The Nurse's Christmas Temptation. Ann McIntosh
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to realize he was wearing a water jetpack, which had propelled him high into the air. As she watched he swooped down, then started twisting and turning close to the surface of the loch, doing stunts.
She couldn’t decide whether or not riding the contraption was crazier than going into the no doubt freezing water but, however she cut it, he was clearly out of his gourd. Horrified and fascinated all at once, she stood watching his performance as the ferry moved closer to shore.
He shot high into the air again and then, in an instant, plummeted toward the water. Harmony wanted to close her eyes, so she wouldn’t see him die, but couldn’t look away, covering her mouth to curtail the shriek of fear rising in her throat. Somehow, seemingly inches from the water, he got the spluttering jetpack back under control and rose again.
She turned away, her hands shaking, pretending to fuss with her luggage so no one would realize how scared she’d been.
Why did people do these daredevil things? Didn’t they realize how dangerous it was? That they could lose their lives doing that kind of nonsense?
Anger superseded her fear, and she mentally cursed the man who’d upset her just before she was supposed to meet her new boss. Her heart was pounding, her shoulders were up around her ears, and her stomach roiled. Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to relax as best she could.
Taking out her compact, she slicked on a little lipstick and, noticing the stress lines between her brows, forced herself to release as much tension as possible.
A little calmer as the ferry approached the dock, she glanced down at the shore, trying to see if she could pick out Dr. MacRurie. There was one elderly man there, but Harmony was sure he wasn’t the doctor, who Caitlin had said was in his thirties. Hopefully he hadn’t forgotten she was arriving today, although no doubt she could find her own way to the surgery and the apartment above it where she was staying. The village wasn’t that big, after all.
Glancing at her watch, she realized the ferry was actually a few minutes early. The doctor was probably on his way—unless there’d been a medical emergency somewhere.
Without thought she let her gaze track back to where the man with the jetpack had been, and found him wading out onto the shingles alongside the loch. Even from a distance she could see he was in amazing shape, with the wetsuit clinging to muscular thighs, bum, and torso.
Suddenly, as though sensing her interest, he turned and looked back at the ferry. It would be impossible for him to make her out from that distance, but still she ducked away, embarrassed for no good reason. Nothing wrong or illegal about admiring a man’s backside—especially when he couldn’t see you doing it. And she did love a good backside…
Hopefully he was just a visitor to the island and she wouldn’t have to interact with him. That way she wouldn’t be tempted to tell him how crazy she thought he was, doing what he’d been doing. Besides, even if she hadn’t been turned off by his daredevil stunt, good looking men were on her no-no list right now.
Her experience with Logan had been lesson enough. She’d thought him the perfect fit for her: a handsome yet staid and sensible Certified Public Accountant with a solid head on his shoulders. At least that was what she’d thought until he’d told her he was in love with an intern at his office and was giving up his job to move to Australia with her and start an Outback tour company.
She’d been totally gobsmacked, in equal parts desperately hurt and angry.
Her mum had seemed sympathetic, but unsurprised, while her gran had said, “He’s too boring anyway.”
But Logan’s lack of excitement was one of the things she’d liked best about him. The last thing she wanted in her life was someone like Dad, whose recklessness and need for adventure had gotten him killed on a mountain that, because of his health concerns, he should never have been climbing. She wanted someone safe, reliable, who wouldn’t break her heart or leave her to struggle on her own to raise their child the way her mum had had to.
Maybe she was better off on her own long term, anyway. Loving others just brought pain as far as she could tell.
As the ferry docked, Harmony put her baleful thoughts aside to heft her tote bag onto her shoulder, then pull up the handle of her wheeled suitcase. Taking another deep breath, she set off for the gangplank, ignoring the flutters of anxiety in her stomach.
Somewhere along the line she’d come to the conclusion that life went on, and that what happened was out of her hands. All she could control was how she faced it, and this new job, in this strange place, was to be met head-on, and with a certain amount of panache, to make up for her fear of the unknown.
Pausing to let an older lady go ahead of her, Harmony ran her hand over the faux fur collar of her favorite tweed trench coat, letting the softness of the fabric soothe her jangling nerves. She’d thought about wearing more casual clothes, but dismissed the impulse. Just because her new job was on an island it didn’t mean she wanted to arrive looking as though she didn’t take it seriously. Besides, she liked nice clothes; she felt more confident when she was well dressed.
With her head determinedly high, Harmony went down the gangplank to the dock. When no one stepped forward to meet her, she kept walking toward the building marked “Dock Master’s Office” for all the world as though she knew where she was going.
Suddenly four older ladies, whom she’d thought were there to meet the woman she’d let go down the gangplank ahead of her, surrounded her, bringing her progress to a screeching halt.
“Nurse Kinkaid?” one of them asked with a smile. “You are Nurse Kinkaid, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, wonderful! Isn’t it wonderful, girls?”
Unsure about what was so wonderful, Harmony made no comment, simply plastered a smile on her face as all the women seemed to be speaking at once.
“So lovely to have you!”
“Are you Scottish?”
“What a looker you are!”
“Do you craft?”
“How old are you?”
“I adore your coat!”
Stunned by the barrage, Harmony let go her suitcase and held up her hands, one of which had her umbrella in it. Three of the ladies fell silent and stepped back in unison. The fourth stood her ground, the smile on her face never faltering.
“Don’t mind those chatterboxes, Nurse Kinkaid. A bunch of magpies, they are.”
She held out her hand and Harmony instinctively took it, receiving a hearty handshake.
“I’m Eudora Moxley, but call me Dora. And these old bags are Ingrid, Sela and Kat.”
“Katherine,” the tallest of the others growled.
“Kat’s a little touchy about her name, but don’t let it worry you. It’s the English coming out in her.”
“For goodness’ sake, Eudora.” The other woman huffed. “I’ve lived here for nigh on thirty years. Don’t I merit being Scottish by now?”
“You got here thirty years too late for that, Kat,” one of the other women interjected, although whether it was Ingrid or Sela, Harmony had no idea. All the women except for Katherine tittered.
“That’s enough of that,” Katherine retorted. “The nurse is going to think we’re loopy.”
“Oh, but we are—and best she knows it from day one,” Dora retorted, giving Harmony’s fingers one last squeeze before finally releasing them. “We’re the Crafty Islanders, in charge of—well…almost everything here on Eilean Rurie. We wanted to be on hand to greet you and welcome you to the island.”
“Thank you,” Harmony replied weakly, still somewhat shell-shocked by what they called a greeting but felt more like a mugging. “Do you have any idea where I might find Dr. MacRurie?”