Flying Doctors

by Fiona Lowe

  The men had wanted to dance with her. The woman had wanted to gossip about the dress. Kate had been right—the dress had impressed.

  And Linton’s gaze had been fixed on her for most of the evening. She wasn’t a disappointment. A thrill of joy raced through her as she gave herself up to savouring the sensation of being held firmly in his arms.

  He danced her out toward the veranda, away from the crowd, the music and the noise of two hundred people talking. The cool evening air washed over them as they twirled through the French doors.

  He spun her around and she came to rest against him, her back against his chest, feeling his warmth radiating into her, the pressure of his arm across her waist. Feeling protected. Safe.

  With sudden clarity she realised she’d felt that way with him ever since she’d told him about Nathan. He’d accepted her, had not judged her.

  She turned in his arms and looked up into his smiling face, his scent of soap and citrus aftershave tingling in her nostrils as she breathed in. ‘I almost didn’t come tonight.’

  He nodded, complete understanding radiating from his eyes. ‘I know what a huge step this has been for you. Keep telling yourself this—Nathan is pond scum. Don’t let his warped view taint you.’ He tucked a stray curl behind her ear.

  The light touch sent ribbons of wonder through her, both his actions and words bolstering her fledgling confidence. She realised that, despite her misgivings, telling Linton her story had actually helped her. Trusting him had been the best thing she’d done in four long years.

  He was right—she had been hiding. She’d been holding back, holding back from life and keeping her attraction to him a secret. Scared of being a disappointment. But perhaps she didn’t have to hide any more.

  She gazed up at him, glorying in the look of undisguised desire in his eyes. At that very moment she knew he wanted to kiss her.

  And she had no objection at all.

  Linton gazed down into her upturned face. Her cheeks glowed pink, luminous grey eyes sparkled with silver, and slightly parted red lips shone like a beacon, daring him to taste.

  He never could walk away from a dare.

  She moved her palm flat against his chest, her heat scorching him.

  Silver lights fired in his head as sensation exploded inside him, knocking hard against his resolve that this was all part of work.

  He lowered his lips to hers, tasting strawberries, champagne and fresh air. Feeling lush softness that yielded to his touch and yet returned a pressure that gently demanded more.

  Her mouth slowly opened under his, the action full of tentative reserve but overlaid with an invitation to come in and explore. The innocence of the action, so amazingly sexy, drove out all rational thought.

  The noise, the music, all sounds of the evening faded as he slid his right hand up along her back, gently cradling her neck and firmly holding her mouth to his.

  Blood pounded loudly in his ears as every part of him urged him to deepen the kiss, to taste the ambrosia of her mouth.

  But an unfamiliar yet delicious lassitude stole through him, unexpectedly powerful, slowing him down and making him savour this moment.

  Lips explored lips. Small nibbling bites, long caressing licks—a millimetre-by-millimetre journey, leaving no space untouched.

  Her mouth traversed his lips, each stroke sparking a trail of glorious sensation, each trail spiralling down deeper than the last until all trails merged, coursing through him and energising him like no other kiss ever had.

  As if reading his mind, she suddenly leaned in.

  Now more than lips touched. Her breasts flattened against his chest as her arms slid around his neck. A soft sigh—half sated, half demanding—tumbled from her mouth as her tongue flicked across his teeth, seeking entry, all hesitancy gone.

  A wall of fiery heat exploded in his chest, his need for her burning quickly through the restraint he’d happily welcomed a few minutes ago. His left hand slid from her hip to her bottom, clamping her against him, moulding her to him from ankle to lips, until no space between them existed.

  She tilted her head back and he plundered her mouth. Sweetness meshed with experience, heat danced with fire, need collided with need, the explosion unleashing a carefully contained yearning that wound through him, softening years of resolve.

  An edge of panic moved into place. Spend the night but not a lifetime. Don’t let a woman trap you. His father’s voice boomed in his head.

  ‘Supper’s served,’ a voice called out into the dark of the veranda.

  He felt a shudder against him and then cool night air caressed his lips and quickly stole down his body. Emily stepped back. ‘Great. I’m starving.’

  She stood in the shadows, her expression unreadable. An irrational sense of loss lingered, tinged with aggravation that her desire for food sounded stronger than her desire for him.

  She caught his hand in a friendly gesture. ‘Come on, or the queue for the chocolate fountain will be a mile long.’

  She tugged him back into the ballroom, the bright lights and noise making him blink. Nothing looked quite the same. He shook his head. What the hell was wrong with him?

  He’d kissed a hundred women at dances over the years. Tall women, stylish women, socialites, divas, blondes and brunettes—all his type of women. All of whom he’d kissed and forgotten. Kissed and moved on.

  This was no different. If anything, it should be more easily forgotten. Emily, at barely five feet three and free of urban sophistication, was not his type of woman at all.

  They reached the chocolate fountain, and she turned, smiling up at him, her lips red, soft and enticing.

  His mouth tingled and the need to kiss her again surged inside him like an addiction, jolting him down to his toes.

  Emily sat cuddled up next to Linton on the outdoor rattan couch, a soft blanket draped around them warding off the chill of the early morning air. Dappled moonlight lit the usually dark corner of the veranda and the crickets’ song serenaded them. Two black and white dogs lay curled up close by, dreaming of chasing sheep.

  It had been the most amazing evening of her life and the euphoria of the ball still bubbled in her veins. From the moment Linton had cut in on her dance with Baden, he hadn’t left her side.

  And he’d kissed her—gloriously, deliciously and wonderfully—until her body had been molten and her brain had been unable to assemble a single coherent thought.

  Linton’s mouth nibbled her ear. Need, hot and raw, speared down deep inside her. She’d imagined his kisses but no amount of daydreaming had prepared her for the reality.

  He trailed kisses down her neck and across her collarbone, lingering in the hollow at her throat, his tongue doing wicked things, stirring up such a strong response she risked losing complete control.

  It’s happening too fast. Somewhere from deep inside her a warning voice sounded faintly. She placed her hands on his solid chest, gaining some space between their bodies. But her palms revelled in the touch of his smooth, hot skin and she gave in to the tempting sensation to run her fingers down his ribs, tickling him under the last one.

  His head shot up, laughter on his lips and danger in his eyes. ‘Hey. You want to play a different game, do you?’

  He reached under the blanket but his hands got tangled in the layers of tulle. ‘What on earth…?’

  She started to giggle and put her fingers to her lips. ‘Shh, we don’t want to wake anyone up.’

  ‘Yeah, your brothers might turn up with a shotgun.’ He pulled her close and whispered. ‘Your family is very protective of you.’

  She laid her head on his shoulder, enjoying the sensation of the fine soft cotton of his shirt under her cheek. ‘No, they’re not.’

  ‘Yes, they are. Your dad was giving me “take care of my little girl” signals from the moment I arrived and your brothers gave me the look.’

  She raised her head and stared into green eyes that reflected the moon. ‘What look?’

  ‘The look that said,
“Put one foot wrong and we’ll beat you to a pulp”.’

  She sighed and laid her head back down. ‘Sorry about that.’

  His fingers tightened at her waist. ‘No need to be sorry. You’re really lucky.’

  ‘Lucky?’ Her finger fiddled with one of his shirt buttons. ‘How is it lucky to have five men organising your life for you?’

  His hand gently captured hers and held it against his chest. ‘At least they care. I get the impression your brothers would walk through fire for you.’

  She shrugged. ‘I suppose, but that’s what family is all about. For better or worse, they’re there for you even if half the time they’re frustrating the life out of you.’ She wriggled against him as she brought her feet up under the blanket. ‘How do you get along with your brothers?’

  He stiffened. ‘I don’t have any brothers.’

  His tension and the tone of voice made her study him closely. Shadows moved in his eyes but that could have been the moonlight. ‘Sisters? I bet you’re a protective big brother, just like Mark.’

  ‘Nope, no sisters.’ The words shot out brisk and abrupt. ‘I’m an only child.’

  Sadness skittered through her at the bald statement. Her brothers might sometimes drive her crazy but she had plenty of fond memories of riotous games of Monopoly, stories around the campfire when they had been out mustering and even fun times doing mundane chores like drying the dishes at night. She had a strong urge to make him feel better about this. ‘At least you didn’t have to fight for your parents’ attention—that has to be a bonus.’

  He grimaced. ‘For many years they were too busy fighting each other. They divorced when I was twelve.’

  The chill in his words made her shiver. ‘Oh, that would have been tough. Was not being able to have more children part of the problem?’

  ‘No, having me was the problem.’ Acrimony filled his voice. ‘I was the accident, the reason for their ill-conceived marriage. At eighteen neither of them was ready for that sort of responsibility.’ He sighed. ‘Their divorce was inevitable from day one.’

  Pain, raw and jagged, slugged her. ‘At least they tried to make it work.’

  ‘I suppose.’ He sounded unconvinced. ‘All I remember is the bitterness and rancour. It was a relief when they divorced. They still hated each other but at least home was quiet and free of arguments.’ He ran his free hand across the back of his neck in a now familiar reaction to stress.

  She’d lost her mother but her father and her brothers had given her a lot of happy times. Life on the station had been calm and supportive. ‘Did either of your parents remarry?’

  He cleared his throat. ‘My mother married her university professor a year after the divorce. Cliff’s OK. He tried too hard to be the “responsible” parent. Neither he nor Mum approved of Dad’s post-divorce lifestyle.’

  Intrigue drove her questions. ‘Did you see much of your father, growing up?’

  He nodded. ‘I spent the school holidays with him. His business took off a year after the divorce and he became quite wealthy. Going to Dad’s was like entering a different world, a world without boundaries or rules. I loved it. I got to meet all sorts of people, although the summer Dad dated a series of swimwear models is the year I remember most vividly.’

  He laughed. ‘I learned very quickly to only tell each parent the bare minium about my time in the ex-spouse’s household. Mum and Cliff would have had a court order preventing me from going to Dad’s if they’d known less than half of what went on.’

  ‘What sort of things?’

  ‘If I tell you, I might have to kill you.’ His aura of melancholy evaporated and he gently kissed her fingertips, his mouth slowly moving along her hand and up her arm. ‘You taste absolutely wonderful. I could kiss you all night.’

  She hugged his words close. This was what she’d dreamed of on all those long and lonely nights.

  Go slowly, remember Nathan. The faint voice gained volume but Linton’s mouth reached her jaw, sapping her concentration.

  Each touch of his lips fired her blood, each touch stoking her response, tightening her breasts into tingling swirls and fanning out liquid heat between her legs, urging her to lie back and savour the ministrations of the man she adored.

  He groaned and slid his hand along her leg, avoiding the entanglement of the tulle. ‘Seeing you tonight was like finding hidden treasure.’

  His thick voice couldn’t hide his desire. He kissed the edge of her mouth and her body moved toward his, needing his touch like it needed air.

  You’re not treasure, you’re not a possession. The uncooperative part of her brain stayed focused and forced her to stay on track with the conversation. ‘Did your dad remarry?’

  Linton paused, his lips resting warm and firm on her jaw. ‘Hell, no.’

  His emphatic response drove a stake of unease into her.

  He trailed butterfly kisses across her cheek but she refused to be distracted. ‘Why “Hell, no”?’

  His hand caressed her hair. ‘He’s having far too much fun to ever tie himself down to marriage.’

  Just like his son. The words exploded in her head with the deafening boom of a bomb.

  The playboy doctor.

  The man who never dated a woman more than once. The man who in the past year had never dated her, never even looked twice at her.

  Seeing you tonight was like finding hidden treasure.

  She drew in a ragged breath. He’d noticed her tonight when she’d met his dare and dressed up especially for him. Had his dare been more about what he wanted than about helping her?

  A bitter taste filled her mouth. Oh, what had she done?

  Like a balloon snagging on a thorn, her wonderful evening popped and her euphoria cascaded over her, clawing at her mouth and nose, suffocating her. Why did she make such appalling choices with men? She’d been so dumb. So stupid.

  She’d trusted Linton. She’d thought he understood her. But he didn’t because right now he only had eyes for a body that caused her grief, whether it was hidden or on display.

  Nathan had forced her to cover up. Linton had pushed her to uncover. Both had pushed for what they’d wanted.

  And she’d let herself be pushed. The realisation rocked her. Neither of them really knew her or what made her tick.

  Do you know yourself?

  The hard truth sent her blood plummeting to her feet. She’d always been so scared she’d disappoint that she recreated herself for those around her. Just like she’d done with Nathan. Just like she’d done tonight.

  Linton had accused her of hiding and she still was—it was just that the costume was different.

  How could she expect anyone to consider what she wanted when she didn’t know herself? The thought acted like a steel support running the length of her spine. She needed to take stock and work out what she wanted, who she really was.

  But in the confusing mess of this realisation, there was one thing she knew for sure. Linton didn’t really want her. He didn’t care what was inside the package; he just wanted to play with the sparkly gift-wrap. He was bewitched by her body—a fake façade.

  Well, she didn’t want to be plundered treasure and she refused to be fool’s gold.

  She deserved better than that.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  LINTON bounced into A and E remarkably full of energy despite little sleep. At two a.m. Emily had reminded him that she had to be on duty at eight so he’d reluctantly relinquished her from his arms and headed home.

  He should have slept well.

  Instead, he’d tossed and turned and he couldn’t blame stifling summer heat or concern about a patient. He really should have slept well. But every time he’d closed his eyes, his arms had ached for a petite redhead with audacious, sparkling eyes.

  So he’d given up trying to sleep. Not that he’d admit that to anyone, especially Baden Tremont. For some inexplicable reason his brain had kept returning to Emily’s mouth and every single kiss.

  And there’d be
en many.

  He hadn’t kissed like that since… Come to think of it, he’d never kissed like that before. Usually the kiss, although very enjoyable, was a perfunctory preamble to further exploration. But Emily’s lush mouth had captivated him from the first moment and he couldn’t get enough of it.

  The whole evening had felt surreal. Emily had a siren’s body made for lusty tumbles and her mouth had intoxicated him with her brand of kisses—a mixture of innocence and growing confidence. From the first touch he’d been lost in the wonder of her mouth and the craziest thing had happened. He’d been possessed by this overwhelming need to protect her and it had controlled him all night.

  Even now, six hours later, he couldn’t quite fathom how that had happened. So, instead of suggesting she come and have coffee at his place, he’d taken her back to her father’s house and spent an hour necking on the porch, stealing kisses like a seventeen-year-old. Hell, he’d been far more restrained than a seventeen-year-old. He’d only got as far as running his hand up the back of her leg before she’d reminded him of the time.

  He couldn’t wait to go on from where he’d left off and he had the perfect plan. Emily would be off at two and they could picnic at Ledger’s Gorge. It might even be warm enough to swim. An image of what Emily would look like in a bikini thudded through him and sweat broke out on his top lip.

  Emily’s not like Penelope. The thought quickly skated across his brain, fading away as he caught sight of Jodie.

  ‘Morning, Linton.’ Jodie looked up from her end-of-shift reports, the only nurse at the desk.

  ‘Morning.’ He found himself glancing around, looking for Emily, but she was nowhere to be seen. Disappointment rammed him hard. He pulled on his white coat and glanced at the clear board. ‘Busy night and you’ve moved everyone on?’

  Jodie shook her head. ‘Really quiet. I think Patti and I had a much quieter time than you did.’ She grinned. ‘I hear the ball was fabulous.’

  His lips curved up in a broad smile. It was probably a ridiculously silly grin but he couldn’t help himself. ‘So Emily’s given you all the lowdown on the frocks and the suits, all the girly gossip?’