The Most Magical Gift of All (2 page)

After what seemed like forever, but was probably closer to five seconds, he moved his gaze along a fine jaw and down a smooth, white neck adorned with a heavy, silver tag which disappeared under the distinctive embroidered neckline of an Indian tunic-top. The blouse fell from narrow shoulders, pulling across round breasts. His fingers rolled into a ball as a second wave of heat tumbled through him like the roll of heavy surf,
rushing the most intense, visceral craving through him, almost knocking him off his feet.

With her baggy trousers that matched her top, she looked like a nymph, a free spirit. A delectable Persephone who'd floated into the department just for him.

She's not for you at all. Until the locum arrives and your holidays really start, you're still Dr Jack Armitage, Barragong's respectable doctor and pillar of society.

He deliberately ignored the words and let his wayward gaze enjoy the way the floating material of her trousers caressed her legs, and then he zeroed in on her feet, feet that demanded nothing more than to be adorned with a delicate silver toe-ring. Instead they were encased in heavy hiking-boots. The juxtaposition startled him. Just like that, the work ethic instilled in him by his parents and his family's history saw a chance, and with moral efficiency brushed the lust away like a broom. Almost.

Jack reached for another gauze pad to staunch the flow of blood from Lochie's head while keeping his other hand firmly on Lochie's leg. He smiled politely at the visitor, and as the doctor-in-charge he said, ‘This area of the hospital is for staff and patients. Please check in at Reception.'

With a sudden purposeful action, she slid her backpack off her shoulders and rested it against the wall before dropping a crushed and battered hat neatly onto the top. She then gave him an expectant smile. ‘Really? The paperwork can wait. You look like you're struggling and could do with an extra pair of hands right now.' She crossed to the sink and flicked on the taps.

Struggling? Jack Armitage didn't struggle. Despite the fact that his eyes seemed fixed on the way her trousers moved across her cute behind, he managed to harness
his indignation about the ‘struggling' quip. ‘I must insist that you leave now, Miss, um…?'

Laughing eyes smiled at him as the unknown stranger snapped on a pair of gloves with the expertise of someone in the know. ‘Norman. Dr Sophie Norman. Sorry I'm late.'

Jack's mouth fell open; he couldn't hide his astonishment that this incredibly alluring woman in the free-flowing clothes was his doctor. ‘
You're
my missing locum?'

‘Yes. It's actually been a bit of a saga getting here from Mingora via Mumbai.' Her well-enunciated words sounded very aristocratic compared with the broad Australian accent. ‘Not in the least bit helped by the moron I dealt with in the agency office. But I'm here now and ready to work.'

Jack grinned at the high-class and totally sexy way she said the word, ‘moron'. ‘I think I know who you mean. I'm Jack.'
Not yet, you're not.
‘Dr Jack Armitage.'

‘Good to meet you, Jack.'

A husky edge clung to the words as her dancing eyes brushed his entire body with a head-to-toe sweep very similar to the one he'd given her.

His blood pounded south with every caress of her gaze.

Then, like the snapping of a therapist's fingers, the hypnotic spell was broken and she raised her head and grabbed a bottle of saline. ‘We'll do the introductions later, shall we?'

But it was a rhetorical question, because she'd already turned and bent down close to Lochie. With a firm voice devoid of all the come-hither huskiness, and sounding very much like a famous English nanny from literature, she said, ‘Now, young man, I've just walked past some
pretty scary-looking reptiles. Can you tell me the name of those scaly creatures with the blue tongue?'

Lochie's wail subsided, either out of surprise or fright, and he stared at her for a moment, completely nonplussed. ‘A blue tongue.'

She nodded briskly as she cleaned the wound while Jack applied pressure so they could see the skin edges and estimate the depth. ‘That's right, they have a blue tongue, but what are they called?'

‘Blue tongues.'

She frowned. ‘It's all right; if you don't know the name, we can look it up later.'

Lochie's bottom lip came out in a mulish line. ‘That's their name. You don't know much, do you?'

Kerry gasped. ‘Lochie!'

Sophie stiffened for a brief moment and then gave a strangled laughed. ‘I know how to fix you up, so how about you tell me about reptiles while we make you feel better?'

As she moved to pick up more gauze, Jack caught a glimpse of grey shadows scudding through previously clear eyes before her chin tipped up and an almost reckless gleam pushed the darkness away.

It was sudden, unexpected, and it both jarred and intrigued him.

This woman intrigued him. She looked like a hippy but with Lochie she sounded very much like an uptight, bossy and organising school teacher. The odd combination fascinated him.

It's actually been a bit of a saga getting here from Mingora…
The almost reckless gleam in her eyes suddenly made a lot of sense: she'd just come out of a war-ravaged area into a peaceful place. He imagined the sudden removal of the terrifying pressure that was
exerted when your life was in constant danger must be as intoxicating as the finest bead in the best champagne.

And she was intoxicating. From the first time their eyes had locked her gaze had promised sheer, unadulterated fun. She had an aura of wildness about her that called to the part of him he'd locked away five years ago. The part of him that could come out and play now she was Barragong's doctor and he was just Jack. Except he was never ‘just Jack' in Barragong. He had to leave town to be himself and after five years of snatched weekends here and there his time had finally arrived for a real break.

It's a shame you're leaving—the two of you could have had some fun together. Why not stay a while and see what could happen?
The temptation circled him, enticing and appealing, pulling at him to break the cardinal rule he'd lived by since Mary. There was absolutely no doubt that Sophie Norman was undeniably sexy and totally gorgeous, but he didn't have fun in Barragong. He worked in Barragong. He played elsewhere, safely keeping women out of his Barragong life.

He squared his shoulders, the discipline and self-control that had kept him going for years shooting back into place. Sometimes the timing was just wrong and this was one of those times. Sophie was here to be Barragong's doctor so he could start his long-service leave, and
nothing
was stopping him from getting out of town today.

S
OPHIE
hadn't expected to meet the Barragong doctor gasping for breath just as his undisputed masculinity had taken a severe battering by a five-year-old. As she tried not to scratch the patch of stress-induced eczema she could feel had risen on her arm after treating Lochie, the thought that perhaps she wasn't the only doctor on the planet who found dealing with children difficult soothed like calamine lotion.

She also hadn't expected Dr Jack Armitage to be a bikie. Not that she had any complaints about that. Not counting one disastrous exception, she'd always been attracted to bad boys. In their uncomplicated world of no promises, she could truly relax and be herself.

And Jack radiated one-hundred-percent, dazzling ‘bad boy' from the top of his inky-black hair to the jet of his leather trousers; his neat haircut jarred the image slightly, but not enough to bother her one little bit. He was a visual gift from the gods, and after her six months in a living hell she soaked him in while half-listening to his detailed explanation about clinic procedures. Procedures that were all neatly printed and stored in an absurdly organised and colour-co-ordinated folder complete with tabbed dividers. His receptionist was obviously a stationery junkie.

His mellow voice rolled around her like a caress as she followed him on a whirlwind tour. ‘I usually start the day with an early hospital round before heading to the clinic, but it's your gig, Sophie, so do things your way. The staff have promised me they'll adapt.'

She was pretty sure women probably promised him anything, and why not? His large black boots connected him firmly and authoritatively with the world, and his wide, firm stance showcased strong calves and tight buttocks. The whole package was outlined in glorious detail by leather trousers that nipped in at a narrow waist. Tucked in flatly to the belted waistband was a soft white T-shirt that clung to his broad shoulders and, given the bronzed and bulging arm muscles that escaped from under the short sleeves, she imaged the rest of the shirt covered very toned abs.

Jack Armitage exuded the confidence of a man who knew what he wanted and Sophie envied him that. She knew for certain what she didn't want in her life but she wasn't at all sure she had any clue what she really did want. She lurched from one vague plan to the next. Australia had beckoned when the stress of working in a war zone had her so worn out that any loud noise made her jump, and every day had become a strategy in survival. She needed some breathing space and she needed to embrace normality. She probably should have gone to see her father but the thought of returning to England in December was unconscionable. She'd have gone just about anywhere to avoid Christmas, just like she'd done for years.

After fifteen minutes of walking and talking, Jack paused; they were now back at the admissions desk. ‘So is all this making sense?' Strikingly vivid eyes—the same colour of the purple-blue mountains she'd seen
in the distance when she'd hopped off the bus—sought confirmation.

Eyes that held a current of leashed energy that had sparked like electricity, pinning her to the wall, the moment she'd first locked eyes with him. Eyes that had unabashedly appraised her from across a room and were still doing it.

His gaze heated every part of her it touched, setting up an itch under all of her skin that she knew no amount of calamine lotion would soothe.

You've been out of circulation for too long and that's making you imagine this attraction.
She had to be imagining it, because nothing like this had ever happened to her before and the intensity was almost scary. She breathed in a long, slow, breath; the technique she'd learned as a teenager when her life had changed forever, and then honed when working with Frontline Aid. Immediately her heart slowed down, her body drained of its heat, and she centred her thoughts firmly on what Jack was saying. ‘It's all making total sense. The information's very clear and straightforward.'

‘Great. Now, these are the numbers if you need to evacuate a patient.'

He reached across in front of her and grabbed a bright yellow sticky-note to mark the page; the scent of sunshine and fresh soap tickled her nostrils.

She breathed in deeply, inhaling the robust and almost decadent scent, but instead of slowing her heart rate it immediately sped it up again, overruling all attempts at calming thoughts. Delicious warmth followed a second later, building into heat which trailed through her veins with addictive sweetness, leaving hot spots of something she knew intimately but didn't want to name.

Her brain grinned, totally ignoring her, and with a loud trumpet fanfare named it:
longing
.

No.
This was just the recognition of, and longing for, normality. This was the longing for a safe haven because for the last six months she'd been working abroad with the stench of war and disease in her nostrils, and she'd avoided such deep, lung-filling breaths. Now she was out in the safe desert of Australia, she could take her fill of the cleansing, pure air.

Pure lust.

Jack's head tilted sideways and concern backlit with a simmering heat flared in his eyes. ‘You OK, Sophie? You look a bit dazed.'

The flat vowels sounded strange to her ears but the deep melody of his voice moved through her like the rich vibrating bass of a bassoon, before settling inside her where she hadn't known there was a space. ‘I'm fine.'
No, you're not, you're wigging out. No man has ever affected you quite like this.
‘I'm just jet-lagged, with a bit of culture shock on the side.'

‘England's smaller and a lot greener,' he teased, his face lighting up with that enigmatic look that sent rafts of tingling all the way down to her toes, making them curl.

She was going mad. This reaction was completely over the top for a guy she'd only met two hours ago, even if he was an enigmatic bad-boy—her type of man. Was this what happened to women who hadn't had sex in a long time? When the pressure of not knowing if you'd live another day was removed? She felt her fingers dig into her palms, trying to shock herself back into control with some physical discomfort. She'd never experienced such overwhelming need before and she was used to long periods of time between boyfriends. It came with the
territory when you took contracts with Frontline Aid. Liaisons were actively discouraged because they could fracture the way the Frontline team worked, and it was enough just to stay safe and keep the nationals alive.

But living with death every day made you want to grab onto life and her body seemed to be doing that. She tucked an annoying curl of hair behind her ear and tried concentrating on geography rather than the fact that her body had totally disconnected from her brain and common sense, and was careering off the rails like a runaway train. ‘True, England's small and green, but I've just come from working in north-west Pakistan, and when I was looking at its beautiful, snow-covered, jagged mountains and glacial lakes I thought I was in Switzerland.'

He raised his brows. ‘Except for the mortar fire?'

She gave a tight laugh. ‘Yes, well, there was a lot of that, which made it very un-Switzerland.'

He folded strong arms across his broad chest. ‘I think you might find the silence of Barragong a bit unsettling.'

The concern in his eyes was unsettling. It was as if he saw way past the persona she showed the world. She much preferred the open admiration and banked heat.

She flicked the folder shut. ‘Dr Armitage—'

‘Jack.' The heat in his eyes flared again.

Her muscles liquefied and she clutched the folder tightly to her chest. ‘I've done locum work all around the world and this—' she tapped the folder ‘—is the most comprehensive handover I've ever had. Between the staff and the flying doctors, not to mention the virtual consultations available with specialists in Adelaide, I'm sure Barragong and I will muddle through.'

‘With your experience in the world's trouble spots, I think you'll do a lot more than muddle.'

The deep resonance of his voice cloaked her like velvet and she fought every instinct to close her eyes and lean into him. But this wasn't a smoky bar or a low-lit dance floor. This was a hospital, and she'd arrived in Barragong so he could leave.

It's such a shame he's leaving.
She ignored the traitorous and tempting voice. ‘So, if you can just show me where the hospital flat is, you can start your holiday.'

‘Sophie, you've no idea how much I've longed to hear those words.' This time a long, lazy smile rolled across his jaw, up along his cheeks and straight to his eyes, giving him a simmering edge of raw appeal. The bad-boy appeal called to her like a siren.

Except for the dimple in one cheek. A dimple! None of her previous bad-boy boyfriends had dimples, and it certainly wasn't a look she associated with a biker.

But the thought vanished when, with one flick of his long, strong index-finger, he pulled his leather jacket off the back of a chair and swung it over his shoulder.

‘The flat hasn't been lived in for years, and it's currently full of old files, so you're staying out at my house.'

A house. Delight spun through her. It had been two years since she'd lived in a house. Two years since she'd left Simon and most of her possessions, everything that had tied him to her. Since then she'd lived in tents, dorms, flats, community houses—whatever shelter had come with the job. She'd learned to travel with the basics and not unpack too much, because it made leaving easier and a lot quicker.

‘After my most recent accommodation, a house sounds decadently luxurious.'
Can you hear yourself?
Frontline really must have put her on the ropes—first her body hankering so strongly for Jack and now her brain being happy about a house. It was like being inhabited by a stranger.

Jack's smile held a tinge of a grimace. ‘It's a rambling, old homestead that doesn't come close to luxurious, but then I guess it's all relative. How much gear have you got?'

She inclined her head towards her large, beloved and well-worn rucksack. ‘That's it.'

The blue in his eyes deepened against the violet and his voice dropped to a low rumble. ‘A woman who travels light is every man's fantasy.'

Up until now only his eyes had devoured her but this was unambiguous flirting. Her lips dried and her tongue darted out to moisten them as she met his gaze, throwing herself into the strands of attraction that had been pulling strongly between them from the moment they'd met. ‘A woman who travels and doesn't stay is every man's fantasy.'

His eyes drifted over her again in his slow and all-encompassing gaze, and her breasts tingled, pushing against the lace of her bra while every other cell in her body opened up, clamouring for him. She thought she'd either ignite on the spot or melt in a puddle, consumed by need.

With an abrupt jerk, he slung her rucksack over his shoulder and strode towards the door. ‘Everyone, I'm driving Sophie to my place, and as from four o'clock she's on my pager and on duty. Me? I'm outta town—first overnight stop, the Parachilna pub.'

He paused and turned back. ‘Don't expect postcards, I'm going to be frantic doing nothing.'

Sophie caught a glimpse of sheer relief in his eyes
as the assembled staff gave a good-natured cheer and voices called out, “Haven't you left yet?”, “Be good,” “Safe travels,” and “Nice work if you can get it.”

Jack just laughed, turned and gave a backwards wave before he disappeared through the automatic emergency doors—a dark silhouette against the bright sun walking towards his future without a backward glance.

Sophie knew all about that.

She paused before following him, checking with Diana if she needed her back at the hospital this afternoon.

The nurse shook her head. ‘Spend the afternoon getting settled at Jack's and looking around town. Mind you, that will only take you ten minutes, even if you do it leisurely. Then you can get a good night's sleep because clinic starts at eight a.m. and, believe me, we'll be working you hard on your first day.'

Busy was good. She'd learned about keeping busy from the age of twelve—it meant less time to think. ‘Right. I'll be ready.'

Diana reached out and touched her gently and briefly on the arm. ‘I was teasing you about the working hard. Emergencies excepted, we'll ease you into things, including teaching you about the Aussie sense of humour.'

The friendly touch surprised her. In England even when a colleague had known you for years they rarely touched you, and the women in the sub-continent had been either shy or cool. But Australians, it seemed, didn't have the same reserve. ‘I'll look forward to that.'

Diana smiled. ‘You better go and catch Jack or he'll leave without you, because
nothing
is going to stop him getting away by four.'

And that's probably a good thing.
Jack Armitage was a temptation she wasn't certain she could withstand or wanted to withstand for very long. Still, she only had
to follow him to his house, receive the key and wave him goodbye. She ignored the jab of disappointment that her body gave her and walked briskly out through the ambulance bay where the mid-afternoon heat hit her like a brick wall. The black asphalt of the car park was sticky, partially melted by the heat, and the bright, white glare of the sun made it difficult to see. She immediately shielded her eyes with her hand and squinted towards a group of four-wheel-drive vehicles all clearly marked with the Barragong Health logo. She couldn't see Jack.

A moment later the roar of an engine made her jump and she swung around to see Jack's long leather-clad legs astride a sleek silver-and-black European machine—pure motorcycle luxury. He revved the engine, flicked up his helmet visor, raised one dark brow and then winked at her.

Instantly, her legs turned to rubber and she locked her knees in an attempt to stay standing.
Stop it, stop it, stop it. So, he's gorgeous and he flirts; big deal. He's leaving town.