The Playboy of Harley Street / Doctor on the Red Carpet

by Anne Fraser

  Elizabeth’s frown was replaced by a look of concern. Kendrick decided not to let the fact it was professional concern bother him. At least she was no longer glaring at him.

  ‘Why don’t you come into the medical trailer and let me have a look?’ she suggested.

  Kendrick raised a triumphant eyebrow at Jack, who was watching them closely, and fell into step next to Elizabeth. ‘I’m pretty sure it’s just a sprained muscle. Nothing a bit of massage won’t help.’ He shot her a look. ‘I don’t suppose you’re into massage, are you, by any chance?’

  Oops, perhaps he’d overdone it. The glare was back.

  ‘I’m a doctor, not a masseuse!’

  She stopped in her tracks and placed her hands on her hips. Kendrick was distracted for a long moment. Her hips curved in just the right places and a man could probably just about circle that waist with the palms of his hands. As for those legs. His eyes travelled down the length of her body and he swallowed a groan as a vivid image of those long legs wrapped around him jumped into his mind.

  ‘When you’re quite finished …’ a cool voice said, and he dragged his eyes back to her face, only to find himself focusing on a mouth that just cried out to be kissed.

  He shook his head. Now was not the place and certainly not the time. Dr Elizabeth Morgan needed a good bit more thawing before he would even risk a quick taste of those lips.

  Inside her trailer, Elizabeth instructed Kendrick to sit on her sofa.

  Trying to remember that Kendrick’s torso was simply a mass of muscle and fibre, she ran her hands over his powerful shoulders. Then she noticed something odd. A star-shaped hole with lines radiating out from the centre just below his left clavicle. Although she had never seen a bullet wound before, there was no mistaking what this was. She touched the scar with her finger.

  ‘Is this what I think it is?’ she said softly.

  Kendrick nodded. ‘Got it in Iraq. Damn bullet chipped a bit of bone. That’s what makes my shoulder stiff sometimes.’

  Not just been in the army, then, but on active service.

  So he hadn’t been all together untruthful when he’d crashed from the horse a few days earlier. A wound like that was bound to cause problems. Especially since he insisted on battering it every day of the week.

  ‘How does a helicopter pilot get a bullet wound?’

  His expression darkened and for the first time Elizabeth wondered whether Kendrick was as easygoing as he liked to pretend he was.

  ‘That’s a long story. Can we save it for another day?’

  This time Elizabeth was sure she saw a shadow cross his face. Did Kendrick have something in his past he didn’t want to talk about? Maybe they weren’t so different after all?

  ‘Sure,’ she said. He was entitled to his privacy as much as she was entitled to hers. Nevertheless, she found herself wanting to know more. Why had he gone from being an officer in the army, someone no doubt with a bright future ahead of him, to a stuntman? And why was she interested? It wasn’t as if she was planning to get involved with him. All she wanted to do was to be left alone with her pain. If he had secrets of his own, it was none of her business and never would be.

  Turning her attention back to what she was supposed to be doing—giving the man in front of her the best medical attention she could—she carefully felt along his shoulder, probing gently and asking him to lift and lower his arm. There was a little stiffness there, but nothing too worrying. She would like to have a look at his X-rays and medical records, though. Until she saw them she wouldn’t be happy that he was working as a stuntman. Repeated banging of a damaged limb couldn’t do it any good. She had an idea that Kendrick would somehow have managed to forget to tell the film producers about his medical history.

  ‘Does Philip know about your shoulder?’ she asked.

  ‘No. And you’re not going to tell him,’ Kendrick said firmly.

  ‘He should know. It’s not a good idea to carry on working as a stuntman until I see your X-rays. You could damage your shoulder permanently.’

  Kendrick’s hand shot out and gripped her wrist so hard it was almost painful.

  ‘He’s not to know,’ he said through clenched teeth. ‘You’re my doctor and bound by patient confidentiality, isn’t that right?’

  Surprised by the vehemence in his tone, Elizabeth removed her hand from his grasp. ‘Of course I can’t say anything, but I’d feel happier if I could get a look at your medical notes.’

  Kendrick eased himself off the couch and picking up his shirt, shrugged into it.

  ‘I have no idea where my records are. Even if I did, there’s nothing in them that would give you any reason to worry. Stuntmen work with injuries all the time. If we stopped every time we hurt ourselves, we’d never work. Broken bones and other injuries are part of the job.’

  ‘But not bullet wounds surely?’ Elizabeth said sharply.

  ‘No. They don’t usually use live ammunition on film sets.’ He shook his head in mock dismay. ‘That would lead to too many dead actors.’

  Elizabeth flushed. For some reason he was always wrong footing her.

  ‘So, what about Jack’s party? Are you going to come? Because if you are, we could travel down together.’ The teasing look was back in his eyes. ‘You don’t want to stay here on your own surely? That’s no fun.’

  Fun? She wondered if she even remembered what that was.

  ‘I’m more than happy to stay here by myself. I happen to like my own company.’ She made herself smile. ‘Honestly.’

  Kendrick eyed her thoughtfully. ‘I wonder,’ he said slowly. ‘At least think about it.’

  Then picking up his hat and whistling under his breath he left her feeling as if she’d just done a couple of rounds in a boxing ring.

  Kendrick strode back to his trailer.

  Trust Lizzie to have picked up on the bullet wound. Despite her anxiety over almost not picking up Sunny’s malaria instantly, he doubted she missed much.

  He’d liked the feel of her cool fingers on his skin. The way a lock of hair had fallen across her face as she’d bent over. She intrigued him more and more. What was behind that guarded exterior?

  Not that he wanted to know, he told himself. His interest in Lizzie Morgan was purely physical. The same as his interest in any woman since Amy.

  He winced. Amy. His first love and his last. He would never feel that way again. He wouldn’t let himself. Loving someone meant responsibility. Or should do. Their happiness, their life in your hands.

  But he had been unable to save Amy. If he’d got there five minutes earlier, might he have been able to? He would never know.

  Why was it coming back now? He’d thought he’d closed that particular wound—one that was worse than any physical pain he’d ever experienced. It didn’t matter how many big waves he surfed, how many mountains he flung himself off, how fast he rode his horse, no rush of adrenaline, no losing himself in another woman’s arms could completely wipe out the feelings of loss and guilt.

  If the army hadn’t stopped him from flying while they’d investigated, would he have stayed? There was no clear answer to that. Or not one he wanted to think about. At least working as a stuntman gave him a similar adrenaline rush to flying helicopters. He needed his daily dose or he’d go crazy. He grimaced. His father had been disbelieving and furious when he’d told him about his decision to leave the army, but that was too bad. All his life he’d tried to win his father’s approval—and failed. Now he was living the life he wanted, with no responsibility for anyone but himself.

  He let himself into his trailer and peeled off his shirt, feeling restless and on edge. He needed to be doing something. A workout would help. And after that? An image of blue eyes and a soft mouth jumped into his head. After his workout, he knew just what he needed to keep his head from going places he didn’t want to go.

  Elizabeth stroked the horse’s mane and he whinnied with pleasure. After lunch she had walked around the perimeter of the camp until she had come across t
he stables.

  ‘You like horses?’

  She started as a deep voice came from behind her. She whirled around to find Kendrick standing there. Earlier she had passed him lying on a bench, dressed only in his army pants, concentrating as he lifted weights above his head. Happily he had been too preoccupied to notice her stealing surreptitious glances at him as each muscle in his abdomen and shoulders bunched every time he lifted the weights above his head.

  The horse nuzzled its soft mouth into her hand and she pulled her hand away as its whiskers tickled her palm.

  ‘Hey, it’s okay. Buster won’t bite,’ Kendrick said, misreading her action.

  ‘I know. I have ridden before.’ Okay, so it was years ago and was only once, but he didn’t need to know that.

  Kendrick raised an eyebrow at her and his mouth turned up at the corners. Elizabeth’s heart thumped against her ribs. It would be much better if he wasn’t so sexy.

  ‘Have you got anything planned for this afternoon?’ Kendrick continued.

  Why was he so damned determined to seek her out at every opportunity? Hadn’t she made it crystal clear she wasn’t interested?

  ‘Just work. I’m employed here for a reason, you know,’ she said testily, trying to ignore the uncomfortable racing of her heart.

  He grinned down at her. ‘Not this afternoon you’re not. Philip is shooting a close-up that involves Jack and Tara in a love scene. Unless something happens there, like she bites his tongue when he tries to put it down her throat, which I wouldn’t put past her—they have a bit of history—I think you’ll be all right.’

  ‘Why do you want to know?’ Elizabeth asked. ‘Do you need to see me again? Is your shoulder causing you more discomfort?’

  ‘The shoulder’s fine. I thought you might like to come with me to the desert for a ride. We could take the horses we’ve been using for the stunts. You’ve already met Buster here.’

  Would he ever give up? On the other hand, she hated having time on her own, despite what she’d told him earlier. Without something to occupy her mind there was too much time for thinking, and thinking meant remembering….

  ‘I don’t know. It’s a long time since I’ve been on a horse,’ she admitted ‘I wouldn’t be surprised if it had me off in seconds.’

  ‘No, he won’t. The horses we use are like lambs—really well trained. Besides, we use western saddles. It’s like sitting in an armchair.’

  It wasn’t just the horses that was making her hesitate. Although she wanted to see what was out there beyond the confines of the set, she wasn’t sure why Kendrick was asking her. If he thought she was up for some brief romance with him, he was very much mistaken. Couldn’t he see he was wasting his time pursuing her?

  ‘It’s only a horse ride—I’m not proposing marriage,’ he said, as if reading her mind. ‘Of course, if you’re too chicken …’ He shrugged, leaving the challenge hanging in the air.

  Elizabeth made up her mind. Why not? It was unlikely that she’d ever be back here, so she should make the most of every opportunity that came her way.

  ‘Who do you think you’re calling chicken? I’ve a clinic to do first, but I can be ready about three.’

  She turned away, knowing and having to admit liking it that he was staring after her. Was she nuts? Didn’t she know that Kendrick spelt danger? On the other hand, Kendrick was no more looking for a long-term relationship than she was. In that respect they were two of a kind, even if for completely different reasons. And she could handle someone like Kendrick.

  The clinic produced no more than the usual sore throats, sniffles and sore muscles, a sprained ankle and a paper cut. Despite the work being a little boring at times, Elizabeth was content that the cast and crew were keeping well. Especially after Sunny becoming ill. Although Philip’s assistant was very much better, she remained in hospital.

  Elizabeth was ready and waiting when Kendrick turned up with a riding hat.

  She eyed the hat warily.

  ‘I thought you said it was perfectly safe,’ she said. ‘I’m not intending to go any faster than a walk. You do know that?’

  ‘Just a precaution,’ he said. ‘Anyone can fall off a horse. We need to make sure the set doc stays in one piece.’

  ‘Where’s yours, then?’

  He looked aghast. ‘When I said anyone, I didn’t mean me. I’ve been riding all my life and only fall off when I mean to.’

  Feeling less certain about the proposed adventure, Elizabeth waited while he fastened the helmet on for her. As his fingertips brushed against her throat, she felt goose-bumps pop up all over her body.

  Now that she was committed to riding him, Buster looked bigger somehow and Elizabeth eyed him nervously. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. But before she could do or say anything, Kendrick had taken hold of her leg and swung her into the saddle. He was right about that at least. It was like sitting in an armchair.

  Kendrick adjusted the stirrups for her, lifting each of her legs in turn while he did so. Elizabeth felt a jolt of electricity each time his hands brushed her calves. Why did her hormones seem to have suddenly come back to life? And why with this man?

  Once her stirrups were adjusted to Kendrick’s satisfaction, he showed her how to hold the reins in one hand and the pommel of the saddle with another.

  ‘It will make you feel more secure. If you want to go right, just pull the reins to the right and ditto for the opposite direction. You don’t have to use your legs—he’ll respond to your voice.’

  Kendrick swung himself into his own saddle and wheeled his horse round.

  ‘Just follow me.’

  As they left the compound behind Elizabeth began to relax, especially when Buster responded to her voice and the slightest pull on his reins. She looked around. The desert seemed to stretch on for as far as the eye could see, with the mountains in the distance. She hoped Kendrick had water in his saddlebags. Of course he would have water. He wasn’t the kind of man who would go into the desert unprepared. Risktaker he may be, but idiot he clearly wasn’t.

  He brought his horse next to hers. ‘There’s a canyon about five miles from here. I thought we could stop there.’

  ‘Sounds good.’

  ‘How does it feel? Do you think you could manage to post—I mean trot? Or a short canter?’

  ‘I could try.’

  ‘Don’t try and rise or anything fancy. Just relax and stay with the horse’s movements. I’ll go in front. Buster likes to stay behind. If you feel yourself slipping, hold onto the pommel, say whoa and he will. Okay?’

  Elizabeth’s mouth had gone dry so she simply nodded. Kendrick kicked his horse on to a slow trot and Buster followed immediately. Elizabeth clenched her teeth before remembering what Kendrick had said about relaxing. She forced her body to go with Buster’s rhythm and soon she found that it was okay. She could do this. All she had to do was concentrate.

  Kendrick was riding with one hand on the rear of his saddle, looking back at her and watching to see how she was doing. If she’d dared let go of the saddle or the reins, she would have given him a thumbs-up. As it was, she managed a smile.

  ‘Want to try a little faster?’ he asked.

  Not really. This was quite fast enough. But she surprised herself by nodding. Somehow she trusted him completely.

  Cantering was more comfortable than trotting had been, even if it felt more like an all-out gallop. She let herself feel Buster underneath her, the way the horse seemed to know what he was doing, as if he wanted to make sure she was all right. After a while Kendrick slowed his horse back to a trot then a walk and Buster followed suit. There was a dodgy moment when the change in tempo made her lose her balance but it was short-lived. As Kendrick brought his horse back alongside hers she grinned at him.

  ‘That was amazing. I loved it. Can we do it again?’

  ‘If you like.’ And then he was off again, with Buster following close behind.

  They stopped near an outcrop of rocks and Kendrick jumped down, tying the
reins in a knot near his horse’s head.

  He held out his arms and as she slid off Buster and into them, he held her against him, her feet not touching the ground. She could feel the hard muscles of his chest through the thin material of her T-shirt. Something deep in her belly sizzled. Dismayed, she wriggled until he placed her back on her feet.

  ‘You’re a natural,’ he said approvingly.

  She felt an unexpected stab of pleasure at his words.

  He untied the saddlebags from his horse and passed her some water. Elizabeth drank thirstily.

  ‘How far to the canyon?’ she asked.

  ‘Another mile or two. If you’re happy to canter for some of it, it won’t take too long.’ His eyes glinted. ‘I have to warn you, you’re going to be stiff tomorrow.’

  They rested against the rocks, which provided welcome shade from the relentlessly hot sun. Unfortunately, for them both to be in the shade meant that they were pressed close together. His jeans-clad leg was warm against hers and doing all sorts of things to nerve endings she’d thought no longer existed.

  ‘So why did you leave the army?’ Elizabeth asked. ‘I’m only guessing, but I would have thought they’d be pretty keen to hang onto helicopter pilots.’

  Kendrick stared off into the distance.

  ‘I guess you could say that the life didn’t suit me. I don’t like doing what I’m told.’

  Now, why didn’t that surprise her?

  His expression was closed, his eyes shuttered. The message he was giving was loud and clear.

  ‘Why stuntwork, then?’ Elizabeth thought it wise to change the subject.

  ‘It seemed the natural thing. My aunt by marriage is an actress. She put me in touch with a director who was looking for someone who could fly a chopper for an army movie he was making. She suggested me. Then they realised I could ride horses too and all kinds of other stuff and I guess it followed on from there. The work suits me. I like the travelling. I like doing stunts. I’m good at it.’

  He said the words matter-of-factly. He wasn’t boasting. Just saying it how it was.