From Fling to Forever. Avril Tremayne
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the contact and started forward again.
‘But definitely ex,’ he added. And if she only knew the drug-fuelled hell Rebecca had put him through for the past three years, she would understand.
‘Oh, dear, how inconvenient! An ex who’s not really an ex. It must play havoc with your sex life.’
She laughed again, and his temper got the better of him.
The temper that he never lost.
‘What is wrong with you?’ he demanded, whirling her to face him.
She looked up at him, opened her mouth to say—
Well, who knew? Because before he could stop himself he’d slapped his mouth on hers in a devouring kiss.
Just what he didn’t want to do.
And she had the audacity to kiss him back. More than that—her arms were around him, her hands under his Tshirt.
Then he tasted blood, remembered her lip. Horrified, he pulled back. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said.
She ran her tongue across her lower lip, raised her eyebrows. ‘Definitely would have been fun,’ she said.
‘I’m not looking for a relationship,’ he said bluntly. And where had that come from? It seemed to suggest he was after something. But what? What was he after? Nothing—nothing from her.
It seemed to startle her, at least. ‘Did I ask for one?’
‘No.’
‘That’s a relief! Because I’m really only interested in casual sex. And on that note, how fortunate that we’re here. Where I live. So we can say our goodbyes, and both pretend tonight didn’t happen. No relationship. And, alas, no casual sex, because you’re married. Oh, no, that’s right, you’re not. But no sex anyway.’
‘I should have left you with the engineer.’
‘Well, I would have seen a lot more action,’ she said. She started forward and then stopped, raised her hand to her eyes.
‘What is it?’ Aaron asked.
‘Nothing. A headache,’ she answered. ‘I’ll be fine.’
‘Goodbye, then,’ he said, and turned to walk back to the hotel.
A lot more action! Ha! Aaron was quite sure if he ever let himself put his hands on Ella Reynolds she wouldn’t be able to think about another man for a long time. Or walk straight either.
But he was not going to touch her, of course. Not.
Ella made her way to her room, cursing silently.
Her head was throbbing and her joints were aching and she longed to lapse into a thought-free coma. She’d just realised she’d contracted either malaria or dengue fever. She wasn’t sure which, but either way it sucked.
But when she’d taken two paracetamol tablets and clambered into bed, praying for a mild dose of whatever it was, it wasn’t the pain that made the tears come. It was shame. And regret. And a strange sense of loss.
Aaron James had wanted her. Ordinarily, a man wanting her would not cause Ella consternation. Lots of men had wanted her and she’d had no trouble resisting them.
But Aaron was different. He’d kissed her like he was pouring his strength, his soul into her. And yet he’d been able to fight whatever urge had been driving him.
Why? How?
She manhandled her pillow, trying to get it into a more head-cradling shape.
Not looking for a relationship—that’s what he’d said. How galling! As though it were something she would be begging for on the basis of one kiss. All right, one amazing kiss, but—seriously! What a joke. A relationship? The one thing she couldn’t have.
Ella sighed as her outrage morphed into something more distressing: self-loathing. Because she was a fraud and she knew it. A coward who used whatever was at her disposal to stop herself from confronting the wreck her life had become since Javier had been kidnapped in Somalia on her twenty-fifth birthday.
She’d been in limbo ever since. Feeling helpless, hopeless. Guilty that she was free and he was who-knew-where. In the year after his kidnapping she’d felt so lost and alone and powerless she’d thought a nervous breakdown had been on the cards.
And then she’d found Sann in a Cambodian orphanage, and life had beckoned to her again. Two years old, and hers. Or so she’d hoped. But he’d been taken too. He’d died, on her twenty-sixth birthday.
And now here she was on her twenty-seventh birthday. Still in limbo, with no idea of what had happened to Javier. Still grieving for Sann.
Panicking at the thought of seeing an Asian child with an adoptive parent.
Unable to entertain even the thought of a relationship with a man.
Pretending she was calm and in control when she was a basket case.
Her life had become a series of shambolic episodes. Too many drinks at the bar. Getting picked up by strange men, determined to see it through then backing out. Always backing out, like the worst kind of tease, because no matter how desperate she was to feel something, the guilt was always stronger. Coping, but only just, with endlessly sad thoughts during the day and debilitating dreams at night.
She knew that something in her was lost—but she just didn’t know how to find it. She hid it from the people she cared about because she knew her grief would devastate them. She hid it from her colleagues because they didn’t need the extra burden.
And she was just … stuck. Stuck on past heartbreaks. And it was starting to show.
No wonder Aaron James abhorred the idea of a ‘relationship’ with her.
Ella rubbed tiredly at her forehead. She closed her eyes, longing for sleep, but knowing the nightmares would come tonight.
Dr Seng slapped his hand on the desk and Aaron’s wandering mind snapped back to him. ‘So—we’ve talked about malaria. Now, a few facts about the hospital.’
Kiri had been whisked off to do some painting—one of his favourite pastimes—on arrival at the Children’s Community Friendship Hospital, so Aaron could concentrate on this first meeting.
But he wasn’t finding it easy.
He had a feeling … A picture of Ella here. Was this where she was working? He wasn’t sure, but he kept expecting her to sashay past.
Dr Seng handed over an array of brochures. ‘Pre-Pol Pot, there were more than five hundred doctors practising in Cambodia,’ Dr Seng said. ‘By the time the Khmer Rouge fled Cambodia in 1979 there were less than fifty. Can you imagine what it must have been like? Rebuilding an entire healthcare system from the ground up, with almost no money, no skills? Because that’s what happened in Cambodia.’
Aaron knew the history—he’d made it his business to know, because of Kiri. But he could never come to terms with the brutal stupidity of the Khmer Rouge. ‘No, I can’t imagine it,’ he said simply. ‘And I’d say this hospital is something of a miracle.’
‘Yes. We were started by philanthropists and we’re kept going by donations—which is why we are so happy to be associated with your documentary: we need all the publicity we can get, to keep attracting money. It costs us less than twenty-five dollars to treat a child. Only fifty dollars to operate. Unheard of in your world. But, of course, we have so many to help.’
‘But your patients pay nothing, right?’
‘Correct. Our patients are from impoverished communities and are treated free, although they contribute if they can.’
‘And your staff …?’
‘In the early days the hospital relied on staff from overseas, but