The Doctor's Society Sweetheart

by Lucy Clark

  ‘Do you have any siblings?’

  ‘No.’ He knew he should turn, give his attention to the containers that needed to be loaded onto the trucks, but he couldn’t look away from her, from those amazing blue eyes and the way she was making him feel. He didn’t want to feel this way. He wanted to stay locked up in the pain from his past, from the great losses he’d suffered in losing those he’d loved most to the horrific flames of the bush fire.

  She was drawing him out. He could feel that too and part of him wanted to run towards her, to see where this frightening natural chemistry that seemed to exist between them would lead. The other part of him felt guilty at even contemplating moving on, moving away from the memories of Marta, of the times they’d shared, of the life they’d planned together.

  The memories of his parents were something that would always stay with him, for ever, no matter what he did in life, and somehow, right now, knowing Emmy didn’t have a strong and loving relationship with her own parents, the need to share the parental love he’d been shown all his life seemed like the right thing to do.

  ‘My parents couldn’t have children, or so they thought. My mother became pregnant with me when she was forty-two. The birth was difficult. Both she and I almost died but by some miracle we survived.’ His voice was soft, his words a little stiff, as though he wasn’t one hundred per cent sure why he was telling her this, but he’d loved his parents so much and he hardly ever spoke of them, of the incredible people they’d been.

  ‘It took her a good two years to recover from the ordeal but in the end she was a strong, upstanding woman.’ A sad smile touched his eyes. ‘She cared for her community, volunteered when she could, gratefully accepted handouts when they were needed. She would tell me that pride was a waste of time and all it ever did was get you into trouble. Loving people, caring for them, making a difference—those were the things that mattered most.’

  ‘She sounds…incredible.’ Tears had welled in Emmy’s eyes as he’d spoken. Hearing his words, noticing he spoke in the past tense, only confirmed to her that something dramatic had happened to his parents. It only made her heart reach out to his even more.

  ‘She was. So was my dad. We lived on the land, travelling from farm to farm, working as hired hands, cooking, shearing, mustering, whatever needed to be done.’

  He was looking at her but not seeing her. Emmy didn’t mind, honoured that he was opening up to her, that he was sharing this most special part of himself with her. It also made her own embarrassing outburst last night seem not so embarrassing. She’d opened herself to him and it was as though, to make her feel less uncomfortable, he was opening himself to her. He wasn’t worrying about his pride, he was doing just as his mother had taught him.

  ‘I didn’t attend a proper school for years. I either joined in with the other country kids for School of the Air or took my lessons from my parents.’ Dart smiled. ‘I had a good life with them.’

  ‘You make me feel quite envious.’

  Emmy’s words jolted him back into the present, back to where she stood, looking at him with glistening tears in her eyes. Had she moved closer? Had he? Somehow the distance between them seemed to have decreased and if he took another step forward, he’d be able to reach out and touch her, put his hands on her arms, draw her close, hold her gorgeous body against his once again.

  He straightened his back, ordering his brain to shift back into protection mode, for the walls he usually kept firm around him to stand tall, to not let her in. The strange thing was that since meeting Emerson-Rose, he’d let her in far more then he’d let anyone in, especially during the past six years.

  Marta’s death had been something he’d thought he’d never recover from. When the tragedy had happened, everyone had told him that he’d feel better…in time. He hadn’t cared too much for the counselling he’d received but now, so many years later, what he’d hardly dared to believe was actually happening. He could feel that instant tug, that instant attraction, that instant desire to press his lips to another woman’s. Emmy. Emmy standing there and looking at him as though she felt exactly the same way.

  Marta was in the past. Coming here to Tarparnii had helped him to get some distance so his heart could heal. Six years. Six long years he’d been without Marta, feeling as though he would never be truly alive again. And now here was Emmy. He’d seen her in magazines, he’d flicked through newspapers and seen her picture on many occasions. He roughly knew the history of her family and never once had he been intrigued to look closer.

  Now he couldn’t help but look closer.

  Before him stood a woman who had been given an upbringing most children would dream of. She’d no doubt had every toy, every piece of clothing, every gadget she’d ever wanted. Her parents had been able to pay for her education at the most expensive schools in the country. On graduating, they’d probably given her a car—and an expensive one at that. Anything and everything the world had on offer had been offered to her on a silver platter…and she was telling him that she was envious of his simple, often poverty-ridden lifestyle?

  ‘Poor little rich girl.’ He’d murmured the same words last night and still they were spoken with sympathy rather than derision.

  He looked at the woman she’d become, the one searching for the truth of this world, the one looking to be accepted for who she was, the one who had the courage to be different, to change her fate.

  Where he’d been commanding his senses to re-erect the walls he usually surrounded himself with, he found himself stepping towards her, almost desperate with the need to touch her, to reassure her that she was a woman of worth. She may not have received much in the way of true and honest love as she’d been growing up but she had the ability to give it, and that was an amazing achievement.

  ‘Emmy.’

  The one word spoken from his lips was enough to bring a mass of tingles to her entire body. She wanted to move towards him, wanted so desperately to reach out and touch him, to haul him close to her. Last night, as he’d held her in his arms, she’d never felt so secure, so protected in her life. She’d never felt worthy and yet somehow being here with Dart, having him look at her now as though he wanted to devour her but didn’t want to push things too far, too fast, she liked him even more.

  She’d wanted to apologise to him, to let him know that she wasn’t the weeping type, to try and cover up her embarrassment at accepting his compassion. She’d tried to make him understand that she was usually a lot stronger than she was now, that she usually didn’t fall apart at the slightest thing, but now, as he continued to move slowly towards her, her body starting to tremble in excited anticipation, Emmy couldn’t believe that fresh tears seemed to be pricking behind her eyes again.

  It wasn’t because Dart was once more showing her compassion by accepting her apology—it was because he’d opened himself up to her, that he’d deemed her worthy of sharing his past, a very real and painful past. She’d been able to hear through his words just how much he’d loved his parents, just how much they’d loved him, and her need to feel a love that strong, that powerful, that consuming was rising within her.

  When he stood before her, toe to toe, she looked up at him, her chin high so she could continue to gaze into those gorgeous brown eyes of his, eyes that she knew she could drown in, lose herself in and not care.

  ‘Don’t be envious.’ His words were soft, his breath whispering across her skin. She closed her eyes, a slight tear squeezing out from the side of her eyelids, starting to slide down her cheek. Emmy swallowed, then gasped as Dart brushed the tear away with his thumb, the brief touch filled with caring.

  She opened her eyes and looked up, wanting to say something, needing to let him know that she wasn’t this crybaby that stood before him. ‘I’m sorry for crying.’ The words were choked, whispered through hoarse lips, but when he pressed a finger across them, silencing her, Emmy’s heart pounded in triple time against her ribs.

  ‘I’ve accepted your apology, Emmy. In my family, wh
enever someone gave a heartfelt apology, it was instantly accepted.’ He shook his head. ‘You don’t need to apologise any more.’ He brushed his fingertips lightly across her cheek, his gaze flicking between her eyes and her luscious mouth, which seemed to be beckoning him closer.

  The need to taste her, to know exactly how it would feel to have her mouth against his, to experience the soft sweetness of her lips was consuming him. Nothing else mattered, not the past, not the present, not the fact that they were standing in a hut, in the middle of a jungle village in a country in the midst of civil unrest.

  ‘Just like that?’ she whispered.

  Dart’s heart was thudding painfully against his chest, the blood pumping faster around his body, urging him forward, almost begging him to follow through on what came next.

  ‘Just like that,’ he confirmed.

  ‘So simple.’

  ‘Exactly.’ He was still fighting, still trying to hold strong, still trying to remain in control of all his faculties, but it was becoming impossible to resist the lure of the woman before him. Last night he’d offered her compassion, he’d held her in his arms while she’d cried. This, now, was not in the least about offering her compassion. This was about a need, a powerful tug, an urge to have his mouth on hers, and it was a need he wasn’t going to deny himself any longer. He wanted her. So simple.

  Her pink tongue slipped out to wet her lips, the glossy moisture highlighting just how perfect those lips were, how necessary it was for him to taste them, to know how Emmy’s mouth would fit with his own.

  Forcing himself to keep a tight rein on his mounting desire for her, Dart lifted her chin a little higher while at the same time dipping his head, closing the remaining distance between them.

  It was going to happen. This was the moment of inevitability. Her entire body seemed to be infused with tingles, with apprehension and acceptance. Her heart was pounding fiercely in her chest as anticipatory delight rose within her.

  From the instant she’d seen him, she’d been drawn to him, and now, after what felt like a lifetime of loneliness, she was about to kiss a man who had come to mean so much to her in such a short time.

  How was it possible to feel as though she knew his heart, could see his goodness, could want him to hold her close and never let her go when she’d just met him? She’d heard of love at first sight but she’d never in her wildest dreams ever thought she would experience it. Was she simply feeling this way because she’d stepped out of her comfort zone? Was it because she’d left her country, come here to this Pacific island nation to help out? Was it due to the genuineness of the people she’d met—Dart included?

  Emmy pushed the questions away.

  Now was not the time for questions. Now was not the time to try and figure out why this was happening or what it would mean afterwards. Now was about the way Dart was making her feel, making her burn with need as she never had before. He was a man who knew of her family, of her wealth, of her way of life, and none of it mattered to him.

  That in itself was enormous for her to realise but as he continued to bring his mouth closer to hers, as his fingers at her chin continued to caress, burning a tingling heat trail with their simple, soft touch, Emmy’s mind cleared of everything except the need pounding throughout her entire body.

  ‘Emmy?’ He whispered her name, their lips only millimetres apart, his breath mingling with hers, only intensifying the powerful yearning within them both. It took a few seconds for her sluggish mind to register that he was asking her permission, that he wasn’t going to take from her something she wasn’t freely giving. He was respecting her, giving her the choice, allowing her this last final moment to pull away, to deny him if that was what she wanted.

  It wasn’t.

  Rising up on her toes, she removed his bush hat, desperate to close the remaining distance, and within that next half-breath she fused their mouths together in a searing kiss.

  Chapter Eight

  POWER. Passion. Perfection.

  Within a split second of their lips touching, both of them seemed to sigh into the kiss. It felt as though they’d been denying themselves this release for an eternity when in reality it had been mere days since they’d met.

  Gently, with restrained patience, wanting to mentally capture the moment, wanting to make it last for ever, to be permanently burned on his brain, Dart took his time, not rushing either of them. Their mutual touch was combined with a sense of time slowing down so that a few seconds seemed to last much, much longer. The tastes and flavours of her lips, combined with the tantalising pressure, was an aphrodisiac that powered the need for her throughout his entire body.

  How was this possible? How could a woman who on the surface was so wrong for him feel so right deep within? Life had thrown him plenty of curve balls and this was another one he hadn’t seen coming. His hand slid around her neck, her skin soft and warm to his touch, his fingers tantalised by the sensation of those silky locks, pulled back out of the way into a plait. What he wouldn’t give to pull her hair free from its bonds and run his fingers through those glorious strands, much as he’d wanted to do last night but hadn’t. Last night had been all about providing comfort, of being a friend to a person in need. This…what he was experiencing now…this was completely different. Last night, though, as he’d held Emmy in his arms, he should have realised that it had been a mere precursor to what he instinctively knew had been bound to happen.

  There was an undeniable connection between them, a tug of awareness, knowledge of the heart, power in their eyes. Whatever it was that existed between them, had they done the right thing in giving in to the urge to touch, to taste, to try? The fact that they both felt it, the fact that it seemed to be seeded within each of them, was something incomprehensible given that they didn’t know each other…Yet at the same time Emmy couldn’t believe how connected she felt to this man who was playing havoc with her equilibrium.

  His mouth seemed to know hers, his hands seemed to understand the way she liked to be touched, his heart seemed to beat in unison with hers. It was a connection. An unbridled, unmistakable, uncanny connection that had somehow been buried deep within both of them, waiting patiently for the moment they would meet.

  Where she’d expected his kiss to be filled with power, filled with the need to dominate, as had been her limited experience with the men she’d previously dated, he was gentle, caressing, probing as though, he too, wanted to try and understand what these sensations coursing between them meant.

  How was it that he could simply accept what she had to give and not want more? How was it that he appeared to be letting her set the pace yet at the same time encouraging her not to pull away? Usually, because she was so wealthy, because she had so much in the way of material possessions, other men felt they had to dominate her, to show that they were better than her in an attempt to prove themselves worthy of her affection.

  That wasn’t the way it felt with Dart. Her wealth, her position in society, her heritage meant nothing to him. She was simply…Emmy. A woman he apparently wanted to slowly drive insane with his perfect mouth pressing perfect kisses to her lips, evoking wild and wonderful sensations of freedom and abandonment mixed with a sense of purpose.

  It was the strangest sensation and one she wasn’t in any hurry to have end. Where she’d half expected him to deepen the kiss, to increase the tension, to take her to greater heights, he didn’t. Instead, it appeared he preferred to gently and thoroughly take his time, absorbing every new and exciting emotion that surrounded both of them.

  It was delicate, sweet, wonderful torture and she wanted it to continue for ever. The world outside was forgotten, everything they were supposed to be doing was irrelevant when they could be doing this. There was no more embarrassment, no more need to talk about their pasts, no more denying that this indescribable chemistry existed between them.

  At some point, his other hand had slid around her neck, tilting her mouth up so he could continue to give and take at the same time. Her
breathing was erratic, her lungs begging for more oxygen, her body begging for more of his touch.

  When he finally eased back, she was pleased to note he, too, was sucking in air. At least she wasn’t the only one affected by this tantalising scenario. Dart had been along for the ride, as much in the moment as she was, and that instinctive knowledge made her feel less agitated about what would happen next.

  He rested his forehead against hers, his eyes closed as he allowed his body to settle back into a more normal rhythm…whatever that was. Since he’d first laid eyes on Emerson-Rose, his entire world had been knocked so off balance he wasn’t sure he understood what a normal rhythm was any more.

  Slowly, as his breathing returned to normal, so too came the realisation and knowledge about how these last few minutes might affect them. He’d kissed her. He’d kissed a woman—for the first time in six years, he’d given in to the urge to kiss another woman!

  Guilt at moving on, guilt at not holding Marta’s memory pure in his heart, guilt at having taken comfort from Emmy, started to swamp him and he dropped his hands back to his sides as though her touch now burnt him. At the same time he picked up his hat, straightened and took one giant step away, desperately needing distance between them.

  What had he done?

  He looked at Emmy, all dazed and languid, her blue eyes still showing the after-effects of the incredible kiss, her lips plump and red from the pressure of his mouth firmly on hers. Even now she looked dreamy, desirable and downright sexy, more sexy than any woman Dart had ever seen, and this knowledge only made him take another giant step away.

  How could he have forgotten his past? How could he have become so caught up in the sensations and emotions he felt for this woman, a woman he barely knew, when Marta had perished, had died a horrible and painful death because he hadn’t been there to help her?