What was wrong with him? Saying things he didn’t mean, stumbling over words.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said softly, and he lifted his hand and traced the silvered profile with one finger. ‘I think you’ve knocked me senseless.’
Her eyes widened and a faint frown appeared between her eyebrows. His finger touched the tiny crease, smoothing at it as if to erase it.
‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have blurted that out but it seems to be the truth. And I don’t know why you’re looking puzzled. You’re a beautiful woman, you must know the effect you have on men.’
‘Not all men,’ she said gravely. ‘Not on men like you.’
‘Men like me?’ he echoed.
Something in his voice must have amused her for she smiled, and said, ‘Men who seem to have their lives in order, their future mapped out neatly. You know your place in the world and are secure in it. You don’t need a woman to hang on your arm like a trophy proclaiming your manhood.’
He shook his head.
‘Surely that’s not how men see you?’
‘Some men,’ she said, in the same tone of voice he’d have said ‘dog turd’. But then she smiled, a teasing mischievous kind of smile, and added lightly, ‘Not men who’d walk a girl up to the lookout on a moonlit night.’
His heart did a kind of convoluted somersault and his lungs stopped working altogether. Unable to form words, he took her hand and led her along the path, relishing the warmth of her fingers, the faint fragrance of night-flowering plants and the silvery moonlight that lit their way.
Somewhere deep inside him, a prissy voice was preaching caution, reminding him there’d been no serious woman in his life since Angie, and it was the beautiful packaging of this one that had floored him, but he ignored it, indulging his emotional self, allowing it a little free rein.
Caitlin liked the feel of her hand in his. It felt right somehow, giving her the same feeling of security she’d had as a child, holding onto her mother’s hand. Although that wasn’t an analogy Connor would appreciate.
She smiled to herself and quelled an urge to give a little skip and hop of happiness. So he was attracted to her as well—assuming knocking someone senseless indicated some level of attraction. Where to next?
‘An affair?’
‘I beg your pardon?’
She stopped so suddenly her hand lost his as he turned to face her—obviously stunned by the thought she hadn’t meant to say out loud.
‘Nothing—just a straying echo of my thoughts that escaped into the air. OK, so I do talk to myself a lot—even when my computer isn’t around to listen.’
If she got any hotter, she’d self-combust. She looked into Connor’s face, silently pleading with him to drop the subject.
And thought she’d won, for he smiled at her, a singularly sweet smile that triggered a weakness in her bones.
‘My thoughts were straying along much the same lines but perhaps we should start with a little ‘‘getting to know you’’ kind of stuff. Say a kiss?’
He waited, as if expecting her to argue or move away, but she could no more have moved than she could have flown to the moon—swing or no swing—so as he bent his head towards her, her lips parted, meeting his with willingness at first, then with pressure as she tried to find something of the man beneath his skin through this silent joining of lips to lips.
As kisses went, it rated badly in the comfort stakes, standing toe to toe on a rocky, slightly sloping path. But it made up for the awkwardness in the fire it lit inside her, the molten flow of energy and desire that now raced through her bloodstream.
She leaned into him, learning the contours of his body as they imprinted themselves on hers, and breathed deeply to replenish the air in her lungs.
‘We won’t make it to the top if this continues,’ he murmured, his fingers playing with her hair, lifting strands of it, then smoothing them back down.
‘Do we need to?’ she asked. The way she felt at the moment she’d be content to remain right here in his arms for ever.
‘What if Nellie asks you about the view?’ He hugged her close as if physically agreeing with her unspoken thoughts.
‘You could describe it to me.’
She felt the muscles in his chest move as he chuckled, but then he stepped away from her, leaving only cool air where his hard, warm body had been.
‘Best we do it properly,’ he said, taking her hand once more and leading her along the path. ‘Best for many reasons.’
Which it was, she told herself. She barely knew the man and what she did know of him wasn’t all that promising. He was too changeable—flaring up at unexpected moments—and secretive—take the Dr Robinson business for a start.
OK, so he’s got an attractive face and a great body and his hormones and yours seem to be in sync, but is that enough reason to plunge into an affair? Of course not!
‘Talked yourself out of it yet?’ he asked.
Add mind-reader—a highly dangerous trait—to the list.
‘Out of what?’ she demanded, realising, as the path widened, that they must be close to the top of the small hill.
‘Out of the affair,’ he said, turning to face her as if to read any attempted evasion in her eyes. ‘Don’t tell me you haven’t spent the last five minutes listing all the reasons why you and I shouldn’t get involved. We barely know each other, we’re ships passing in the night, hospital gossip, et cetera.’
She grinned at him, and admitted, ‘I had the et cetera but hadn’t included any of the others on my list. Was that all of yours?’
He sighed.
‘Not half of it, lovely lady. Believe me, in another time, another place, I’d whip you off to bed and ravish you so completely we wouldn’t surface for a month.’ Connor kissed her gently on the lips then lifted his head to add, ‘Or let you ravish me. I don’t think you’d object, would you, to a little mutual lust and loving?’
He was being honest with her—stressing the physical nature of the attraction—and she liked him more for that forthright approach.
‘I’d be on for it,’ she admitted, ‘although I’m slightly shocked to hear myself saying that. I know women are supposed to be liberated enough to admit their sexual needs and desires, but it’s not something that’s come up all that often in my life.’
The words stumbled off Caitlin’s lips, the heat of embarrassment, not desire, now squirming in her intestines.
‘No?’ he said softly, letting the breath of the word brush against her lips before his own claimed them once again. The heat swapped sides once more as her body responded with an intensity which must have told him more than words could ever have conveyed.
Surely kissing shouldn’t have the power to separate mind and body, to make her ache with longing while her mind sought words to describe the sensations? For a moment she struggled, then she gave in to the purely physical rush, wondering if drug addicts felt like this when they talked about a high.
It was her last thought for a long time, until a discreet cough made them break apart. Caitlin eased her body away from Connor’s and turned towards the view as a man walking his dog appeared on the path.
Was the moonlight bright enough to show the flaring heat of embarrassment she’d felt flow to her face? She looked up, pretending an interest in the stars, seeking a formation she might recognise, anything to distract her from this moment.
‘Evening, Connor,’ the stranger said, lifting his hand in a salute. ‘Lovely night.’
‘Beautiful,’ Connor agreed. He kept one arm clamped around Caitlin’s shoulders to try to still the trembling in her body.
Or was it in his, conveyed to hers along his leaping nerves and into her skin and bones and flesh?
No, better he didn’t think about her flesh.
He watched Ron Andrews walk his dog around the top of the hill, as if the circumnavigation was a ritual they couldn’t miss, then waved again when Ron called goodnight and headed down the path.
‘He’s not a gossip,’ he
said to Caitlin when Ron and the dog had been swallowed up by the shadows.
She stopped peering at the sky as if continued study of it might reveal to her the secrets of the universe and turned to look at him as she spoke.
‘I think gossip would be more harmful to you than me, Connor.’
The lovely cadence of her voice washed over him, while her eyes expressed concern. How long had it been since someone had shown concern for him? Apart from Nellie—and maybe Sue Nelson?
Since Angie?
After the break with her, he’d turned to work, determined to succeed if only to prove to himself that he’d made the right choice. He hadn’t actually avoided women, but he hadn’t sought them out or welcomed their attentions—concerned or otherwise.
Now this beautiful woman was looking at him as if she cared what happened to him.
‘Dangerous stuff,’ he muttered, and saw her eyebrows rise.
‘Gossip? Has it affected you before?’
He smiled, then gave a soft chuckle.
‘I was thinking of concern, not gossip,’ he explained. ‘But to answer your question, no, I’m gossip-free, both here in Turalla and in my blameless past.’
‘And you intend to keep it that way?’
She spoke lightly but he knew there was an underlying intent behind the words.
‘Not if it means you and I can’t pursue a friendship—maybe even a courtship.’ He looked into her eyes, willing her to believe him. ‘OK, so we can’t let our hormones run wild, not right here and now, but surely we can spend some free time together, to discover where this attraction might lead. Is it just a physical magnetism, or might something more lie beyond our rampant libidos? Are you game to find out, Caitlin O’Shea?’
She smiled at him and his heart told him it wasn’t physical—well, not entirely. Just because his body reacted to every expression on her face, every tonal change of her voice, that didn’t mean…
What?
Perhaps he was better not thinking about this at all. Just act and react.
‘I’m game,’ she said, and this time she kissed him, reaching up to brush her mouth across his, then sliding her hands around his neck, drawing him closer, deepening the kiss until he felt he was drowning in a sea of desire.
Act and react? Bad move! Hell, the reaction was so strong it hurt…
‘You’d better have a look at the view,’ he muttered, moving away from her and waving his hand towards the lights of the town. ‘It’s actually better from Mike’s place.’
‘Having second thoughts?’ she asked, following him to where he clung to the railing of the viewing platform.
‘About what?’ He tried to remember the conversation they’d been having before the reaction. Something about libidos? That might explain…
‘I’m sorry, I lost it just then.’ Connor turned and touched her cheek, then felt the silky strands of her hair. An image of it spread out across his pillow did little for his self-control. ‘I asked if you were game, didn’t I? If we should see where this attraction leads?’
She looked at him, not smiling, but there was a sparkle in her eyes when she spoke, the kind of sparkle that made him think of starlight.
‘Do you always forget the question before you’ve been given the answer?’
He touched his finger to her lips, testing to see if they were simply skin with flesh beneath them or some more potent form of tissue that drove thoughts from the minds of men.
‘I heard the answer,’ he told her gravely. ‘You said, ‘‘I’m game.’’ That’s when I lost it.’
She took his hand and held it, effectively stopping his exploration of her lips. But only because she needed them for something else, he realised as once again she stood on tiptoe, repeated the words ‘I’m game’ so he could feel as well as hear them, then she pressed her mouth to his and his body swooped out of control once again.
‘As long as it doesn’t interfere with my work,’ she added, when they finally moved apart and began to walk towards the path.
‘Heaven forbid!’ he muttered. This was hardly the moment to tell her she’d been interfering with his work, getting tied up in all his thought processes, since he’d first set eyes on her. ‘So how’s it going?’ he asked, aiming at some kind of normal conversation.
‘What going?’ she asked, then she laughed as if her own thoughts were as tangled as his. ‘My work? OK.’
‘That’s very noncommittal.’ He was making conversation, nothing more, yet his comment must have rubbed against her in some way for she stopped and spun to face him.
‘I don’t believe you care one way or another about my work,’ she said, in a very different voice to the one that had talked of their mutual attraction. That voice had been warm and husky—not cool and challenging.
‘I do and don’t,’ he muttered, knowing he’d lost ground he might never recover. ‘It bothers me and I’m not going to pretend it doesn’t, but I can’t deny the premise of it, and I can’t ignore the fact that Turalla does present a unique opportunity for science to look more closely at genetic links.’
‘But the town’s not bothered, Connor,’ she argued, her lovely eyes pleading for his support. ‘At least not the people of the town I’ve spoken to. I’m not only talking about the parents of the children, but other citizens in shops, around the hospital—Nellie and Melissa, even Mike and Sue. They’re not unhappy, so why are you?’
That’s asking you, old son!
He shrugged and grimaced and knew Caitlin wasn’t going to accept a body movement or a facial expression as an answer. Could he use a presentiment of fear as a rational argument? Not likely! Certainly not with Miss Scientific Researcher here.
‘I don’t know,’ he said. That was partly the truth because he didn’t know why the fear still lingered. ‘But I am—and all I can do is ask you to tread warily. What people say directly to you, how they act when you are present, it isn’t always the whole story.’
‘You mean Granny Russell could be plotting my demise even as we speak?’ She was teasing him, her lips curling into a smile, her eyes sparkling with delight.
He tried to respond, to return her smile, but coldness had spread out from his heart, pumping through his veins where heat had flowed a little earlier.
Damn the woman! Why couldn’t she be here to write a book on country hospitals or to study the impact of isolation on unmarried country doctors? The mating habits of koalas might be good! Anything but the leukaemia cluster.
‘I wouldn’t be surprised,’ he said lightly. ‘She’s a woman of great common sense and probably recognises a witch when she sees one.’
He kissed her then because he didn’t want to talk about his fear and doubted he could conceal it completely from her probing mind and questioning eyes.
Eventually, they walked again, retracing their steps, arm in arm, drawing warmth and human comfort from each other, hiding the differences that could be barriers to this togetherness. But when they reached the end of the path, she drew apart so they headed back towards the hospital as friends, not would-be lovers.
‘The golf club serves dinner on Friday and Saturday evenings. I usually eat up there with Sue and Mike on Saturdays. Would you like to come—to join us?’ Connor asked the question as they neared the hospital entrance, reluctant to part from her until he knew for certain when he’d see her again.
‘Didn’t Sue say you hosted a barbecue on Sundays? Social outings on both Saturday and Sunday? What a hectic life you country people lead.’
‘The Sunday thing’s become a tradition but, while it’s held at my place, it’s more a joint effort. Everyone brings their own meat and most of the women bring a bowl of salad. They must have some kind of system because we never end up with fourteen bowls of lettuce and none of tomato.’
‘A nice tradition,’ she replied. ‘Is it only hospital staff?’
‘Mostly, although they all bring their husbands, wives or kids, so we get a real mix. The kids play in the park, the women chat and the men stand
around the barbecue, prod the meat and tell lies to each other.’
Caitlin laughed at that, the soft husky sound that thrilled along his nerves. Then the laughter stopped. Suddenly? Or did it only seem that way?
‘I’ll expect you to come—everyone will—but we’re talking Saturday, not Sunday at the moment. Dinner tomorrow night?’
She didn’t reply immediately but stared ahead as if some movement in the hospital had caught her eye.
‘I’d like that,’ she said, but her voice had lost its carefree tone and she was frowning as if uncertain. Of what she’d seen, or about having dinner with him?
‘Oh, it’s Anne,’ she murmured, almost to herself, as Anne Jackson appeared on a lighted part of the veranda.
‘Did you think you’d seen a ghost?’ he asked, wanting to see her smile again.
‘Something like that,’ she muttered with an undertone of something that sounded very like fear.
But he was the fearful one! He the one whose instinct was urging him to send her far away.
He walked her around to the house, as nervous as a teenager on a first date. Would she ask him in? Should he accept? The sensors picked them up, flooding the area with light. The moment was coming closer and he was twitchy with anticipation! Then she put her hand on the doorknob, turned it and pushed the door open, and his ridiculous adolescent thoughts were swept away by anger.
‘You didn’t lock the door?’ he demanded, his voice almost shaking with emotion.
She turned towards him, obviously stunned by his attack.
‘But I did lock it, Connor,’ she whispered, her brown eyes huge in her pale face.
She reached into her pocket and pulled out the heavy, old-fashioned key.
CHAPTER EIGHT
CONNOR stepped in front of Caitlin, snapping on the light, looking around the room.
‘Stay there while I check the other rooms,’ he ordered, but fear for him made Caitlin follow. Surely, if someone was inside, two of them would stand more chance.
Not that there was much to check. One long stride took him down the hall, peering into the bathroom on one side, then her bedroom on the other.
Outback Doctors/Outback Engagement/Outback Marriage/Outback Encounter Page 46
