Exposed

by JC Harroway

  Dan glanced at the banner on the email, his chest lightening. The trip to America with fourteen injured servicemen and women represented the highlight of his calendar, which was conspicuously devoid of anything personal. He’d already met half of the group, whose injuries ranged from amputations to PTSD, and as team medic he’d be responsible for their care during both the training weekends to come and the Ruby Challenge itself.

  He stretched out his aching legs, already smelling the crisp earthy air and feeling the sun warming his back. A lifelong passion for the great outdoors often found him hillwalking the majestic Derbyshire Dales on his days away from the hospital. The inspiring scenery and sense of accomplishment recharged his batteries for what was often a demanding and draining job.

  Not that he didn’t love his work. The job of an A&E consultant was fast paced and no two days were ever the same. Take today, for example.

  Dan sighed, his fingers stalling on the keyboard. What should have been a routine check-up on a fit and healthy young woman had turned into an intriguing and bewildering lesson in humility.

  He respected Ms Archer’s request for a female doctor—it was her choice. But everything about the abrasive twenty-five-year-old screamed wounded, hurting, vulnerable, sparking to life both his professional curiosity and his personal interest. And it had been a long time since anyone had sparked the latter to life.

  Dan pushed his laptop to the side and leaned forwards, his hands clasped between his knees as he stared at Eden Archer’s case file on the coffee table. The tips of his fingers itched to open the file, to read the brief covering letter outlining the reasons Ms Archer was undertaking the Ruby Challenge. But his integrity gave him pause. She was Emily Chalmers’ patient now. Any inquisitiveness on his part was purely voyeurism and highly unprofessional. And he didn’t have to be a psychiatrist to see she battled substantial demons.

  Her huge dark eyes flashed before him—vulnerable, but valiantly sparking with indignation. Heat bloomed in his belly. Heat that felt rusty. Heat he didn’t want to analyse.

  He located the number from one of the Scale emails and placed the call to Emily Chalmers.

  ‘Emily, Dan Barbour here. I met with one of the Ruby Challengers today, Eden Archer.’ The lasting image of her, slight but as tall as fifty men, striding from the clinic had stayed with him all day. The fact that she was even participating in the challenge told him she’d been through some considerable trauma. He swallowed, clearing his throat. ‘There’s been an administrative mix-up—she actually requested you and, despite living not far from me, is happy to travel the extra seventy-five miles.’

  A one hundred and fifty mile round trip in order to keep her secret from him and not expose the injuries she concealed beneath her baggy clothes. After almost ten years of hospital work, there wasn’t much Dan hadn’t seen. His hand flexed around his phone. Her vulnerability called to him on so many levels; the minute her small, cold hand slotted inside his larger one, he’d had to force his thoughts back on a professional footing. ‘Could you send her an appointment as soon as possible? I’ll forward her contact details in an email.’

  ‘Sure,’ Emily replied. ‘Anything I should know?’

  Dan frowned. He knew little about Eden Archer, apart from her normal blood pressure and heart rate. ‘Aside from the fact she prefers female doctors, you know what I know.’ Again, the urge to unearth all the guarded young servicewoman’s medical background crept through him. ‘I haven’t read her case file.’ And he wouldn’t. ‘I’ll return it to Scale and ask them to send you a copy.’

  ‘Thanks Dan. I look forward to finally meeting you in person on Saturday.’

  Ending the call, Dan collected an A4 envelope from his desk in the corner of the room and slid Eden’s case file inside.

  Her brusque exterior concealed a wealth of pain. He saw it hovering in the depths of those fathomless, dark eyes. The overly harsh bite to her tone when she asserted herself. The protective armour she wore like the oversized clothing. He was an expert in camouflaging his own pain, after all.

  Was it just his need to fix people that returned his thoughts to Eden Archer? He saw hundreds of patients every week. What was it about her? She materialised behind his closed eyelids—the elegant slope of her shoulders, the determined tilt of her chin, the ebony swathe of hair snaking down between her shoulderblades.

  No, he knew nothing about Eden Archer. Nothing beyond first impressions and his own reaction to her. A reaction that left him reeling. The first woman in two years to spark his personal interest, Eden Archer was a conundrum. A contradiction of wounded but tough, exposed but determined, damaged but resilient.

  Glancing at the beloved photo on his desk, his chest pinched. Eden Archer was nothing like the woman in the photo: his wife, Megan. In fact, seemingly the complete opposite. Hard edges to Megan’s playful softness. Scowls to Megan’s enigmatic smiles. Thorny barriers to Megan’s welcoming warmth.

  They couldn’t be more different, none more obvious than in one starkly undeniable way. Eden Archer was vibrantly alive, the heart she concealed from him and his stethoscope beating vividly in her chest. Whereas Megan wasn’t.

  Chapter 2

  Five days later, Eden handed her bag over to the minibus driver and waved a sheepish hello to Scale employee, Steve, the Ruby Challenge coordinator she’d met when she signed up for the challenge. Climbing aboard the idling minibus, she kept her eyes lowered to avoid the curious stares of anyone peering at the late girl, guessing at what was wrong with her.

  Her feet were heavy. She made her way down the narrow aisle to the last available seat. Bugger. Right next to Dr Hot McCheerful. Dr Dan.

  Her boots dragged.

  ‘Hello again.’ His smile bunched up his cheeks, framing his eyes with a fan of crinkles. Two charming grooved dimples bracketed his wide smile. Did the man never frown? And how had she missed those dimples the other day?

  Eden jutted her chin forward in silent greeting and plopped down onto the seat next to him, her body temperature soaring and staining her cheeks. Thank goodness she’d had the forethought to bring her headphones. Dan looked like the small-talk kind of guy and as much as she’d love to know more about him, she refused to play twenty questions with an inquisitive, albeit eye-soothing, medical professional. From their cringe-worthy first meeting, she already felt like a specimen swimming around a petri dish. And he’d had days to dig around in her medical file …

  ‘Would you prefer the window seat? I’m easy.’ His deep voice bathed her with warmth, her own frustration with herself dousing the heat. If she’d been on time, she’d have had a choice of seating options. But these days even the smallest menial tasks took twice as long.

  Reaching for her seatbelt, she ignored the clarity of his earnest hazel stare and the heat of his body permeating the scant space between their thighs. ‘No thank you, I’m fine.’ She shifted sideways, creating another millimetre of distance.

  Blessedly, the drive to the Peak District village of Edale would only take an hour. She could tolerate sitting this close to him for that long, surely? Especially if she didn’t have to make polite, or in her case, awkward, chitchat.

  Eyes closed. Retreat behind earphones. Try to ignore him.

  She wasn’t that lucky.

  ‘How are you feeling about today?’ He took a sip from takeaway cup, wafting the delicious smell of coffee towards Eden. Her stomach flipped, reminding her she’d had no time for breakfast. The smell of Dan’s coffee alone torturous to her caffeine-deprived body.

  ‘You’ve probably climbed Kinder Scout before, right?’ He reached out a long index finger and wiped a trace of froth from the lid of the cup, sucking it from his finger, his pink tongue gliding over his lower lip.

  Don’t look.

  ‘Why would you assume that?’ Eden pulled the tangled headphones from her pocket, her fingers working clumsily to unravel the wires single-handed.

  He shrugged one muscular shoulder, a move that brought his upper arm in contact w
ith hers, releasing a wave of unsettling fire in her chest and a waft of delicious fabric softener from his T-shirt. Why couldn’t he have bad breath and a sullen disposition like most doctors she’d encountered? Her crappy, coffee-free morning just kept getting worse. But at least they’d soon be outdoors. She craved physical activity, a reminder of her training that allowed her to feel a tiny sliver of normality.

  Dan shrugged, seemingly oblivious to the hostile, leave-me-alone vibe she’d perfected. Not that she meant it, wholly, where he was concerned. If only she could just look at him, without having to answer all his questions. The old Eden would have happily conversed with a sexy seatmate, spending an hour chatting about nothing and everything, getting to know a fellow volunteer, sharing travel stories or personal goals for the challenge.

  ‘Well, we’re both from this area. I guess, with your army training, I assumed you’re quite fit and active,’ he said.

  Eden swallowed the bile that was permanently in her throat these days. ‘I was.’ Soldier fit. She quailed at the unguarded admission. But not anymore. She wasn’t the old Eden. Yes, she prided herself on how quickly she’d regained her cardiac fitness after the accident, but her confidence was as shredded as her damaged body and suffering mind.

  At last one of the earbuds freed from the birds nest of tangled wire and she sagged with relief, shoving it in her ear, her intentions glaringly clear if only he chose to observe. She nodded, head down, gaze focused on her means of escape from Dr Chatty. Surely he’d get the message.

  Obviously not …

  ‘Look, Eden—’

  Eden masked a sigh and pointed to the surname embroidered above the pocket of her sweatshirt. ‘I prefer Archer.’ She kept her gaze averted as she located the earphone jack and fumbled it into her phone, a tricky manoeuvre hindered by her left hand being concealed within the sleeve of her sweater.

  Dan shifted in his seat, turning to face her. ‘Since I’m not going to be your doctor, I thought we could get to know each other.’

  She made eye contact, refusing to blink away the burn from the sincerity that shone from his open face.

  His smile widened. ‘You know, as we live near each other and will be spending quite a bit of time together over the next month.’ He shrugged, a move that made him seem boyish for a split second. ‘We could train together, support each other …’

  At last her silence infected him, halting his pleasant and reasonable speech, every word of which scored her eardrums until she contemplated hurling herself from the moving bus. She was tempted. After all, what he offered made sense, and the army had taught her team building played a massive part in the success of challenges such as the one they’d undertaken. If Dan had been less appealing, perhaps she’d have jumped at the chance. But the stirring of her attraction to him meant she couldn’t go there.

  ‘Thank you. But I’m happy to train alone. I’m afraid I’m not really good company these days.’ The words tasted poisonous. The familiar rush of shame washed through her, purging any residual chemistry she felt towards this man. It was for the best.

  She wasn’t strong enough to make new friends. Didn’t dare contemplate anything beyond friends. And Dan, she could tell, embodied exactly the kind of man she’d once coveted. She ignored the slight droop of his warm friendly smile and the dulling of his eyes.

  ‘Okay.’ His gaze flitted to the window of the now moving minibus, and he took another sip of coffee. She’d just reached for the second earbud when he said, ‘So what prompted you to volunteer for the challenge?’

  Clearly she’d have to be more direct. ‘I’m on sick leave from my post. I hate being idle, and this is a great way to rebuild my fitness. Look, I’m not great with superficial conversation. I’m really only doing this to complete the challenge and resume my career.’ A moment’s hesitation gripped her, paralysing her vocal cords. He was simply being polite, friendly.

  But she was determined to keep her objective simple. Complete the challenge, take her certificate from Scale and resume active service as soon as possible.

  No distractions.

  No complications.

  No sexy doctor friends.

  ‘If you like,’ She fortified her voice, resolved. ‘I could ask to swap seats with someone more … communicative?’ She pointed in the general direction of the other occupants of the minibus.

  The golden flecks of his irises dimmed. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. ‘I see.’

  Something like pity flashed across his face, or maybe it was sadness. But her body had already interpreted his minute reaction as the former and a flash fire spread through her veins. ‘I’m sure you do. I’m sure you’ve scoured every line of my medical record and think you have me all figured out.’

  The urge to curl into a ball and hide became so overwhelming, she raced towards the opposite extreme, her back rigid and chin held high. ‘Well, Dr Dan, let me assure you, you know nothing about me and I have no desire to alter that situation. Now, if you’ll excuse me.’ Eden shot him a saccharine smile and turned away from his bewilderment, pushing the second earbud into her ear and selecting a playlist from her phone.

  With her cheeks flaming, she shoved away regret. She didn’t need some busybody with a saviour complex digging around in her head, no matter how sexy his dimpled smile or well intentioned his offer of friendship.

  She propped her head back against the headrest and closed her eyes, forcing her eyelids to release their tension and thus appear unconcerned by this altercation. Instead of soothing the riot of emotions inside her, the music grated against her super-alert senses, compounding the wretchedness that had become her constant state these last months.

  Her nerve endings sparked with awareness of Dan. She didn’t need to see his handsome face to know it would be pinched with indignation, disapproval or even anger. Despite her enforced sensory deprivation, his censure buffeted her rigid body until it was all she could do to hold in the scream in her head.

  She forced her breathing to slow. She could do this. Years of army training, living in barracks all over the world, growing up on army bases—ignoring one overzealous medic with a penchant for socialising should be a piece of cake.

  But deep down, the lies she told herself solidified, forming a hard ball in her gut. A hard ball covered with spikes, each one pricking at her conscience from the inside out. Dan wasn’t the problem. She was.

  Her whole body sagged into the scratchy upholstery. Her problems seemed so enormous, they loomed before her like an immovable mountain, ten times higher that the one they would climb today. If she could just get back to her career, a career she’d fought for every step of the way, she’d feel like her old self again. Wouldn’t she?

  But she’d never truly be her old self again. The scars would fade but not enough to completely erase the memories. Eden sighed, finally releasing some of the coiled tension from her insides, forcing her thoughts away from subject matter she’d vowed to shelve until this challenge was behind her.

  With a screaming squeal of breaks, the bus lurched, jolting Eden’s body forward until the seatbelt locked across her chest, biting into her shoulder. Adrenaline surged, pumping through her blood with a nauseating heave that forced bile into her throat with the thunderous roar of her heartbeat.

  Smoke.

  It filled her nostrils, choked her, corroding her lungs, her nose, her mouth with its sickening stench as her head filled with the deafening memory of screams.

  She opened her eyes, her surroundings morphing from imagined to reality as she convulsively swallowed her terror.

  ‘It’s okay,’ said Dan, ‘some idiot, who can’t drive, cut us up. We’re fine.’

  Eden gulped air, forcing her chest muscles to relax and her breathing to slow. The fog, enveloping her terrified mind, cleared, and the warmth of Dan’s calloused palm registered, seeping into the frigid fingers of her right hand.

  The hand closest to him, which was braced on the headrest of the seat in front.

  The hand t
hat still functioned—still looked normal.

  The hand that stood in stark contrast to its scarred and deformed partner.

  She gasped. Her gaze flew sideways as if needing to confirm her fears were correct. Sure enough, her day had finally reached the bottom of the shit pit. In her unconscious instinct to save herself, she’d automatically prepared for impact, revealing her injured hand from the protective confines of her baggy sleeve.

  Eden snatched her scarred fingers away, concealing them once again. Fire raged inside her chest, threatening to erupt from every pore in her face. If she looked at him now, she’d see the pity. Or the revulsion.

  Her stare skittered up from her lap to her other hand, still braced on the headrest. Dan’s strong warm fingers still gripped her own. Long, tanned, surprisingly elegant for a man. The nails square and blunt, a smattering of golden hair on the knuckles, his wedding ring glinting in the sun from the window.

  Her gaze shot to Dan, her flushed face burning with renewed heat. He was married? She snatched her hand from under his, the change in temperature so abrupt, her skin recoiled.

  His eyes lingered on hers, residual concern seeping away with the flattening of the small grooves between his brows.

  He’d seen. Seen her scarred, useless hand. His unfaltering gaze held, but confirmation was there in the twinge of sympathy in his compassionate stare. She’d seen it a hundred times. She’d almost prefer the alternative—the more rare, but more honest, disgust. The caring crushed her, diminishing her more than the fire had done.

  And he had a wife? A no doubt perfect wife. Perfectly lovable, perfectly unscarred and perfectly pleasant to strangers who wanted to get to know her in a professional capacity while they completed a charity challenge together.

  How could she have been so stupid? How had she failed to notice that band of gold? How could she have been so engrossed in his dimples and his dreamy eyes that she’d failed to notice something so … final. She sucked in breath, the burn adding to her humiliation.