to convince herself.

The brewing headache pulsating at her temples kept time with the deep thump of the bass. Like the sweet-smelling fog from a smoke machine, the sound of music swept across her in nauseous waves.

She shouldn’t be here. After the last session of the conference she should have gone back to her room, showered, crawled into her flannel PJ’s and emptied the minibar fridge of all its chocolate.

One song ended and the next began. A woman’s high-pitched twitter rang out in the pause in the music. Emma watched her flirt unashamedly with the man standing next to her. Her red-painted manicured nails touched the man’s suit jacket before curling like talons around his bicep and dragging him in for the kill. The man grinned at his mates before giving them the universal thumbs-up sign. He was in. The newly formed couple wobbled off together to a darker corner of the room.

Men.

Emma’s mind wandered to the email she’d received earlier that day from the lawyer. A bitter laugh slid silently down her throat as she took another swallow of her drink. As easy as one, two, three, it was final. Her two-year marriage was all but over. All that remained was for her to fill in the forms, sign on the dotted lines, and return the paperwork to Lleyton’s lawyer. If she chose not to fight for any of her husband’s considerable fortune, it would be even easier, and she definitely wasn’t going to fight. She didn’t want anything from Lleyton Chirnside other than to gain her life back.

As she was thinking these not-so-happy thoughts, she caught sight of a tall, well-built man standing on the opposite side of the bar. He wore his hair styled short and had a thick beard. Emma didn’t typically like beards, but admitted this one suited him. When their eyes met briefly, a frisson of surprise shot through her. Was that Tom Henderson? She tried to look away, but like a rabbit caught in headlights, she stared back, transfixed.

She hadn’t seen Tom in years – not since that night when they were teenagers. A funny little shiver danced down her spine. How many years had it been since she’d even
thought
about him? Four? Five? Longer? It was funny how falling in love with Lleyton had caused her to forget all about her silly teenage infatuation.

She leaned slightly to the left and peeked again. Maybe it wasn’t Tom. But if not, the man on the other side of the room could have been his older brother. Except Tom didn’t have a brother.

Another flirting couple, lips locked, jostled past. Emma’s drink spilled down her hand.

“Watch it.”

They didn’t even notice her.

Emma looked over at the man again and allowed her thoughts to race backward like a video on rewind. Back a decade, to the last time she’d seen Tom. He’d recently turned eighteen and it was muck-up day – his last day of school. She was sixteen, going on seventeen, and head over heels in love with him. Of course, it wasn’t love, it was lust and infatuation, but that hadn’t stopped Emma from dreaming of a happy-ever-after ending with him. He barely knew she existed.

Tom Henderson.

The quintessential all-Australian country boy. The country boy with sexy good looks, an athletic body and a smile that melted hearts. He had definitely been the best-looking guy at school – an opinion well-shared by all the girls. School captain, the stroke of the first eight rowing crew, captain of the rugby team. Tick, tick, tick. Every girl wanted to be the object of his attentions, but, much to Emma’s frustration, it was Kim Cameron, his on-again off-again girlfriend, who kept him from noticing anyone else.

Unexpected pain spiked her chest as hidden memories came into focus. Tom’s smile had melted the heart of every woman he met, but it had broken hers. And he had no idea he was to blame. Because of Tom, Emma had wallowed in self-pity until the day Lleyton Chirnside waltzed into her life and everything changed – in hindsight, not necessarily for the better.

What would Tom be up to these days? Was he single? No, that was highly unlikely. Heaven knew there’d been more than enough girls to fill Kim’s spot when she dumped him. Knowing Tom, he almost certainly had a gorgeous wife, two cute kids and a golden retriever. Emma sighed inwardly. Such was life.

The man on the other side of the room turned sideways, his profile backlit. Disappointment surged through her. He was exceptionally good-looking, but he wasn’t Tom.

She peered over the rim of her glass and took another sip. He glanced her way again and when she pulled another face at the taste of her drink, his mouth twitched twice before he grinned, one side of his mouth curling upward before pulling the other side with it. He looked straight at her, as if he recognized her. As if he knew her from somewhere. As if they were already friends. A sudden shiver sizzled through her.

Perhaps he was shortsighted and had her confused with someone else. If so, he’d take another look and realize he didn’t know her. She snuck another glimpse and saw his eyes crinkle with restrained laughter. Once again, she was hit by that uncanny similarity to Tom. She played with a strand of her ponytail, wrapping it tightly around her index finger before letting it unwind. Tonight she wore her naturally blonde hair up. Other than tinted moisturizer and mascara, she wore no other makeup, subscribing to the “less is more” principle. She was surprised the man on the other side of the bar had even noticed her among the more dolled-up women in the room.

All common sense fled. She licked her lips, took a deep breath and against her better judgment, met his gaze head-on. She waited for him to blink, to look away, to turn around; to realize he’d been staring at her too. But he didn’t. She kept her eyes fixed on his, aware her breathing was shallow. A warmth slowly spread down her body. It had been a long time since any man had caused this type of visceral response in her and the intensity of it surprised her.

Still holding her gaze, the stranger moved slowly and deliberately in her direction. Emma watched, spellbound, as he unhurriedly weaved his way between the throng of people. His eyes never left hers. When he rounded the corner of the bar, she saw him in full. Emma’s eyes took everything in as he slowly approached. As fast as her gaze traveled downward, they snapped back. He was still smiling.

And he
still
reminded her of Tom.

She had to get a grip, but it was too late. He was there, standing before her.

He leaned against the bar, not too close she felt uncomfortable, but close enough she caught the scent of his aftershave swirling around him.

“May I buy you a drink?”

His voice was deep and husky, as she imagined it would be. She didn’t care that it was the least original pick-up line ever. He even
sounded
sexy.

“I already have a drink thank you,” she said, casting her eyes down and swirling the near-empty contents of her glass with a straw. Partially melted ice cubes clinked together.

“But you’re not enjoying it.”

A small smile played around the corners of his mouth. Heat rushed through her.

She hooked her legs through the rung of the barstool to stop them from shaking. “How do you know that?”

“I’ve been watching you since you came in. Every time you take a sip of your drink you pull a funny face.”

Emma’s jaw dropped. Why was he watching her? Lucky she wasn’t standing. She was certain she would have collapsed. She closed her mouth and chewed at her bottom lip. A bad habit she’d picked up which Lleyton hated. She stopped doing it immediately.

He held out his right hand, palm facing slightly upward, and his eyes drilled deep wells.

“I’m Josh.”

“Emma,” she said, slipping her own hand in his.

She gulped. Who had stolen her inhibitions?

His large, smooth hand was warm in hers and she glanced at it. No wedding band. She dragged her eyes back to his. This had to stop. This had to stop right now. No matter the suggestive tone of his voice, no matter the way he was looking at her, no matter the way he made her feel, he was
exactly
the type of guy she didn’t need. In fact, she reminded herself sternly, she didn’t need
any
guy, especially not one so self-assured, like Lleyton.

“Can I get you another drink?” he repeated.

“Sure.” The answer was out before she could clamp her lips together. The last thing she needed was more alcohol.

Josh lifted his hand and the barman came straight over. Emma wasn’t surprised. She’d noticed it straight away. There was something about him – a presence – that people couldn’t ignore.

“Two glasses of champers please.”

Emma scrunched up her nose. “Really? Champagne? That’s usually reserved for celebrations isn’t it?”

Josh’s mouth curled into a smile. “Well then Emma, let’s celebrate.”

She swallowed and licked her dry lips. “And what exactly are we celebrating?” Her voice sounded tight and tinny, higher than normal. She tried to swallow again. She’d changed her mind. Right now, another drink sounded like a perfectly good idea.

He leaned closer and her chest tightened.

“I’m celebrating meeting you,” he murmured.

Before she had time to work out whether he was a sleaze or a shameless flirt, two tall flutes magically appeared. Josh picked them both up and handed one to her. She took it from him, her hands trembling.

He lifted the glass high before clinking it gently against hers. “Here’s cheers,” he said softly, his eyes never leaving hers. “And here’s to meeting new people.” He took a small sip.

“Cheers,” Emma repeated before bringing her own glass to her lips. The bubbles tickled her nose. “So, Josh, are you here on business?”

She hated the way her voice shook. It made her sound like a little girl, but she needed to say something – anything. The sexual tension enfolding them was definitely
not
a figment of her over-active imagination. He took a slow sip of his drink, his eyes still fixed on hers.

“Yes. I’m here all week for a nursing conference.”

Surprise rippled through her. “You’re a nurse?” He didn’t look like a nurse.

“No,” he said with a laugh. “I’m a doctor. I’m presenting a session on recognizing the deteriorating patient in the emergency department setting.”

No, no, NO.
 She banged down her drink with more force than she intended. She needed to leave now. In her experience, doctors stuck together in their own secret little club. Josh looked a few years younger than her husband – soon-to-be
ex-husband,
she quickly corrected herself – but it was a small profession. It would be her bad luck the two men knew each other. The last thing she needed was Lleyton hearing via the grapevine she’d been picked up by a guy in a bar. She’d never live it down.

Josh didn’t notice her distraction, or if he did, he was ignoring it. “What about you? What brings you here tonight?”

“I’m a nurse. I work in emergency.”

BOOK: Life Support: Escape to the Country
12.34Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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