‘But we’ve organised your accommodation at the hospital,’ she stammered. ‘There’s a room there.’

‘There’s not,’ he told her. ‘I’ve been there and the night sister’s apologetic, but Cook’s car’s broken down and if they want Cook on hand for breakfast she stays. They seemed to think their breakfast is more necessary than I am-and Cook won’t share.’

‘But…but you can’t stay here…’

‘Look, I only take up six feet of floor space.’ The man’s humour was beginning to slip. Clearly he’d expected a warmer welcome. ‘Lady, I’ve come almost a thousand miles to do a locum for you. Do you expect me to find a park bench?’

‘I…’

‘Your night sister said Whispering Palms had at least six bedrooms and it only held three people. Now, if I promise to rid myself of prawn bait and berley, and not indulge in rape or pillage, can Whispering Palms stretch itself to accommodate me?’ The stranger stepped back as he talked, his eyes following the long lines of generous verandas with the rows of French windows opening out to the night breeze. ‘Or do you want me to go back to Brisbane?’

Nikki pulled herself together with a visible effort. Of course there was no reason to refuse to accommodate her new locum. If only…Well, if only he weren’t so…

So…so she didn’t know what! She stood aside and held the door wider.

‘Of…of course not. Come in, Dr Marriott. Welcome to Eurong.’

‘I’m not very,’ he said, looking quizzically down at her. What he saw made his deep eyes crease in perplexity. Nikki Russell was a stunner in any man’s books. Her fabulous red-gold curls framed an elfin face with huge green eyes which refused to be disguised by her too heavy glasses. She was slender-almost too thin for good health-and her pale skin was shadowed by the traces of exhaustion. The casual jeans and worn cotton shirt she wore accentuated her youth. She looked too young to be a practising doctor. ‘And I wonder why not?’ he said slowly.