Read Online Heartbeat (Medical Romance) by Anna Ramsay - Free Book Online
Authors: Anna Ramsay
Tags: Romance
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pillow, the groans becoming sighs of weariness.
At last the doctor spoke, and his voice was quiet with a relief which Jenni readily shared. 'He'll be OK. We can leave him to sleep it off and then he can go back to his home.'
He opened the door and waited for Jenni. 'Come on, milkmaid, time to get the next show on the road.'
Jenni walked past him with her nose in the air. I know your game, you’re trying to provoke me so you can tell Paul I don't fit in with your precious team. Well, you're going to be disappointed because I plan to stay cool till I've been here long enough to prove my worth. After that, Ross the Boss, when the time comes I shall ex-plode!
Chapter Four
'I f it’s not a cheeky question' said Jenni at supper that night, 'what exactly is this?'
‘Goat's meat stew,’ said Paul. 'Often on the menu,' he said, adding with a wink, 'unfortunately. Seconds, Ross?’
The doctor was sitting opposite them at the long trestle table. He shook his head.
'It’s bit like eating stringy chewing gum,' muttered Jenni, massaging an aching jaw.
Matt looked up from his laden plate and guffawed. 'Dead right, babe!'
They were serving themselves from a giant stewpot, adding a helping of the thick maize porridge called ugali . Matt handed along a dish of sliced carrots and spinach. 'Try this—real good.'
'When I first came out here,’ Paul reminisced, ‘what I missed most was Jenni's mother's home cooking. Ah, those potato soups … and the Irish stews simmering on the Aga.'
‘And the porridge,’ she reminded him eagerly, ‘remember how you loved Mum’s porridge.’
The doctor was listening with acute silent interest, those deep-set steel-grey eyes settling upon her with that heavy gaze. So Paul was there at breakfast-time too … interesting! She could just imagine the way his mind was working as he sussed out what was going on in her relationship with the mission priest . Well it wasn't as if Paul was a monk who had taken special vows or anything. He could do as he damn well liked, and so could she.
'All credit,' Paul was saying to the table at large, 'to our dear Sisters who've done a terrific job improving the menus. The occasional lapse is good for the soul.'
'Sole!’ sighed Sister Joanna. ‘Oh for a freshly grilled Dover sole with a nice crisp green salad.'
Jenni tittered. Ross McDonnell's scrutiny was making her peculiarly nervous.
Declining the fresh dates, she escaped from the supper table and investigated the small library of paperbacks shelved in a quiet corner of the L-shaped room.
Here was the one place in the Mission which conjured up visions of Old Colonial days with the ceiling fans and spindly bamboo tables. Earthenware pots of tall green palms and basket chairs lined with faded batik cushions. Jenni picked out a dog-eared novel and settled in one of the creaky chairs, her red cotton mini-skirt riding up over her pale freckled thighs. She looked over her book at Paul, admiring his tough physique revealed now he was out of his cassock and clad in the usual bush gear of khaki shorts and shirt, sleeves rolled up over his strong brown arms and his rugby-player legs … perhaps not quite as ‘ wow! ’ as in the old days, but still worth eyeballing.
'What's that you're supposed to be reading?' asked Ross, observant as ever, heavy emphasis on the ‘supposed.’ His hand closed firmly over her own and tilted the book's cover towards the light. He read the title and gave a snort of amusement.
Jenni snatched her hand away and the paperback fell to the floor, cover upwards. “Where Angels Fear To Tread.”
Damn and blast, why hadn’t she chosen the Dickens! ‘You wouldn’t like it,’ she retorted, ‘too many long words.’
Ross laughed and said amiably enough, ‘I brought your coffee over.’ He settled himself with a creak of wickerwork into the chair beside her. Everyone else was out of earshot.
What did he want with her? Why couldn't he leave her in peace?
'Rum do, that uchavi
At last the doctor spoke, and his voice was quiet with a relief which Jenni readily shared. 'He'll be OK. We can leave him to sleep it off and then he can go back to his home.'
He opened the door and waited for Jenni. 'Come on, milkmaid, time to get the next show on the road.'
Jenni walked past him with her nose in the air. I know your game, you’re trying to provoke me so you can tell Paul I don't fit in with your precious team. Well, you're going to be disappointed because I plan to stay cool till I've been here long enough to prove my worth. After that, Ross the Boss, when the time comes I shall ex-plode!
Chapter Four
'I f it’s not a cheeky question' said Jenni at supper that night, 'what exactly is this?'
‘Goat's meat stew,’ said Paul. 'Often on the menu,' he said, adding with a wink, 'unfortunately. Seconds, Ross?’
The doctor was sitting opposite them at the long trestle table. He shook his head.
'It’s bit like eating stringy chewing gum,' muttered Jenni, massaging an aching jaw.
Matt looked up from his laden plate and guffawed. 'Dead right, babe!'
They were serving themselves from a giant stewpot, adding a helping of the thick maize porridge called ugali . Matt handed along a dish of sliced carrots and spinach. 'Try this—real good.'
'When I first came out here,’ Paul reminisced, ‘what I missed most was Jenni's mother's home cooking. Ah, those potato soups … and the Irish stews simmering on the Aga.'
‘And the porridge,’ she reminded him eagerly, ‘remember how you loved Mum’s porridge.’
The doctor was listening with acute silent interest, those deep-set steel-grey eyes settling upon her with that heavy gaze. So Paul was there at breakfast-time too … interesting! She could just imagine the way his mind was working as he sussed out what was going on in her relationship with the mission priest . Well it wasn't as if Paul was a monk who had taken special vows or anything. He could do as he damn well liked, and so could she.
'All credit,' Paul was saying to the table at large, 'to our dear Sisters who've done a terrific job improving the menus. The occasional lapse is good for the soul.'
'Sole!’ sighed Sister Joanna. ‘Oh for a freshly grilled Dover sole with a nice crisp green salad.'
Jenni tittered. Ross McDonnell's scrutiny was making her peculiarly nervous.
Declining the fresh dates, she escaped from the supper table and investigated the small library of paperbacks shelved in a quiet corner of the L-shaped room.
Here was the one place in the Mission which conjured up visions of Old Colonial days with the ceiling fans and spindly bamboo tables. Earthenware pots of tall green palms and basket chairs lined with faded batik cushions. Jenni picked out a dog-eared novel and settled in one of the creaky chairs, her red cotton mini-skirt riding up over her pale freckled thighs. She looked over her book at Paul, admiring his tough physique revealed now he was out of his cassock and clad in the usual bush gear of khaki shorts and shirt, sleeves rolled up over his strong brown arms and his rugby-player legs … perhaps not quite as ‘ wow! ’ as in the old days, but still worth eyeballing.
'What's that you're supposed to be reading?' asked Ross, observant as ever, heavy emphasis on the ‘supposed.’ His hand closed firmly over her own and tilted the book's cover towards the light. He read the title and gave a snort of amusement.
Jenni snatched her hand away and the paperback fell to the floor, cover upwards. “Where Angels Fear To Tread.”
Damn and blast, why hadn’t she chosen the Dickens! ‘You wouldn’t like it,’ she retorted, ‘too many long words.’
Ross laughed and said amiably enough, ‘I brought your coffee over.’ He settled himself with a creak of wickerwork into the chair beside her. Everyone else was out of earshot.
What did he want with her? Why couldn't he leave her in peace?
'Rum do, that uchavi
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