Ryan looked into her eyes and thought of the sea. Shades of aquamarine, green and blue blended into a shade that was uniquely hers. He opened his mouth and closed it again—tried to look away and found that he couldn’t. So he just carried on staring, and he saw something blossom in the depths of those eyes. Awareness. A connection. As if each recognised something in the other.

Something gripped him hard—something he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Shocked by the chemistry, Ryan inhaled sharply and prepared himself to put up barriers, but she got there first.

Panic flickered across her face and she took a step backwards, clearly rejecting what had happened between them.

And that was fine with him, because he was rejecting it too.

He didn’t even know why she’d introduced herself. Was every passenger going to shake his hand this morning?

Ryan knew he needed to say something casual and dismissive, but his eyes were fixed on the sweet lines of her profile and his tongue seemed to be stuck to the roof of his mouth.

She wasn’t a girl, he realised. She was a woman. A young woman.

Mid-twenties?

And she looked bone tired—as if she was ready to collapse into a big comfortable bed and sleep for a month.

‘Sorry. I must have misheard—’ Flustered, she adjusted the bag that hung from her shoulder. ‘I thought I heard you say that you’re Dr McKinley.’

‘I did.’

‘Oh.’ Her tone suggested that news was unwelcome. Then she stuck out her hand. ‘Right, well, I’m Jennifer Richards. Jenna.’ She left her hand hovering in the space between them for a moment, and then slowly withdrew it as he simply stared at her. ‘What’s wrong? Have I arrived on the wrong day? You look a bit…stunned to see me.’

Jennifer Richards? Stunned didn’t begin to describe his reaction. Ryan cleared his throat and shook her hand, noticing that her fingers were slim and cool. ‘Right day.’ Wrong description. ‘It’s just that—my partner fed me false information. I was expecting a woman and her teenage daughter.’ Someone about twenty years older. Someone who wasn’t going to make his hormones surge.

‘Ah—’ She glanced towards the ferry, her smile tired. ‘Well, I’m the woman, but the teenage daughter is still on the boat, I’m afraid. That’s her, hanging over the side glaring at me. She’s refusing to get off, and I’m still trying to decide how best to handle this particular situation without ruining my reputation before I even take my first clinic. I don’t suppose you have any experience in handling moody teenagers, Dr McKinley?’

He cleared his throat. ‘None.’