Greek Doctor: One Magical Christmas. Meredith Webber

a few hours on Saturday mornings at the surgery. Young Paula Gibbons is the nurse-receptionist on duty and I phoned her to say we’re running late, but with Neena not long gone to bed I thought you might do it. Meet some people, talk to them about the town. You are a doctor?’

      So Ned’s suspicions were still alive and well, Mak realised, and the old man had just been manoeuvring him towards this moment.

      ‘I am and I’m happy to do it, but won’t Neena—’

      ‘Object? Sure she will. She’ll mutter about people taking over her life but if we didn’t do that occasionally she’d run herself ragged. Here, eat this before you go.’

      Mak had been taking little notice of what Ned was doing as he talked, but now a beautiful omelette appeared in front of him, golden brown on the outside and within its fold melting cheese and fine slices of ham and tomato.

      He ate, had a quick wash then followed Ned’s instructions to the surgery, where Paula, a bright redhead, guided him through the patients for the morning, every one of whom asked him if he was Neena’s locum for maternity leave and every one of whom had only good things to say about their local doctor.

      Could someone so obviously not only respected but loved in this community be the devious woman he suspected she was?

      Or was he only questioning his opinion of her because he was attracted to her?

      Instantly attracted! This was something that had never happened to him in his entire life and therefore something of which he should be extremely wary—maybe even suspicious. Other experiences had taught him that attraction could make you forget common sense and for many years, as far as women were concerned, common sense had ruled his life.

      And would continue to rule it. No matter how wonderful the townspeople thought this woman, he had to judge her for himself, and that would be impossible if he let the attraction get in the way.

      He saw the last patient for the morning, had a chat to Paula—another Neena admirer—and headed back to the house. He wanted to go out to the geo-thermal site and speak to Bob Watson, head man out there, having ascertained the previous evening that Bob would be on duty today.

      Neena woke to bright sunshine flooding through her window, and stared confusedly around her. She was on her bed, wrapped in her lightweight cotton robe, clean and naked, though she couldn’t remember showering.

      Or could she? Memories of Ned chasing her out of the stables, threatening to turn the hose on her if she didn’t go immediately. Somehow she’d made it to her room, stripped, showered—even washed her hair, from the feel of it, still slightly damp—then collapsed on the bed. But when? How long had she been asleep? And what was happening to her house guest? Ned might have turned him out by now.

      Which, considering how she kept remembering the feel of his fingers touching hers as he’d taken the calf from her, was probably a good thing.

      She’d think about the calf—about Albert!

      She smiled and patted Baby Singh, picturing the camel calf’s rubbery lips and curly eyelashes, his huge, soft, doe-like eyes.

      ‘Such fun to have a pet again,’ she told the baby, then she heaved herself off the bed and began to dress, anxious now to check that all was well in her small world. She hadn’t phoned Brisbane to see how the burns victims were, or visited the hospital—though someone would have phoned if she’d been needed. And—

      Her eyes fixed on the small digital clock beside her bed.

      She’d missed morning surgery!

      She shot out of her bedroom and blasted down the hall to the kitchen door.

      ‘Ned, why didn’t you wake me? It’s lunchtime. My patients—’

      ‘Have been seen. I brought back some notes in case you were concerned about any of them.’

      Neena stared at the man who’d answered.

      Her house guest, far from having been turfed out by Ned, had achieved the honour of being allowed access to the kitchen. In fact, he was sitting at the kitchen table—in her chair—eating lunch and chatting amiably to Ned.

      ‘You saw my patients?’ she demanded, anger and disbelief holding her motionless in the doorway.

      ‘It’s what I’m here for after all,’ he said coolly. ‘To gauge your workload, and even after less than twenty-four hours I can see you need another doctor.’

      ‘So now you know that, maybe you can leave,’ Neena snapped, then realised just how ungracious that sounded. But her kitchen, now she’d entered it, seemed to have shrunk, making the man seem closer than he was, the atmosphere thick and heavy.

      ‘Not on the strength of one morning’s surgery,’ he said, so cool in the face of her rudeness she wanted to throw something at him. Something hard!

      ‘Sit down and have your lunch.’ This from Ned, and she knew his voice well enough to know he, too, was angry, but with her.

      As well he should be!

      ‘I’m sorry, that was terrible of me,’ she muttered at Mak from the doorway. ‘Yelling at you when I should be thanking you.’

      He nodded a gracious acceptance of her apology, but she suspected he was laughing at her inside for his eyes were twinkling with delight, which made her mad again. But she had to enter the kitchen! For a start, she was starving. But her legs were heavy and stiff with dread because, for only the second time in her life, Neena was feeling physical responses to a man. Well, maybe not the second time—but only once before had they been as strong as this and that once had ended in heartache, pain and trouble.

      ‘How’s Albert?’ she asked, directing the question at Ned, trying to ignore the other person in the room.

      ‘Blooming,’ the man she was trying to ignore replied. ‘I’ve just been talking to him. He quite likes the Mozart but would prefer a little rock music from time to time.’

      Neena frowned at the light-hearted comment. She didn’t want to like this man—bad enough to be getting physical reactions from him, but liking him?

      ‘Sit down and eat,’ Ned told her, pulling a plate of cold meat and salad from the refrigerator and putting it down at the other end of the table from Mak, setting cutlery beside it and pouring her a glass of cold water.

      So here she was, right opposite Mak Stavrou, where every time she looked up she’d see some bit of him, like how the dark hair on his arms curled around his watch. At least the table was long so she wouldn’t be accidentally bumping his feet or have her knees knocking his…

      Although not thinking about him was hard as once again came the memory of the previous night, of the touch of his hands on hers.

      Ridiculous, fantasising about a stranger’s touch!

      ‘Lovely salad, Ned. Are these tomatoes from our garden?’

      ‘You’ll note she says “our”,’ Ned growled at Mak, ‘though it’s years since she dirtied her hands in the vegetable patch. Reckons looking after the roses is enough for her, not that roses take much looking after out here.’

      ‘I noticed the rose gardens on my way to the stables,’ Mak replied, smiling at Neena. ‘My mother grows roses but I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a wonderful display.’

      ‘The dry climate means you don’t get mildew or most of the bugs you get closer to the coast,’ Neena replied, keeping the words crisp and impersonal, the mention of his mother reminding Neena of her doubts about why this man was really here.

      Reminding her he could well be the enemy!

      An enemy who had helped out this morning, she reminded herself. She asked him about the patients he had seen, and managed to eat most of her lunch while they discussed them.

      ‘I’m going out to the drilling site this afternoon,’ the man who was disrupting