Marrying the Millionaire Doctor. Alison Roberts

like fear.

      ‘Susie Jackson.’ It was Charles’s voice. Calm and strong. A reassurance all by itself. ‘Our esteemed physiotherapist, Alex. She and Stella have made a formidable team this week.’

      ‘Charles!’ Alex slipped his mobile phone into the pocket of his trousers and extended his hand to greet the man now beside Stella. ‘Good to see you.’

      ‘And you, Alex. We’re delighted you were able to make it.’

      ‘Good timing, having the opening on while Stella’s here for camp. It’s about time I saw the place that’s made such a difference to my only child’s life.’

      ‘Not to mention meeting the people.’ Charles’s smile drew Susie into the exchange. ‘We’re lucky there were no last-minute emergencies to keep you in Sydney this time.’

      The pocket holding the cellphone got patted. ‘There are always emergencies, Charles, as I’m sure you know only too well.’ A determined intake of breath suggested resolution. Had he been dealing with difficulties in his unit even as he’d been taking his first steps onto the jetty? ‘This time I told them they’d just have to cope without me.’

      The charming smile was back but it had no effect on Susie. She wasn’t prepared to make allowances for professional hassles. She was getting a rather clear picture of how important this man considered himself and his career and, in her opinion, Stella should be a long way further up his list of priorities.

      It was, quite simply, not good enough.

      ‘I might even turn my mobile off,’ Alex said.

      Susie almost snorted.

      ‘Good thinking,’ Charles said mildly. He swivelled to look over his shoulder. ‘There’s a cart on the way to take you to the resort but if you’re not too hot, I could give you a quick tour of the centre.’

      Susie found herself nodding agreement. Disappear for a while, she encouraged silently. Let me see if I can repair the damage here.

      No such luck.

      ‘We’ll go to the hotel first,’ Alex said crisply. ‘I can’t have my daughter out looking like—’

      ‘Like what?’ Stella’s voice rose and there was more than a hint of tears in it. ‘What’s so wrong with the way I look, Dad? Susie said…’ Her voice trailed away. Was it too hard to utter the notion that she looked gorgeous?

      ‘Susie said what?’

      Alex flicked another glance at his daughter’s physiotherapist. His gaze dropped from her loose, shoulder- length hair, which always went a bit too curly with salt water and sunshine, to take in the soft singlet top she wore beneath an unbuttoned shirt, the sleeves of which were rolled up past her elbows. Dropped again, to denim shorts with frayed hems that did nothing to hide the length of her well-tanned legs.

      Susie flushed. It wasn’t a particularly professional- looking uniform but things were never overly formal in Crocodile Creek, and she was on an island right now with a bunch of kids who were having a holiday. A break from lives that centred around debilitating and sometimes fatal illnesses.

      They were here to have fun and her role was to help them only as much as necessary. To encourage severely asthmatic children to keep up their breathing exercises. To provide maintenance therapy to those suffering from cystic fibrosis and cerebral palsy. And, yes, she had stepped over the boundary of maintenance therapy with Stella, but if she hadn’t, Stella would have stayed on the outskirts. Hiding from the other children. From life. From having any fun at all.

      And her father wanted to send her back into that dark space? Susie’s chin went up the same way Stella’s had. She cleared her throat and was pleased with how firmly she spoke.

      ‘I said she looked absolutely gorgeous.’

      Her defiance was clearly infuriating.

      ‘She looks,’ Alex hissed, ‘like a tart.’

      Stella gasped. ‘That’s a horrible thing to say. How could you?’

      Alex closed his eyes for a moment. He took a deep breath. When he opened his eyes again, his expression had softened. He raised his hand in a gesture of apology. ‘I’m sorry, latria, but you’re thirteen years old and I find you wearing underwear in public and with your face plastered with make-up. What did you expect me to think?’

      It wasn’t plastered. The make-up was discreet and enhancing. The result of rather long girly time in Susie’s cabin that afternoon. She opened her mouth to protest but Stella got in first.

      ‘I wish you hadn’t even come.’ The girl twisted under Susie’s arm, having either not registered or not accepted her father’s attempt at an apology. She was fishing for her crutches.

      Should Susie try and hang on to them? Let Stella show her father she could now manage to walk on her prosthesis—something she had refused to even attempt until this week?

      No. Stella was far too upset to remember how to keep her balance. To fall over now would only make her humiliation unbearable. Susie helped her fit a crutch to each arm, which took only seconds.

      Tears were streaming down Stella’s pale face as she looked up at her father.

      ‘Go home,’ she shouted. ‘I hate you.’

      With that, she turned deftly and manoeuvred herself past Charles, heading towards the end of the jetty.

      ‘Stella!’ The word was a command.

      One that was blatantly ignored. Stella was picking up speed now that she had reached the path. She was running away as fast an anyone could with a pair of elbow crutches and a below-knee amputation. The state-of-the-art prosthesis that looked so wonderfully realistic wasn’t touching the ground. It was back to being what it had been since its procurement. An aesthetic accessory.

      Susie rounded on Alex.

      ‘How could you?’

      His face emptied of an expression worn many times by any parent of a teenager. That baffled kind of look that asked how on earth things had got so out of hand. As he focused on Susie, his face became completely neutral. ‘Excuse me?’

      ‘Your daughter walked nearly fifty metres this morning without using those crutches. She couldn’t even stand without the crutches a week ago and we’ve worked incredibly hard to get this far.’ The words were tumbling out. A release of all the hurt and disappointment she felt on behalf of Stella. ‘That’s exactly what she was doing when you arrived and that’s what you should have noticed. Not the bloody make-up!’ Susie gave an incredulous huff and put all her own fury into the glare she was directing at Alex. ‘How could you?’ she repeated.

      There was a long moment of stunned silence. Susie had seen him flinch. She knew her words had found a target. Clearly, he was considering how to deal with such a personal attack.

      The pilot had stopped approaching some time back, obviously disconcerted by the sound of angry voices. He was peering at something over the edge of the jetty with studied interest.

      Tiny sounds became magnified. The lap of gentle waves breaking on the nearby beach. The cry of exotic birds in the rainforest. A distant shout and then the laughter of children.

      The heat was intolerable.

      It wasn’t a tropical sun that was burning Susie right now, however. The heat was emanating from the man in front of her. His sheer energy was overpowering. Not simply anger. Anyone could get angry, especially a parent who had been publicly defied and then criticised. No. The power here came from anger underlined with a heady mix of intelligence, position and…and the most potent masculinity Susie Jackson had ever encountered.

      She had never met anyone like this in her entire life.