Читать книгу The Doctor And The Princess - Scarlet Wilson, Scarlet Wilson - Страница 13

CHAPTER FOUR

THE DEBRIEF HAD been quicker than expected. Their data collection had been fastidious. It helped correlate the numbers of cases of pulmonary TB and MDR-TB in Narumba. The data spreadsheet recording all the side effects of any of the medications would be analysed by their pharmacy colleagues, and the extra information on childhood weight and nutrition would be collated for international statistics. The longest part of the review was around the safety aspects of the team that had gone out to replace them.

Sullivan had already made some recommendations. Three of the team members this time were male and extra interpreters were available.

Six missions had returned at the same time and right now every member from each of the missions was jammed around the booths in a bar in Paris. Drinks filled the tables. Laughter filled the air. After a few months of quiet it didn’t take long for the thumping music and loud voices to start reverberating around his head.

Gabrielle seemed in her element. The girl knew how to let her hair down. Literally. Her glossy dark curls tumbled around her shoulders, her brown eyes were shining and the tanned skin on her arms drew more than a few admiring glances. She was dressed comfortably, in well-fitting jeans and a black scoop-neck vest trimmed with black sequins. A thin gold chain decorated her neck, with some kind of locket nestling down between her breasts.

Maybe it was the buzz in the air. Maybe it was just the electricity of Paris. Or maybe it was the novelty of having some down time. But one part of him couldn’t fully relax.

He’d drunk a few beers and joined in a few stories but the undercurrent between him and Gabrielle seemed to bubble under the surface. This whole thing seemed like a preface to the main event.

It could be it was simply easier to concentrate on the here and now than the future. The future would mean finally having to think about going back home to Oregon to deal with his father’s belongings. His stomach curled at the mere thought. It was pathetic really. He was a thirty-three-year-old guy—and he’d served in some of the toughest areas of the world—but the thought of bundling up some clothes and taking them to goodwill made his blood run cold.

It was so much easier not to acknowledge it and just move on to the next job. Take the next emergency call that came in from Doctors Without Borders and head off on the next mission.

He excused himself and stood up, walking towards the men’s room. The corridor here was little quieter, a little darker. His footsteps slowed and he leaned against the wall, closing his eyes for a second.

He couldn’t talk about this. He wouldn’t talk about this. He and his dad had been on their own for so long after his mother had been killed in a riding accident when he was three. All he could remember of her was a smell and a swish of warm soft hair. He had plenty of photographs of her but when he closed his eyes, it was the touch and the smell that flooded his senses.

It meant that he and his dad had been a team. For as long as he could remember there had been an unshakable bond. His father had refused to be stationed anywhere without his son. Japan, Italy, UK and Germany had all played a part in his multinational upbringing. There had hardly been any discipline because he’d never been a bad kid. He’d never wanted to disappoint his dad. And the day he’d told him he wanted to do his medical degree and serve, tears had glistened in his father’s eyes.

The sudden phone call out of the blue had been like a knife through his heart. His father had never had a day’s illness in his life. The post mortem had shown an aortic aneurysm. The surgeon in Sullivan hated that. It was something that was fixable. Something that could have been detected and fixed. His father could have had another twenty years of life.

Instead, Sullivan had been left to unlock the door on the Hood River house and be overwhelmed by the familiar smells. Of wood, of fishing, of cleaning materials and of just...him.

The house that had been full of happy memories seemed to have a permanent black cloud over it now. Anytime he thought of returning his stomach curled in a familiar knot. It was hardly appropriate for a former soldier.

There was a nudge at his side. ‘Hey, you, what are you doing, sleeping on the job?’

He almost laughed out loud at the irony. She’d no idea how much the art of sleeping had escaped him in the last few years.

Gabrielle gave a smile and moved in front of him, matching his pose by leaning on the wall and folding her arms across her chest. He couldn’t help but smile.

‘Was I boring you that much?’ she teased.

He reached out and touched her bare shoulder, running his finger down the smooth soft skin on her outer arm. ‘Oh, believe me, you weren’t boring me at all.’

Her eyes twinkled. ‘So, why are you hiding back here?’ Her folded arms accentuated her cleavage and she caught his gaze and raised her eyebrows.

He let out a laugh. It was one of the things he liked best about her—a woman who was happy in her own skin. If only every woman could be like that.

‘I wasn’t hiding.’ He grinned. ‘I was contemplating a way to get you back here on your own.’

‘Hmm...’ She moved a little closer. ‘And why would you be doing that, Dr Darcy?’

He loved the way his name tripped off her tongue. The accent sent shivers to places that were already wide awake. Her hand reached up and drummed a little beat on his shoulder.

His hand moved forward, catching her around the waist and pulling her up against him, letting her know in no uncertain terms what his intentions were.

Her eyes widened and her hands fastened around his neck. ‘I’m assuming you made good on our plans.’

‘You could say that.’

‘What does that mean? Where are we staying?’

In the dim light of the corridor her brown eyes seemed even darker. Full of promise. Full of mystery. The feel of her warm curves pressing against him spoke of another promise.

He wound his fingers through her hair. ‘I might have booked us in somewhere a little bit special.’

Her eyebrows raised again. ‘You have?’

‘I have. It seems a shame to waste any more time.’

She rose up on tiptoe and whispered in his ear, ‘And is that what we’re doing, Dr Darcy, wasting time?’

Her warm breath danced against the skin behind his ear. He let his eyes close for a second again before he groaned out loud and made a grab for her hand.

‘Let’s go.’

She didn’t resist in the slightest. ‘Let me grab my jacket,’ she shouted as she let go of his hand and weaved her way through the crowd. He gave a quick nod and headed over to the bar, pulling out his wallet and settling the current bar tab. He didn’t want to wait for the flying euros as they fought over who wanted to contribute. To some the bar tab might have seemed large. To people who’d been in other countries for three months, it didn’t even come to the equivalent of a night out every weekend.