His Perfect Bride?. Louisa Heaton

fun, Dr Chance, deciding whether you want to look like your head has been in a collision with a paint factory, you and I need to put in an appearance at work. Otherwise the whole village may well fall foul of a deadly plague without our being in our chairs, ministering to the sick.’

      ‘Hmm … I’m not one to turn down the chance of fighting an epidemic.’

      ‘Ready to go, then?’

      She put on her own coat and the incredibly long scarf that she’d been wearing earlier. ‘As I’ll ever be.’

      ‘You don’t need to feed the animals before we go?’

      ‘Already done.’

      ‘Any closer to picking up Anubis?’ He meant the tarantula.

      ‘No. But I gave him a damned good look this morning, and I got within two feet of the tank without shaking.’

      ‘Progress!’

      ‘Exactly!’

      ‘Do you want to sit in with me this morning? We could do the clinic together and it would give me the opportunity to fill you in on some of our frequent flyers.’

      He meant the regulars who always turned up to the surgery, no matter what the state of their health. Every surgery had them. They were the people you could depend upon to turn up, who had nothing wrong with them but had got themselves appointments because they were lonely, or they wanted to chat about their problems in life in general.

      Then there were the hypochondriacs, who turned up over every little niggle—real or imagined. But you had to take them seriously each time, and check them out no matter what, or you’d get The Boy Who Cried Wolf syndrome. If one day you decided to ignore their call for help it would be the one time that they were actually ill and really needed you.

      ‘Sure. I think that would be a good idea.’

      ‘And if I introduce you they won’t think that you’re some sort of fairy.’

      She was closing her front door and locking it. ‘You think I look like a fairy?’ She tried to sound offended, even though she wasn’t.

      ‘It was my first thought.’

      Her head cocked to one side. ‘And you, Dr James, look like a blond Clark Kent. Do I need to warn everyone that you don’t actually wear your underpants over your trousers?’

      Olly seemed to take the hint. And the reprimand. ‘I’m sorry.’

      She perked up and smiled. ‘You’re so serious! I was joking! I quite like the fact you think I look like a fairy. I’d hate to look boring and normal.’

      ‘What’s wrong with boring and normal?’

      ‘It’s boring. And normal. Be different. Stand out from the crowd. Have a list!’ She laughed and he almost looked dismayed at her enjoyment.

      ‘You think I’m wrong to have a list?’

      ‘Not wrong, per se. Everyone has certain requirements for a partner.’

      ‘Exactly.’

      ‘They just don’t usually write them down.’

      He stopped her from trudging through the snow by grabbing hold of her arm. ‘How do you know they’re written down?’

      She stopped to look at his hand, trying hard not to think of how close it was to her smouldering skin. She met his gaze instead. ‘Your father told me.’

      ‘Dad did?’

      She nodded and he let go.

      They were crunching through the snow now, past Betsy and Olly’s car and towards the surgery. It was picture-postcard perfect, with everything blanketed in white.

      Lula turned to him. ‘You know, Olly, a man like you shouldn’t need a list.’

      ‘A man like me? What does that mean?’

      ‘A young man. Educated. Good-looking. An eligible bachelor. Though you could do with a different look.’

      ‘What’s wrong with my look?’

      ‘Oh, come on, Olly. You think I don’t already know that you’re considered to be the “hottie” of the village? All the ladies last night at the belly dancing think you’re a babe.’

      He preened a little. ‘Really?’

      ‘Uh-huh.’

      ‘And you?’

      ‘And me what?’

      ‘Do you think I’m a babe?’

      ‘Well, as gorgeous as you are, I can tell your look hasn’t changed for decades. Side parting … bit conservative. It would surprise me if you didn’t have a pair of brown corduroy trousers in your wardrobe. You need to spice yourself up a bit.’

      She stopped to look at him, at his dark hair, his bright blue eyes and solid jaw. He was narrow at the waist and broad at the shoulders. He might have been a male model. Olly was the epitome of male good looks, handsome and attractive, and if she was in the market for a man then he’d be the type that she would go for.

      But I’m not. And I won’t.

      ‘You’re okay, though.’

      He laughed out loud, plumes of his warm breath freezing in the cold winter air. As she watched him chuckling to himself beside her, she felt a little twinge of regret that she’d sworn off men for good.

      Olly wasn’t sure what to make of Lula’s assessment of his character. He was amused and offended at the same time. What was wrong with having a pair of brown corduroys? They were comfortable and warm and … Oh. Sensible.

      Was he very sensible? Yes, he was, but he’d always thought of that as a strength. He was a loyal, dependable guy who enjoyed living a quiet life. Better than having to live in a big, noisy city, where no one talked to each other or looked out for their neighbours. Where there was no community spirit.

      Lula seemed to think that his life was a little too staid. A little too quiet. Genteel. But when you enjoyed living in a small community it was what you got used to. Lula’s arrival in the village, with her rainbow-splashed hair and joyful approach to life, was like dropping a lit firework into a dormant barrel of gunpowder.

      She would set off sparks and there would be implications.

      Some people might enjoy it. Some people might be glad of it—the village being woken up from its dreamy slumber.

       Will I like it?

      He liked her. He knew that already. She was bright and funny and clever, and he loved her attitude to life. But he couldn’t help but wonder if she would leave him feeling a bit … beige. He was so used to a quiet life—answering to no one but himself, really—and he’d resigned himself to the fact that the right woman hadn’t come along … He’d always figured he’d end up running the practice when his dad retired. The business would be his. Everyone would expect him to carry on and he’d do it—easily, without complaint …

      But what if he couldn’t? What if Lula was exactly the sort of person he needed in his life before he lived the entire thing having never done anything challenging or exciting?

      He didn’t like to think she would make him feel his life was lacking in flavour.

      He didn’t like to think that she would disapprove of his life.

      He wanted to prove her wrong.

      It was nice and warm in the surgery. The receptionist made them cups of tea and Olly gave Lula a quick tour. He showed her where her consulting room was, and then they went to his and he instructed her in how to log on to the computer system.

      Even though there’d been that morning’s drama and they were a little behind, and the waiting room was