by Amy Andrews
The Hunter Clinic was working with charities all over the world, trying to redress that balance.
‘There are a lot of charity and aid organisations out there that have a particular focus on certain regions or diseases or conditions or gender. And I get that—I do. There’s just not enough charity dollars to go around.’
She turned to face him slightly.
‘But it doesn’t make it fair,’ she said. ‘I want to be able to give the children who fall through the cracks a chance at a better life too. They deserve a fair go too.’
Ethan nodded. Of course they did. So Olivia Fairchild was going to see to it. Good on her.
‘I’m assuming your parents are the main benefactors?’ he asked. ‘They must be very proud of you.’
Like himself, Olivia came from a wealthy background. It had been one of the many things they’d had in common. Except Olivia’s parents had turned their backs on lucrative practices and devoted their time to isolated communities as flying doctors.
Olivia was grateful that the light changed just then and they were able to cross the street as quick, hot tears welled in her eyes. She blinked them back. It wasn’t Ethan’s fault that he didn’t know about her parents’ tragic demise. She hadn’t told him, and it was hardly as if their deaths had made international headlines.
She swallowed the lump in her throat. ‘Yes. I got the money from my parents,’ she said. ‘And I have some good people I trust looking after the financial side of things.’
Ethan nodded. He knew how important it was to have trustworthy people involved in things like this. ‘Well, Ama is very lucky to have someone looking out for her and willing to give her a fair go.’
Olivia suppressed a snort. He had no idea. Ama might be happy and bright now, but that was not how she’d been the day she’d first met the girl and her mother on a dirt street.
Ethan glanced at Olivia. Her brow was furrowed. ‘You’re frowning,’ he said, shoving his hands in his pockets. ‘Are you worried about Ama? Don’t be. Everything’s going to work out fine. Trust me.’ He grinned as her frown continued. ‘I’m a surgeon. And I’m good.’
Olivia looked up at him, his chiselled features filling her vision. His smile sucked the breath from her lungs. Oh, he was good, all right. They were probably a metre apart but he felt much closer—Ethan and his indomitable confidence had always managed to fill up the space between them.
She was worried about Ama. But not about the procedure or his ability to perform it. She had one hundred per cent faith in Ethan’s capabilities and she knew Ama would be a very different girl by the time her multiple surgeries were done.
‘I know,’ she said. ‘It’s just...afterwards I’m worried about. When she heads back home again. You and I both know she’s still not going to look like she did before NOMA, and that makes her...vulnerable.’
Ethan slowed a little. ‘You’re worried she’ll still be ostracised?’
Olivia slowed too. ‘Yes. And I’m worried that her uncle will still force her into marriage.’
Ethan blinked. ‘What? She’s nine, Olivia,’ he snorted.
‘That wasn’t stopping him the day I found her.’
Ethan felt a cold fist close around his heart as Olivia’s words sunk in. ‘I beg your pardon?’
Olivia shuddered, thinking back to the horrible altercation she’d witnessed. She vividly recalled the taste of vomit in her mouth when the interpreter had finally sorted out what was happening.
‘The day I found Ama her uncle, who was the head of her household since Ama’s father had died the year before, was giving her away to a man who looked at least forty. She was crying and clinging to her mother, and her mother was crying and begging her brother to reconsider.’
Another rush of emotion filled Olivia’s chest. She shook her head against it, tried to push it back, but the memory was still so acute. How could anyone force a nine-year-old girl to marry? The thought was utterly vile.
Olivia wasn’t naive—she knew awful stuff like that happened in places that the world didn’t care to know about—but confronting it first-hand had been wrenching. Caught up in the rekindled horror of it, she turned to Ethan.
‘You should have seen them,’ she said. ‘They were...clutching each other in the middle of this...street. It wasn’t even a street, really—just this dirt...pathway. They were both so skinny and desperate and...wailing. Ril was wailing and holding on tight as this...disgusting old man with gnarled hands and three yellow teeth pulled at Ama’s arm.’
Olivia halted, oblivious to the people walking behind her, caught up for a moment in the heat and utter despair that symbolised so much of Africa for her. It had been horrible. The consequences for Ama had she not intervened were still too much for her to bear.
Ethan gently took her elbow, moving her out of the path of other pedestrians who were bustling around them.
‘It was terrible, Ethan,’ she said, only vaguely aware that they were standing on the first step of the very grand entrance to one of the many clinics that populated the area. The Lighthouse was only two blocks away now.
‘It’s okay,’ he murmured. The distress on Olivia’s face squeezed his gut tight and he wanted to make it better.
Olivia shook her head. ‘No, it’s not,’ she said.
‘No,’ he agreed. ‘I’m sorry. It’s not.’
She looked up at him. Muted light shone through the glass side panels of the grand doorway and fell over the planes and angles of his face. ‘I couldn’t leave her,’ she said. ‘I couldn’t...’
Ethan nodded. ‘Of course not.’ His hand was still at her elbow and he gave it a gentle squeeze. ‘What did you do?’
She shrugged helplessly. ‘I gave him all the money I had on me and told him to get lost. And then I didn’t let her out of my sight.’
Ethan smiled down at her. The light from inside lit her face and her eyes glittered with indignation. She looked fierce. Like a mother bear. He could just imagine her, furious and fearless, defending a child, standing up to a man in a hugely patriarchal society. Telling him to get lost.
‘That was brave,’ he murmured.
The compliment slid into all the places Olivia had forgotten about. Places that Ethan had always kept alive and humming. They were standing close on the step, closer than when they’d been walking, and she could smell the beer on his breath and the spice of his cologne.
‘Dali called it stupid.’
Ethan chuckled. ‘Well, it was probably a little of that as well.’
His low, sexy laugh was just the right timbre to produce an army of goose bumps and a funny little pull somewhere in the vicinity of her belly button. ‘I was scared witless,’ she admitted. ‘But...what else could I do?’
Even now the thought of Ama’s fate had Olivia just walked away was too distressing to think about.
Ethan shook his head. Her gaze was so raw and her question so earnest. ‘You’re a good woman, Olivia Fairchild. You always were.’
And he meant it. It buzzed through his veins, echoed around his head and filled up his chest. He was proud just to know her, to have a chance to know her again, and before he could stop himself he’d stepped in close, slid his hands onto her waist and dropped his mouth to hers.
And it felt good as she opened to him. Easy and sexy and right. Just as it always had. Her lips soft, her taste and her scent stirring old memories, urging him to go deeper, to pull her closer.
And he did.
Olivia temporarily lost her way as the taste and the touch and the smell of him wiped out all her common sense. It was as if she’d been transported back to their first kiss a decade ago. A kiss that had started out as a crazy, tired comfort thing, after a long, harrowing night shift together, and quickly became something quite different.
Something that had made absolute sense.
She slid her palms up the front of his jacket, smoothing and sculpting the muscles she knew lay beneath, clutching at his lapels as she tried to recapture that long-ago crazy/sane moment to take her away from the dirt and heat and poverty of Africa.
The tragedy of Ama and girls just like her.
The tragedy of her parents.
The tragedy of them.
Ethan groaned as Olivia deepened the kiss, opening her mouth wider, her tongue hot, dancing a wild tango with his.
‘Liv...’ His hands slid down to cup her bottom as his groin caught fire.
Olivia protested against his mouth as common sense wrenched her away from him.
One word.
Just one word and he’d yanked her back to reality.
‘Damn it!’ She pushed on his chest, stepping back, stepping out of his arms, sucking in air, breathing hard.
What was she doing? What the hell was she doing? Kissing Ethan again. Ethan, who was even more messed-up than he’d been a decade ago. Ethan with the shadows in his eyes.
Ethan whom she had to work with.
‘You promised,’ she hissed at him.
Ethan’s head reeled from the abrupt disconnect. His head buzzed with the sexual high even as shame and guilt flooded over the top, smothering it very effectively.
He hadn’t betrayed Aaliyah’s memory in a year.
And here he was, kissing an ex-girlfriend on a public street like some grubby teenage boy.
Olivia glared at him, mad at herself but madder still at him. She’d be a bloody fool to get involved with Ethan Hunter again.
She pushed him hard in the chest. ‘You promised never, ever,’ she accused. ‘We toasted it!’
‘I’m...sorry,’ he said, trying to pull himself together for Olivia as he battled his own demons. ‘I...got carried away.’
Olivia knew the feeling.
But she was too angry to see his side right now. Too angry with herself. One touch of his lips and her resolve just disappeared.
She had to get away. She had to see Ama, for God’s sake. It was the whole reason they were out on the street together in the first place. Not for some public necking session.
‘I have to get to the hospital,’ she said tersely.
Ethan nodded. ‘Of course. I’ll see you in the morning,’ he said, knowing the Lighthouse was close enough now for her to get there without his company.
But it didn’t stop him watching her as she hurried away without a backward glance.
CHAPTER FIVE
BY THE TIME he entered his apartment ten minutes later Ethan had called himself every name under the sun. He’d kissed Olivia after expressly promising not to start anything. And even though she’d kissed him back it was unforgivable.
It seemed he was destined to behave unforgivably around Olivia.
And what about his vows to Aaliyah? Forgotten in one mad moment. What kind of a man did that make him?
Guilt chewed at his gut as he splashed whisky into a glass. Guilt over kissing Olivia. For wanting to kiss Olivia. For forgetting about the woman he’d loved—the woman he’d left behind in a Godforsaken part of the world, whom he’d promised he’d be back for.
Another broken promise.
Ethan’s brain seethed and boiled like molten lava in a volcanic cauldron as he stared morosely into the depths of the amber liquid in the crystal tumbler. How could he have betrayed the memory of Aaliyah? Yes, she was gone. She was dead and he was alive. But it had only been a year.
One lousy year.
How could he have forgotten his promise to her the day he’d asked her to marry him? That he would love her only, be faithful to her always?
And what about the silent pledge he’d taken the day he’d woken up in the hospital to the news of Aaliyah’s death? That he was done with love. Done with relationships.
Done with emotion. With feeling. With passion.
Those things had died with Aaliyah and he’d literally felt the bands of cold steel wrapping around his heart as he’d sworn never to get involved again, never to love again. Hell, he’d welcomed them. They and the scars on his legs were his reminder that the women he loved tended to leave him.
His mother. Aaliyah.
He’d resigned himself to a solo life. Was he happy? No. But how could he be after what had happened to him? And where had happiness got him anyway? He was...content. He and Leo were in a good place, he was going to be an uncle soon, and he was doing good work. Important work that meant something to him.
And now Olivia had walked back into his life.
Ethan swirled the whisky in the glass. Damn her. Damn her for getting too close. Again. For making him remember what it felt like to be a man.
To want a woman. To want to feel her, taste her.
He hadn’t needed that in his life. And he sure as hell hadn’t missed it. The desire for physical affection had been non-existent.
Couldn’t she just have stayed away? Left him with his ghosts and demons? He’d grown used to them for company and he’d been just fine here in his shell.
And yet with one look and that gut-wrenching shimmer of emotion in her expressive gaze he’d wanted more. Just like that she’d wormed her way under his skin—just like ten years ago, when he’d only been supposed to be using her to throw in Leo’s face but she’d come to mean more.
Even now he couldn’t get her out of his head. Couldn’t stop replaying their kiss over and over. He could still taste her, feel the curve of her waist embedded into his palm. Feel the tension in his belly and the tightness in his groin.
He shut his eyes, desperately trying to recall Aaliyah. Her bronzed skin, her midnight eyes, her calming touch. But all he saw was Olivia.
A surge of anger and frustration welled in his chest as Ethan fought another battle. The glass felt good in his hand—heavy. Reeking of money and class. As did the whisky. And he wanted nothing more than to knock it back. Have a second. A third. But Olivia was still in his head. As was her taunt from last night. Packing a bigger punch than it had already.
‘I’m sure that’s exactly how your father started out.’
Damn it!
He shook his head, letting the rage bubble up and out. Swinging wildly around, he threw the heavy crystal glass at the opposite wall. The crash was loud, as was the inevitable harsh shatter as shards of glass and liquid slid down the wall.
Ethan stood for long moments just staring at the mess, his heart pounding in his chest. He didn’t feel any better. He still wanted a drink. He still wanted Olivia.
Damn it!
He stalked to the nearby gym set-up that Lizzie had organised for him back when she’d been his home visit nurse. She’d been determined not to just dress his wounds and check he was taking his medication but to bully him into doing his physio so he could strengthen his legs and stop brooding inside the house.
Ethan sat at the leg press machine. And took out his frustrations on it.
* * *
Olivia knew it was her turn to apologise this morning. After tossing and turning through another sleepless night she knew she was as much to blame for the kiss as Ethan.
No, she hadn’t made the first move. But she hadn’t immediately pushed him away either. She hadn’t told him no or slapped his face. In fact she’d opened her mouth wider, invited him in, stepped in nearer, put her hands on him. For God’s sake, she’d grabbed hold of his lapels and dragged him closer!
She might not have asked for it but she’d definitely encouraged its continuation. So she would be the one saying sorry, as soon as he walked through Ama’s door this morning.
Thankfully he didn’t make her wait too long, showing up at the room at eight-thirty in a set of blue Theatre scrubs.
And for a moment Olivia lost her breath.
; She’d forgotten how damn good the man looked in blue. It was such a girly, sky-blue too, and yet somehow he oozed masculinity. Maybe it was the way he filled them out. The breadth of his shoulders, the narrowness of his hips... Or maybe it was the rough-looking salt and pepper whiskers at his jaw.
He shot her a hesitant smile and a quick nod before he turned his attention to Ama and her mother. She was watching something loud and animated on the overhead television, scarf firmly in place. There was no way she could possibly follow the plot—it didn’t even make a whole lot of sense in English—but she seemed utterly engrossed nonetheless, even bursting out laughing occasionally.
Olivia watched as he pulled up a chair by Ama’s bed and sat down facing the television, also taking in the cartoon.
‘What’s that dog doing?’ he asked Ama, and Dali dutifully interpreted.
They chatted back and forth through Dali about the television show, as if he had all the time in the world instead of a Theatre list that probably started in thirty minutes. When an ad break came he took advantage, and Olivia listened as he explained to Ril and Ama, in clear simple terms, what the tests had shown and how they were going to proceed. It was pretty much an abbreviated layman’s version of what she and Ethan had talked about last night in the bar.
Before they’d ruined the evening by letting their past rear its ugly head.
‘I’m putting a team together now and we’re going to do the first surgery on Wednesday next week,’ he said, and waited for Dali to translate. ‘The second one probably three or four weeks later.’
Ril, who was sitting on the bed next to her daughter, nodded and asked a question.
‘Ril would like to know if Olivia will be one of the surgeons,’ Dali said.
‘Absolutely,’ Olivia piped up. ‘Let him just try and stop me!’
There was a lightness to her tone, but Ethan heard the undercurrent loud and clear. Did she think he’d try and block her after what had happened between them last night? He knew how much Olivia wanted to be involved—he would never do that.