He started walking her backwards, pushing her back onto the thinly padded bench they’d been sitting on. The breadth of her slim shoulders filled it completely. He leaned backwards, his eyes still focused on her breasts. ‘You’ve no idea how many times I’ve seen these in my head.’ His voice was low, husky and she liked it that way.
‘And is the reality better or worse?’ She couldn’t help but arch her back a little towards him. Her breasts were probably her favourite part of her. Slightly bigger than average for her small frame—even more so since she’d had Isla.
‘Oh, the reality is much better.’ He ran his hands over her breasts, first cupping them and then concentrating on her nipples. She moved beneath his touch.
He gave a low, lazy smile. ‘I wondered if you were a matching underwear kind of gal.’
‘Your whole plan for seducing me was to see if I wear matching underwear?’
‘I seduced you?’ The tone in his voice had risen playfully, then he shook his head, ‘Oh, no, lady, you seduced me.’
‘I did not.’
He mouth hovered just above her breast. He had a teasing glare in his eye. ‘How about this close?’ he murmured.
Her hands were already cupping his bum in the well-worn jeans and her natural instinct was to move them around to the front. If they’d been lying in a bed his legs would have been on either side of hers. But the narrow bench didn’t allow for that. Instead, he had one knee between her legs and his other leg still planted on the floor. This could get awkward.
His hand moved around to her back, ready to unsnap her bra. Her fingers poised at the button on his jeans. She couldn’t think rationally any more.
She wasn’t thinking about Isla. She wasn’t thinking about living on a small island. She wasn’t thinking about the fact he was one of her work colleagues. All she could think about was the electricity in the air between them. The way that things had just combusted in an instant. If this was what his kisses could do to her, how much better could this get?
It was like being a teenager all over again. Six years of virtual celibacy. With a few lousy dates and even lousier kisses somewhere in the middle of it all.
Before she’d got pregnant with Isla she hadn’t had a steady relationship for months. And she wasn’t the kind of girl who did casual sex. Well, not usually.
She couldn’t wait. She couldn’t wait any longer. She flicked the button—just as the biggest surge of waves hit the boat.
For a moment she was shocked. She’d almost forgotten they were on a boat until a huge swell tumbled them both unceremoniously to the floor.
Their positions reversed in mid-air and Logan landed on her with a thud. However many stones of powerful muscle and sinew pushed the wind clean out of her.
She started to cough. A reflex from the pressure currently on her lungs. He moved sideways, letting her draw in a breath and putting his knee on the floor next to her as he pulled himself up. Without a word, two hands appeared under her arms and lifted her back onto the bench. ‘I’d better get out there,’ he muttered, grabbing his jacket and opening the hatch door to let in an icy blast of sea air.
The hatch banged closed behind him.
Gemma’s chin was struggling not to bang off the floor. Her knuckles clenched the edge of the bench as the boat continued to roll from side to side.
Her heart was clamouring against her chest. Was she relieved? Or disappointed? Could she phone a friend? Because right now she didn’t have a clue.
Her finger touched her lips. If there had been a mirror in front of her she was sure they would be swollen. A chill swept over her skin and she instantly pulled her shirt together, fastening the buttons as best she could.
What would have happened if the boat hadn’t hit some rough water?
She couldn’t even think about it because she had no doubt about what would have happened.
Logan appeared to have walked out without a second thought. She pressed her nose up against one of the portholes but she couldn’t see a thing out there. She had no idea what part of the boat he’d gone to. And it wasn’t as if she could be any help. All the information she knew about boats she could have written on the back of a postage stamp.
She picked up the jacket and pulled it back on. Should she go out there and offer to help? She had a sneaking suspicion she would end up as more of a hindrance than a help.
She let out a groan. Logan had said that she’d seduced him. And he was right. She had.
Or at least she’d tried her best to.
Her hands covered her face. She was mortified. This was hardly her normal behaviour. But the building flirtation between them, followed by the crazy silence for the last few weeks, had driven her crazy.
Then, when he’d almost teased her to act, she’d been unable to help herself.
Thank goodness she didn’t play poker. She would be bankrupt in five minutes.
The door opened and Logan stuck his head inside. ‘Gemma? Are you okay?’ He smiled when he saw she’d replaced her clothes. ‘Yeah, you obviously are. Pity. I think I preferred you the other way.’ He lifted his hand. ‘Look, I can’t come back in, I need to stay out and keep on top of things.’ His eyes sparkled and he shook his head a little. ‘That would be boat things.’
She nodded. She couldn’t find a word, and she’d been too shocked to pick up on the innuendo there. Logan appeared completely at ease. Was he sorry they’d been stopped? She felt the tiniest bit reassured.
‘Listen, we’ll hit calmer waters soon, but by then we’ll just about be back at Arran.’
The implication was clear. No more horizontal games. Not now, anyway.
‘Okay.’ It was the only word she could find.
‘Come out in a bit if you feel okay.’ He gave her one last smile before he ducked back out and closed the door.
She could still feel her heart thudding. This was for the best.
Really, it was.
If anything else had happened, how could she have looked her colleague in the eye?
Plus she had no idea what it would have meant.
She wasn’t ready to introduce her little girl to any potential boyfriends—no matter what kind of pictures Isla drew. They hadn’t even truly settled in yet. They still had to get through the summer and get Isla settled into school.
Anything else would have to wait.
Except the skin under her shirt was still burning from his touch. Her lips were aching.
But it was a good ache, not a bad one. To say nothing about the other parts of her body.
What she couldn’t figure out was if this was just a reaction to him, or if this was just the reaction of woman who hadn’t been touched in so long she was practically crazy.
It wasn’t as if there hadn’t been a whole host of boyfriends in her time. And, sure, there had been a few that had set her heart a-flutter.
But no one who had set off reactions like this in her.
Maybe Logan was just too good at this. Maybe this was how every woman who came into contact with Logan felt.
She winced. Please, no. That would be too embarrassing for words. Plus she couldn’t bear to think that way.
She picked up the cups and took them over to the tiny sink to wash them. Anything to stop the thousands of thoughts flicking through her mind right now. Anything at all to distract her.
She caught a glimpse from the porthole. Logan was right. Arran was coming into view. She felt a little surge of something. It was home now. And there was some comfort in seeing it.
Logan had said he loved being surrounded by the sea. Gemma wasn’t so sure. She didn’t mind being out on the sea as long as she could still see a piece of land somewhere. It gave her a grain of comfort.
If the boat capsized right now she would have probably no chance whatsoever of being able to swim ashore. But at least now she would know what direction to swim in. She’d be able to try and swim home to her daughter.
The door swung open. ‘Fancy coming up and watching us sail in?’ He
still had that glint in his eye, but was it for her or was it for the sail? She wasn’t entirely sure.
His hand reached down and grabbed hers to help her up the steps. It was warm. It was comforting. And as soon as she reached the top of the steps he slung an arm around her waist and spun her around to face the sea again.
‘Look at that. The sun’s beginning to go down. Look at the colours across the water. Isn’t it beautiful?’
He was right. It was beautiful. It was just too early for a sunset. But the colours in the sky had deepened slightly, sending some violets and blues across the darker sea.
She nodded and gave a little smile. ‘Sunsets must be beautiful out here.’
He smiled. ‘They are.’ He leaned over and gave her a kiss on the forehead, before turning back to adjust the sails on the boat as they headed closer to Arran.
Her stomach gave a little flip. That had been his chance. That had been his opportunity to invite her back out on the boat. And he hadn’t.
She took a deep breath. Trying to figure out Logan Scott was probably more trouble than it was worth.
And right now—with the way she was second-guessing every word and every touch—she just didn’t stand a chance.
CHAPTER SEVEN
THREE DAYS. IT had been three days since Logan had kissed her. And almost a month since she and Isla had moved to Arran.
The summer had well and truly started here. The surgery was bursting at the seams. It seemed as if no one came on holiday with a prescription for their medication. She’d reached a stage that she and Julie had actually worked out a system to make the whole process a little easier. Julie contacted the patient’s own surgery beforehand to verify their medical history and prescription, and Gemma then only saw the patient if they were unwell. Otherwise she spent the best part of an hour confirming them as a temporary resident on Arran and issuing a prescription.
She’d been on call last night and had been out twice when the doctor in A and E had been overwhelmed. It wasn’t as bad as she’d feared. Isla had been virtually undisturbed. Gemma had just lifted her from her bed and bundled her into the car. When they’d reached the hospital one of the staff had a little room set aside that Isla could sleep in while Gemma was tending to patients. It wasn’t ideal, but it certainly hadn’t been as disruptive as she’d feared.
The doorbell sounded. Gemma let out a sigh. She’d just opened a bottle of wine and put her feet up.
Logan was standing on the doorstep with a box in his hands and a sheepish look on his face.
‘What are you doing here?’
He held up the box. ‘I think I might be a little late with these.’
Gemma took a sip from her wine glass. ‘Only three weeks. That could be a world record.’
Logan leaned against the doorjamb. ‘I get the feeling you’re going to make me suffer.’
She turned on her heel, leaving the door open for him to follow her as she shouted over her shoulder, ‘I’m a woman. It’s my job.’
Gemma settled back on her sofa, tucking her bare feet under her. She waved her hand as Logan came into the living room. ‘You’ll need to get yourself a glass in the kitchen.’
She was trying to be cool, calm and collected. She was trying not to think about the last time she’d felt Logan’s skin in contact with her own.
The truth be told, she was a little annoyed at him. And maybe the wine was making her feel a little less afraid. Logan seemed as laid back as ever. He put the box down on the table in front of her and shed his jacket, leaving it on the armchair. She heard him opening cupboards in the kitchen until he finally found her three remaining wine glasses, then she heard the fridge door open and close.
She waited until he’d settled on the sofa next to her, a glass of wine in his hand. ‘That seems a mighty big box for two strawberry tarts.’
‘Yeah, well. I figured I should pay with interest. I wasn’t quite sure what Isla liked so I brought pineapple tarts and chocolate éclairs as well.’ He looked around him. ‘Where is she anyway?’
Gemma lifted her wine glass. ‘She’s having her first sleepover on Arran with one of the little girls your mum introduced her to.’
He looked surprised. ‘Which one?’
‘Adele. She seems fine. They both stayed here last night, and tonight they’re staying with Adele’s mum and dad. The other little girl who plays with them is away on holiday with her parents in Spain.’ She shrugged. ‘I didn’t want Isla to feel left out.’ She didn’t tell him it had taken her around three days to be persuaded to let Isla have an overnight stay, plus practically getting a reference for her parents from Logan’s mum.
Logan rested back on the sofa. ‘Seems like a good idea. It’s good that Isla’s making friends.’
Gemma gave a little smile. ‘Actually, it was your mum’s idea. If I had my way I’d have Isla wrapped in cotton wool and permanently attached to my hip.’
‘Aha.’ He raised his glass. ‘Single-parent syndrome?’
She straightened, immediately on the defensive. ‘What does that mean?’
He shook his head at her changing stance. ‘Only that you feel permanently responsible and on duty.’
‘Oh.’ Her shoulders rested back again. ‘Okay. You might be right.’ It made sense. She’d just never heard it expressed that way before. She did feel totally responsible for Isla—of course she did. But, then, she’d had a set of exceptional circumstances that most people hadn’t. She found it harder to let go. She found it harder to trust people with her pride and joy. She was almost automatically on the defence.
He turned a bit more towards her, his broad shoulder slipping underneath hers. ‘So, how does it feel, being home alone?’
She could hear the tone in his voice. It was just like being back on the boat with him. Did he think he could just show up, snap his fingers and she would come running? She couldn’t help but feel indignant. Trouble was, no one had told her body to act that way. Her hairs were already standing on end.
‘It feels weird, being home alone. I’m not used to it. And because I’m still getting used to the cottage and the weather outside, I can hear every creak and groan. Every gust of wind makes me think someone is in the house with me. Every squeaky floorboard makes me think Isla is walking down the corridor towards me, even though I know she’s not here. I love the cottage, I really do. I’m just not quite there yet.’
Logan leaned forward and set his wine glass down. ‘Sounds to me like you’re in need of some distraction.’
There was no way she was letting him get away with that so easily. She pointed at the TV. ‘And I’ve got it, courtesy of Mr Indiana Jones.’ She couldn’t help a smile forming on her lips. ‘What more could a girl want?’
‘What indeed...’ he leaned forward. She knew he had every intention of kissing her. Every cell in her body screamed out for it. But her brain just couldn’t let her go there. She reached up, placing her hand on his chest and stopping him just before he reached her.
‘How about a guy who can be straight with her? How about a guy who doesn’t blow hot and cold?’ Her voice was low, almost a whisper, but she knew that he could hear every word. She could feel him bristle under her touch for a second then feel the deep intake of breath into his lungs.
‘Is that what I do?’
‘You know it is.’ There was silence. She wanted to kiss him. She really did. But not like this. Not because it was convenient. Not because there was a gap in his schedule. She couldn’t afford to have a casual fling with a colleague. She had Isla to consider.
She saw him hesitate. There was something behind his eyes. Was it pain? Or was it something else?
‘I’ve...I’ve been distracted. Personal issues. Family stuff.’
She knew instantly what it was. ‘Claire?’ Had something changed? She’d gone along to book group and met the other women. It had been fun.
Claire had been a little quiet. But Gemma had decided not to interfere or ask any difficult questions. She barely knew Claire a
nd wanted to give her some space.
He nodded. His eyes fell and his fingers ran around the rim of the glass. ‘It’s nothing anyone can help with.’ He leaned back against the sofa, pulling away from her hand. ‘I’m sure you already know. Claire’s been trying for a family for the last seven years. She’s gone through ICSI, IVF—all unsuccessful. After a while she—no, they—decided to apply for adoption. The IVF had taken its toll on her both mentally and physically. I guess I just didn’t realise how much.’
The tone of his words made a shiver creep down her spine. ‘What do you mean?’
He gave the biggest sigh she’d ever heard. ‘I mean that Claire got turned down for adoption a few weeks ago. She’s totally distraught.’
‘What? Why did she get turned down? She never mentioned it.’ Gemma was more than surprised.
‘How much did Claire tell you?’
She shook her head. ‘Not much. But I didn’t ask her any questions.’ Her eyes met his. ‘I’m sorry, but I just didn’t think I knew her well enough to pry.’ Now she was feeling guilty. Should she have asked Claire some more questions?
‘It’s not your fault, Gemma. It’s mine. The social workers picked up on something that I should have picked up on long ago.’ He sounded angry and his whole body had stiffened, his muscles tensing.
She shook her head. ‘What do you mean?’
He clenched his fists. ‘I mean I should have realised something was wrong with Claire. I should have intervened long before she applied for the adoption. I had no idea things had got so bad.’ He stood up and started pacing about. ‘I’m supposed to be a doctor. I’m supposed to look after people. But I couldn’t even sit my sister down and ask her what was wrong.’
Everything started to fall into place. ‘Is she depressed?’
He ran his fingers through his hair. ‘That’s just it. I’m not sure. I think so. Her mood has been low. But then again, she gets herself whipped into a frenzy with her latest idea and she seems a bit manic. She won’t discuss anything with me. Just tells me “You’re not my doctor” and storms off.’ She could practically see the frustration emanating from his pores. ‘Her mental health has slowly been deteriorating with every failed attempt at ICSI and IVF. I just didn’t realise by how much.’
A Mother's Secret (Mills & Boon Medical) Page 10
