She had a bottom straight out of a bad boy’s dreams. A perfect, rounded curve. He’d never been able to understand why women thought thin was attractive. Personally, he hated thin. As far as he was concerned, a woman was meant to have curves. And, boy, did this one have curves…
He remembered her wistful comment about not believing in love and wondered what had happened to make her look so sad and vulnerable. After she’d made that announcement he’d let her go, all his experience with women telling him that it would be a mistake to persist.
But he’d had every intention of seeing her again.
All the way to the surgery he’d been racking his brains for a way of tracking her down, but now here she was, in his father’s waiting room. He couldn’t believe his luck.
He was about to throw a lifetime of commitment phobia to the wind and propose to her on the spot when he heard his name.
‘Dr Whittaker. Dr Whittaker!’
He blinked, shook himself and reluctantly dragged his eyes away from Lucy, focusing instead on the woman smiling up at him.
‘Er—hello, Ros.’ He bent to kiss her cheek, genuinely fond of the woman who had been his father’s receptionist since he was a child. ‘You look gorgeous. Nice jumper.’
He always noticed what women wore. In fact he always noticed women, full stop.
Especially when they looked like Lucy.
‘Go on with you!’ The receptionist blushed and lifted a hand to her hair, visibly flustered by his attention. ‘You’re late, Dr Whittaker. Your father and brothers were expecting you this morning.’
‘Something came up.’ Joel gave her a saucy wink, knowing that she’d think the worst of him, because people always did and it amused him to wind them up.
With a last regretful glance towards the nurse with the curves, who still hadn’t noticed him, he followed Ros through the waiting room, along the corridor that ran past the consulting rooms and up the stairs to the staff sitting room.
‘I saw you on the television, Dr Whittaker.’ Ros grabbed the handrail, slightly out of breath as she negotiated the stairs. ‘In fact, I have to admit I didn’t miss a single episode of Helicopter Doctor. You were fantastic. So cool and calm and wonderfully in charge of every crisis. I could hardly believe I once changed your nappy.’
‘Thanks for that reminder, Ros.’ Joel’s tone was dry but his eyes gleamed with humour. ‘Just as long as you don’t sell any photos of me in the buff to the press…’
Ros laughed. ‘What was it like, trying to work with a camera on you all the time?’
‘Actually, I hardly noticed them,’ Joel said truthfully. ‘I just got on with the job and they hovered in the background. When you’ve got a patient lying in pieces after a road accident you don’t exactly care who’s watching.’
‘But now you’re giving it all up to be a GP. Do you think you’ll miss all the drama?’ Ros paused at the top of the stairs and Joel gave a careless shrug.
‘I don’t think so. Six months with the air ambulance was long enough, really. I’m ready to join the family firm.’
Particularly now he’d seen the nurse that his father had employed.
The job was looking up by the minute.
Ros smiled. ‘It’s your father’s dream, you know. All three of his sons in practice with him.’
‘Yeah, I know. We spoil him.’ Joel gave her a friendly wink and then went ahead of her and pushed open the door of the staffroom.
His father and older brother had practised in an old converted house until four years before, when they’d moved into this purpose-built, architect-designed medical centre built around an impressive glass atrium, which allowed plenty of light into the building. His father, who believed in the importance of pleasant working conditions, had also insisted on a spacious, well-equipped staffroom which had stunning views over the Cornish coastline.
Both his older brothers were in the staffroom now, deep in conversation with their father.
Joel sauntered in and slung his bag down on the floor. ‘I thought GPs were supposed to be having a hard life at the moment. Since when did life get this relaxed? And there was I thinking you were desperate for some help from a decent doctor…’
‘Well, well—it’s the prodigal son.’ Richard rose to his feet, strode across the room and clapped Joel on the back. ‘Better late than never. We expected you earlier. What kept you?’
Joel cleared his throat. ‘Well, actually—’
‘Don’t you mean who kept him? It’s bound to have been a woman. It always is.’ His older brother Michael gave him a wry smile from the comfort of his chair and gestured to the coffee-pot. ‘Are you in need of caffeine?’
Joel nodded. ‘Yes, please, but I’ll have you know I was—’