Safe in His Hands

Blast. Get ahold of yourself. You’re not some randy med student. You’re going to be Chief of Surgery when you return to Toronto.

Only he couldn’t get ahold of himself. She looked exactly as she had when he’d first laid eyes on her. The slender figure and bright red curls were exactly the same. Her face, with only the barest hint of makeup, still looked as fresh and innocent. It was like time hadn’t touched her.

Perhaps the cold preserves people up here.

Quinn shook his head. He’d never understood her desire to live on top of the world. He hated winter at the best of times. The frigid air seemed to reach down his throat and scald his lungs with ice.

“Is something wrong?” Charlotte asked casually, not looking at him.

“What makes you think something’s wrong?”

The plane lurched and she adjusted her controls. “You’re muttering to yourself. Not used to a small plane, eh? Prefer first class?”

“Well, at least I can get a drink in first class.” He rubbed his hand. “That, and I’m not used to turbulence that seems more like bull-riding at the Calgary Stampede.”

Charlotte grinned. “This is mild.”

“Good God. Mild? Are you certain?”

She chuckled. He’d always liked her laughter. “Positive. There’s a storm coming.”

“Did we hit it?”

She shook her head. “Nope. The storm is chasing us. We’ll beat it.”

Quinn shuddered. Snow. Ice. “I don’t know how you live up here.”

“I like the rugged wilderness.”

“I thought you were afraid of bears. Isn’t this bear country?”

She laughed, her green eyes twinkling. “This is true.”

“You never did tell me why you’re afraid of bears.”

“It’s silly, really.”

“Come on, humor me. There’s no in-flight movie, either.”

“No. I’m not telling you.” She grinned and adjusted some more knobs.

“Come on. I promise I won’t say anything.” He waggled his eyebrows, teasing her.

She shot him a look of disbelief. “No way. And stop that eyebrow-waggling.”

“What, this?” He did it again for effect. Quinn had forgotten it drove her batty and he’d forgotten what fun it was to tease her.

“Lord, you look like a demented Groucho Marx or something.”

“I’ll keep pestering. You know I have a bit of an annoying streak.”

“A bit?” A smile quirked her lips. “Fine. It’s because I’m afraid of being eaten alive.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

Charlotte’s creamy white cheeks stained with crimson and fire flooded his veins as an image of her, naked, flashed through his mind. He could still taste her kisses on his lips, recall her silky hair and her smooth skin under his hands. Their bodies had fit so well together. It had been so right. His body reacted to her presence. So pure and so not the kind of girl his parents would want for him.

They’d never approved of Charlotte but he hadn’t cared. He’d pursued her at first because she was good looking, bright and he’d known it would irk his parents to no end. She had not been like the boring girls they’d kept throwing in his path. Charlotte had not been suitable.

No, Charlotte had been exciting and taboo. Somewhere along the way he’d fallen in love with her. Only they’d wanted different things. She’d wanted a family. He hadn’t. With his loveless childhood, Quinn knew he wasn’t father material.

When his relationship with Charlotte had ended, his mother had reminded him frequently that Charlotte hadn’t been the woman for him. His mother did like to rub salt into a wound.

And they’d been right. Charlotte hadn’t been the woman for him.

They were so different, but her difference was what had excited him most.

Quinn pushed aside all those thoughts. They would do nothing but get him into trouble. He was a professional.

A surgeon.

The plane jolted and she was thrown against the dash. Quinn unbuckled and reached out, steadying her. The scent of her coconut shampoo wrapped around him, reminding him of the summer they’d spent in Yellowknife, in a cabin on the shores of Great Slave Lake. Endless nights of blistering passion under the midnight sun.

“Are you okay?” he asked, closing the small gap between them. He could see her pulse racing at the base of her throat.

“I’m fine. Fine.” She cleared her throat and shrugged her shoulders. Only he didn’t move his hands from her shoulders. He enjoyed holding her again and she didn’t shrug out of his arms or move from his touch.

“Are you certain?” he asked again. The blush still stained her skin, her gaze locked with his and her breathing quickened. She parted her lips and he fought the urge to steal a kiss from her. But he wanted to.

So badly.

CHAPTER TWO

LET GO OF HER. She didn’t want you.

“Charlotte?” His voice cracked, he cleared his throat. “Are you okay?”

She broke the connection and turned away. “I’m fine. You’d better buckle up in case we hit some more turbulence.” She didn’t look at him but she appeared perturbed.

“Sure.” He could take a hint. Quinn cursed himself inwardly for letting his guard down. When he’d decided to come up here he’d told himself to keep emotionally detached from her, but two hours in her presence and he was being swayed by her again. Just being around her and he forgot what had passed between them—for him it was like they’d never been apart.

She was like a drug that intoxicated him quickly.

Charlotte’s cold brush-off brought him out of the past into the present, and keenly reminded him of how lonely his life had been without her. He didn’t like to be reminded of that.

He buckled back up and looked out the window as the clouds dissipated. In the distance the white landscape became dotted with brightly colored buildings, which appeared to be raised on stilts above the snow, smoke rising steadily from the chimneys.

So this is Cape Recluse.

The cape was at the mercy of the elements and the Northwest Passage surrounded it on three sides. The town itself was nestled against a panorama of majestic mountains. Squinting, he faintly made out what looked like a tiny airstrip on a sheet of ice.

The whole town looked barren and very, very rustic. It was like something out of the old frontier towns of the Wild West, only snow covered. Quinn knew he was on the edge of civilization, here.

This was what Charlotte preferred over New York?

She flicked on the radio and gave out her call number. “Preparing to land.”

“Roger that,” came the crackling acknowledgment over the line.

Charlotte brought her plane in to land. Quinn was impressed with her piloting abilities as she brought the aircraft to a smooth landing on the slick airstrip. When the wheels of the plane touched the ice, the jet skittered slightly, but Charlotte kept control and then visibly relaxed.

As she swung the plane round towards the small hangar, Quinn saw a group of villagers milling about.

“That’s quite a homecoming.”

“Yes, well, there’s not much winter entertainment up here,” Charlotte said.

“I’ll bet there isn’t.” Quinn regretted his muttered comment the moment it had slipped past his lips.

Smooth move.

Charlotte’s eyes narrowed and flashed in annoyance, but all she said was, “Well, we’ll get you settled.”

She taxied the plane into the hangar.

“Sounds good.” He could do with a long, hot shower and some sleep, but judging from the size of the town he didn’t see any four-star accommodation nearby. The sooner he dealt with Mentlana Tikivik’s case, the sooner he could get back to Toronto, and sanity.

Charlotte’s pulse rate felt like a jackhammer at the moment and she hoped Quinn hadn’t noticed how much he had affected her.

Damn.

One stupid little embrace during turbulence had set off all sorts of crazy hormones zinging through her body.

His stay in Cape Recluse was going to be more trying than she’d originally thought and had tried to tell herself it would be. To make matters worse, there were no hotels in town and Quinn would be staying with her. He had to stay with her.

When his arms had wrapped around her in the cockpit, her blood had ignited and her common sense had wrestled with the side of her that had wanted to toss aside the plane’s controls and throw herself into his arms.

Totally irrational.

She was the fly to his spider, apparently.

It wasn’t like she was desperate. She’d gone on other dates with good-looking, exciting men, but she hadn’t lost her head around them.

And that was the point. Quinn always made her feel giddy, like a lovestruck fool. He was exciting, sexy and handsome, and made her body burn with a pleasure she hadn’t felt since he’d left.

Every day she’d be forced to face Quinn, the man who had broken her heart, but she had to do this for Mentlana. She knew she’d be putting her heart at risk, and it had only recently mended since he’d left her for the greener pastures of New York. She’d rarely thought of him for the last couple years.

Liar.

Of course she’d thought about him, even though for the last couple years it hadn’t been as constant as it had been before that. Except for one day. Every year on the anniversary of the day she’d miscarried the baby and had nearly bled out, she’d thought of him and what could’ve been had he not walked away.

Only, what could’ve been was just a fantasy. Quinn wouldn’t have settled down. She realized that now.

Her throat constricted as she tried to swallow down those emotions. When she thought of what could have been, when she thought about the family she’d always dreamed of, she fought the urge to break down in tears.

Don’t think about it.

Charlotte took a deep, calming breath, removed her headpiece and climbed out of the cockpit. “Doc Charley!”

Charlotte glanced up to see George, her paramedic, approaching the plane. She embraced George, who was like a brother to her.

“Good to see you, Doc. Good flight?” he asked, though Charlotte knew he wasn’t really that concerned about her flight. He was a pilot, too, and the Citation was like his baby. George moved away and stroked the side of the jet for good measure. “Any problems?”

“None. Your baby is fine and the flight was good.” She glanced back to see if Quinn was disembarking okay. He appeared to be, as he climbed stiffly out of the cockpit.

“Dr. Devlyn.” Charlotte waved him over, and Quinn strode over, his gaze intently focused on George. He didn’t respond. Charlotte gritted her teeth. “Quinn, this is George Atavik. He’s my paramedic and copilot. George, this is Dr. Devlyn, the specialist from Toronto.”

George grinned, flashing brilliant white teeth. His dark eyes lit with sincerity. “Good to meet you, Dr. Devlyn. Thanks for coming up this far north to help out.”

“The pleasure is all mine and, please, just call me Quinn,” he replied, shaking George’s hand. He glanced at her, his dark eyes twinkling mischievously, a look that spoke volumes, like he was undressing her right there on the spot, as he whispered, “Just Quinn.”

“George is Mentlana Tikivik’s brother,” Charlotte said, clearing her throat. Why she’d blurted that information out she didn’t know. It was like she wanted Quinn to know there was nothing between George and her. She watched for any sign of reaction from Quinn, but there was none. All he did was nod politely.

“I’ll take care of the plane, Doc Charley. I checked the weather satellite earlier and I was worried you were going to be delayed by that storm coming in from Labrador.” George chatted away, totally unaware of the tension Charlotte keenly felt hovering over them.

“I was, too, for a moment,” she answered absently.

“I’ll go and collect my bag,” Quinn said, walking back toward the plane, where people in the hangar were unloading his suitcase and some supplies Charlotte had brought up. So like him to be haughty.

It’s Quinn.

Even though she knew she shouldn’t follow him, Charlotte hurried after him.

“Are you still tired from the trip?” she asked.

“A bit,” Quinn answered. “Don’t you and George have to deal with the plane?”

“George can handle it. He’ll yell if I’m needed.”

“He seems like a nice fellow, I hope he makes you happy.”

Charlotte did a double take. Quinn thought she was with George and, despite the fact they’d once been intimate, was wishing her happiness. So unlike the selfish man he’d been when he was younger.

“Quinn, George is like a brother to me.” Again, why was she telling him that? She should’ve let him think George was her lover, and then she shuddered at the thought. She’d babysat George at one time and he’d been a terror. “Besides, George is too weird, too into his Westerns. I think that if given the chance, he’d trade in his paramedic bag for a saddle and six-shooter.” She said the last part loudly.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. Clint Eastwood is da man!”

George called back.

A look of pleasure flashed momentarily across his face. “Well, that makes for a good partnership between physician and paramedic.”

“Doc Charley!” The frantic call made both Charlotte and Quinn spin around. Charlotte saw Lorna, the village midwife, come running into the hangar.

Charlotte didn’t need to be told. Her instinct kicked in and she grabbed her medical bag from the top of the pile of supplies. “What’s happened? Is it Mentlana?”

Lorna nodded. “She started bleeding, and I don’t know if it’s from the fetus, the placenta or something else.”

Oh, God, no.

Charlotte remembered the way she herself had almost bled to death when she’d lost her baby. Sweat broke out across her brow. Charlotte glanced at Quinn, who was standing close to her. His lips were pressed together in a firm line and he looked a little pale as he nodded his understanding, obviously ready to follow her lead.

“Where is she?” Charlotte asked.

“The clinic.” Lorna was wringing her hands nervously.

“Thanks, Lorna.” Charlotte started running, praying she wasn’t too late.

“Is everything okay, Charley?” Mentlana’s voice was anxious as Charlotte peeled off the rubber gloves and placed them in the toxic medical waste receptacle.

“Your cervix is irritated, that’s all.” Charlotte had been relieved on her arrival to see the blood loss was minimal, but enough to worry Lorna. Given all the things wrong with Mentlana and her high-risk pregnancy, Lorna had reacted quickly and done the right thing.

“Well, yours would be irritated, too, if you were carrying around an elephant.”

Charlotte chuckled. “I’m going to have Dr. Devlyn, the specialist from Toronto, perform an ultrasound to make sure there’s nothing wrong with the placenta or the baby. But the heartbeat is strong, and from the internal, the placenta is still in place. If it had been an abruption there would’ve been a lot more blood.”

And death. Charlotte kept that thought to herself. There was no sense in worrying the pregnant woman over nothing.

Mentlana visibly relaxed as she took her feet out of the stirrups and rearranged the sheet over her lower half. Charlotte ran her hands under the tap and scrubbed them thoroughly.

“Do you want me to get Genen? He’s probably climbing the walls.”

“Let him wait for a moment. I want to talk to you.”

Confused, Charlotte pulled her wheeled stool over to her friend’s side nonetheless. Mentlana was leaning up on one elbow, a serious look on her face.

Charlotte knew that look all too well. It meant business.

“What’s your question?”

“This doctor from Toronto, he’s the one, isn’t he?” Mentlana asked.

Charlotte’s heart skipped a beat. “What do you mean?”

Mentlana’s eyes narrowed, glinting as black as coal as she fixed Charlotte with the serious gaze that made Genen and George almost wet their pants. “Don’t lie to me, Charley. This is the guy, right? He’s the guy who broke your heart and left after you lost the baby. The one you wouldn’t bring home to meet us. The one who, if I wasn’t pregnant and in need of him, I’d give a stern kick to the crotch.”

Charlotte stood. Letting out an exasperated sigh, she scrubbed her hand over her face. “Yes. Dr. Devlyn is the one.”

Mentlana reached out and grabbed her hand. “I know how hard it is for you to trust him, to bring him here, and I know you’re doing it for me and the baby. Thank you.”

A sob caught in Charlotte’s throat but she controlled it. She forced a wobbly smile and smoothed Mentlana’s jet-black hair from her forehead. “I would do anything for you, even face the devil himself—or Devlyn, in this case.”

“Witty.” Lana chuckled. “Now I’m really interested in meeting him.”

Charlotte rolled her eyes and padded towards the door. “Well, he does have the bedside manner of a bull in a china shop, most days. Stay tight. I’ll bring him in to see you in a moment.”

“Tight, right.” Mentlana snorted as Charlotte shut the door to the exam room. Just as she’d thought, Genen was pacing, and the rest of the family was crowded into the small reception area of her clinic. Genen almost rushed her as she approached.

Charlotte held up her hands. “It’s nothing, just an irritated cervix. Mother and baby are fine, but I’ll have the specialist do an ultrasound to be absolutely certain.”

Relief washed over Genen’s face. “Can I see her now, Charley?”

“Sure. But just Genen,” she said, as the entire Atavik and Tikivik clan seemed to rise. Scanning the clinic area, she couldn’t see Quinn anywhere. Biting her bottom lip, she headed over to George.

“Where’s Dr. Devlyn?”

“In your office. I thought he’d be most comfortable there.”

The blood drained from Charlotte’s face. “My office?” Oh, God. She hadn’t had a chance to clear away her personal items, including the cherished, faded old sonogram. The ultrasound he hadn’t even bothered to attend. The same sonogram he’d just grunted at when she’d shown it to him.

“Don’t you want to see? It’s amazing!”

“It’s not like you haven’t seen a sonogram before.”

“I know. But, Quinn, it’s our baby.”

He shrugged. “I have to go, Charlotte. I’m late for my rounds already.”

He hadn’t wanted to see it then and even though it was childish, she didn’t want to share it with him now. Not after five years. He didn’t deserve to see it or share in any part of her grief.

CHAPTER THREE

TRYING NOT TO panic, she thanked George and headed towards her office. She raised her hand to knock and then thought better of it. Why should she knock? It was her office and he was the visitor. She walked in. Quinn wasn’t behind her desk, but was staring out the window at the snow swirling over the inlet. He turned when she entered, his face unreadable.

“Is Ms. Tikivik stable?” he asked.

“Yes. It was an irritation of the cervix, but I’d like you to do an ultrasound and check the status of the fetus yourself.”

“I will.” He glanced back out the window. “I have to say I’ve never seen so many houses tied down to cables and supported on metal beams. It’s like they’re a bunch of beach houses or something.”

Charlotte couldn’t help but smile. “The houses are raised because of permafrost. There are no basements in Cape Recluse. The village also has a lot of high winds. We may seem sheltered, with mountains surrounding us, but it’s really very windy. We have to tie everything down.”

Quinn’s eyebrows arched. “I guess. With no trees to form a windbreak.”

“Yeah, you could say that.”

“It’s quite interesting—the landscape, that is.”

Now it was Charlotte’s turn to be impressed. He’d never been overly interested in anything else before, beyond the next surgery.

Well, he’d been interested in her until she’d got pregnant and decided to become a family physician.

“Yes. It is an interesting vista,” she agreed.

Quinn shivered and then nodded. “This is some community. They all seem to care for one another, like family.” He shook his head. “It’s like the Brady Bunch up here or something.”

“That’s because they genuinely do care. It’s a small place and everyone knows everybody. There are no secrets.”

That caught his attention and he shot her a questioning look. “Really? No secrets?”

“Nope. Not a single one.” Suddenly she had a bad case of butterflies. She was nervous. Perhaps it was the fact they were in an enclosed room, alone. After her reaction to him earlier, the last place she wanted to be was in a private office with him.

He strode over to her, his eyes soft, with a twinkle of devilment still dancing there. As he reached out and brushed an errant curl from her face, a zip of delight traveled down her spine. His knuckles brushed her cheek, causing her body to waken. One simple touch from him and her body responded as if it had been in a slumber for the last five years.

Maybe it had. No other man had been able to arouse her by a simple touch before. It angered her that Quinn was the only one who could.

“Don’t,” she whispered, her voice catching in her throat.

“What?”

“Touch me with familiarity.”

Quinn moved his hand. “I’m sorry, Charlotte. It’s force of habit, even after all this time.”

Tears stung her eyes and she cleared her throat before taking a step back. “You shouldn’t keep the Tikiviks waiting.”

“Do you have some scrubs for me?”

“Of course. See Rosie at Reception and she’ll get you fitted.” Charlotte tucked her hair behind her ear as he stared at her, the tension in the room almost palpable. Why wasn’t he leaving? “Is there anything else?”

Quinn glanced away. “No. I’ll go and see Rosie now.”

Quinn walked past her and Charlotte watched him go, unease and apprehension twisting her stomach. When he left the room she snatched the picture frame off her desk and stared at the sonogram, thinking about the baby she’d lost. He or she would’ve been five years old, now, and she couldn’t help but wonder if the baby would’ve had the same sandy-brown hair and deep brown eyes as Quinn. Perhaps their baby would’ve favored her, with red curls and emerald eyes, or been a mixture of them both.

Closing her eyes, she pictured a rambunctious boy, like she always did when she thought about her lost baby. He’d have had rosy cheeks, sandy-brown hair and green eyes. She felt the sting of tears and brushed them away quickly.

Why was she letting herself feel this way again?

Why was she letting Quinn Devlyn in again?

Because I never let him go.

Sighing, she opened her filing cabinet and pushed the picture to the back before locking the drawer. She slipped the key into her pocket. It was really a moot point, now. There was no baby of theirs, not now and not ever.

Quinn peeled off the clothes he’d been wearing for the last several hours. He was bone weary and absolutely freezing, but this was the moment where he shone, being a surgical god.

His hand trembled slightly and he gripped it.

Just tired, that was all.

Besides, this was nothing big. Just an ultrasound and a consult. If this tremor continued he’d remove himself from the case. The patient’s life and that of the baby were more important than proving to the world he was still a viable surgeon.

You can do this.

Quinn pulled on the scrubs. As he splashed some water on his face, his mind wandered to the sonogram he’d spied on Charlotte’s desk.

Their baby.

The one they’d lost. It had been the scariest moment of his life. Not even the accident that had damaged his hand had been as terrifying as the moment when they’d lost their baby. Charlotte had bled badly after she’d miscarried. He’d found her collapsed on the floor of their apartment.