Page 25 of Prognosis Bad Timing

She couldn’t help herself – the man was watchable.

Charlie picked up the offending item irritated to have been interrupted. He got the feeling Carrie didn’t really believe in herself a whole helluva lot and it was suddenly, for some reason, important to him that she started. ‘Hello, Valley Drop-In Centre, this is Charlie.’

‘Is there something wrong with using your full medical title? Really, Charles, the Wentworth name is something most doctors in Brisbane would kill to have.’

Charlie gripped the receiver tighter as the familiar imperious voice. ‘Father.’

‘Have you looked at that application I emailed you? With my recommendation you’d get the position easily.’

He sighed. ‘I’m not having this conversation again. I have a job. I’m not interested in a surgical position.’

‘Charles! Every Wentworth since —’

‘Since federation,” Charlie interrupted, “has risen to the level of consultant in his or her chosen specialty.’ Charlie was well used to the spiel by now.

‘You think this is amusing, Charles?’

Fuck, no. His father was about as funny as a wet week. But, it was getting kind of ridiculous. ‘Mildly.’

‘I’m thinking of what’s best for you Charles.’

‘That’s crap. You’re thinking of the family reputation. Hell, Dad, the Wentworth’s aren’t the Mafia.’ Although it was beginning to feel like it. ‘Give it up.’

‘We’ll speak more about this at lunch on Sunday.’

‘Oh, goody,’ he said derisively.

‘Your mother is expecting you, Charles.’ And he hung up without a goodbye.

Charlie replaced the receiver, his father’s reproachful tone ringing in his ears. He glanced at Carrie tapping away at her keyboard, looking for all the world like she wasn’t actually here and hadn’t heard a thing.

He chuckled. ‘It’s OK, Carrie, it was kind of hard not to hear.’

Carrie gave up the pretence. ‘You’re one of those Wentworths? The Wentworths? Medical royalty?’

‘Afraid so.’

Okay...good. This was good, she told herself. Good that she’d found this out now because Charlie Wentworth was way out of her league.

Had she been interested. Which she wasn’t.

‘So that makes you...’

He nodded. ‘The black sheep.’

She gave him a quelling look. ‘Ignatius Wentworth’s son? Sir Nelson Wentworth’s grandson?’

‘Guilty.’

The smile he shot her was slow and lazy and her toes curled. Stop it! Charlie’s family had an entire national research facility named after them, for crying out loud. And she was most definitely a girl from the wrong side of the tracks. ‘How the hell did you wind up here?’

Charlie was momentarily shocked at her bluntness. And he laughed as she clapped her hand over her mouth to stifle her quick horrified gasp at her unprofessional comment.

‘I’m sorry...that didn’t quite come out the way I’d planned.’

He sobered. ‘It’s OK, and, if you must know, I’m here through choice.’

‘Choice? Wentworth’s don’t choose grungy drop-in centres.’

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