Swept Away by the Seductive Stranger

by Amy Andrews

  Felicity was beyond caring about polite as his warm breath stirred the wisps of hair at her temple. A wave of goose-bumps swept down the side of her face and fanned out across her neck. She swayed closer, as if he was pulling her with an invisible thread, locking them in a private little bubble amidst all the colour and movement around them.

  ‘Maybe you should whisper it?’ she suggested, turning her lips towards his ear, her voice almost as low and rough as his. She was thankful for her heels bringing their heights closer.

  She swore she could feel his smile as he leaned in to do just that, his lips brushing her hair.

  Felicity’s breath hitched and something deep and low clenched down hard as he whispered a very dirty word. It wasn’t Shakespeare. It was bald and base and primal.

  Such a freaking turn-on.

  ‘And for what it’s worth,’ he muttered, pulling back so he could stare into her eyes, ‘you are the sexiest woman in the room tonight.’

  Felicity swallowed as her legs threatened to melt to jelly again and land her on her butt.

  ‘Ah. Here you are!’ Angela said, sliding an arm around Felicity’s waist, seemingly oblivious to the mood. ‘Cal, I need to borrow Flick for a moment. Someone has to come with me while I pay for my painting and stop me from buying another one. She’s disciplined like that.’

  Felicity didn’t get a chance to refuse as Angela dragged her away, but she did glance over her shoulder to find Callum had her firmly in his sights, carnal intent blazing from his eyes.

  How they were going to get home without pulling over and jumping each other’s bones she had no idea.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  THEY LEFT AN hour later. An hour during which Felicity spent as much time away from Callum as possible, mingling with other people as she fought to get her body back under control. Because, while it was clear now that their sexual attraction was never going to allow them to be the friends she’d hoped they could be, it didn’t mean succumbing to their attraction was the right thing either.

  There was no point getting close to him when it would be her heart bruised in the end. Sure, she could have a fling with him but the truth was she’d never been good at casual sex.

  Feelings always came in to it for her. Not necessarily love but a very definite connection. That’s just the way she was.

  It was like a reverse superpower. Her kryptonite. It made her weak.

  Before Ned she’d had three serious relationships. Two had lasted six months. One had lasted nine. She was an emotional person—she liked to be invested and committed to the men she dated.

  She liked being attached to another person.

  But Callum was a different prospect. He’d already admitted to not forming attachments. To having a string of affairs with women during his darkest hours. And he was still coming to terms with a lot of baggage.

  It didn’t take a brain surgeon to figure out she’d be the more invested of the two of them if she let this thing become more than what had happened on the train. And in her car. And here tonight. She already liked him way more than was wise, especially now he’d proved to be a halfway decent doctor as well.

  And then where would she be? Vickers Hill had always felt safe to her. It was her home, the place she’d run to after Ned. The place where she’d come into her own and found her feet. She didn’t want to have to run from it as well because it was too painful to stay.

  So she wasn’t going to go there. But...she was Callum’s lift home so she had to find some way to reboot the direction of the night. Maybe her overwhelming desire to have sex with him was going to get in the way of a friendship but that didn’t mean she couldn’t be friendly.

  And for that she had to steer the conversation. Because she had no doubt if she steered it the wrong way, Callum would merrily follow.

  ‘Tell me about your brother,’ she blurted out as she pulled out of the car park, hyper-aware of the intimacy created by the glow of the dashboard lights and the slow ballad playing on the radio. ‘Sebastian, right?’

  Callum frowned, obviously not expecting that after the tension that had been building between them. ‘Seb,’ he corrected. ‘That’s what you want to talk about?’

  Felicity did not take her eyes off the road. ‘That’s what I want to talk about.’

  He didn’t answer for long moments and Felicity held her breath. Was he going to call her on it? Was he going to slip his hand on her leg and turn her into putty?

  Everything seemed to hang in the balance as the seconds stretched. Then he sighed and said, ‘What do you want to know?’

  She shrugged, gripping the steering wheel hard as relief coursed through her system. ‘Everything, I guess. He is living with our Luci after all. I’m pretty sure she hasn’t told her parents yet so I feel like someone should at least know something about him.’

  ‘In case he’s a serial killer?’

  Felicity ignored the derision. ‘Exactly.’

  ‘Anything specifically? “Everything” is kind of broad.’

  ‘Is he older or younger than you?’

  ‘Three years younger.’

  ‘And he lives with you?’

  ‘No. He doesn’t live anywhere in particular, he just crashes at my place when he’s in Sydney.’

  Felicity frowned at the section of road lit up by her headlights, conscious of dry bushland flying by in her peripheral vision. Seb Hollingsworth—who was living with Luci—was some kind of...drifter?

  ‘So he’s...homeless?’

  Callum’s low chuckle enveloped her, wrapping her up, reminding her how alone they were. Not that being surrounded by people had seemed to matter back at the art show either.

  ‘No. He has a boat that he’s doing up with plans to live on it, eventually.’

  ‘Does he have a job to support that plan?’ A thirty-one-year-old guy with no fixed abode wasn’t exactly inspiring confidence.

  ‘Yes.’ Callum chuckled again. ‘He’s a community health physician, employed by the government. He travels around a lot, mainly in rural areas.’

  ‘Which is why he doesn’t have his own place?’

  ‘Yes. That and the fact he’s allergic to putting down roots ever since his pregnant girlfriend was killed in a hit-and-run accident a few years back.’

  Felicity blanched at the casual imparting of such a tragic tale, flicking a quick glance at him before returning it to the road. The awful news socked her right in the centre of her chest and tears pricked her eyes. ‘Oh, God.’ She absently patted her chest. ‘How awful for him.’

  ‘Yes. It was a terrible time. He kind of changed after that. Moved in a completely different direction. Sold their house, bought a motorbike and a run-down boat and started working away a lot.’

  Felicity had no doubt something like that could irrevocably change a person. It seemed like both the Hollingsworth men were good at running away. ‘Sounds like he’s a bit of a wherever-I-lay-my-hat kinda guy.’

  ‘Yeah,’ he agreed. ‘I think that sums him up perfectly.’

  ‘Are you close?’

  Right from the beginning, Callum had come across as utterly self-contained. It was hard to reconcile him having a sibling. If she’d been forced to guess she would have said he was an only child.

  He shrugged. ‘We’re not bosom buddies. But we have a solid relationship built on mutual respect for us both needing our own space.’

  Well...that was suitably vague... And sad. It seemed to her that the Hollingsworth brothers could have been a great support to each other during their respective tragedies if they’d come together instead of running away.

  But, then, what did she know about sibling relationships? She was an only child.

  ‘So,’ he said, interrupting her thoughts, ‘does Seb pass muster now he has a tragic backstory?’

 
; He was teasing but Felicity didn’t see the funny side. ‘I don’t think it’s something you should be making light of,’ she chided, aware that she probably sounded like some puritan but unable to easily shake off the lingering sadness of Seb’s tragedy.

  ‘Its fine.’ He laughed. ‘Every year for Christmas Seb sends me a brochure from the guide dogs society. We’re blokes, we talk smack and joke about our problems, that’s how we bond.’

  Felicity rolled her eyes. Men. She’d always wanted a brother. Now she wasn’t so sure. She wondered what Luci, fellow single child, nurse and sucker for a wounded man, was making of Seb.

  ‘Well, does he or doesn’t he?’ Callum prompted.

  Knowing more about Seb was comforting. She just hoped Luci’s vagueness when she talked about him wasn’t because she was falling for him. Luci was getting over a painful divorce and Seb Hollingsworth didn’t sound like he was ready for a relationship.

  Kind of like his brother.

  ‘I’m not about to ring Luci and tell her to get out of the house.’

  ‘Good.’ He nodded. ‘From what I can gather, she’s fine with him being there anyway. And if she wasn’t he’d have probably just crashed in the boat. Or, if he’d been absolutely desperate, at my parents’ place.’

  So Callum had parents in Sydney. ‘They don’t get on?’

  He shrugged. ‘Their relationship is a little...fraught.’

  ‘They don’t approve of his lifestyle?’

  ‘They don’t approve of his career choice. They’re surgeons. In fact, all the Hollingsworths are surgeons,’ he said, a core of something that sounded like bitterness infecting his voice. ‘Seb chose something outside the field so he’s always been a disappointment to them.’

  Felicity couldn’t begin to imagine her parents being disappointed in anything she’d chosen, let alone medicine. The son of a train driver and the daughter of a dairy farmer had only ever wanted happiness for their child. They’d retired to the coast now but were thrilled that Felicity had found her niche in life.

  ‘They must be very proud of you, carrying on the family tradition?’ she observed.

  ‘They were.’

  ‘Were?’ She sneaked a peek at his face, his profile contorting into a grimace, before she looked back at the road.

  Surely they’d supported him during and after his injury?

  ‘They think I’ve given up a little too easily.’

  Felicity touched his arm without thinking, just as she would have done to anyone to express her empathy. ‘I’m sorry.’ No wonder Callum and Seb ran away from their stuff when there was no one for them to run to.

  ‘It’s fine,’ he dismissed, with a shrug, dislodging her hand. ‘I’m used to their indifference. We both are. They’re just not cut out to be parents. Some people aren’t.’

  ‘But still...’ She couldn’t wrap her head around it.

  ‘It’s fine,’ he repeated. ‘Don’t feel sorry for me. Seb and I grew up with a lot of privilege that many of the kids around us didn’t. We didn’t want for anything.’

  Materialistically, maybe not, but Felicity didn’t have to be a psychologist to know what kids needed most were engaged, interested, supportive parents.

  ‘And I think we turned out kinda okay despite them. Well...’ he shot her a lopsided grin ‘...I did at least. The jury’s still out on Seb.’

  Her mouth twitched. Callum Hollingsworth in full charm mode was a force to be reckoned with and she didn’t have it in her after such serious subject matter to deny him a little lightness. ‘Yeah,’ she murmured, sneaking him another look. ‘You’re kinda okay.’

  He grinned at her for a beat or two. Felicity’s pulse fluttered and her breath hitched as the moment stretched. She broke it by looking back at the road and the far reach of the headlights illuminating the ghostly white trunks of gum trees.

  He didn’t say anything for a while and the music filled the space between them. ‘About before...’ he said eventually.

  ‘No.’ Felicity shook her head. ‘Let’s not do this. Let’s mark it up to champagne and vanity and never talk about it again. Okay?’

  She held her breath, waiting for his agreement. What she’d do if he didn’t, she had no idea. If he looked at her and said Screw that, what would she do? Probably pull the car over and do him on the side of the road.

  ‘We seem to do that a lot,’ he said after a silence that was loud enough to obliterate the music. ‘Avoid talking about this thing between us. I’m not sure it’s very healthy.’

  ‘No.’ Felicity shook her head again vigorously. ‘Unhealthy would be flat-out denial. I’m not denying it. I’m ignoring it.’

  ‘And by it you mean our red-hot sexual attraction?’

  Felicity’s fingers tightened around the wheel at Callum’s unnecessary summation. ‘Yes,’ she muttered.

  As if she needed any reminding.

  ‘That. But you and I are not going there. So there’s no point talking about what happened before because nothing happened.’

  The fact he’d turned her on in a crowded room with just one, dirty, whispered word didn’t count.

  He gave a short, sharp laugh. ‘Now, that’s denial.’

  Yeah. He had her there. But she only had two options and pulling the car over and having him prove that word to her wasn’t a viable one. So she had to forge ahead.

  With conversation.

  Or turn the music up really loud and not talk at all.

  She chose the latter.

  * * *

  Callum was still thinking about that trip home on Thursday night and their awkward goodbye when he dialled Felicity’s number on Saturday morning from the Dunnich garden. It was a walk in the park compared to what he was about to tell her. He’d put up with a dozen awkward goodbyes in exchange for this one sad hello.

  ‘Hey,’ she said, her voice perky.

  She’d used that tone of voice with him all day yesterday. Perky. So damn cheerful. It had been amusing then but it grated this morning.

  He’d never met a woman so determined to keep him at arm’s length.

  ‘What’s up?’

  For a moment he didn’t want to tell her. He just wanted to soak up the November sun beating down on his neck and get lost in the heady aroma of roses and the lazy drone of bees, knowing she was in his ear, breathing and perky.

  ‘Callum?’ she prompted, some of the perkiness dissolving.

  His heart punched the centre of his chest with slow, precise jabs as he took a steadying breath. ‘I’m at Alf’s.’

  There was a pause on the end of the line, a pause that was so damn loud he could practically hear every thought careening through her head. ‘What’s happened?’

  Her voice was low, serious, resigned. All the perkiness was gone. It was matter-of-fact now. Professional. But he could also hear the slight huskiness. Could picture her big grey eyes growing bright.

  ‘It’s Lizzy.’ Callum looked over his shoulder to the open back door. He could see Alf’s silhouette as he talked on the phone in the central hallway. ‘She’s had a massive stroke.’

  No pause this time, no grilling him for the details. Just, ‘I’ll be right there’, and the phone going dead.

  Callum put his phone in his back pocket and went inside, the cool and relative darkness a stark contrast to the bright morning outside. He pushed his sunnies on top of his head and headed for Alf, who hung up the landline as he neared.

  ‘That was our daughter in Adelaide,’ he said, his usually strong, slow drawl weak and tremulous as he stared at the device. ‘She’s going to let everyone know and then head up to us.’ He glanced at Callum. ‘Do you think she’ll h...?’ His voice wobbled and cracked. ‘Hold on till then, Doc?’

  Callum was surprised Lizzy had even lasted this long. Her breathing was affected by
the stroke. It had improved since he’d placed some nasal prongs on and run in a trickle of oxygen but Callum didn’t think she’d see out too many more hours.

  He slid his hand on Alf’s shoulder and gave a squeeze. ‘I reckon she will, Alf.’ Because he needed hope now more than anything.

  He nodded, his lips trembling, suddenly looking every one of his eighty-plus years. ‘Did you get hold of Flick?’ he asked gruffly.

  ‘Yes. She should be here shortly.’

  ‘Rightio,’ Alf said, staring at the door to his bedroom and straightening his shoulders as if he was going into battle. How did a husband say goodbye to a wife he’d been with for almost seventy years? ‘I’m going back in.’

  Callum nodded and wished he didn’t feel so out of his depth. He hadn’t done this in a long time—stood by and done nothing while a patient slowly slipped away.

  He was used to action. To saving people.

  But Alf had been adamant after Callum had diagnosed the stroke that Lizzy not go to hospital and produced an advance care directive that stated Lizzy didn’t want any extraordinary measures taken to save or prolong her life in the event of another major stroke.

  ‘She wants to be here with her family and Bailey by her side,’ he’d said.

  And Callum understood that, he just didn’t know what Alf needed of him right now. It felt wrong to be witnessing something so intimate when he barely knew them. It felt like an intrusion. But he knew he couldn’t leave Alf either.

  It was why he’d suggested Felicity come and sit with Alf until his family arrived and the old man had jumped at the idea.

  ‘Can I bring you in a cup of tea or something?’

  ‘No, thanks, Doc,’ Alf said, and quietly slipped into the room.

  A well of uselessness swamped him, familiar and overwhelming. He’d felt like this after the accident when the extent of his injury had sunk in. He’d hated it then and he hated it now.

  He had to be able to do something, surely?

  He wandered aimlessly to the open front door, pulling his sunglasses down as the brightness jabbed into his permanently dilated left pupil like a knife. He looked up and down the street, willing Felicity’s car to arrive, for her to walk through the front gate.