Читать книгу A Doctor, A Fling & A Wedding Ring - Fiona McArthur - Страница 9

TWO DAYS later at eleven a.m. Tara stood on the dock in Civitavecchia, Rome’s nearby port for cruise ships. Apart from the blinding white cruise liner that dominated the dock, it wasn’t a romantic place, more a service centre with cranes and cargo ships and a semi-deserted building more reminiscent of a warehouse than a cruise-liner departure hall. Well, that was good. She wasn’t feeling in the least romantic.

The officer in white asked her business and she handed over the papers Doug had given her.

‘Welcome to the Sea Goddess, Dr McWilliams. I’ll page Dr Hobson to meet you as soon as you board. If you would move through to check in via Security, please.’

‘Thank you.’ What the heck was she doing here?

* * *

Nick Fender, temporary bar manager for the Sea Goddess, decided the hardship of holding his sister’s job for her wasn’t so bad.

The sounds and subtle shift of the moored cruise ship soaked into his smile. It had been a while since he’d done a stint on a ship, as ship’s doctor last time. It had been even longer since the early days when he’d had a year off from med school after his parents had died and worked as the cocktail waiter everyone had loved. That’s when he’d laid the foundations for the life-of-the-party persona he’d grown very comfortable with.

So here he was back behind the bar, selling cocktails and holding down Kiki’s job while she fought off pneumonia. Wilhelm, the current ship’s doctor, had thought Nick’s retro-vocation hilarious and Nick was starting to see the funny side of it too.

And then there were the women. Some men could develop an ease with the opposite sex and Nick was one of them. He loved women. No favouritism.

That was until he glimpsed the tall, fine-boned dolly bird arrive late to the briefing room, and judging by her uniform she was the ship’s new junior doctor.

An uneasy prickle of déjà vu kept his eyes on her but he’d remember if he’d seen her before. But something was there. Something about her that tweaked at all the protective instincts he hadn’t known he had, at some gut level of awareness.

Nick loved the female gender. His doting sisters probably had something to do with that, and Nick liked to dip and dally, like the seagulls he could see outside the porthole, because he wasn’t falling for the have-and-hold dream. His parents’ early deaths and the letter he could tell no one about had seen to that.

Nick laughed his way through life with like-minded friends, and there were a lot of those working cruise liners. It was all about avoiding the horror of being left with just one person for ever.

Until she walked in. What the hell was that? He dragged his eyes away and concentrated on his watch to work out when the first passengers would arrive, when the ship would sail out the harbour, and when the bar would open. He didn’t have time for some random woman to explode unexpectedly like fine champagne on his frothy beer life.

He was the good-time guy.

Tara glanced around the small room filled with chairs and smiling crew members and started towards a seat in front of the hunky guy in the back row. He had those laughing black eyes all the best pirate actors had, the ones who could crook their little fingers at buxom wenches who’d come running.

Well, nobody would call her buxom. She’d lost so much weight she’d left her breasts in the Sudan and now for the first time she almost missed them.

He looked away as she caught his eye and she thought of her boss, Doug, and for the first time today a small smile tugged at her mouth. The smile broadened as she got closer, read his badge and realised he was actually a bar manager. Doug had said find a cocktail waiter so she was going up in the world.

Not that she really wanted to have an affair. Being the merry widow wasn’t her style but she did need to relearn how to talk to people. How to talk to men. That was, men who weren’t relatives of women who’d died or Doug.

She’d grown up enough not to expect to find ‘romantic love’. Vander had laughed at that. Still, maybe she could practise her smiles and small talk and become a normal socially acceptable human being again.

She’d at least managed to have her cracked and broken nails attended to and her hair cut this morning at the hotel. She really would try to lighten up for a week or two as ordered because even with the twenty-four hours’ sleep she’d had she was starting to feel better.

Maybe Doug had been right and she did need to touch the other world out there.

Her immediate superior on ship, Wilhelm Hobson, had met her at the gangplank and given her a quick orientation tour. Big ship! No doubt she’d be hopelessly lost for a few more days and planned on sticking to the crew areas and the medical centre to keep her bearings.

She certainly didn’t want to flirt with Wilhelm. The last thing Tara needed was to discuss work socially, apart from the fact doctors and death went together in her mind at the moment. She didn’t want to flirt with anyone but she would like to meet people she could talk with and, heaven forbid, even laugh with after the uneven fight she’d been waging for the last two years.

She sighed and wrenched her mind away from the camp. Concentrate on the here and now, she reminded herself.

The ship’s medical centre, much larger than she’d expected, seemed almost obscenely stocked with equipment after her workplace at the camp. Apart from three consulting rooms and ten observation inpatient beds, the centre even had its own X-ray machine. And morgue. She frowned at herself.

There were ECGs, defibrillators, minor surgical equipment and orthopaedic immobilisation gear. No doubt all would be useful, along with the myriad general-practice skills that would be needed in this isolated community far from land.

It actually did promise to be interesting the more she blocked her mind from her desertion of the refugee camp. In fact, perhaps not a bad way to ease back into the general-practice headspace she’d need to revisit for the next six months. That was how long Doug had stipulated before he would even consider her return.

The dashing young South African physician in charge was sweet, and obviously a bit of a player, but if she wanted to learn people skills, she wanted light, frivolously very far from medicine, and definitely short term. Just so she could show Doug she was fine.

So here she was and she resisted the evil urge to sneak another peek at the heady masculine brew behind her. Way out of her league but maybe she could make up a drink name for him. Unfortunately the ones that popped into her head tinged on the Curacao blue side and she mentally backed away.

What had got into her?

She hadn’t expected to leap onto Doug’s idea with a vengeance. Bizarre when she hadn’t looked at a man since med school and look where that had left her. A widow in a refugee camp with shoulders full of guilt for being the one who’d survived.

She’d never even been a necessary part of her parents’ lives, and Vander had said he needed her. Actually, as a missionary he’d needed her skills, so she’d flown off with her new husband filled with the warm and fuzzy idea that he’d loved her. Reality had left her bewildered but before she’d been able to get too angry at him for not being interested in love and sex, apparently the last thing he needed after a fifteen-hour day, he’d died of cholera.

So two years down the track was that what she wanted? Sex? Would that fix her? Make her human again?

Because she certainly felt robotic with years of bounding out of bed after ten minutes’ sleep, crash Caesareans with one eye open, triplets before breakfast, and massive post-partum haemorrhages at least once a night.

She’d have to stay awake for it, of course. Sex. She’d never really had the chance to figure what all the fuss was about. But one glance behind at corded muscles and mile-wide shoulders and she was contemplating caffeine to help keep her eyes open.

Good grief. She was seriously unstable and maybe Doug had it right. She chewed her lip to stop the smile. She felt decidedly immoral just thinking about it, and as a blush stole up her neck she glanced at her watch, willing the safety lecture to get going.

Safety seemed like a good thing to dwell on. That, and removing her mind from the gutter.

A shift in air currents and a sudden blocking of light was probably what had caused her breath to catch. That or the fact the intoxicating man behind had shifted and sat down beside her. Suddenly the room was two degrees hotter and filled with a crackling tension. So there really were men out there where that pheromone antenna thing actually happened and you got goose-bumps?

‘Hello, there. You’re new here?’ Deep, skin-tingling voice that raised the hairs on the back of her neck and a whiff of some expensive cologne the price of which would probably feed a Sudanese family for a month. Pleeease. Tara fought the blush from her cheeks.

Nick had specifically told his legs no when they’d wanted to shift him forward one row and sit beside the too-thin brunette, but the force of nature was not to be reckoned with and by the time he’d settled in next to her he’d already accepted it. Just a conversation.

She raised thick brown eyebrows that disdained fashion. In fact, he smiled to himself as he thought of the women he knew and their fetish for perfect dyed and primped arches, he doubted these had ever seen a pair of tweezers. ‘Do I look that new?’

He waggled his forehead. ‘New. Lost. And very new….’

She glanced away. ‘Thanks.’

‘You’re welcome.’ She looked at him again and he grinned to show he was only kidding, but she didn’t smile back. Crashed and burned, old boy, he mocked himself. ‘And on that auspicious beginning perhaps we could introduce ourselves.’

He held out his hand and he’d have to say gingerly she put her fingers briefly in his. Maybe he should have assured her his were clean, judging by her reluctance.

‘I’m Tara McWilliams.’

‘Tara.’ The star-ar. He always rhymed names to remember. First rule of attracting women. Remember their names. Nick had never noticed hands during a handshake before. Not what you did, really, but hers…fingers, bone-slender, too cold. She looked a little anaemic, her hand so workworn that he had the bizarre impulse to rub it warm and shelter it between his palms.

Instead, he continued the conversation as if he hadn’t noticed her pull herself free quickly. ‘Nick. Bar manager for the Casablanca Bar.’

‘Appropriate.’

He scratched his head comically and shook it. ‘Don’t get it?’

‘Humphrey Bogart. Casablanca. His name was Nick in the movie.’

He grinned. ‘Actually, it was Rick. Sorry. I have four sisters who love romantic movies but will henceforth think of Bogart every time I see my name now.’

She narrowed her eyes at him but not enough to distract him from noticing the colour. Honey brown. Or toffee. Like her skin. Like her gorgeous legs and arms. Edible. And yet incredibly weary.

She folded her arms across her chest. ‘Do you always correct people?’ She was cross. And still looked good with it. Damn good.

He blinked and opened his eyes wide. ‘Only when they’re wrong.’

Tara had to laugh. Or be hurt because she wasn’t used to people correcting her. It had all been life and death for the last two years with very little light relief and this barman had probably seen just the opposite. In fact, maybe she should cultivate him and relearn her humour and fluff from the fantasy world of shipboard existence. Good candidate.

‘Don’t worry. You’ll have fun.’ Could he read her mind?

She tasted the word. Rolled it around in her mouth and nibbled at it. Fun. Imagine. She grimaced. Boy, was she out of practice.

This guy looked like he rolled in good times. Most likely shimmied in sex. ‘I’ll try.’ She had no doubt he could provide her with more fun than even Doug would want for her if she made any effort at all. Scary thought but she’d been a reasonably fun person before she’d grown up.

The emergency drill session at the front of the room started and she sat up straight.

Nick watched her concentrate as the senior safety officer began to speak. So a serious pupil, determined to pay attention and learn all she could before the new influx of passengers arrived that afternoon. That was good.

He was interested too, had had a private introduction as a manager that had been more in-depth and he’d come along to see if his staff were attending, but there was no doubt he’d become distracted by the intensity that Tara gave to her own process of learning.

He sat forward and concentrated. Had to admit he was keen to see where she’d be deployed compared to him. He might just have to keep an eye on her.

He guessed he had the advantage, having worked on ships before. After he’d qualified he’d done a year as junior doctor on board the sister ship to this one, and had actually been instrumental in Wilhelm deciding to try the life. So his old friend owed him and he’d called in that favour to put a word in for his sister when she’d gone down with pneumonia.

But all they’d been able to manage was Nick replacing Kiki for the two weeks or her bar manager’s job would go. Luckily for Kiki, he didn’t mind. He’d been due for a holiday anyway.

His ex-girlfriend, Jasmin, had been getting way too serious and not been pleased to jet off from Rome to New York on her own. Hence the relief in his newly single status. Family came first and he made no apologies. Especially when it suited him.

His attention flicked back to the lecture. The safety officer discussed the routine of a compulsory muster for all passengers before they sailed and outlined the crew’s duties as emergency officers. Not much had changed and he was glad to see he was on the same station as Tara.

With over three thousand passengers and one thousand crew members the ship would give enough opportunities for her to slip out of sight. He couldn’t remember when he’d last been so aware of planning to ‘bump into’ a woman.

Usually it just happened—or not. Funny how he didn’t feel the same relaxed acceptance of fate with this slip of a medic beside him. Must be because she looked so frail—in an I-can-look-after-myself way that dared him to mention it. He wasn’t saying a thing but he’d be watching for her.

But as the middle child and only male in the family, it was his job to make everyone smile. After his parents had died it had been even more reason to be the entertainer. He was still the entertainer. He could show this Tara a very good time.

* * *

Tara walked away from Nick Fender. Fender? She could imagine the guy with an air guitar, thrusting his hips and pretending.

She blinked. What? Had she left her brain back in that room? She concentrated on the directions to the hospital pinned to the wall in front of her.

She had to keep reminding herself she was at work. It was so strange without the need to rush from one emergency to the next.

With the help of the occasional map, Tara navigated two stairwells and a corridor and found her way back to the hospital where Marie, the head nurse, was shifting boxes of supplies.

‘Let me help with that.’ Tara hurried forward and helped lift the other side of an awkwardly shaped parcel Marie wanted on the desk.

The nurse brushed the hair out of her eyes when the parcel was safely stowed. ‘Thanks, Tara. It’s the new ECG machine. It wasn’t heavy but, boy, was it awkward.’

‘So what else can I do for you?’ Tara glanced around. Boxes everywhere.

Marie grinned at her. ‘Seriously, I’m just unpacking. First day is all about unpacking and stowing.’

Tara rubbed her hands. Activity would be excellent. ‘Then I’ll help. It’s the best way to find where things live anyway. Can’t be asking you where everything is all the time.’

The two women smiled at each other and Tara felt like she’d gone the first step to making at least one friend. ‘Always happy to have help. Though you’ll have to go through the crew’s notes before we leave this afternoon. Those with illnesses they’ve notified us of, anyway.’

She gestured Tara through to the ward area and a sterile supply room. ‘Reckon this will be the place that confuses you most.’

The storeroom was wall-to-wall shelves. She glanced around and Tara wondered if she’d get back to being as easy to talk to as Marie was. Her own conversation skills needed repolishing—just those few exchanges with air-guitar Nick had shown her that—and she wanted to fit in. Drop her doom-and-gloom mantle that had grown since she’d married and try at least to pretend to join in with ‘normal’ people.

The day passed swiftly, especially when the passengers came on board. Most of them looked as lost as Tara had been when she’d been out of the hospital but the mood was high and excited and totally different from the world Tara had just left.

Tara stood with Marie on the deck and watched the lines being cast off, then they eased away from the dock and maybe she could adjust to the sway of the ship and the routines on board. It was all so different from the hectic rush from one dire patient to the next.

Normally the clinic for passengers opened three times a day for two hours. The crew phoned down for quick access most of the time.

Today the passenger clinic would open once except for emergencies—most of which Wilhelm would deal with. Lovely change. She only dealt with occupational mishaps of the crew, minor illnesses among them, and passenger cabin calls when Wilhelm couldn’t attend.

Even her cabin on the crew deck seemed outrageously luxurious compared to her tent at the camp. Air-conditioning and hot and cold running water and a porthole that was much larger than she’d expected and afforded an amazing view across the water. She just might be in heaven.