echoes of sadness. And softness. And strength.
She took a large slug of her wine to refocus before she got completely carried away. He was just a guy.
She knew more about them than most, having three brothers—who were simultaneously infuriating and adorable.
And her ratbag of a stepfather, and Brian, the married sleazebag. Between the two of them, they had taught her that love was made up of hurt, lies and empty promises. And not for her.
Especially not now she had three weeks and one day until that plane lifted off.
‘Hi. Sorry I’m late.’ The just-a-guy appeared in front of them, dressed casually in a black T-shirt and faded jeans. He slung his leather jacket onto the back of the chair and nodded at her, his lips a straight line, his eyes guarded. He looked like he wanted to be anywhere else in the world other than a small country pub filled with laughter and friendly faces.
Edgy and dangerous and about as far away from any man she’d ever been with, or had wanted to be with before, but everything about him resonated deep inside her.
She swallowed the dry lump in her throat. ‘Adam. Hi. Thought you might have had second thoughts.’
‘Got a code two just before I clocked off.’ Adam shrugged and glanced at Connor warily. ‘That’s a …’
‘Serious threat to life,’ Skye translated. ‘This is Connor. He’s one of the GPs at the surgery. The non-pregnant one, clearly. Connor, this is Adam. New paramedic about town.’
‘Good to meet you.’ Adam shook hands, then took his wallet out.
Connor scraped his chair back and stood. ‘No. My round. By way of thanks for filling in at the last minute. You stay here and save the seats. And watch my phone—Mim’s going to call if she needs me.’
‘She’s due any day now,’ Skye explained. ‘Sorry … what were you saying?’
‘That it was an unlucky break, getting a last-minute callout.’ Adam took the seat across from her, leaving an acre of space between them. He straightened the beermat in line with the edge of the table. Looked everywhere apart from at her face. ‘I guessed everyone would know what a code two was. Being Mad Medics.’
‘Sorry, did I butt in? It’s a bad habit.’ Her cheeks burned. She mentally banged her head against the table. ‘My brothers complain because I have a tendency to—’
‘Finish their sentences?’ His chin jutted upwards. No other muscles moved. Army training, she guessed. A man in control. He had a stillness that unnerved her, where she danced around and fidgeted. Adam was the kind of man who dominated a room, the one you didn’t want to take your eyes off. Not that she could if she tried.
‘Annoying habit, I know.’
‘You’d better tell me how this quiz works. What’s the strategic plan?’ He scanned the groups dotted around the lounge. The aroma of male with a hint of something exotic—cinnamon perhaps—hit her as he leaned close. ‘And who’s the enemy?’
‘Right, er, Sergeant? Corporal? I hope you don’t expect military precision because you’re going to be sorely disappointed.’ She showed him the quiz sheets in front of her. ‘Eight rounds, ten questions each round. Music, geography, current affairs, you know the score. It’s more a case of luck than judgement. Or skill. Or even knowledge really.’
‘I’ll fit in, then.’ His eyebrows rose, creasing the scar down his cheek into tiny broken lines. From here it looked well healed. Obviously old. But it would have been deep, painful. She wanted to reach out and trace it. Stupid idea.
She wanted to ask him about it too, but realised she didn’t know him enough to pry about his injuries. ‘So were you a captain, or a private, or what?’
‘Staff sergeant medic.’ His shoulders squared and his jaw twitched a little. The pale trace of light in his eyes diminished. The shutters came down.
She sensed something tragic had happened to him. She understood, knew how bruised the heart and soul could get. Maybe his abruptness wasn’t lack of social grace, maybe it stemmed from something deeper.
There she was with the amateur psychology again. Still, when faced with pain and lies, she’d read as many self-help books as she could get through.
‘I’m sorry if I seem nosy. Rearing three teenagers consisted of too many questions and never enough answers.’ She flashed him a smile and hoped she could drag him out of whatever sombre place she’d put him with her stupid line of questioning. ‘You know what boys are like, I imagine. There’s enough of them in the army, eh?’
‘Yeah.’ His shoulders tensed. He glanced over to the bar and seemed to relax at the sight of Connor returning with the beer. Either he had a mighty thirst or he wasn’t comfortable chatting with her alone.
She ran her finger round the rim of her glass and gave him her best smile. Trying to work out exactly what she felt for this just-a-guy. She came up with confused. He’d been relaxed with Dan, chatty with Lukas … but with her he gave little away. Other than that brief connection at the beach, he was a stranger to her.
She didn’t want to get closer to him. But she sure as heck wanted to make him smile. His eyes spoke of too much pain.
Story of her life, really. Finding waifs and strays. Trying to make people smile. Putting their needs before hers. Giving up her dreams.
She dragged her eyes away from him and prayed the quiz would start soon to distract her from her wayward emotions, her wired libido and the strange effect of Adam Miller on her sensibilities.
CHAPTER THREE
THE quizmaster tapped the microphone for quiet. ‘Final round. It’s neck and neck. Who’s going to win tonight’s grand prize? Bright Sparks or Mad Medics?’
‘Mad Medics, obviously.’ Adam looked at the other two members of the team, chests puffed with pride, and wondered how the heck he’d got to be here, doing this. Normal things, with good people. For once the ghosts of his past hadn’t spoiled his humour. ‘We’ve got this sewn up.’
‘Is that confidence or just plain cocky?’ Skye leant towards him. He knew she couldn’t help it as the pub had become progressively crowded as the night had worn on. There was barely enough room to move, certainly no space to avoid physical contact.
He scraped his chair back from her, didn’t want to savour the enticing sensations running up and down his skin every time their arms brushed. The heat sizzling between them. He had no business enjoying being with her. Not the way his body was enjoying it anyway. ‘The key is do not entertain the thought of defeat. We will win.’
‘Yes, sir. I love all that who-dares-wins stuff. That’s SAS isn’t it? Green berets or something?’ Her huge eyes stared up at him. Such innocence and interest. For the first time in four years he almost wanted to talk about his old life. Guessed she wouldn’t judge. But words failed him. What if he was wrong?
He slugged back some beer. Better not to open up about anything. Keeping quiet had served him well over the years. It had. It might have lost him Monica, but at least his sanity was intact.
‘So, ladies and gentlemen, what are you scared of? Spiders? Snakes? The number thirteen?’ The quizmaster regarded each table in turn. ‘Scared of losing perhaps, Mad Medics? Or just losing face? Our last round is all about phobias.’
A loud beeping was met with a wall of silence that lasted two seconds. Then shouts of ‘Cheats!’
‘They’re using a phone!’
‘Put it away!’
Connor snatched his smartphone. His voice cracked as blood drained from his face. ‘It’s Mim. She’s having regular contractions. Mim’s having the baby. Shoot.’
He stood as cheers erupted