Rural nurse Meg Carter pounded urgently against the motel room door. Dr Cam McKenzie had checked in earlier that afternoon. Meg’s parents, who owned Halfmoon Bay Lodge, the boutique restaurant and accommodation establishment on New Zealand’s Stewart Island or Rakiura, had confirmed it. Meg worked her free evenings helping out in the restaurant, which was where she’d been when she received the medical call.
After endless-seeming seconds, the door opened to reveal an alarmed-looking Cam McKenzie, a tall, dark Scottish guy, one of the newest members of a team of visiting GPs who came to Stewart Island every other month to run patient clinics.
‘Meg. Is everything okay?’ he asked, his rich, distinctive accent caressing her eardrums. His dark hair was damp and disheveled as if he’d not long showered and had recently thrown on some clothes.
‘A tourist fell from the coastal tramping track at Horseshoe Point,’ she blurted, dispensing with unnecessary pleasantries. ‘His friends are bringing him to the health centre with a suspected fractured femur. Can you come?’
‘Of course.’ Cam grabbed his coat and followed Meg to the beat-up four-wheel drive emblazoned with the Halfmoon Bay Health logo.
‘Sorry to batter down your door,’ she said, dismissing the giddiness she felt at seeing the gorgeous Scot again. ‘I was working in the restaurant, and my parents told me you’d checked in, so I didn’t think you’d mind.’ She winced and shot Cam a sheepish smile. When it came to everyday health care on the island, Rural nurse specialist Meg was it. Misleadingly named as New Zealand’s third largest island, Rakiura boasted only four hundred and eleven permanent residents and no hospital.
‘I don’t mind,’ he said shooting her a look of astonishment as he clicked his seat belt into place. ‘But you’re a full-time nurse on an island with no resident doctor and you waitress in the evenings?’
‘I only waitress during tourist season,’ she replied, starting the engine and turning on the windscreen wipers against the drizzle. ‘There are thirty-two times as many kiwi on Stewart Island as there are people. Most human residents here have more than one job.’
‘Fair enough,’ he said, his deep brown eyes lingering on hers. ‘So what do we know about our casualty?’
‘Not much,’ she replied, flicking on the indicator and taking a left out of the lodge’s car park. ‘There’s no cell phone coverage on the Horseshoe Point track, so they carried their mate back to the car and called from the road, figuring it would be quicker to just bring him in.’
‘Sounds sensible.’
Meg nodded, admiring his calm and steady manner. He was a great GP.
Within minutes they reached the health centre. Meg opened up, quickly flicking on lights in the treatment room behind Reception. Together, she and Cam readied the room for the arrival of their casualty, cranking up the heating, pulling on gloves and setting up any equipment they might need. The room was small, but they managed to dance around each other in a co-ordinated fashion, as if they’d been working together for years, when in reality this was only the second time they’d met. But Meg was too focussed on work to worry about the occasional accidental but electrifying brush of his arm against hers.
‘Is it always this exhilarating here?’ Cam asked with a hint of his sexy smile.
‘Yes,’ she said, a sense of accomplishment washing over her. ‘I never feel truly off-duty. But I love my job.’ She’d been born on Stewart Island and had had no regrets about returning there after her ex had broken her heart.
‘I can see that.’
Meg returned his smile, the attraction she’d felt when they’d first met, building. ‘Yeah well, life on a remote, sparsely inhabited island in the Pacific Ocean isn’t all that bad.’ Especially when the island’s newest visiting GP was so easy to work with, as well as being very easy on the eye.
***
Cam had no time to enjoy working with wildly sexy local nurse, Meg. A shout from Reception announced the arrival of the injured tourist and his friends. Cam and Meg wheeled the stretcher out to meet the three young men, two of whom were carrying the third man between them.
‘His name is Finn,’ one of the rescuers said as Cam helped them lay the casualty on the stretcher.
Finn was conscious but drowsy and appeared confused, mumbling incoherently and groaning in pain.
‘Does he have any medical conditions?’ Meg asked the man’s friends.
‘Not that we know of.’
‘Take a seat in the waiting room,’ Meg instructed.
In the treatment room, Cam began his examination of Finn while Meg placed an oxygen mask over Finn’s face, attached a blood pressure cuff to his arm and a pulse oximeter to his finger. When she cut the damp trousers from his injured leg with scissors, the compound fracture of the femur gave both Meg and him pause. Their eyes met, the severity of Finn’s injury hitting home. Finn’s time on Stewart Island was over for now. With the nearest hospital fifty miles away on New Zealand’s South Island, he would need to be transported there by rescue helicopter.
‘Finn,’ Cam said, casting the blood pressure monitor a worried glance. ‘I need to take some blood and pop a needle into your arm, okay?’ The risk of bleeding out and shock with a fracture of this nature was significant.
Having already anticipated what he needed, Meg handed Cam a tourniquet and phlebotomy kit. Then she covered the open wound with sterile gaze and took Finn’s temperature, the two of them working together in harmony.
‘He’s hypothermic,’ she told Cam as he inserted an intravenous cannula. ‘Temperature is thirty-three degrees.’
‘That explains his confusion.’
With a nod, Meg quickly retrieved a foil blanket from the cupboard, draping it over Finn. Then she plugged in the intravenous fluid warmer and reached for a bag of saline.
‘Can you call Southern Rescue,’ Cam said about the rescue helicopter service that ran out of Invercargill while he took a closer look at the injured leg, feeling for Finn’s peripheral pulses in the foot.
‘Sure,’ she replied.
‘Let’s give him some antibiotics and analgesia first. Do you have a leg splint here?’
‘We have most things,’ Meg said, unlocking the drug’s cupboard and handing over the vials. ‘We might be small, but I’ve seen it all on this island, so I like to be prepared. I’m stubborn like that.’
She flicked him a quick smile and dashed out of the room to find that leg splint. Cam started the warmed infusion of intravenous fluids, painkillers and antibiotics, and Finn drifted into a fitful doze.
Meg returned with the leg splint, her cheeks flushed with excitement. ‘I’ve called Southern Rescue. They’ll be here in fifteen minutes.’
As they fitted the splint together and prepared their casualty for transportation to hospital, Cam watched Meg with fascination. Her compassion, intelligence and determination made her an excellent nurse. He’d fancied her from the moment they’d met on his first visit to the island, and he was looking forward to getting to know Meg a whole lot better.
***
As the Southern Rescue helicopter took their casualty over the Foveaux Strait, the sea separating Stewart Island from the larger South Island of New Zealand, Cam turned to Meg. ‘Well that was exciting.’
‘Thanks for your help,’ Meg said. ‘I know you’re here for clinics that start tomorrow, but I really appreciated the extra pair of hands.’
‘I’m always happy to help.’ He flicked her a smile. ‘If you don’t have a third job to rush off too, I’d like to buy you a drink so I can I pick your brains on how things work around here.’ This was his second visit to the remote but breathtaking island, and mentally, he still had to pinch himself at how at home he felt down here at the bottom of the world. Something he hadn’t really felt since losing his parents in a car accident and subsequently having his heart trampled by his ex-fiancée.
‘You’re in luck,’ she said with a soft laugh, her blue eyes sparkling with that connection he was now certain was mutual. ‘I don’t have a third job. The dinner rush at the restaurant is probably over by now. Plus, when it comes to Stewart Island, I know everything and everyone. I was born here.’
‘Lucky you.’ He smiled and they headed back towards the clinic’s four-wheel drive.
‘So what are you doing here so far from home?’ she asked, pulling out and turning right towards the lodge where he was booked in for the next six nights. ‘Most people our age are desperate to leave this island, not work here.’
‘I have an uncle, a farmer, who lives in the Caitlins,’ Cam said about the rugged coastal landscape at the bottom of New Zealand’s South Island. ‘I love to travel so I thought why not take a locum position near him. I’ve lived all over the place: Canada, Singapore, Tasmania.’
‘The itchy feet type, are you?’ Meg asked in that direct way of hers as she cast him a curious glance.
‘More of a wanderer,’ he said. He wasn’t ready to spill all the messy details of his past, but something about Meg made him want to tell her more than was likely wise. ‘My parents died in a car accident eight years ago, and I’m an only child, so there’s no close family keeping me in Scotland.’
‘I’m sorry, Cam. I didn’t know.’
‘Of course not.’ Cam shrugged. ‘But I’ve always wanted to see New Zealand. It reminds me of the Scottish Highlands.’
She smiled over at him appraisingly.
‘What about you?’ he asked, curious himself. ‘Why aren’t you desperate to leave like everyone else?’
‘I did leave.’ She pulled off the road. ‘I studied nursing in Christchurch. Lived there for four years. But I came back.’ She slid the vehicle into a parking space and turned to face him, her pretty eyes full of passion. ‘I love it here. I enjoy being a part of such a tight-knit community. I feel like I can make a real difference to the people who choose to visit or live here.’
‘I’m sure you do make a difference, Meg.’ Her dedication and conviction were seriously attractive, especially when Cam’s ex, the woman who had broken his still-grieving heart, hadn’t seemed to know what she’d wanted. He’d been the collateral damage.
Inside the lodge’s restaurant, Meg stepped behind the bar. ‘Whisky?’ she asked, and he nodded. She snagged a bottle of spirits and two glasses, directing him towards a table in the corner away from the handful of other patrons still dining.
‘I thought you might appreciate a taste of home,’ she said waggling the bottle of whisky before pouring a measure into two glasses. ‘Although this is a New Zealand whisky.’
‘Slàinte Mhath,’ he said, raising his glass and taking a sip.
‘Cheers,’ Meg responded, her striking face taking a comical twist as she experienced the aftertaste of the spirit.
‘So, Meg Carter, do you have time for dating, what with your two jobs?’ He wasn’t looking for anything serious, but they had heaps in common and her vivacious personality and passion for her work had him more than intrigued.
‘Nah… Anyone worth dating around here is already taken, apart from a couple of single fishermen the same age as my dad.’ She laughed and took another sip. ‘Besides, I’m done with all that. I was in a serious relationship before I came back home. Needless to say it didn’t work out.’ She smiled but her eyes told a different story. The guy had had obviously hurt her and Cam could relate.
‘Mind if I ask why?’ he said, the work emergency and the potent whisky building an emotional closeness between them that would normally take longer.
‘I’d grown uncomfortable that I was always the one to compromise,’ she said, raising her chin. ‘The final straw came when he suddenly decided he wanted to go back to Australia. He was Australian, in New Zealand for work.’ She shrugged, and glanced down at the table. ‘I suggested we could split our time between Australia and New Zealand, but he refused to consider that. I held my ground for once, but he wouldn’t budge, and I suddenly realised that he obviously wasn’t as committed to me as I was to him. I felt stupid, as if I’d always been a pushover and he just expected me to always do what he’d wanted.’ Hurt and disappointment lingered in the stare she levelled on him.
‘For what it’s worth, you strike me as a very strong, independent woman.’
She offered him a small smile. ‘Thanks. Anyway, the short version is we went our separate ways.’
‘I’m sorry.’ Cam wished he could make her smile again.
Meg shook her head. ‘What about you? Have you met any nice Kiwi women in Invercargill?’
Now it was Cam’s turn to duck his head. ‘No… Although I haven’t really been looking.’
‘No point putting down roots, eh?’ she asked, looking a little disappointed. Or perhaps he’d just imagined that.
‘Actually, it’s a bit more than that,’ he went on, deciding Meg was easy to talk to. ‘I’ve kind of had my heart broken, too. I was engaged once. It didn’t work out for me either.’
He looked up from his drink to find her watching him, her lovely eyes bracketed in a frown. ‘Mind if I ask why?’ she said, turning his own question back on him.
‘Oh… that’s kinda complicated. But the bottom line was, she didn’t really want me. She cheated.’
‘I’m sorry, Cam.’ She reached out and touched his hand, her skin soft and warm.
‘Don’t be.’ Cam brushed off her concern, although her touch, her intense look seemed to spark dusty corners of him back to life. ‘It actually galvanised me to stop feeling sorry for myself and see the world. And now here I am, in beautiful New Zealand. I’m a total bird nerd, so this place is paradise.’
‘A bird nerd?’ Meg laughed, resting her elbow on the table, her chin on her hand as she stared intently and Cam thought he could get lost in her eyes. ‘Tell me more.’
***
Meg caught her breath, his smile contagious. He was so charming and down to earth. Not to mention seriously sexy.
‘Yeah.’ Cam grinned, the humiliation in his stare when he’d talked about his ex dying away. ‘We used to be called bird watchers but we’ve reclaimed our coolness.’
‘So what’s your favourite bird?’
Cam playfully pretended to be appalled by her question. ‘That’s like asking the old woman who lived in a shoe from the nursery rhyme if she had a favourite child. But I am looking forward to catching a glimpse of the southern New Zealand dotterel and of course the island’s yellow-eyed penguin colonies.’
‘You really are a bird nerd, aren’t you?’ she teased, their stares flirting across the table. ‘I know a great place to see penguins, if you’re interested.’
By flirting with him she was mixing work with pleasure, but Cam was so easy to get along with. And it wasn’t like their flirtation could lead anywhere.
‘That would be fantastic. I’m definitely interested.’ He held Meg’s eye contact as if he was just as interested in her as the birds.
After that, they talked about NZ’s unique wildlife, the island whose Māori name, Rakiura, meant ‘glowing skies’ a reference to the aurora australis or southern lights and travel. When the bar began to empty, Meg wrapped the conversation up.
‘I’d better let you get some sleep. You have an early start tomorrow and a long list of islanders who’ve waited patiently to see you.’
‘Can I walk you home?’ he asked, shrugging on his coat.
Meg’s stomach flipped over with delicious anticipation. ‘Sure. But I only live next door.’ She laughed, accepting his easy and uplifting company as they headed out into the fine drizzle.
‘See you in the morning then,’ he said at her front door, looking reluctant to end their evening.
‘Yep, bright and early.’ She hesitated, the urge to kiss him bubbling up and catching her off guard. ‘And the penguins—it’s a date.’
Cam nodded, his stare dipping to her mouth so she threw caution to the wind, leaned close and pressed a swift kiss to his cheek.
‘Night, Cam. Sleep well.’ Then she ducked inside her cottage and closed the door, her heart pounding rapidly. With their invigorating professional relationship, their mutual love of the island’s wildlife and their obvious sexual chemistry, working with Cam would make for a very interesting week.
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