Sydney Harbour Hospital: Evie's Bombshell

by Amy Andrews

  Evie stilled as the enormity of what she faced hit home. If Ethan was right she was dealing with something bigger than his grief. She looked at Ethan helplessly, her hand seeking the precious life that grew inside her, needing to anchor herself in an uncertain sea. ‘I don’t know how to reach him through all that.’

  Ethan shrugged. ‘I don’t know how you do it either but I do know that he’s crying out for help and after that little performance in the workshop, I think you’re the one woman who can do it. I have never seen Finn so … emotionally reactive as just now.’

  Evie cocked an eyebrow. ‘Is that what you call it?’

  He grinned. ‘Don’t give up on him, Evie. I think you’ll make a human being out of him yet.’

  Ethan had been right—word had got out. Evie’s clinic was bustling that first morning with the most pathetic ailments she’d ever treated. But it felt good to be able to practise medicine where there was no pressure or stress or life-and-death situations and the men were flirty and charming and took the news of her pretend boyfriend waiting back home for her good-naturedly.

  She and Bob had lunch together on the magnificent homestead veranda serenaded by the crash of the surf. She yawned as Bob regaled her with the details of the nail-gun incident.

  ‘Sorry,’ she apologised with a rueful smile. ‘It must be the sea air.’

  Bob took it in his stride. ‘No worries. You should lie down and have a bit of a kip, love. A siesta. Reckon the Italians have that right.’

  Evie was awfully tempted. The pregnancy had made her tired to the bone and by the time she arrived home after manic twelve-hour shifts at Sydney Harbour she was utterly exhausted. She already felt like she was in a major sleep deficit—and the baby wasn’t even out yet! She fantasised every day about midday naps and she could barely drag herself out of bed on her days off.

  But it didn’t seem right to wander off for a nanny nap in broad daylight—was that even allowed?

  ‘Go on,’ Bob insisted as she yawned again. ‘There’s nothing for you to do here and you have your pager.’

  Evie hesitated for a moment longer then thought, What the hell?

  She pulled the suitcase off her bed—it must have been delivered while she’d been working that morning. She’d tasked Bella with the job of packing two weeks’ worth of clothes for her because, as a fashion designer, Evie knew her sister would choose with care. Her youngest sister Lexi, on the other hand, who was thirty-two weeks pregnant and time poor, would have just shoved in the first things that came to hand.

  As her head hit the pillow her thoughts turned to Finn, as they always did. Should she tell him, shouldn’t she tell him? When to tell him? Here? Back in Sydney? When would be a good time?

  But the lack of answers was even more wearying than the questions and within a minute the sound of the ocean and the pull of exhaustion had sucked her into a deep, deep sleep.

  Evie woke with a start three hours later. She looked at the clock. She’d slept for three freaking hours?

  She must have been more tired than she’d thought!

  She certainly hadn’t felt this rested in a long time. Maybe after two weeks here she’d have caught up on the sleep she needed.

  She stretched and stared at the ceiling for a moment or two, her hand finding her belly without conscious thought.

  ‘Well, baby,’ she said out loud. ‘Should I track your father down and tell him right now or should I wait till we’re back in Sydney and he’s done the op?’

  Evie realised she should feel silly, talking to a tiny human being in utero who couldn’t respond, but she’d spent so much time avoiding anything to do with the life inside her that it suddenly seemed like the most natural thing in the world—talking to her baby.

  ‘Move now if you think I should tell him today.’

  Again, quite silly. If she was going to rely on airy-fairy reasoning to inform her critical decisions, it’d probably make more sense to flip a coin.

  But then the baby moved. And not some gentle fluttering, is-it-or-isn’t it, maybe-it’s-just-wind kind of movement. It was a kick. A very definite kick. As if the baby was shaping up to play soccer for Australia.

  Crap. The baby had spoken.

  Twenty minutes later she’d changed into a loose, flowing sundress that she’d never seen before but which fitted her perfectly. Bella had attached a note to say, ‘Designed this especially for you. xxx.’

  It was floaty and feminine with shoestring straps—perfect for the beach and the warm September day. And exactly what she needed to face Finn.

  Finn couldn’t be found around the homestead but Ethan came out as she was standing at the veranda railing, contemplating the horizon.

  ‘Good clinic this morning,’ he said.

  Evie smiled. ‘I’ve never known a bunch of tough guys see a doctor for such trifling complaints.’ Ethan laughed and she joined him. ‘I don’t suppose you know where Finn might be?’ she asked, when their laughter petered out.

  ‘I’d try the beach.’ He inclined his head towards the well-worn track that lead to the safety-railed cliff edge and the two hundred and twenty stairs that delivered the intrepid traveller straight onto the beach.

  They were not for the faint-hearted …

  ‘He normally swims everyday around this time.’

  ‘Am I allowed to go that far away?’ she asked.

  Ethan laughed. ‘Of course. It’s not that far. And even though it isn’t a private beach, we kind of consider it as within the property boundaries.’

  She smiled. ‘Thanks.’

  Halfway down she stood aside to let a buff-looking guy in boardies and a backpack run past, his below-knee prosthesis not seeming to hinder him an iota. He nodded at her as he pounded upwards and she turned to watch him as he scaled the stairs as if they were nothing.

  Her gaze drifted all the way up the sheer cliff face to the very top. She was dreading walking back—running just seemed insane.

  Her foot hit the warm sand a few minutes later and her gaze scanned the wide arc of yellow, unpatrolled beach for Finn. She couldn’t see him but as she walked closer to the thundering ocean she could see a towel discarded on the sand and she looked out at the water, trying to see a head amongst the continually rolling breakers.

  Her heart beat in sync with the ocean as she searched in vain through the wild pounding surf and a hundred disaster scenarios scuttled through her head. She calmed herself with the knowledge that he was a strong swimmer and ignored the ominous power of the surging ocean. Then she spotted his head popping up out of the water. He was quite a distance out but she could see his wet hair was sleek, like a seal’s pelt, and his shoulders were broad and bare.

  She sat on the sand next to his towel and waited.

  Finn was aware of Evie from the minute she’d set foot on the beach. Some sixth sense had alerted him and he’d watched her advance towards the shoreline, obviously looking for him.

  And, of course, she looked utterly gorgeous in a dress that blew across her body, outlining her athletic legs, her hair whipping across her face, the shoestring straps baring lovely collar bones and beautiful shoulders.

  Just looking at her made him hard and he was grateful for the cover of ocean.

  It had been so long since he’d touched her. He wanted to stride up the beach, push her back into the sand and bury himself in her. But he hated the feelings she roused in him and the loss of control he exhibited when he was with her.

  Besides … it would just put them back at square one when he’d tried so hard—and succeeded—at putting distance between them.

  He could tell, though, even from this distance, she was here to chat. And, God knew, he didn’t want to chat with her. Right now the only thing he wanted to do with her involved being naked and he was going to stay right here until he’d worn the impulse down.

  He swam against and with the strong current until he was chilled to the bone and his arm ached. A part of him hoped she’d get sick of waiting and just leave. Or maybe he
r pager would go off. But she sat stubbornly staring out to sea, watching him until finally the chill was unbearable and, admitting defeat, he strode from the surf.

  She handed him his towel as he drew level with her and he took it wordlessly, rubbing vigorously at his body. When he was done he wrapped it around his waist and threw himself down next to her, taking care to leave a gap. She didn’t say anything to him as they both sat and watched the ocean for a while, the sun’s rays beginning to work their magic on the ice that seemed to penetrate right down to his bones.

  Although the ice around his heart was as impenetrable as always.

  ‘I hear you have a boyfriend,’ he said after a while.

  Evie, her brain still grappling with the perfect words to tell Finn he was going to be a father and her stupid pregnant hormones still all aflutter from his sexy Adonis-rising-from-the-ocean display, didn’t register the terseness in his tone.

  ‘A cosmetic surgeon who owns a Porsche and comes from North Shore money,’ he continued.

  Evie bit back a smile at the ill-disguised contempt in his voice. When choosing her fake boyfriend she’d deliberately chosen all the attributes Finn would despise. ‘Well, I figured if I was going to have a make-believe boyfriend I might as well go all out.’

  Finn wasn’t mollified. ‘He sounds like a tosser.’

  Evie smiled at the ocean. ‘Because he does lips and boobs or because of the Porsche?’

  Finn glared at her as she continued to stare at the horizon. ‘Is that what you want, Princess Evie? Some blue-blooded prince to keep up your royal lineage?’

  She turned to look at him, her nostrils flaring as the scent of sea salt and something her hormones recognised as quintessentially Finn enveloped her. ‘I think you know who I want.’

  And suddenly the roar of the ocean faded as the pounding of her pulse took over. The fact she was supposed to be telling him about their baby also faded as her heart drummed a primitive beat perfectly at home in this deserted windswept landscape. The world of the beach shrank until there was just him and her and the sun stroking warm fingers over their skin, lulling her common sense into a stupor. His bare chest and shoulders teased her peripheral vision, his sexy stubble and wet, ruffled hair taunted her front and centre.

  ‘I’ve only ever wanted you, Finn,’ she murmured, her breath rough as her gaze fell to his mouth. Wanting to feel it on hers. To feel it everywhere. ‘And right now all I can think about is how good we are together.’

  Finn shut his eyes, images of how good they were rolling through his brain as seductively as her voice, like a siren from the sea. He opened them again and her hazel eyes were practically silver with desire. ‘Evie …’

  Her breasts grew heavy at the rawness of his voice. Longing snaked through her belly, hot and hard and hungry as she lifted her hand to his face, ran her fingers over his mouth. ‘I’ve wanted to kiss you every day for five months,’ she murmured.

  Finn gently grabbed her wrist, intent on setting her away, but the breeze blew the scent of her shampoo, of her skin right into his face, enveloping him in a cloud of memories, and he knew he wasn’t strong enough. Not after five months of denial.

  ‘Oh, hell,’ he half muttered, half groaned as he slid his hand from her wrist into her hair, pulling her head close and lowering his mouth to hers.

  He’d lain awake at night thinking about her kiss. And it was as good as he remembered. Better. She opened to him on a sigh, moved into the shelter of his arms as if she belonged there and he felt the last of the cold disappear from his bones as an intense heat roared and raged through his marrow.

  And then he was hot everywhere.

  Their tongues tangoed as he pressed her back onto the sand, his thigh instantly pushing between hers, his hand automatically stroking down her neck, across her shoulders before claiming a breast, firmer and rounder even than he remembered, the nipple beading instantly beneath his palm.

  Evie moaned as she arched her back, pushing herself into his hand more, the ache of the aroused tip mirroring the ache between her legs. She rubbed against his thigh to relieve it but he only pushed harder against her, stoking the need higher.

  And then with a muffled curse against her mouth he was over her, on top of her, and she revelled in the pressure of him pushing her into the warm sand, the imprint of each grain against the backs of her calves, the feel of the naked planes of his back dry and warm from the sun beneath her hands.

  Her head spun from his kiss, her breath was short and choppy and her belly dipped and tightened with every thrust and parry of his tongue. And if it hadn’t been for a lone seagull landing practically on top of them and startling them both out of their stupor, Evie had no doubt they would have gone all the way, oblivious to everything but the primitive imperative of their bodies.

  Evie broke off their kiss as sense invaded their bubble and she became aware they were making out on a beach and anyone with two eyes and a pair of binoculars could be watching them from the cliff top. Not to mention anyone coming down the stairs from the retreat copping an eyeful.

  Finn uttered another curse and rolled off her, flopping onto his back, his chest heaving, his pulse battering his temples, his erection throbbing painfully.

  ‘Finn.’ She reached for his arm but he vaulted upright abruptly and she knew he was already regretting what had happened.

  ‘I’m sorry, he said. ‘That shouldn’t have happened.’

  Evie sighed as she too sat, her body still zinging from their kisses. ‘Why not?’ she asked. ‘We’re both adults, Finn.’

  Finn shook his head vehemently. ‘We’re not going down this road again, Evie,’ he said.

  Evie smoothed her dress over her knees. Tell him. Tell him they were on the road together whether he liked it or not. ‘Would it be so bad?’

  ‘I lose my head when I’m around you and I don’t like it.’

  ‘That’s a shame,’ she said, trying to lighten the moment. Tell him! ‘I like it when you lose your head.’

  ‘Damn it, Evie,’ he barked, looking at her, her lips full and soft from his ravaging. ‘I don’t. I don’t like it. I almost had you naked on your back on this beach.’

  She placed her hand on his forearm. It felt warm and solid in her palm and she never wanted to let go.

  Tell him!

  But she couldn’t. She didn’t want to use the baby to win him. ‘Finn … I’ve known you for five years and I’ve never seen you so relaxed. So why don’t you just … relax and see where this takes us?’

  Finn shrugged her hand away. ‘You want more than I’m prepared to give. And you deserve it, too.’ He stood and looked down at her. ‘We’ve got two weeks here together. Let’s just stay away from each other, okay?’

  He didn’t give her a chance to reply as he turned on his heel. The baby thumped around inside her as she watched him stride off. No doubt it was trying to make her feel guilty for not accomplishing what she’d come to the beach to achieve.

  ‘Sorry, baby,’ she whispered. ‘Not going to happen. I’ll tell him when we get to Sydney—promise.’

  CHAPTER THREE

  AND STAY AWAY from each other they did. At least, Finn steered clear of her anyway.

  Painstakingly …

  His distance reminded her of how they had co-existed for years at the hospital. Aware of each other, of what might have happened that first night they’d met at the gala in Finn’s honour had her father not come along and given her away as a Lockheart. Aware of something bubbling beneath the surface but neither crossing the professional divide—junior doctor and consultant.

  Even her catastrophic relationship with Stuart now seemed a desperate attempt to cling to someone she could have, to distract herself from someone she couldn’t.

  But despite all that, their mutual attraction—subversive, unspoken—had simmered away until it had flared out of control one day and little by little she’d wedged herself into his life. He hadn’t liked it, he didn’t like it now, but it was simply too big to ignore. />
  Although she had to give it to Finn, the man did denial better than anyone she knew.

  So Evie did what she had been raised to do from an early age by a father who’d prized her social skills above her brains and talent—she fitted in.

  Schmoozed.

  She got to know the gang. Mingled with the guys as they went about their day-to-day business—despite Finn’s scowls. Took quad lessons with whoever was around to teach her. Helped Tom out at the gym and in the hydrotherapy pool. Became a sounding board for Ethan over a couple of the guys he was worried about.

  And she slept in and read a book a day from the extensive library at the homestead and ate the delicious food cooked by Reginald, an ex-army chef, and soaked in the sea air and the sunshine like a giant sponge. She felt good—fit and healthy—and knew from the mirror that the tired smudges beneath her eyes had disappeared and that her skin was glowing and her hair shone.

  She’d also taken to swimming after her clinic each day. She tagged along with a group of the guys and lolled in ankle-deep waters as they ran drills on the beach. Despite being a strong swimmer, she was never quite game enough to go out too far, preferring the gentler push and pull of the shallows. Such a desolate windswept section of the coastline, dominated by sheer cliffs and rocky outcrops, needed to be respected.

  After a couple of hours of swimming and soaking up the sun they’d head back again. Oftentimes Finn would be on his way down. The men would greet him enthusiastically and if any of them thought Finn’s reserved response was odd they never commented. They seemed to respect him and his personal space and if it made Evie sad to think that Finn came to the beach alone when he could have had company, she was obviously the only one.

  Two weeks flew by so fast and Evie couldn’t believe it was her last day as she dressed for her final sojourn to the beach. Thoughts of how relaxing it had been here filled her head as she rounded the side of the veranda and literally ran smack bang into Finn.

  ‘Sorry,’ she apologised as he grabbed her to steady her from their impact.