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He smacked his hand on his forehead. ‘I’m sorry, Gemma. I hadn’t even considered Isla. We’ll need to have a look at the rota.’
She shrugged her shoulders. ‘There’s not much you can do. It’s only for the next six weeks. I guess I’ll just have to cope.’
But the guilt was gnawing away at him. He hadn’t been entirely truthful as he’d given her the tour. Isla just hadn’t entered into his radar at all.
This was the problem with being a single guy with no other responsibilities. Work was his only real consideration in life. Once he had that covered, he didn’t think about much else. ‘Yeah, well, about that...’
‘What?’ Her eyes had widened, giving him an even better view of just what a warm brown they were. She was much smaller than him, maybe around five feet two or three? The kind of small woman that men like him usually wanted to protect. It was instinctual.
But he had the strangest feeling that Gemma Halliday was the kind of woman that didn’t want to be protected. She was more likely to kick you in the groin than cower in a corner.
‘How about I show you where the canteen is in here?’ He tried to guide her along the corridor. From the look of her small frame, the chances were slim that he could fob her off with coffee and cake but it was worth a try.
* * *
Gemma was suspicious. She could practically see Logan Scott shuffling his feet like some nervous teenager waiting to tell you that they’d smashed the car or broken a window. He’d been quite straightforward up until this point, so she had a pretty good idea she wouldn’t like what he had to say.
She let him guide her down the corridor towards the canteen. Coffee sounded good right about now. The hospital set-up looked fine. It was old, but it was clean and functional. The patients in the ward looked well cared for. The staff around here seemed efficient.
It was obvious she wouldn’t find the latest state-of-the-art technology here but, then again, why would she need it? They had X-ray facilities and an ultrasound scanner. An emergency theatre that she hoped she would never see the inside of, and a way to transport the sickest patients off the island.
Logan pushed open the door in front of them and held it open. It took around two seconds for her senses to be assaulted by the smell of prime-time baking. ‘Wow. What do they make in here?’
He pointed at the counter. ‘Della makes cakes every day. And you can make requests if you find a favourite and want it on a particular day.’
She couldn’t help but smile. ‘And what’s your request?’
His answer was instant. ‘The carrot cake...or the cheese scones...or the strawberry tarts—they’re giant. Not like the ones you would buy elsewhere.’
They’d reached the counter. It was clear that anyone who set foot in here wouldn’t want to leave. Piles of freshly baked scones and crumpets, some tray bakes and a whole array of cakes. Gemma didn’t hesitate, she leaned over and picked up a fruit scone. It was still warm. She could practically taste it already.
‘What kind of coffee?’ Logan was poised at the coffee machine. Gemma pointed at the china mugs he was holding.
‘What, no plastic cups?’
He shook his head in mock disgust. ‘On Arran? Not a chance. Everything is served in china over here.’
‘I’ll have a latte, thanks.’
She waited until he’d filled the two cups and they settled at a table, looking out across the hospital gardens, which were trimmed, neat with lots of colourful flower beds.
Gemma started cutting open her scone and spreading butter and jam. ‘What? Never seen a woman eat before, Logan? Stop gawping.’
He smiled as he started on his carrot cake. ‘You don’t look like the kind of girl that eats cakes.’
There it was again. His directness. Sneaking in when you least expected it. ‘Because I’m small?’
He sipped his cappuccino and wrinkled his nose. It was obvious he was trying to wind her up a little. Playing with her. Obviously hoping to soften her up for what was to come. ‘You’re not small, Gemma. You’re vertically challenged.’
She raised her eyebrows. ‘Really?’
‘Yip.’ He leaned back in his chair. ‘That’s my professional opinion.’ His long legs stretched out under the table, brushing next to her own. What was that? That little tremor of something she’d just felt? It had been so long since she’d had time to even have a man on her radar that she didn’t even know how these things worked these days.
His shirt was pale blue, almost like a thin denim, with a few wrinkles around the elbows and open at the collar, revealing some light curling hairs.
She was trying to place who he looked like. But the tiny blond tips of his hair were throwing her. That was it. He needed a captain’s uniform. He looked like that new young guy they’d drafted in for the latest Star Trek movie. If his hair was only the tiniest shade darker he could be a clone.
She took a bite of the scone. Just as she’d suspected. Delicious. She leaned back in her chair. ‘I think I’m just about to put on two stone.’
He smiled. ‘The food here is good. If you have any special requests or dietary issues, just let them know.’
She raised her eyebrow. ‘Dietary issues? Trying to tell me something, Logan?’
He shook his head swiftly. ‘I wouldn’t dare.’
Her eyes narrowed slightly. ‘Okay, then, out with it. You’ve obviously kept the bombshell for last. Hit me with it.’
His eyes drifted away from her and he fixated on something outside. ‘Yeah...about that.’
‘About what?’ Her voice was firm. How bad could this be?
He shifted in his seat. ‘You know how I told you that if A and E is quiet the doctor will cover the ward patients too?’
She nodded. ‘Yes.’ She was feeling very wary of him now.
‘Well, it kind of works both ways.’
She felt the hairs standing up at the back of her neck. ‘What do you mean?’
He stared at her. With those big blue eyes that could be very distracting if you let them.
‘I mean that if the A and E doc gets snowed under, then they usually call us out for some assistance.’ He was visibly cringing as he said the words. Obviously waiting for the fallout.
She ran her tongue along her dry lips. He was worried. And a tiny part of that amused her.
She’d only agreed to help out for six weeks. She would only have a few on-calls. How bad could this be? Maybe she should make him sweat a little. After all, he had been quite presumptuous so far.
She picked up her scone and regarded him carefully. ‘Think carefully before you answer the next question, Logan. I can tell you right now that if you spoil my scone, this could all end in tears.’ She took a little bite. Was he holding his breath? ‘Exactly how many times does the A and E doc call you out?’
Logan shifted again. ‘Well, in the winter, hardly ever. Maybe once every six weeks.’
She knew exactly where this was going. ‘And in the summer?’
He gave a little frown and a shrug of his shoulders. ‘Probably...most nights?’
‘What?’ Her voice had just gone up about three octaves. He had to be joking. ‘Every night?’
His head was giving little nods. No wonder he’d worried about telling her. ‘More or less.’
She put her scone back down on her plate, her appetite instantly forgotten. This was going to be far more complicated than she could possibly have expected.
Logan held up his hands. ‘Look, Gemma. I’m sorry. I hadn’t really taken Isla into the equation. I’m so used to being on my own I didn’t even consider the impact it would have on her. I mean, you are a single parent, aren’t you? You don’t have another half that’s going to appear in the next few weeks?’
There it was again. His presumptions. And was she mistaken or did he sound vaguely happy—as well as apologetic—about the situation?
And why did she care? This guy, with his rolled-up sleeves revealing his tanned arms, was giving her constant distractions.
Like that one. Since when did she notice a man’s tanned arms? Or the blond tips in his hair? Or the fact he might resemble a movie star?
She’d been so focused for the last five years. Every single bit of her pent-up energy had been invested in Isla. In the fight to keep her, and all the hard work that went along with being a single parent, working full-time.
She hadn’t even had time to look in the mirror, let alone look around her and notice any men.
