The Doctor And The Princess. Scarlet Wilson
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Now he was sitting right next to her she finally felt as if she could relax. She bit her lip. ‘Well, I might have grown fond of you too, but I’m not your responsibility, Sullivan.’
He only smiled. That was the annoying part of him. That darned confidence. Over the last three years she’d found it common amongst the medics who’d served in the army. Maybe she was even a little envious of it. She had felt vulnerable today—and she hated that.
‘I’ll take that under advisement,’ said Sullivan smartly. He leaned forward and whispered, ‘We’ve only got another week to go. Then it’s back to base. How long have you got before you’re back on another mission?’
There was an intense twinkle in his eye. He’d already admitted he was fond of her. Headquarters were back in Paris. All staff that arrived back had a few days debrief, then, unless people were rushing back to see their families, there was usually a few days where they would let their hair down before everyone dispersed to their next mission.
She licked her lips. ‘I might have around ten days. I’m not sure where I’m going next. Gibbs hasn’t told me yet. What about you?’
Mad thoughts were already flashing through her head. Ten days in Paris with Sullivan Darcy? Now, that could be fun.
He raised his eyebrows. ‘I haven’t committed yet.’
‘You haven’t?’ She was surprised.
He shook his head. ‘I have a few things I should really take care of back home.’
She straightened up. ‘What kind of things?’ He’d never mentioned a family back home. And he’d been flirting with her. Just like she’d been flirting back. He didn’t wear a ring. But if he suddenly mentioned a Mrs Darcy he would see a whole new side of Gabrielle Cartier. She just wasn’t that kind of girl.
He let out a long slow breath and looked away. ‘I really should take care of my father’s house. He died a few years ago and I’ve been too busy working to get around to clearing it out and sorting through his things.’
She hoped her sigh of relief wasn’t as noticeable as it felt. ‘Who takes care of it now?’
He grimaced. ‘No one really. I’ve only been back for a few odd days at a time. I have someone take care of the garden, and I’ve made sure that the services continue to be paid. But at the moment it’s really just collecting dust.’
The tone of his voice had changed. It didn’t have the strength of earlier, or the cheekiness that she’d heard on other occasions. There was something wistful about his tone. Even a little regretful. It was a side of Sullivan Darcy she hadn’t seen before.
This time she made the move. She reached over and put her hand over his. ‘Maybe you needed to let it collect dust for a while. You have to wait until you’re ready to do things. That time might be now.’
For a second she thought he might come back with a usual cheeky quip, but something flashed across his eyes and he stared at her hand covering his.
He gave a slow nod. ‘You could be right.’ Then one eyebrow rose. ‘But I don’t want you to make a habit of it. I get the impression if you think you’re right all the time you could be unbearable.’
She couldn’t help but grin. This was how he wanted to play it. It seemed Dr Darcy could reveal the tiniest element of himself before his shutters came down again.
She could appreciate that. Particularly in an environment like this when things could flare up at any second and you had to be ready for any kind of emergency.
He leaned towards her again, this time so close that his stubble brushed against her cheek. ‘Trouble is,’ he whispered in her ear, ‘what can we possibly do to get through the next week?’
A red-hot flush flooded through her body. She tried not to look at the muscled pecs visibly outlined by his thin T-shirt, or the biceps clearly defined by his folded arms. Sullivan Darcy was one sexy guy. But two could play that game.
She moved, stretching her back out then straightening her shirt, allowing the fabric to tighten over her breasts.
Then she gave him a playful smile. ‘Who knows, Dr Darcy? I guess we’ll just need to think of something.’
FOR THE LAST few days they’d danced around each other. It was ridiculous. And Sullivan knew it. They were both grown adults and could do whatever they wanted to.
But he got the definite feeling that although Gabrielle was attracted to him as much as he was to her, she wasn’t comfortable about initiating a relationship under the microscopic view of their colleagues.
And she was right. It wouldn’t really be professional. No matter how much his brain told him otherwise in the depths of the pitch-black nights in Narumba.
He’d been furious when he’d seen those men around her. That leader attacking her. Anytime he thought about it for too long he felt his rage re-ignite. As soon as they’d got back to camp he’d contacted Gibbs and filed a report. Another team would replace them as soon as they left. He wanted to make sure precautions were taken to safeguard the staff.
Then he’d written another note, asking the staff to try and check on Alum and Chiari to see how they were coping with the medicine regime, and if they were having any side effects, and yet another about the tribal leader’s wife, asking someone to check on her leg and her antibiotics.
It didn’t matter where they pitched up. The clinics were packed every day and he saw a hundred variations of Alum and Chiari. That, mixed in with a hundred children who’d been orphaned and a hundred parents who’d nursed their children through their last days made him realise it might be time to have a break.
He’d never contemplated one before. Never wanted to. But the desperate situation of some of these families was beginning to get to him.
He wasn’t quite sure why he’d told Gabrielle about the reason he hadn’t signed up yet for another mission. Maybe she’d just asked at the right moment.
Or maybe he was just distracted by the possibility of ten days in Paris with a woman who was slowly but surely driving him crazy. If he didn’t taste those pink lips soon he might just decide to set up his own camp inside her tent.
Every night when they got back, she showered, changed into one of a variety of coloured T-shirts and usually those darn shorts. There should be a licence against them.
The whoosh he’d felt when he’d first seen her was turning into a full-blown tornado. Maybe it was just the blow-out of actually feeling something again. Maybe, after three years, his head was rising above the parapet a bit. He’d met a few women in the last three years but he’d been going through the motions. There had been no emotion involved, just a pure male hormonal response. Gabrielle was different. Gabrielle had an aura around her. A buzz. He smiled to himself. She was like one of those ancient sirens who had lured sailors to their deaths. He’d have to remember not to let her sing. Or talk. Or dance. Or wear those shorts.
It didn’t matter that they were the only five people in the camp. It didn’t matter that he was the only male for miles. As soon as he heard the music start to play in her tent he was drawn like a moth to the flame.
Gabrielle could conduct whole conversations while she sashayed around to the beat of the music. He’d recognised it was her thing. Her down time. So far they’d discussed fourteen special patient cases, numerous plans for the next day’s camps, treatment regimes, transfer times and some testing issues.
It was hard to have a conversation when the best pair of legs he’d ever seen was on display.
And tonight was no different from any other—with the exception of the soul music. She smiled as he appeared at the tent entrance. ‘Lionel and Luther tonight,’ she said as her loose hair bounced around. ‘Decided it was time