The Doctor & the Runaway Heiress. Marion Lennox

her chair felt wobbly.

      Riley was beside her in an instant, hitting the buzzer. ‘We need a trolley,’ he told Mary when she appeared. ‘Fast, Mary, or I’ll have to pick her up and carry her.’

      ‘In your dreams,’ Pippa managed, with a pathetic attempt at dignity. ‘No one carries me.’

      ‘I believe I already have.’

      ‘With the help of a helicopter.’ She was trying to sound cheeky but she wasn’t succeeding. In truth, the room was spinning.

      ‘Warren’s the only orderly,’ Mary said. ‘The trolley will be ten minutes. You want me to fetch a wheelchair?’

      ‘It’s okay,’ Pippa said. ‘I’ll be right in a minute.’

      ‘You’ll be back in bed in a minute.’ And to her astonishment Riley’s eyes were gleaming with laughter and with challenge. ‘Let’s do without Warren or wheelchairs,’ he said. ‘Fancy inferring I’m inferior to our helicopter.’ And before she could realise what he intended, he lifted her high into his arms.

      She squeaked.

      Mary giggled.

      ‘He does weights,’ Mary told Pippa, bemused. ‘What you said … that’s a red rag to a bull.’

      ‘He’s crazy.’

      ‘He is at that,’ Mary said, chuckling and holding the door wide to let Riley pass. ‘You try getting workers’ compensation after this, Doc Riley.’

      ‘Workers’ comp is for wimps.’ Riley had her secure, solid against his chest, striding briskly along the corridor, past rooms full of patients and visitors, carrying her as if she was a featherweight and not a grown woman in trouble.

      Trouble was right. If a doctor did this in her training hospital … To a nurse …

      Worse. She was a patient. This was totally unprofessional.

      She needed to struggle but she didn’t have the energy. Or the will.

      Trouble?

      She was feeling like she really was in trouble. Like she wasn’t exactly sure what was going on. He was making her feel …

      ‘I should never have allowed you to help,’ he muttered as he strode, his laughter giving way to concern. Maybe he was feeling just how weak she was.

      She wasn’t really this weak, she thought. Or maybe she was.

      She thought about it, or she sort of thought about it. The feel of his arms holding her … the solid muscles of his chest … the sensation of being held … It was stopping lots of thoughts—and starting others that were entirely inappropriate.

      This was why they’d invented trolleys, she thought, to stop nurses … to stop patients … to stop her being carried by someone like Riley. It was so inappropriate on so many levels. It made her feel …

      ‘You’re exhausted,’ he said. ‘It was totally unprofessional of me to allow you to help.’

      That shook her out of the very inappropriate route her thoughts were taking. Out of her exhaustion. Almost out of her disorientation.

      ‘To allow Amy to have a support person?’ she demanded, forcing her voice to be firm. ‘What does that have to do with lack of professionalism?’

      ‘You weren’t her support person.’

      ‘I was. If you hadn’t allowed me to be, I would have discharged myself and come right back. Amy would have said “Yes, please,” and it would have been exactly the same except that you wouldn’t be carrying me back to bed.’

      ‘In your extraordinary bathrobe,’ he finished, and the laughter had returned. It felt good, she decided. To make this man laugh …

      And there her thoughts went again, off on a weird and crazy tangent. She was totally disoriented by the feel of his body against hers. He turned into the next corridor, and the turning made her feel a bit dizzy and she clutched.

      He swore. ‘Of all the stupid …’

      ‘It’s not stupid,’ she managed, steadying again. ‘It’s wonderful. Last night you saved my life. This afternoon we’ve helped Amy have her baby. You’ve done a fantastic twenty-four hours’ work, Dr Chase. Did I tell you I think you’re wonderful?’

      Mary bobbed up beside them, still chuckling.

      ‘Don’t tell him that,’ she begged. ‘Everyone does. It gives him the biggest head. Riley, really, are you about to hurt your back?’

      ‘Nope,’ Riley said. ‘Didn’t you hear what our patient said? I’m wonderful. Practically Superman. You can’t hurt your back if you’re Superman.’

      ‘Superman or not, Coral says to tell you that you can’t be a doctor in this hospital unless you get some sleep,’ Mary retorted. ‘Coral said you’re to leave and go to bed. Now.’

      ‘Immediately?’

      ‘Put Pippa down first, but leave the tucking in to me,’ Mary ordered, as they reached Pippa’s bed. ‘Off you go, Dr Superman. Sweet dreams.’

      ‘I need to say thank you,’ Pippa managed.

      ‘So say thank you,’ Mary said, sounding severe. ‘Fast.’

      Riley set Pippa down. He straightened and she felt a queer jolt of loss. To be held and then released …

      She was more exhausted than she’d thought. She wasn’t making sense, even to herself.

      Riley was smiling down at her, with that amazing, heart-stopping smile. A lifesaver of a smile. ‘It’s us who should thank you,’ he said. ‘You were great.’

      Her pillows were wonderful. Life was wonderful.

      Riley was wonderful.

      ‘You are Superman,’ she whispered. ‘You’ve saved my life—in more ways than one.’

      ‘It’s what I do,’ Riley said. ‘Superheroes R Us. Come on, Mary, let’s see if we can find some tall buildings to leap.’

      ‘You can leap all the tall buildings you want, as long as you do it off duty,’ Mary said tartly.

      ‘Goodnight, then, Pippa,’ Riley said. ‘We both know what to do.’

      Sleep. It sounded good.

      She slept, smiling.

      She slept, thinking of Riley Chase.

      A baby called Riley. A little girl …

      Eighteen years ago his daughter had been born and he hadn’t known. Marguerite had chosen to have her alone, or with her formidable parents, rather than let him into her life.

      He’d thought he’d loved her. He’d thought she’d loved him.

      He had no idea what love was. What family was.

      He’d watched Pippa with Amy, and felt the strength between them, the instant bonding of two strong women. That was what he didn’t get. Didn’t trust. Bonding.

      Family.

      His daughter was coming. It was doing his head in; delivering Amy’s baby, thinking back to how it could have been if he’d been deemed worth being a partner, a father. Family.

      Yeah, like that was going to happen. He needed to sleep. Get his head under control.

      Or surf. Better. No matter how tired he was, surf helped.

      He strode out of the hospital, headed for the beach.

      The thought of Pippa stayed with him. Pippa holding a baby girl.

      Too much emotion. His head felt like it might implode.

      When all else failed, surf.