‘Then they’re staying unresolved.’
‘Right.’ There was a moment’s silence while each of them regrouped. Figured out where to go from here. Finally…
‘You’re telling me you’ve done all my work?’ Alistair said cautiously, and Sarah practically groaned in relief. They were back to being medical colleagues. It was a relationship she could cope with. She couldn’t cope with anything more.
He even sounded as if he intended to be nice again.
Well, two could go down that path.
‘Yep.’ She even managed a smile. ‘Plus your ward round. Mr Carter’s heart is behaving itself. Don dropped in and had his shoulder checked-he’s doing nicely. It looks to me as if it’s only the result of his major fall-I doubt it’ll end up being a chronic problem. How’s your guy under the tractor?’
‘He’s okay. He was pushed into soft dirt. He had breathing trouble until we got the thing off him, but once the pressure was off he recovered almost immediately. He has two broken ribs. I’ve put him into hospital for observation but he should be fine.’
‘Lucky.’
‘He is.’ Alistair’s gaze was thoughtful. His eyes were appraising her. ‘Are you tired?’
‘Why should I be tired?’ She was ready to spring onto the defensive.
But he was still in nice mode. ‘You’ve had a long day.’
She glanced at her watch. ‘It’s only six.’
‘And you’ve just knocked back a dinner invitation.’
‘So I did,’ she said, finally relaxing a little. Alistair seemed to have moved on-away from the hurtfulness of a past that was almost unbearable-and if he was prepared to do that then she was only too glad to follow. ‘I liked the idea of beach and lobster, but the beer and seduction bit was maybe a spot over the top.’
‘So if I said lobster and beach, with no seduction included…?’
‘Anyone who says lobster and beach has my complete compliance,’ she told him. ‘Lobster, beach. Two of my very favourite things. In fact, if I hadn’t been so scared of scary things I’d be on the beach right now.’
‘Scary things?’
‘The beach was deserted this afternoon,’ she told him. ‘It looked gorgeous, but with no lifesaver in sight and no one in the water I assumed there must be at least half a dozen lethal-type stingers like box jellyfish lurking out there.’
‘They don’t come in at this time of the year.’
‘Then why isn’t the town swimming?’
‘It’s a normal school day,’ he told her. ‘The townspeople are working. The fishermen are in port, but the last thing they want when they’re in port is any more sea. And anyone who has any free time is out searching. Not wasting time swimming.’
‘Well,’ she said, meeting his gaze square-on, ‘that’s put me in my place properly, hasn’t it?’ She gave him a half-hearted smile. ‘You’re very good at it.’
‘I don’t have a clue what your place is.’
Silence. Neither knew where to take it from there. But…he had said lobster and beach…
‘Cooked lobster?’ she queried, and the tension eased off again as he smiled.
‘Yep. One of the fishermen who’s just come in cooked up a batch this afternoon. He always keeps me some. It saves me from Mrs Granson’s interminable casseroles for a day or so.’
‘You know,’ she said thoughtfully, ‘you could always learn to cook.’
‘I need a wife,’ he said-and the twinkle was suddenly back behind his eyes again. She liked it, she thought. More. She loved it. Well, she must. Grant had had just that same twinkle.
No. It was different. Grant’s twinkle had led to nothing but disaster. Alistair’s twinkle promised teasing and lobster and a swim. Nothing more.
‘I need a wife, too,’ she said, responding to his smile. ‘Anything to save me from a casserole like last night’s. But if it’s only you that’s offering…well, Dr Benn, I accept you and your lobster as a wife substitute.’
‘Thanks very much,’ he said faintly, and she grinned.
‘Any time. Lobster, eh? Is it a large lobster?’
‘Maybe it can even be stretched to two lobsters.’
‘You’re definitely wife material,’ she told him. ‘Lead on.’
The beach was magic.
The tide here was huge, which meant that at low tide there was almost three hundred yards of golden sand. The tide was coming in now, though, which meant it took only fifty or sixty yards to reach the water. Sarah walked onto the sand, looked out at the waves lapping the shore and simply shed her clothes as a butterfly shed its cocoon. Her bikini was underneath, but, watching her, Alistair thought she was almost unaware of it.
She was certainly unaware of him. She’d walked down here by his side, with Flotsam bouncing next to her. Her face had been tilted to the sun and she’d seemed almost oblivious to his presence.
Which was a huge difference for him.
The Benn twins had been born good-looking. There had never been a dearth of women in their lives, and Grant had moved from one fabulous-looking woman to the next. Alistair had always been more selective, and so far there’d never been a woman who’d attracted him enough to make him want to commit to marriage, but he had always been aware that women were attracted to him.
Maybe that was why Grant had been infatuated with Sarah, he thought. Sure, she was gorgeous-and, sure, her father was so rich he could afford to give his daughter anything, which would have appealed to Grant enormously- but there was something more. Grant had offered her marriage. He’d told Alistair that this was the one and maybe Alistair could see why.
She might be rich, but she didn’t flaunt it. She might be spoiled rotten by indulgent parents, but she was a hardworking doctor who pulled her weight and expected no concessions to her status.
And she hardly seemed aware of the fact that any man’s hormones would start an immediate riot the minute she walked in the door.
He stood on the shoreline for a while, watching as Flotsam barked in hysteria and Sarah splashed the little dog and laughed at him until he gave up and started chasing gulls instead. Then she turned to face out to sea, seemed to gather herself, and dived under the first wave and started swimming strongly.
She swam the same way she approached life-with confidence and expertise. Her lithe body sliced effortlessly through the surf.
He watched.
Flotsam came haring up the beach, shaking water all over his legs, and he laughed and bent to pat the little dog.
‘You think I should go in and join her?’
Of course he did. They both did.
But joining her would be a bit difficult. She was lapping the beach, swimming steadily up and down the limits of the little cove. Outer reefs protected this beach. The surf was mild and kind. You could swim for hours.
She could swim for hours.
‘And what fun is that?’ Alistair asked Flotsam. ‘How do we distract her?’
Why would he want to distract her?
Impossible question to answer. All he knew was that he did want to do just that, and he had the means right in the picnic basket.
He lifted the cloth and removed a couple of bread rolls. ‘They’re not for you,’ he told Flotsam. ‘They’re to make the lady play.’
He was standing in a washing machine.
Sarah turned for a repeat lap of the cove and her attention was caught. Alistair was standing waist-deep in the surf and the water around him was a white, churning, maelstrom of movement. Silver slivers were leaping around him-the whole sea looked alive to within twelve feet of the man.
Entranced, she found her feet and stared, breast-deep in the water and fifty feet from the action.
