“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.