Читать книгу The Doctor's Lost-and-Found Heart - Dianne Drake, Dianne Drake - Страница 6

WRAPPED around her pretty little finger. That was how he felt, traipsing around out here in God-forsaken nowhere, with nothing but a backpack full of testing supplies and a sneaking suspicion that there was going to be more to this mission than a couple of days. Way more than a couple of days …

Jack Kenner swatted a mosquito on his neck, flicked it away, then wiped the sweat off his face with the back of his hand. If he’d been smart about this, or had had time to plan, he’d have had his hair buzzed down to a bald cut, because collar-length wavy and summer jungle humidity weren’t a good mix. And it was damn humid out here. Unseasonably so for mid-December. He’d have also had time to order adequate testing supplies—he never liked to go unprepared. But when Amanda had called him, told him what was at risk, and that it was urgent … First plane out. What could he say? He was a sucker for a beautiful face and a worthy cause. She certainly had the beautiful face, and a bunch of sick kids was a worthy cause.

Thinking about her brought a smile to his face. Amanda Robinson. More than beautiful, actually. Stunning. Exquisite. Wild, black hair when it wasn’t all trussed up. Dark skin. Eyes the color of onyx. Exotic in every sense of the word. A real breathtaker who was totally unaware of the power she could hold over a man.

Outside a handful of professional encounters back in Texas, Jack hardly even knew the woman, yet here he was, somewhere in Argentina, because she’d asked. The hell of it was, he didn’t do that kind of looking anymore. Kept it strictly off his radar. Except when Amanda walked by him that first time his radar had blipped. For him, though, one or two blips and that was as far as it went. His life was screwed up in every way that counted and he wasn’t even sure he could define what a real life was anymore. So, why drag someone else into his confusion?

Easy answer. He didn’t. Not even casually. Anything other than a passing glance and a wishful sigh got complicated, so he kept it uncomplicated, simple as that. The fewer lives he screwed up, the better.

On the other hand, being here was bordering on complicated since this was everything he was trying to put behind him. Medicine, unidentified outbreaks, epidemics … he wanted all of it out of his life. Problem was, controlling hospital-acquired infections, now called HAIs, was a growing specialty and the bigger problem in that was he was pretty good at what he did. It was hard to walk away from it when you were in demand. Harder still when he actually let himself think about the lives depending on his discoveries. But walking was what he’d been trying to do for the past two years. Walking, but always getting pulled back in.

So now, this Hospital de Caridad he was trying to find … He was promising himself it would be the last one. The last of the line for him, come hell or high water. Amanda Robinson had worked miracles with his nephew and this was paying back a debt of gratitude. Meaning, he’d find the HAI infecting the hospital she owned with her brother, then finally be done with it. Done with everything, without a clue what came after that.

Another mosquito dive-bombed Jack’s ear, and he slapped at it, hitting it in midair. “You dirty little …”

“Dr. Jack Kenner?” a young voice piped up from the bushes just beyond the edge of the trail. “Are you Dr. Jack Kenner?”

“I’m Kenner,” he said, quite surprised by an obviously adolescent voice. “Who are you, and does anybody know you’re out here in the jungle alone?”

A scrawny scrap of a kid popped out of the bushes and walked right up to him. No shoes, no shirt, scraggly black hair, well-worn jeans, the biggest, widest smile Jack had ever seen on a face. “I’m Ezequiel,” he said, extending his small hand to Jack. “I speak good English and I know all the roads and paths to the hospital. That’s why they sent me to find you.”

“That would imply I’m lost,” Jack said, taking firm hold of Ezequiel’s hand, amazed and a little amused by the adult and purely unexpected gesture. “Which I’m not.”

Ezequiel’s grin didn’t fade in the face of Jack’s solid grip, or his denial. If anything, it widened. “Okay, then I’ll go back and tell them you’re on the wrong trail, but you’re not lost.” He pulled his hand back when Jack let go and crammed it into his pocket.

“How old are you, kid?”

“Twelve,” he said. Then quickly added, “Almost.”

Jack chuckled. Smart kid. Smart in his head, smart in the world. “And why do you speak English so well?”

“Missionaries used to teach me in school. I was the best student. Now the doctors and nurses teach me.”

“Not surprised you’re the best.” Jack pulled a stainless-steel bottle of water from his backpack and offered it first to Ezequiel, who refused. Then he twisted off the cap, took a swig, and replaced the cap. “So, if I were to admit that I might be lost, how far, would you say, I’m off the trail I need to be on?”

“Far off,” Ezequiel responded.

“If I’m that far off, how did you find me? Or even know where to look for me?”

“Everybody makes that mistake first time.”

Yes, very smart in the world. He liked Ezequiel instantly. Saw that same gleam of youthful enthusiasm he used to see in Robbie’s eyes. “Then I suppose I’m lucky you knew I might get lost.”

“I didn’t, but Doc Ben did.”

Ben Robinson, Amanda’s brother. Admittedly, he knew nothing about the man. Amanda hadn’t said and he hadn’t asked. Kept things the way he liked them—uninvolved. “And Doc Ben would be the one who sent the Jeep for me … The Jeep with a driver who dropped me off halfway here and pointed me in the direction of Aldea de Cascada rather than taking me all the way there?”

“We had an emergency, Doc K. Only got one Jeep.”

Doc K? A nickname smacked of familiarity, and he didn’t want familiarity of any kind coming anywhere near him. Especially not with another kid. Jack’s nephew, Michael, was the only one he was going to allow in his life from now on. He was Cade’s son, and there was safety in that relationship. He could get as close as he wanted yet keep the distance he needed. “Call me Jack, or Dr. Kenner,”

“Okay, Doc K,” Ezequiel said, giving him the thumbs-up sign.

Choosing not to correct the boy, Jack shook his head in resignation. What the hell? He was only going to be here a day or two then he was going back to Texas, back to wondering what came next. “So, how about you lead, and I’ll follow?” Follow an almost twelve-year-old boy to a village hospital with one Jeep, an unidentified infection spreading, and God only knew what else. Sounded like a mess to him, but that pretty much summed up his life these days, didn’t it? A real mess.

“Okay, so maybe I shouldn’t have interfered, but you’re in over your head here, Ben. And not asking anybody for help. Not even me, which has got me a little angry, to be honest.” Amanda Robinson dropped her canvas duffel bag next to the bed, then plopped down on the lumpy mattress. Her home away from home. She loved it here, loved Caridad, didn’t mind the lack of amenities. In fact, back in Texas, she found herself always counting off the days until she could return. “So I asked him, even though you didn’t want me to. He was hanging around, working a few hours here and there at the hospital, and I took the opportunity when I saw it because Jack’s the best in the field, and we have a problem he can fix. What did you expect me to do?”

“Let me handle it since I’m the one who actually runs the hospital.”

“But I had Jack Kenner at my fingertips. I’d be crazy to ignore that.” The way she hadn’t been able to ignore him all these months. A man who made her toes tingle. Except, when she looked, he didn’t look back. Hence a whole lot of unrequited tingling going on.

“And I have a computer with a connection to a satellite. These are modern times, Amanda. We have communication, even in the jungle, and I’ve been in touch with a couple people who are experienced in these kinds of infections.”

“Okay, so maybe I overstepped … a little. But your people aren’t Jack Kenner.”

“You overstepped a lot.” He sighed, then sat down on the edge of the bed next to his sister and wrapped a supportive arm around her shoulder. “But I’m glad you’re here, interfering.”

“Because I care,” she said, her voice giving way to tenderness. “Your vision, my passion. That’s why I work my butt off to support this place. You … we do important work.” There might have been only a year separating them in age, and no real blood relationship between them, but Benjamin Thomas Robinson was the person she most admired in this world. What he’d overcome to get here … “And I’m sorry if this is going to cause a problem between us, Ben, but …”

“But you were taking care of me, the way you always have.”

“I can’t help it. That’s just what happens, and you should be used to it by now.”

He chuckled. “I am. And most of me appreciates your … hovering, nurturing, mothering, whatever you want to call it.”

“Then we’re good with this?”

“We’re always good,” he said, wrapping his other arm around her to give her a hug. “And I’m glad you’re back. Ever since Dad died …”

“I know,” she whispered, feeling her eyes dampen. “It throws everything off balance, doesn’t it?” Ben was a Robinson by birth, she was a Robinson by adoption. But there’d been no distinctions in the family. They were tight-knit, loving. And her dad’s death a few months earlier had changed things …. Things Ben didn’t know. Didn’t need to know. He had enough struggles of his own, without taking on hers. Which he would do, if he knew.

“Look, it was a long trip down here. Any chance that fantastic hospital cook might have a bowl of guisos left over from lunch?” At the mere mention of guisos Amanda found herself suddenly craving the thick meat and vegetable stew. It was a simple concoction, quite traditional here, and something she could easily make for herself back home—onions, garlic, veal, tomatoes, carrots, sweet potatoes, squash, rice … But in Argentina it tasted better. Satisfied a certain craving that wasn’t about food—something she couldn’t explain.

“Maybe afterward a palmerita covered in crema pastelera?”

A flat, circular pastry covered in a vanilla cream. “Are you trying to get on my good side?” she asked, sniffling back her tears. He was about courage, and it was always good to be with him, to work with him. Be inspired by his strength. “Because if you are, it worked.”

“Well, I sent Ezequiel out to find your Jack Kenner. I got word he was coming in by commuter plane, so I asked Hector to go to the landing strip to get him but, apparently, there was an emergency over in Ladera. Someone needs transport to the hospital, and Hector let your friend out somewhere down the road, pointed him in the right direction, or shall I say some direction, since it’s been a couple of hours. So I decided someone should go out and help him find his way.”

A smile crept to Amanda’s lips. Jack Kenner, lost in the jungle. Good-looking man. Rugged. Large. Black wavy hair, dark brown eyes, stubble on his chin, perpetual frown on his face … The thought of Jack lost out there, somewhere, was funny. To a point. Because that moment of amusement would be followed by the reality that Jack wasn’t any too friendly most of the time, at least, most of her time, and she didn’t see him being as amused by his predicament as she was. At best, he was aloof and she didn’t know why, didn’t really care to find out. She needed his skill, not his personality. Although something about that gruff personality invariably brought a sigh to her lips.

Still, Jack Kenner, lost … “He’s not very personable, Ben,” she said, straightening up, as her smile got larger.

“Yet look at you smile. Am I missing something here? Something about you and this man you haven’t told me yet?”

“Nothing to tell,” she said defensively, as the heat rose in her face. “I barely know him.”

“So the blush doesn’t mean anything?” he teased.

“I don’t blush, and if I did, you wouldn’t be able to see it.”

“Scarlet red against your complexion … ” He leaned back to appraise her, then grinned. “Haven’t seen anything like that on you before, so he must be one hell of a man to do that to you, Amanda.”

“I don’t know anything about how he is as a man, just as a doctor.”

“All I’m saying is—”

“Nothing, Ben. All you’re saying is nothing, because there is nothing. And don’t go trying to marry me off to this man when he gets here. Okay? Because last time you tried that …”

“I was thirteen, you were twelve.”

“And he stalked me for half a year. Kept telling me you promised he could have me. Then I found out you traded me for that bicycle you said you found.”

“Seemed like a fair trade at the time. And he did love you.”

“Until he got a better deal.”

“Yeah, well, love is fickle, isn’t it?”

“Except I’m not in love with Jack Kenner. Not even in like with him. He’s simply a means to an end for us, and I just wanted you to know, in advance, that he can be a little … abrupt.”

“I’ve done some research. Saw a mention or two about his personality in some articles I read. And you’re right. He’s a pretty somber guy, apparently, but good. So, the rest of it doesn’t matter, does it?” He arched teasing eyebrows. “Even a less perceptive man than I could read something into your blush, though.”

She chose not to dignify her brother’s implications anymore. He’d think what he wanted for now, and observe, in due course, how wrong he was. “No, Jack Kenner’s attitude doesn’t matter, except for poor Ezequiel. Jack’s going to chew him up and spit him out.”

“See, there you are. Another denial. Denial by ignoring what I just implied.”

“Would you stop it? There’s nothing going on. I asked him here because he’s the best, and I was only trying to explain to you that his personality isn’t always pleasant.”

“Yet, you’re attracted to that rough type, aren’t you?” He chuckled. “Anyway, I think Ezequiel will hold his own against your friend.” Ben smiled. Nodded appreciatively. “He’s a resourceful kid.”

“And Jack does love kids … ” she said, hoping her brother would back off the teasing. The truth was, she was attracted. What woman wouldn’t be? But how did you tell your brother it was purely physical? The answer: you didn’t. “Even though he’ll never admit to having a soft spot for anyone.” Jack didn’t wear his heart on his sleeve as a rule, but in a few of their encounters she’d seen it there. Which was why she’d turned to him when she’d realized her brother needed help. Jack cared. He did a pretty good job of hiding it—most of the time. But sometimes it slipped out. With his nephew, the emotion was obvious. “So, about that food I was begging for …”

Smiling, “Ah, yes. My sister’s priorities.”

“Your sister’s priorities,” she said, trailing him out the door of the tiny hut she’d be calling home for the next couple of weeks. The only thing was, it wasn’t really food she had on her mind. It was Jack Kenner. Back in Big Badger, Texas, he was a blunt force. But something about him being here in Argentina, in the jungle … That thought fascinated her almost as much as the jungle did. Almost.

Well, it was better than he’d expected. Nice little wooden structure. Probably ten or twelve beds in a central ward and a few private rooms. A small yet tidy surgery. Ample supplies. Well-kept grounds. Flowers planted here and there to give it a bright appearance. All of it perched on a little knoll overlooking the village called Aldea de Cascada.

Surprisingly, there were people milling around. Some appeared native to the area, some didn’t. A few seemed to work here, others may have been visitors. All in all, he was more impressed by Hospital de Caridad than he’d expected to be. “Thanks for the tour, Ezequiel,” he said, even more impressed by how the kid knew his way around the hospital. So, was it customary to tip the tour guide? He wondered about that since Ezequiel wasn’t making a move to get away from him. In fact, if he hadn’t known better, he might have thought the boy was latching on to him. “Is there something else we need to do?” he finally asked him.

Ezequiel shook his head. “Unless you want to see where you’ll be staying.”

“Sure. Show me.”

“It’s over there,” Ezequiel said, pointing to a small hut adjacent to the hospital building.

It was nice enough. He’d stayed in far worse places, carrying out far worse duty, than what he was going to do here. “Okay,” he said, still not sure what to do about Ezequiel. Then inspiration struck, and he slung his backpack off his shoulder and pulled out the stainless-steel water bottle. “You don’t have one of these, do you?” he asked, holding it up.

Ezequiel shook his head.

“Then take it.” He tried handing it over to Ezequiel, but the boy only looked perplexed.

“Back where I come from, when somebody gets lost, the person who finds them gets a reward.”

“Reward?” Ezequiel questioned. “What’s a reward?”

Jack thought for a moment, trying to come up with the right word to translate it. “Recompense,” he finally said. “Regalo.”

“For me?” Ezequiel cried, sounding as excited as any child would who’d just received a gift.

Jack regretted he didn’t have something better, something more suited for an almost twelve-year-old boy, and he wondered if he’d have an opportunity while he was here to find something else for Ezequiel. “Next time you have to go looking for someone … even if it’s me … you can fill it with water and take it along in case you get thirsty.” His second attempt to thrust the bottle at Ezequiel was met with success, and as soon as they boy latched on to it he opened it up and took a drink of the water still inside.

“Thank you, Doc K. I like it.” Then the grin started, ear to ear. And Jack’s heart melted. Damn it, he wasn’t going to do that again. Wasn’t going to get involved. Wasn’t going to let another kid get to him. Not after Robbie, or Rosa. Shift, refocus, get his mind off children. Clearing his throat, Jack inhaled a deep breath. “Care to help me get settled in?”

Ezequiel frowned, again unsure of what Jack had just said. So Jack tossed him the backpack and motioned for him to come along to the guest hut. Okay, so maybe he wasn’t here to make friends, but Ezequiel was turning into the exception, with that smile of his, and that unassuming nature. Besides, what did a couple of days’ interaction with the kid hurt? Interaction didn’t have to equate to involvement, did it? Especially if he kept reminding himself that in another few days all this would be behind him. “Then you can help me find Dr. Robinson, if you have time.”

“He’s in clinic now.” He pointed to another hut, a much larger version of the hut he was headed to. “Over there.”

Hospital de Caridad, translated to mean Charity Hospital, was like a small village in itself. A well thought-out place, keeping the clinic out of the hospital. Even though he hadn’t yet met Amanda’s brother, Jack was already beginning to like the man. Or at least appreciate his vision. The care and concern surrounding this hospital had been obvious to Jack almost the instant he’d stepped into the compound, and he hadn’t even seen the actual hospital operation yet.

“Then that’ll be our next stop, after we go in here.” He stepped up to the door of the guest hut, which was an opening covered by mosquito netting, then pushed back the gauzy material and motioned for Ezequiel to go in first. Then he followed, got halfway into the hut, and stopped. “What the …?” he said, obviously surprised by who he found there. “You never said you were coming to Argentina, too.”

Amanda, who was stashing a few clothes in the small bureau next to her bed, spun around. “Maybe not, but here I am anyway.”

“Precipitated by what? Your need to keep an eye on me?”

“Don’t sound so defensive, Jack. I’m inspired by your work. Wanted to watch it in progress.”

“So you just packed up and came here on a whim.”

“Yes, I just packed up. But you don’t get to call it a whim.”

“Why not?”

“Because coming to Argentina on a whim makes me sound irresponsible.”

“There’s something wrong with being irresponsible? Lots of people do it every day, and do it well.”

“You sound like you believe irresponsibility could be an admirable goal.”

“Not admirable. But definitely a goal for some people. Me included, if I get my way. And don’t pull out your analyst’s couch and tell me to lie down because there’s nothing there you’d be interested in.”

“Don’t underestimate yourself, Doctor. I think I’d find plenty to interest me if you were stretched out on my couch.”

“Let me guess. You’re psychoanalyzing me, aren’t you? Because my goal is not to have a goal.” It was said with a certain amount of amusement, because the idea of boots off and under her analyst’s couch was suddenly the only thing on his mind. Boots off, belt off, stethoscope off …

“I don’t psychoanalyze. I treat conditions.”

“And I’m a condition to treat.”

“You’re entitled to your opinion,” she countered, her smile never breaking.

“My opinion is I’m the challenge you may want to take on, which is why you’re here. But I’m also the challenge you won’t crack, which is why I came.”

“Faulty logic,” she quipped. “You’re here because you did crack under the challenge. Caved right in when I asked.”

“Or agreed because there was a need for my services, as simple as that.” Caved right in was more like it, but he wasn’t about to give her the advantage of letting her discover she was right about him. Amanda was resourceful. She’d find a way to use that kind of information again. Which, on second thought, might be interesting. Too bad he didn’t even go as far as interesting. “Oh, and in case you’re interested, I’m impressed by your hospital.”

“Changing the subject, Jack?”

He laughed. “You bet I am. It’s safer that way.”

Her smile didn’t waver, but the edges around it softened. “Then the conversation is changed. Wouldn’t want you feeling uncomfortable.”

“Sounds like you’re not really changing the conversation, just twisting it around to suit your purposes. Only my opinion, of course.”

“My only purposes are what concerns the hospital. But Caridad is nice, isn’t it?” she asked, taunting him with her eyes. “I’m proud of what Ben’s done here. Which is why, when I’m running off to Argentina a few times a year, it may seem like a whim to some, but I’m actually here doing something I believe in with all my heart.”

Something about her looked different. He studied her for a second, realized her hair wasn’t twisted into its usual tight, librarianesque knot at the nape of her neck. It was loose, full of curl, wild. And her eyes had … The only way he could describe what he saw was los ojos del fuego. Eyes of fire. She was Amanda Robinson, but a different version from that he knew back in Texas. “So, I’m assuming we’re roommates?” he said, turning around and walking over to join Ezequiel at his bedside.

“Yep, roommates. You over there, me over here, curtain down the middle.” She bumped her bureau drawer shut with her hip, then grabbed a handful of clothes she’d left on the bed, and headed for a nook he figured had to be the bathroom. “You don’t mind sharing, do you?” she called back over her shoulder, as she pushed back the door to the nook and walked into the room behind it. “Because the supply closet in the hospital isn’t taken, if you’d rather have that. But you’d have to sleep sitting up.”

“I’m fine,” he said, kicking off his leather cowboy boots and letting them fly to the floor in the middle of the room.

“Good. Because the supply closet is a tight fit, especially if you’re claustrophobic.”

Except he wasn’t claustrophobic. Right now, though, he was feeling a little gynophobic. Afraid of women. One woman in particular. Amanda Robinson was different, and that bothered him. What bothered him even more was that he was bothered about it in the first place.

In the tiny bathroom, the only place where’d she’d be able to find privacy in their living arrangement, Amanda leaned back against the door and drew in a deep breath to steady her nerves. She was shaking. Actually shaking … hands, knees, a few parts in between. So, what was that about? She knew Jack, had been the one to ask him here. Now, seeing him out of his Texas element … Even her breath was shaking as she shut her eyes and conjured up his image. Usual rough cut even rougher. Hair mussed, that sexy, sexy dark stubble on his face. Even the glisten of sweat on his face made him sexy. Sexy …

No! He couldn’t be sexy. This wasn’t about sexy.

Amanda’s eyes flew open to stop the flow of pure sexual fascination with a man she was trying hard to repudiate as sexy. And failing miserably. Yet what had all that dialogue been about, especially the part where she had been getting him stretched out on her couch? Really? Was that what she’d said to him? Her analyst’s couch, for heaven’s sake!

Another round of shakes hit her because she didn’t know what had come over her, and she didn’t like it the least little bit that, rather than annoying her, his streak of opposition had tweaked something. Woken it up. Lit some kind of a fire.

It was like she was seeing Jack for the first time. Enjoying what she was seeing way more than she should. And now she was getting stressed out about sharing quarters with him, sleeping mere feet away from him. Forming an intimacy by proximity, something that had never bothered her all those years she’d slept in the hospital on call with colleagues and strangers alike. It was a bed, and everybody concerned was too tired to care who was in the bed across from theirs.

Except now she wasn’t tired, and she did care, because … Well, it was the jungle. It was always the jungle, and the jungle always made her feel like someone other than who she was. Why? No clue. But from the moment she arrived here—every single time she arrived here—the old Amanda started giving way to the new one. Sometimes it crept out of her by slow measures, sometimes it leaped, like a hungry panther.

Sure, there had to be a psychology to it, and as a psychologist she should have been able to figure it out. But maybe she liked the way she felt when she unpinned her hair and took off her pearls, which was why she avoided that little analysis. It just plain felt good to be Argentina Amanda.

So here she was, throwing off those figurative pearls by changing into something more comfortable than linen slacks and fitted blouse, anxious to get on with the panther inside her. Yet when she opened the door, she couldn’t take that leap. That was the other Amanda fighting to take her back. The one who took control so completely now all she could do was stand in the doorway and stare at Jack, who’d apparently shooed Ezequiel away then stretched out flat on his bed. Either asleep already, or trying to bring on a self-induced trance.

She took a deep breath to calm herself, and to help her hang on to the last few shreds of that other Amanda … shreds she was a little afraid to let go of. “Look, Ben’s in clinic for another hour, and I’m on my way to the kitchen to see what I can find to eat. Care to come with me?”

“Thanks … not hungry,” Jack said.

“Thirsty? There’s always a pitcher of fresh lemonade.”

“Not thirsty.”

This was the way it was going to be? “Are you always so non-responsive?” she asked.

“Pretty much.”

“Why?”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re a doctor, and doctors are supposed to be responsive.” He rose up, arched the sexiest eyebrows she’d ever seen in her life, and simply stared so hard at her she began to feel self-conscious. “What?” she finally asked.

He didn’t answer, though. Instead, he lay back down and shut his eyes. Then finally said, “You’re being responsive enough for the both of us. No need for me to join in and interrupt what you’re doing so well.”

Now he was playing with her. Look out, Jack Kenner. Because as sexy as he was to look at, he was just that challenging to be around, and she did love a good challenge. A thought that added just a bit more jungle wind to Amanda’s sails as she tossed the clothes she’d been wearing down on her bed, then headed to the door of the hut. “Well, here’s one more responsive moment from me, Jack. Those boots … keep them under your bed. Not in the middle of the floor. In fact, keep everything about you on your side. I don’t like messiness.”

“And I don’t like fussy roommates. Which makes this a stand-off, doesn’t it?”

“Not really,” she said, smiling as she spun around and marched straight back to the middle of the room, where she bent down, picked up those boots then strode straight to the window, opened it and hurled them outside. “Not when there’s a simple solution.”

Jack’s only response was to rise up again, give her a good, hard stare, toe to head, then back down again. A stare so hard she could feel it graze her curves. Suddenly she was feeling self-conscious that her white shorts might be a little too short, or her white vest top a little too tight. Too much leg, too much chest.

“Okay, then,” she finally said when Jack said nothing. “If you change your mind about that lemonade …”

By the time she was finally pouring that lemonade, she was back on course. Not as much as she wanted to be, though. Because that little episode in the guest hut, that up-and-down emotional swing—attracted, frustrated, attracted, frustrated—definitely wasn’t her. These clothes weren’t her. Nothing here was her. Not really. Yet it all felt so right. All except Jack, and she had no idea how what was going on inside her raised so many quivers, hackles, goose bumps and objections all at the same time.

The thing was, she knew she should avoid Jack. Maybe even wanted to. But could she? Truly, honestly, could she? And if she could, would she?