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‘Yes.’ Joel glanced between them, his gaze questioning. ‘What’s wrong with that?’
‘Forget it. She’s not your type,’ Nick said slowly, his expression serious for once. ‘In fact, she’s definitely not your type.’
‘I disagree,’ Joel drawled, a strange gleam in his eye as he looked at his brother. ‘From what I’ve seen, she’s definitely my type. She’s gorgeous.’
‘I didn’t say she wasn’t gorgeous.’ Nick’s mouth tightened. ‘She is gorgeous. But she’s also sweet and gentle and definitely not able to cope with someone like you.’
‘Surely that’s up to her to decide.’
Nick shook his head. ‘Don’t even go there, Joel, don’t even think about it.’
Unfortunately it wasn’t that simple.
He’d thought about little else since he’d seen her bending over the injured motorcyclist, her cheeks pink in the frozen air and her expression troubled.
‘She came here for some peace and quiet and to escape some hassle she was having,’ Michael told him, his face as serious as Nick’s, ‘so she doesn’t need any more from you.’
‘Whoa! Dismount from your charger, will you?’ Joel lifted a hand and looked at them curiously. He’d never seen his brothers quite so protective of anyone before. ‘I don’t want to give her hassle.’
‘No. We know exactly what you want to give her,’ Nick said shortly, walking across the room and pausing with his hand on the door, ‘and you can forget it, buster. You lay one hand on her—just one finger—and I’ll knock you out cold.’
Joel’s eyes gleamed and his fists tightened by his sides. ‘You mean you’ll try.’
‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, grow up!’ Richard Whittaker looked at his sons impatiently. ‘Haven’t the three of you got anything better to do than regress to boyhood? Nick, get on with your calls.’
Nick gave a good-natured smile and waggled his finger at his brother. ‘You have been warned. Anyway, she’s one of Mum’s projects, so you won’t be let near her.’
Nick left the room, leaving Joel to digest his last remark. A real sucker for causes, his mother was always rescuing waifs and strays—animals and people.
‘What’s Mum got to do with Lucy?’
‘She and Dad interviewed her for the job.’ Michael reached for his jacket and ran his hands through his hair. ‘You know Mum. Always a sucker for a sob story, and apparently Lucy’s is worse than most.’
Was it?
Joel leaned his broad shoulders against the wall and looked at his brother thoughtfully.
That would explain a great deal.
Like the sadness in her eyes and the reason she hadn’t wanted to give him her details.
He was experienced enough with women to know when someone was attracted to him, and Lucy had been attracted to him.
But she hadn’t wanted to be.
Suddenly he was intrigued. ‘So what’s her story?’ He asked the question casually but he didn’t feel casual at all. In fact, he felt more serious than he’d felt for a long time.
Maybe ever…
Michael shrugged. ‘Don’t know. Mum refuses to discuss it. All we know is she’s got—’
There was a tap on the door and Ros stuck her head round. ‘I’ve got two urgent calls and Lucy needs someone to see a patient.’
‘Add the calls to my list.’ Michael stood up.
Joel did the same. He glanced at his father. ‘I’ll see Lucy’s patient.’
Richard frowned. ‘Joel…’
