The Doctor's Unexpected Proposal. Alison Roberts

she? With a quick glance to his left, Mike stopped feeling proud of himself and felt proud of Emily instead. You’d never think it to look at her—she wouldn’t look out of place behind an information desk in an academic library or some other such serious place—but she was gutsy all right.

      Emily had seen him looking, so Mike did what came automatically and smiled at her.

      ‘OK, babe?’

      She nodded but bent her head again quickly to stare through the small Perspex panel near her feet. ‘It’s really different from being in a plane, isn’t it? You can see so much more.’

      ‘Bird’s-eye view.’ Mike was relieved that Emily had remembered not to shout this time. She was a quick learner as well as gutsy.

      Moonlight bathed the outside world and visibility was great—with a ghostly but rather beautiful bleached effect. They were already past the sugar-cane plantations that surrounded the township of Crocodile Creek and over the foothills of rainforest-clad mountains now. The dense vegetation had been cleared in patches, and banana trees added to the tropical appearance of a landscape that Mike had grown up in and still loved with a passion.

      Checking his instruments, he banked to follow the main road that snaked towards the pass leading to the arid cattle country on the other side of the mountains. Emily squeaked softly and Mike could see her fingers sinking into the upholstery of her seat as the aircraft banked.

      ‘Don’t worry,’ he said cheerfully. ‘I’m not planning any aerobatics.’

      ‘Aren’t we going over the mountains? Like the plane does?’

      ‘Can if you want to, but the view’s better this way.’

      Grey-blue eyes were looking distinctly anxious again. ‘This thing can go high enough to get over the mountains, can’t it? If the weather gets bad or something?’

      ‘This is an MBB-Kawasaki BK-117,’ Mike informed her with an air of injured pride. ‘State-of-the-art rescue chopper. We’ve got a ceiling of 10,000 feet, a range of 338 miles with standard tankage, maximum speed of 174 miles per hour and a maximum climb rate of over 1700 feet per minute.’

      ‘Oh.’ Emily looked as though she was trying to do several mathematical calculations simultaneously. Her face brightened. ‘That’s OK, then, isn’t it?’

      ‘Yep.’ Mike couldn’t resist teasing her just a little. ‘We’ve got a thirty million candle-power nightsun, too. I can turn it on any time so you don’t need to be scared of the dark.’

      Emily snorted indignantly. ‘You’re the one who goes round spitting to ward off the evil eye, mate.’ She watched Mike adjust a control on the panel that sat between them. ‘Just out of idle curiosity, did you go round spitting on your helicopters when you were a member of that crack platoon or squadron or whatever you call them in the Special Air Services?’

      ‘Sure did.’

      ‘And what did your army buddies think about that?’

      Mike kept a straight face. ‘I suspect that anyone in the regiment that doesn’t spit for luck now gets left on the ground.’

      ‘Very unhygienic.’

      ‘Didn’t stop you doing it.’

      ‘No.’ He could hear the smile in her voice. ‘Well, sometimes you need a bit of luck.’ She was silent for a few seconds and then her tone became very wry. ‘Maybe I should spit on the next man to ask me out on a date.’

      ‘I wouldn’t advise it.’ It was hard to keep his own tone light. ‘Unless he’s Greek, of course.’

      Dammit, Emily was thinking about Simon bloody Kent again. Mike’s fingers curled more tightly around the control stick. The man had better not show his face in Crocodile Creek again, that was for sure. He’d never been good enough for Emily, anyone could have seen that, but she’d fallen for him and if the others had shared Mike’s reservations, seeing the sparkle that emanated from the quiet young physician had been more than enough to stop them saying anything.

      Mike decided he needed to distract Emily from her thoughts. ‘Sounds like that young girl must be pretty sick to collapse like that.’

      ‘She may have just had a spell of low blood pressure. If she’s been unwell and lying in bed for a few days without adequate food or fluid intake, she could well have fainted by standing up too quickly.’

      ‘Her father sounded pretty anxious.’

      ‘Charles will have stayed in contact with him. He’ll call us if there’s any significant change.’

      Emily fell silent as she watched the set of instruments on her side of the dashboard.

      ‘What’s that?’

      ‘Airspeed. In knots.’

      ‘And that one?’

      ‘Artificial horizon. Gives us our position in relation to the real horizon.’

      He kept answering the queries as Emily discovered the fuel gauge, engine temperature, altitude and vertical speed indicators.

      Now Emily was leaning towards him to examine the rest of the dials. ‘They’re exactly the same as the others!’

      ‘It’s a twin-engined craft. It would be possible to fit a second set of controls and have two pilots so there’s a duplicate set of instruments. Hey, maybe you should get your helicopter pilot’s licence.’

      Emily laughed. ‘Not in this lifetime, mate.’

      At least she wasn’t thinking about Simon the rat any more.

      It had lasted for months, that sparkle. If it hadn’t still been there when Marcella had ended her engagement to Mike and stormed off back to her native Italy six months after their arrival in Crocodile Creek, he would have…

      Would have what?

      Told Emily just how special he thought she was? That her living in and loving his home town had made an appearance on the list of why he hadn’t given in to Marcella’s ultimatum and left Crocodile Creek for ever?

      Not likely.

      Not when his ego had actually been rather dented by Marcella having dumped of him. Or when he’d never had a hint of anything more than friendship being available from Emily. And especially not when she was obviously still in love with Simon the cardiologist, whom she couldn’t see had no respect for hearts other than in their pumping capacity.

      Not many people knew just how patient he was capable of being, however. Or how highly he prized his friendships. However hard it was right now, he was not going to jeopardise a friendship or risk something even bigger by moving too fast. Or by telling Emily just how much better off she was without Simon in her life.

      And it was hard. As hard as it had been to watch that sparkle dimming and tendrils of unhappiness infiltrate Emily’s life over the last twelve months. She’d tried so hard to make the relationship work and Mike had been sorely tempted on more than one occasion to take her in his arms and tell her that Simon simply wasn’t worth the effort.

      Thank goodness he had trusted his instincts and left things to travel naturally to their inevitable conclusion. Emily needed to work things out for herself. To see what was staring her in the face and decide whether or not she wanted it.

      All Mike could do right now was to be there.

      And to be patient.

      The moonlight was even brighter as they neared their destination and it was quite light enough to appreciate the oasis that Wetherby Downs cattle station represented. The number of outbuildings and a cluster of what had to be staff accommodation made the hub of the station seem like a small village. A huge, majestic old homestead sat well to one side, isolated by a ring of irrigated lawns and gardens.

      ‘Wow, look at that!’ Emily breathed. ‘Almost medieval, isn’t it? The big manor-house and all