Page 15 of Doctor of the Bay

Simmi gives me another sharp glance. Her cupid mouth scrunching tightly together.

Jeezus, I want her mouth on me so bad.

My eyes drink in her face. From her chocolate brown gaze to the dimple on her chin. Her mouth begging me for punishment. Her olive, island features adding to her allure, and her curvy body, lush and demanding my hands on her. Simmi owns a natural beauty that needed no paint or fuss. Her bosom is plentiful and her curves lush. I’d be an arrogant ass if I believed I was one hundred percent in control.

“You okay there?” Now I’m just rubbing it in, but shit, I can’t help myself.

“I’m good at my job. My patient is fine. Her blood pressure is within the normal range and so is her pee. Now, if you’re done second guessing me, we have a full list of patients and very little time.”

She folds her arms across that ample bosom I so desperately want to fuck with my mouth.

“I’ll take your word for it then.” I reverse out of the short driveway.

Her face turns red as her eyes widen. Her lips pucker, and her mouth readies itself to spew a plethora of expletives at me when I stop the car and look her dead in the eye.

“Never doubt your abilities as a nurse, Simone.”

All the steam inside of her vanishes, and her left eyebrow cocks in the way that drives me wild.

***

It’s around midday when we pull in at a rundown old farmhouse. A decent hour’s drive from town but surrounded by stunning vistas and hundreds of tall eucalyptuses. The bush is dry, but thankfully not as dry as it was over December. The damage from the bushfires is only slightly visibly now, but we could still use more rain.

“Right. This is the case we discussed on Wednesday afternoon. Mister Mikolaj Zerwick.” Simmi taps away on her screen. “Shit, the signal’s dropped out, but I have his paper file in my bag.”

She places the screen at her feet, then twists to reach her bag in the back. I lean in and her boob touches my arm. I try to retract it but my fingers inadvertently graze the soft roundness.

She freezes, her gaze lifts to meet mine as she bites her bottom lip.

As steady as I can manage, I said, “We can’t keep the patient waiting.”

I unclip my seat belt, grab my bag, and get out.

Simmi follows, tugging on her blouse, then leans back in to collect her stuff and slams shut the door.

“The query migraine or epilepsy?” I say as I walk around the car to meet her.

It takes all my willpower to ignore the rush of adrenaline and desire surging through my body. I am walking a fine line between control and madness.

“Yup.” She nods her head. “Mickey. Lost his wife to breast cancer last year. He and his daughter, Adele, who’s just turned sixteen, took it hard. She’s home schooled, or at least, self-schooled and helps him on the farm.”

“I see he was originally diagnosed with MS?” I rub the tips of my fingers, still burning from her touch.

“He’s been misdiagnosed over a dozen times. Probably half the reason he hates doctors, nurses and hospitals. And he refuses to see the specialist in Brissi,” she explains as we make our way to the front door.

“It sounds complex.” I follow her up the steps.

She leans in and her scent sets all my nerves on edge. I move closer. She pauses, swallows, and control is mine once again.

“I’ll be honest when I say there’s a… dynamic to this family that has always had my alarm bells ringing. I’ve never been able to get to the core of it though.” Her voice is soft and low.

The house is old, but well-kept and the door with its lead painted glass–storks in a pond–even older. A recently polished door knocker hangs beside the door. A streak of Brasso still clings to the rim.

Simmi reaches up and rings it. “I really hope we can get to the bottom of this. I don’t believe it’s in his…”

The door opens to a hooded, tiny-framed teenager. She has a pretty face with sad silver eyes and a strange twitch on the left-hand corner of her mouth. Her hands grip the edges of her tracksuit top’s sleeves, and her jeans look like they could use a wash. She comes across as any moody, grungy even, teen, but my instincts are unsettled around her. I can’t quite put a finger on it. I glance to Simmi whose expression reflects my thoughts.

“Hi,” she mumbles, and step as aside as Simmi and I enter.

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