A Doctor, A Fling & A Wedding Ring. Fiona McArthur
why don’t you let me show you around when we anchor off Naples? Maybe hire a convertible. We could take a drive down to Amalfi, check out Praiano and Positano.’
His chest tightened and he realised he was actually holding his breath. This was crazier by the minute. Her toffee gaze slid over his face thoughtfully and he could almost taste her sweetness. Something whispered sweet was dangerous.
‘Sounds good. I’ve always wanted to see the Italian coastline from those windy roads.’ She opened her eyes wide and he had an epiphany as to what they meant by ‘almost fell in’. Was that a come-on? He sure as hell hoped so because he could feel his body stir like leaves in a breeze at that hint of promise.
‘The roads have to be seen to be believed,’ he warned with a grin. ‘And they appeal to the frustrated Ferrari driver in me.’
‘A Ferrari?’ She pretended to frown. ‘They must pay good wages where you work.’
He guessed he could hire one if he wanted to but he’d be too worried he’d scratch it. Not many cars were dent free on Italian roads. ‘No. But maybe a little sports number so we can put the roof down.’ He grinned. ‘You know, feel the whoosh of air as the buses push us up against the cliff.’ He watched her. Deliberately painting the picture to make sure she knew what she was getting into. To his delight, if anything her eyes sparkled more.
‘Oh, yeah. I’ve heard about that. A little danger that’s not blood-product related would be a great way to remember life is for living.’
Not blood-product related. He wanted to hug her. Felt the rapport. Medical people laughed at the oddest things and he was feeling a little more alive than usual himself.
Tara couldn’t believe she was flirting like this. And had made an infectious-disease joke that he probably hadn’t got. He might think she was loony but the idea of capturing a few hours of wind in her face and amazing views was enticing. Cathartic even. And she couldn’t hide the fact the idea of spending time with someone light and mischievous like Nick wasn’t a big plus too.
‘So tell me about your morning,’ Nick said. ‘Any interesting cases?’
Did he really want to know? She doubted it. Probably the whole ‘I’m paying attention to everything you say’ persona he had down pat. ‘It was fine. A few bouts of nausea and a fractured forearm.’
‘They have an X-ray machine here, don’t they?’ Interest shone from his eyes and she enlarged slightly to explain.
‘Yes.’ She smiled at him for humouring her. ‘Not something I’ve had to do personally before and interesting to learn how simple taking an X-ray really is. The patient’s views are emailed away to a large centre to be reported on, and the results are emailed back.’
She shook her head, still bemused by the speed of reporting. ‘Wilhelm had the results within two hours, which was even faster than my training hospital in Sydney.’
‘Which hospital was that?’ She saw his eyes sharpen and she frowned. Warning bells rang.
‘In the south.’ But she didn’t go into more detail. She quite liked the fact he didn’t know where she came from. ‘A long way from here. But, of course, at the refugee camp we had nothing except our hands to decide if a bone was broken.’
She saw him accept she wasn’t about to give out her home address and her relief expanded. She wasn’t sure why she was so keen on keeping distance from the real world with him but it was better to err on the side of caution.
This whole Nick exercise was designed as a holiday flingette, just a tentative fling, and the idea of the future or anything or anyone serious made her cringe. Like Saint Vitus’s dance. A full-body shudder. She knew for a fact she wasn’t mentally ready for any kind of normal relationship.
‘So the last two years will always have an impact on your work?’
Not just my work, she thought with sudden insight and a flash of her late husband’s face. ‘Of course.’ Images from their work flooded back, some of them uplifting but most of them tragic, and she winced. ‘Another thing I don’t want to talk about. Tell me about the world cocktail championships. I love the sound of that.’ Blunt, but she hoped, effective.
He studied her for a moment and saw him nod with understanding but there was no way this man would have any idea what she’d seen. ‘You mean the place where all the movers and shakers go?’
Effective communication, then. She smiled. ‘That would be the place.’
‘Vegas.’ He spread his arms. ‘You gotta think big. And sparkly. We were dressed in black with blue sequins, my sisters had a ball making the outfits, and our drink was a Morrocan Marguarettaville.’
‘Sounds deadly.’ She couldn’t keep the smile from her face and she was suddenly conscious of how big and handsome this man was. This man, who was paying intense attention to her. Quite a heady experience really for a girl from tent city.
He spread his hands self-deprecatingly. ‘A cocktail that carries a decent kick. Made for slow sipping at sunset.’
The picture of the two of them sipping drinks on some beach seemed ridiculously easy to imagine. ‘You’ll have to make me one.’ She laughed. ‘One sunset when I can sleep in the next day.’
He put his finger to his lips and her gaze followed his finger. ‘As long as you don’t tell anyone the recipe.’
‘My lips are sealed.’ She’d said it and shouldn’t have been surprised he glanced at her mouth in return. But she felt the heat.
For a woman who had minimal experience of seduction she had no trouble recognising his ability to turn it on.
Zap! Almost as if he’d touched her, and suddenly the making of drinks in competitions was ludicrously unimportant. His eyes darkened, his gaze locked on hers, the air thickened with his intention so that she knew he needed her alone, in the dark, locked in an embrace. And soon. Whoa, there. Her imagination was working overtime here.
Then he glanced down at the food they’d only picked at and she let out her breath. Felt like a fanciful idiot. ‘Would you like to go outside? I’ll share the rest while we walk. It’s nice on deck at this time of night.’
Her stomach kicked. She hoped he hadn’t read her mind again. He stood up and moved around to help pull out her chair and she stared at the tablecloth thoughtfully. He could be quite smooth at getting his own way when he wanted, but knowing it didn’t stop her feet from shifting, standing, moving beside him with a little beat of anticipation fluttering in her throat.
When they stepped out onto the walkway around the ship he tucked her hand into his arm and after the initial shock she let her hand relax and just enjoyed the sensation of being close to a man she had to admit she fancied. She even had to fight down the heat in her cheeks like a schoolgirl. The concept made her grin. Her hip brushed his solid thigh as they walked and when they passed two female crew members walking together she even enjoyed the envious look they cast her.
A little devil of satisfaction made her fingers curl more tightly into his arm and his skin warmed her fingers. He must have felt her approval because he looked down at her and smiled.
She hurried into speech in case he read too much into her involuntary action. ‘Maybe I could get used to forgetting the world on a cruise ship because it’s all an illusion that only lasts twelve days.’
He tilted his head and studied her. ‘Not everything is an illusion.’
That was a laugh. ‘What’s not an illusion?’
She watched him search for an example that was amusing and backed up her statement. This guy’s life was an illusion. Which was why she liked him.
‘I imagine the person with the broken arm is steeped in reality at the moment.’
She dug in her chin, refused to be deflected from her common-sense aide memoire that they had no future.