It can’t be...
Dr Forster handed him a microphone. Sara scanned his muscled six-foot-three frame as his presence immediately dominated not just the stage, but the entire deck of the ship. It was really him. Why? And why did he have to look so good?
She couldn’t help but stare. From where she was standing he looked exactly as he had the night she’d left him in his giant family home that doubled as the Breckenridge Practice in Edinburgh. She hadn’t heard from him since—not that she blamed him for that entirely. She’d never thought she’d see him again.
She considered sneaking away from the orientation, but Esme still had hold of her hand. Besides, the second Fraser’s thick, unmistakably Scottish accent filled the air with its sticky heat, her legs turned to jelly. God, she had loved this man. Just the sound of his voice brought it all rushing back.
‘Thank you so much, ladies and gents,’ he said with gravelly familiarity, towering over Dr Forster in spite of her own height, and sweeping a big hand through his mane of thick black hair.
Sara could picture his eyes too, up close, and the honest blue of them she’d been happy to swim in for hours. She swallowed as the deck seemed to close in on her.
‘I’m privileged to be able to join you on this special adventure. I know that for some of you this is the first time you’ll have been on a ship—am I right? Who’s never been on a ship before?’
To Sara’s surprise, Esme released her grip on her and raised her hand tentatively. Her throat dried up as Fraser’s eyes travelled to her daughter and then landed right on her. A tiny trail of perspiration began its descent down her lower back. She raised her hand at him slowly, in greeting. He did the same—like a Martian making contact with another planet. A flicker of a smile crossed his lips.
‘Well, it looks like we’re going to have some fun on this cruise,’ he said, after a pause.
Sara wasn’t entirely sure if he was still talking to Esme, or to her. She was picturing his lips now, too. The way they’d used to seem to melt against hers.
She hadn’t read the staff list. She kicked herself. She’d had every intention of running her eyes over it, along with the plethora of other information she’d been sent, but Esme had been in a panic over a missing shoe when it had arrived in her inbox and she’d been side-tracked.
‘Let me tell you: this weather is a tad nicer than it is in Edinburgh right now. I hope you won’t be too horrified if this pale white Scottish skin turns as red as a lobster’s!’
Esme giggled at Fraser’s words, as did most of the crowd. Sara just felt hot and bothered. She was back in that huge Scottish house now, standing stunned on the stairs, hearing his father tell Fraser what he really thought about their six-month relationship, hearing Fraser do nothing to defend it—or her. They hadn’t known she’d been listening.
Fraser was still talking, introducing the other staff—introducing her. ‘Please also welcome Sara Cohen, one of our excellent dialysis nurses.’
She tried not to flinch as everyone turned to her and applauded, while Esme leaned into her shyly, clutching her camera. Annoyance was quickly overriding shock.
How dared he rock up here, on her adventure, six years after he’d let her go? OK, so she’d chosen to end their relationship herself that night, after overhearing their little family conversation. But if she hadn’t done it Fraser would only have done it himself. She’d simply been saving him the bother and herself the heartbreak.
She hadn’t needed any more heartbreak back then. Her mother had just died and her father had completely fallen apart. She’d been exhausted from taking care of him, all whilst dealing with her own grief. She’d been at Fraser’s place for the weekend to cry in his arms, to let someone take care of her for a while. And then...
‘Now, I’m sure you’re all excited to get going and see what’s planned for you. I’ll hand you over to our events co-ordinator to tell you more.’
Fraser still had the audience enchanted.
‘I’m looking forward to getting to know some of you over the next few weeks—although, let’s be honest here, most people seem to have a better time on this ship if they never get to see me at all, if you know what I mean!’
Jess took Esme’s other hand. ‘Ready to meet the other kids?’ she asked her daughter cheerily.
Sara dropped a kiss on Esme’s cheek. Her heart was thudding as they walked away. A guy with a topknot called Tony was already on the stage, talking of tropical island walks and buffet lunches. And Fraser was heading straight through the crowd towards her.
She turned quickly towards the exit. She needed space to think. Maybe she and Esme could transfer ships. There was another one leaving in a few days’ time; perhaps they could switch and avoid this. It was the last thing she needed—dredging up her painful past in the middle of the ocean, with no escape.
‘Sara Cohen! Come on—don’t walk away from me, lass.’
Fraser’s voice was a powerful lasso, stopping her in her tracks. She closed her eyes as her hand found the smooth cool steel of the door handle. So surreal.
‘After all this time,’ he said, putting a big hand to her shoulder and causing goosebumps to flare on her hot skin. ‘Weren’t you even going to say hello?’
‘WHAT ARE YOU doing here?’
‘You didn’t know I’d be on board?’ He ran his eyes over her green dress, noting the way it nipped in at her slender waist. She’d barely put on a pound. In fact, maybe she’d even lost weight. Her bronzed cheekbones were sharper than he remembered. Perhaps her hair was shorter...
She bit her lip. He still remembered the feel of his tongue running along that lip.
‘I can’t do this,’ she said. ‘Please, Fraser, not here.’
She turned from him quickly again, pulled the door open and headed down the top floor corridor of the ship.
He followed her and caught her arm gently. ‘Sara, come on.’ He forced his voice to remain calm. ‘Can we go somewhere and talk?’
A look of discomfort verging on pain flashed across her features before she pulled away from him. ‘I don’t know what’s going on,’ she said, standing against the wall in the corridor. ‘But I’m here with my daughter and I’m here to work. This is just...’ She folded her arms. Then she closed her eyes, appearing unnerved by his proximity. ‘This is just not what I was expecting.’
‘I’m sorry.’ He stepped closer anyway, on the anchor-patterned carpet, till his feet were almost touching hers. ‘I thought you knew I’d be here,’ he said honestly. ‘I assumed you’d have seen the list of medical staff and would have called me, or not taken the job if you had a real problem with it.’
He could smell her perfume—different from the one he remembered. It was like an extra layer to her he’d never known, and it served to widen the gap that had clearly grown between them over the years.
‘How would I have called you?’ she challenged him. ‘I don’t have your number any more.’
‘I never changed it. You also know where I work. Remember? It’s the house you walked out of with no credible explanation?’
Flecks of amber flickered around her pupils, launching him straight back to those nights when he’d spent for ever just lying in bed next to her, observing the colours in her eyes.
‘Well, maybe I would have tried calling you if I’d known what was coming,’ she said. ‘But for now I suppose I should just try and transfer ships. If you’ll excuse me?’
She