CHAPTER FOUR

      AT TWENTY-THIRTY hours they sat in a quiet corner of the crew dining room, or middle mess as they called it, because it was common ground.

      Nick was aware she’d normally eat in the first mess because that was where the officers congregated, and on this gig he ate with the auxiliary and admin staff.

      The largest staff dining area catered for the seven hundred domestic and deckhand staff but there was always a little mix and match that went on with the dalliances.

      It was after the usual time for dinner and before late supper so nobody came near them.

      Unobtrusively Nick had been studying the fine veins in her hands. She was so frail when he really looked. There was that stupid protectiveness again. ‘So what made you go to the Sudan?’

      He pushed a bread stick her way but she ignored it. Two years? Nick was still flabbergasted. No wonder she looked like a strong wind would blow her over. One of his friends had lasted three months. He wanted to draw her into his arms and protect her. That was a serious worry. Apart from his sisters, he’d avoided the whole emotional responsibility thing.

      ‘I went with my husband. We wanted to do something worthwhile, use our training, and after he died it was too hard to leave.’

      The impact of her statement sat heavily in his chest. He wouldn’t have picked her for a widow. There was a certain naive vulnerability he couldn’t miss. ‘I’m sorry. How did your husband die?’

      She glanced away. ‘Cholera.’

      Ouch. ‘Nasty.’

      She looked back at him. ‘Very.’ Succinct.

      ‘So why the Sudan?’

      She shrugged. ‘We’d both finished our internships and he met a midwife who’d worked in the displaced person refugee camps. She told him how they were crying out for GPs with obstetric training and he enquired. The next thing I knew we were there and I didn’t lift my head up until a week ago when my boss said I needed to take a break.’

      Nick shook his head. ‘After two years. I’ll bet.’ He glanced at her hands again. She didn’t wear a ring. Why was that? Almost ruminatively he said, ‘What were they thinking of to leave you there so long?’

      She blinked and for a horrible moment he thought she was going to cry and he wanted to kick himself. It brought home just how close to the edge she was and he vowed to himself he’d keep a close eye on her. Might even have a word to Wilhelm about her work hours.

      ‘You don’t want to talk about it?’ He could see her squirming. He wanted her to eat something. He picked up the strawberry he’d kept for last and put it on her plate.

      She shook her head. ‘Not particularly.’ But at least she absently ate the fruit. He was ridiculously relieved.

      So she didn’t want to talk about it. Good. Neither did he. Especially about her husband. ‘Fine.’

      She glanced away but he couldn’t tell if she was upset from her voice when she spoke again.

      Such a bright and cheery voice that said back off. ‘Hey, I’m tougher than I look.’ She turned to him and he decided her smile was only just forced. ‘And here I am…’ she spread her arms ‘…talking to a bar manager, on a ship cruising the Mediterranean, and very glad I don’t have to think about anything disastrous.’ She put down her fork.

      ‘So, talk to me about something light and frivolous. That’s why I’m cultivating you.’

      So she was cultivating him, eh? Sounded promising and damn straight he could be frivolous. Well, he guessed that summed him up. Compared to her anyway.

      It didn’t seem the time to tell her he was a doctor too. Not frivolous enough. Or about his own transition through med school and rotation to learn the lot, anaesthetics, obstetrics and surgery. He’d had his moments requiring skill and dedication but compared to what he could imagine she’d been through, his world was a cinch.

      Though frivolously speaking, he never had to get involved with patients and their real lives because he would only be there for a weekend or a month at the most because he was locum man. So no talk of medicine and he told her what he thought she wanted to hear.

      ‘I haven’t been on a ship for a while but worked my way up from barman to cocktail master.’ He puffed out his chest theatrically. ‘Took out a medal at the world cocktail championships with a friend.’

      He didn’t usually tell people that, it had been years ago, but he guessed the title would sound playful enough for her, and he wanted to see that smile he knew was in there.

      ‘So what do you do?’

      ‘I mix drinks when the bar staff are on their breaks, make sure all the behind counter orders are filled and we don’t run out of Margarita mix. I fill in when staff are sick and just try to keep everyone happy.’ He shrugged. ‘Apparently I’m pretty good at that.’

      ‘I can see you are.’ Now she smiled and it had been worth waiting for. He felt a flicker of satisfaction from lightening her mood and more than a flicker of awareness, as though the moon had just peeked through a bank of clouds outside. Bizarre how good she made him feel.

      He leaned towards her and a tendril of hair fell across her face, making his finger itch to push it back. ‘Been for a swim yet?’ He fancied seeing her in a bikini.

      ‘No. I’m very boring. Just getting used to things and finding my way around. I bet you use all the amenities.’

      ‘Every single one.’ He flashed his teeth at her and she smiled again. ‘I like a good game of table tennis.’

      ‘Do you? I used to have a very competitive streak for ball games.’

      ‘Aha! That sounds like a challenge.’

      Tara almost laughed out loud. The fizzing in her stomach was getting stronger. And was it all about a ball game? Was she challenging him? Maybe she wasn’t as bad at this as she’d thought she’d be. ‘We’ll see.’

      He went on like a tour guide and she could feel herself relax more every minute. He was like her own personal cruise director. ‘Then there’s Movies Under The Stars, with deckchairs, checked blankets and popcorn, and of course the latest flicks.’

      ‘Checked blankets, eh? Very observant for a man.’

      He shrugged. ‘My sisters have this thing for tablecloths under trees for picnics. So I have a soft spot for checks.’

      The image