Letting Go With Dr Rodriguez. Fiona Lowe

Ignacio had chosen on their arrival at Sydney airport, into his arms and then tucked in the sheet and light blanket around him. Pressing a kiss to his forehead, he whispered, ‘I love you. Sleep well.’

      ‘I love you, too, Papá.’

      Marco closed the door behind him and walked directly to the kitchen. Heather had prepared a plate of cold chicken and salad for him and as he poured himself a glass of wine to accompany the food, he wished he was eating a thick steak straight off the barbecue instead of yet another cold meal. Of course, he could fire up the grill and cook one, but he lacked the energy. Bulla Creek, the place he’d come to as a sanctuary and for a new start, was wearing him out.

      As he ate, he glanced at the calendar, mentally calculating how long William had been out of action. It felt disloyal to wish his colleague and mentor back at his desk when he clearly didn’t feel up to it and yet if William could give just two hours a day to see the straightforward cases it would ease Marco’s load considerably.

      Lucy Patterson is a doctor. You could ask her to help.

      No. He pushed his plate away and took a long gulp of his wine as the combined image of wild, grey eyes and pale cheeks stained with pink hit him. It was instantly followed up with the backhander of a lush-red, pouting and highly kissable mouth. His blood pounded more than a fraction faster.

      He quickly stood up and stowed his plate in the dishwasher as if movement would empty his mind of her. It galled him that his body had decided to come alive in the presence of a woman who looked like a fragile porcelain doll, but in personality was the exact opposite. Plus, she came with questionable professional ethics. A lesser man would have melted under the incensed fire blazing from those eyes, which had flared when he’d denied her access to the computer.

      His palms suddenly glowed hot, reliving the soft warmth of her skin where he’d touched her arms. Skin that covered surprisingly taut muscles that had hinted at some weight-work. That he’d lifted her out of the way still shocked him, but he’d acted out of loyalty to William. William was his patient and he knew nothing of Lucy.

      William didn’t speak of her and Sue had sighed when she’d reluctantly handed over the email address saying, ‘He won’t be happy about this and she should know better.’ At the time, he’d been intent on getting some help for William and by default for himself so Marco hadn’t given Sue’s statement much thought. However, now he’d met Lucy Patterson, he wondered if it was her conduct as a doctor that was the issue that lay between her and her father. William was one of the most principled and professional doctors Marco had ever worked with and he couldn’t imagine him condoning any behaviour that went against his code of practice.

      No, it was enough that William would resent his intrusion in summoning his daughter without Marco adding to it by asking her to work in the clinic. He couldn’t in all conscience have someone in the practice who ignored protocol. No, Lucy Patterson wasn’t the answer to his problems.

      Decision made, he took his wine out onto the back deck which overlooked the surrounding rocky hills and breathed in the sweet, cool evening air that slid in over the fading heat. Out here, he could usually shed some of the pressures that plagued him, but not tonight. As he watched the night star rise in the darkening sky, his thoughts spun out to Argentina and to his parents who were anxious to join him in Bulla Creek the moment he was granted permanent residency and he could legally sponsor them. They missed their grandson. His thoughts bounced back to Ignacio’s heartbreak. He let his head fall back on that grief, feeling it moving through him again, just like it had years before, and then suddenly, without any bidding, an image of Lucy Patterson’s curvaceous behind swooped in sending all other thoughts scattering.

      Swearing in Spanish, he stood up and walked inside.

      Lucy repaired her makeup in the car using the tiny mirror on the visor and then ran a brush through her hair. The yellow light gave her a jaundiced look and she pinched her cheeks trying to infuse some colour. She should have checked into the motel, but she really didn’t want to meet anyone she knew until she’d spoken to William. She stared at her pale face. ‘Lucy Jane whoever-you-are, it’s time.’

      Stepping out onto the sweeping, circular driveway outside Haven, the gravel crunched under her feet and she stared up at the house. The stone and iron cottage with its whitewashed window sills and decorative wooden veranda rails stood as it had for the last one hundred and thirty years. It had been her home from the age of one when her parents had moved with her to Bulla Creek, and right up until she’d left for university. After that it had been her haven when life in Perth pressed in on her, and she’d run home for some rest, relaxation and general cosseting.

      All that had changed and now it was a house associated with heartache. Part of her wanted to knock on the front door to emphasise her visitor status, but it was a long walk from the back of the house and no matter how furious she was with William, he would be on crutches. She didn’t want him to walk further than necessary so she walked around the side of the house, opened the squeaky gate and entered the cottage garden. The scent of lavender hit her nostrils and she breathed in deeply, trying to use its calming properties. To her left, an enormous grapevine grew over a frame, providing shade to what William had always called ‘their outdoor living room’.

      Her gaze extended beyond the deck, through the large, glass doors and into the kitchen. She saw William sitting at the long, Baltic pine table, with crutches resting on one end as well as a cane. A book lay in front of him, and he held a glass in his hand. Her heart rolled over despite itself. When had he got old? The last time she’d seen him his hair had had flecks of silver streaking through the black. Now all his hair was silver grey.

      Go in, talk to him, and make sure he’s okay.

      She tossed her head as she grumbled quietly to herself. ‘Yes, I’m going inside but after that, I’m checking into the motel.’

      Blowing out a breath, she tried to capture a semblance of composure because everything to do with William always generated a mass of contradictory feelings. She rolled her shoulders back, raised her hand, knocked and walked in.

      ‘Hello, William.’

      The man she’d called her father for twenty-six years looked up from his book, shock draining his face of colour. ‘Lucy.’ He stared at her and blinked, as if he didn’t believe his eyes, and then slowly his mouth curved up into a wide and familiar smile. ‘What a wonderful surprise.’

      She bit her lip, not knowing what to say because ‘Just passing through, thought I’d drop in’ didn’t allow for the seven hundred kilometre journey from Perth. She tilted her head toward the crutches. ‘You’ve been in the wars.’

      He raised his leg, the cast white against the dark material of his trousers, and gave a self-deprecating grimace. ‘Came off my bike dodging a kangaroo. Big red hopped away and now I’m hopping too.’

      His humour circled her like it always had—warm and loving—but she refused to give in to it because being a doctor was so much easier than the minefield of being his daughter. ‘So I see. Any other damage besides a fractured tibia?’

      His smile faded slightly. ‘How do you know I have a fractured tibia? I haven’t mentioned what bones I broke.’

      Busted. But she had no qualms telling him the truth because she had no need to protect the source, especially given what had happened. ‘Your Spanish doctor emailed me.’

      For some reason her face felt suddenly hot, which was crazy because she hadn’t even said the man’s name. However, since she’d stormed out of the clinic, each time she’d thought about the raven-haired, accented doctor, this heat-fest flared inside her. She wanted it to stop.

      ‘He’s not Spanish. He’s from Argentina.’ William’s face sagged, making him look more haggard than ever. ‘So, the only reason you’re in Bulla Creek is because Marco asked you to come?’

      She shrugged trying not to let his palpable hurt touch her. She was hurting too, only her reason was much bigger and more life-altering than his. ‘I’m here to make sure you’re getting