Did he even like children? she wondered.
‘We’ve all worried about him since his wife died,’ Alice said wistfully. ‘Such a tragedy. We’ve been longing for him to find someone else but he only has time for his work. After she died we all mucked in, you know—made him food, tried to get him out and about, but he wasn’t having any of it. Spends time with his surfboard and that playboy brother of his with the wicked smile.’ She made a clucking sound with her tongue. ‘What a waste. He’s such a handsome boy.’
Louisa chuckled. ‘He’s the senior consultant and in his mid-thirties at a guess. I don’t think he’s a boy, Alice.’
As far as she was concerned, he was all man. Every delicious, intimidating inch of him.
‘When you’re ninety, he’s a boy,’ Alice said dryly. ‘Now, shall we take that trip to X-Ray?’
Louisa smiled. ‘Good idea. Let’s get a closer look at those bones of yours.’
* * *
‘Well, it’s not displaced so she can just go to the fracture clinic and have a back slab,’ Mac muttered, studying the X-rays carefully, his broad shoulders brushing against Louisa, who stood next to him.
This close he could smell her perfume and it played havoc with his senses. He wasn’t even sure if it was perfume. It could have been shampoo or just Louisa. But whatever it was, she smelt amazing.
He sighed and closed his eyes briefly, reminding himself that he wasn’t interested in women. Once or twice he’d tried to rekindle that part of himself after Melissa had died, but women always wanted more than he was willing or able to give. He wasn’t interested in a relationship. He was better off on his own.
‘I expect we ought to write to her GP. This sort of fracture is very common in women with osteoporosis. He ought to arrange a DEXA scan.’ Louisa frowned at the light box, oblivious to his scrutiny. This close he noticed that her nose turned up slightly and was dusted with freckles. She never seemed to stop smiling. She turned to look at him. ‘Don’t you think?’ Didn’t he think what?’
He searched his mind for the last thing she’d said. ‘DEXA scan. Good idea. I’ll write to the GP.’
‘I gather she lives down the road from you.’ Louisa handed him the notes and he took them, wondering what his response was supposed to be. ‘With her sister.’
‘That’s right.’
‘She told me she used to cook for you sometimes.’
Mac looked at her. ‘The two of them kept checking up on me after my wife died. Every time I came home one of them would be on my doorstep with a cake or a casserole.’
She smiled. ‘How kind.’
Mac inhaled sharply. ‘I prefer my privacy.’
‘That’s what I heard.’ There was a hint of reproach in her voice and he bit back an impatient remark.
‘Living in a village comes with disadvantages, Louisa,’ he said grimly as they walked back towards the treatment room. ‘One of those is a total lack of privacy. Not everyone wants to be surrounded by people discussing their business all the time, and I’m one of them. I’m better off on my own.’
‘Why?’ Her gaze was clear and direct. ‘What’s wrong with knowing your neighbours, Dr Sullivan, and allowing them to know you?’
He sighed. Somehow she managed to make him feel in the wrong. Which was ridiculous, because he gave enough of himself to his patients. He had a right to privacy. ‘In case it’s escaped your notice, I have a busy job. I give everything I have to the hospital. I don’t have time for anything else.’
She nodded slowly. ‘That’s what I thought. But what about you, Mac? Who gives to you?’
He frowned. ‘I have everything I need.’
‘Maybe you don’t know what you need.’ She took the X-rays from him. ‘This is going to cause Alice a problem. She looks after her elderly sister. Does everything. Shopping and cooking. She can’t do that with a broken wrist.’
Mac gave a brief nod, impressed that she’d discovered that so quickly. ‘Good point. We’ll give Social Services a ring. Get them some help.’
‘I’m not sure that they’re the sort to accept help easily. They’re obviously very independent.’
‘Well, if there’s no family to step in, what’s the alternative?’ Mac asked patiently, and Louisa chewed her lip thoughtfully.
‘I don’t know, but I’m working on it.’
‘Don’t tell me.’ His tone was dry. ‘Your interfering personality again?’