A Doctor, A Fling & A Wedding Ring

But all they’d been able to manage was Nick replacing Kiki for the two weeks or her bar manager’s job would go. Luckily for Kiki, he didn’t mind. He’d been due for a holiday anyway.

His ex-girlfriend, Jasmin, had been getting way too serious and not been pleased to jet off from Rome to New York on her own. Hence the relief in his newly single status. Family came first and he made no apologies. Especially when it suited him.

His attention flicked back to the lecture. The safety officer discussed the routine of a compulsory muster for all passengers before they sailed and outlined the crew’s duties as emergency officers. Not much had changed and he was glad to see he was on the same station as Tara.

With over three thousand passengers and one thousand crew members the ship would give enough opportunities for her to slip out of sight. He couldn’t remember when he’d last been so aware of planning to ‘bump into’ a woman.

Usually it just happened—or not. Funny how he didn’t feel the same relaxed acceptance of fate with this slip of a medic beside him. Must be because she looked so frail—in an I-can-look-after-myself way that dared him to mention it. He wasn’t saying a thing but he’d be watching for her.

But as the middle child and only male in the family, it was his job to make everyone smile. After his parents had died it had been even more reason to be the entertainer. He was still the entertainer. He could show this Tara a very good time.

* * *

Tara walked away from Nick Fender. Fender? She could imagine the guy with an air guitar, thrusting his hips and pretending.

She blinked. What? Had she left her brain back in that room? She concentrated on the directions to the hospital pinned to the wall in front of her.

She had to keep reminding herself she was at work. It was so strange without the need to rush from one emergency to the next.

With the help of the occasional map, Tara navigated two stairwells and a corridor and found her way back to the hospital where Marie, the head nurse, was shifting boxes of supplies.

‘Let me help with that.’ Tara hurried forward and helped lift the other side of an awkwardly shaped parcel Marie wanted on the desk.

The nurse brushed the hair out of her eyes when the parcel was safely stowed. ‘Thanks, Tara. It’s the new ECG machine. It wasn’t heavy but, boy, was it awkward.’

‘So what else can I do for you?’ Tara glanced around. Boxes everywhere.

Marie grinned at her. ‘Seriously, I’m just unpacking. First day is all about unpacking and stowing.’

Tara rubbed her hands. Activity would be excellent. ‘Then I’ll help. It’s the best way to find where things live anyway. Can’t be asking you where everything is all the time.’

The two women smiled at each other and Tara felt like she’d gone the first step to making at least one friend. ‘Always happy to have help. Though you’ll have to go through the crew’s notes before we leave this afternoon. Those with illnesses they’ve notified us of, anyway.’

She gestured Tara through to the ward area and a sterile supply room. ‘Reckon this will be the place that confuses you most.’

The storeroom was wall-to-wall shelves. She glanced around and Tara wondered if she’d get back to being as easy to talk to as Marie was. Her own conversation skills needed repolishing—just those few exchanges with air-guitar Nick had shown her that—and she wanted to fit in. Drop her doom-and-gloom mantle that had grown since she’d married and try at least to pretend to join in with ‘normal’ people.

The day passed swiftly, especially when the passengers came on board. Most of them looked as lost as Tara had been when she’d been out of the hospital but the mood was high and excited and totally different from the world Tara had just left.

Tara stood with Marie on the deck and watched the lines being cast off, then they eased away from the dock and maybe she could adjust to the sway of the ship and the routines on board. It was all so different from the hectic rush from one dire patient to the next.

Normally the clinic for passengers opened three times a day for two hours. The crew phoned down for quick access most of the time.

Today the passenger clinic would open once except for emergencies—most of which Wilhelm would deal with. Lovely change. She only dealt with occupational mishaps of the crew, minor illnesses among them, and passenger cabin calls when Wilhelm couldn’t attend.

Even her cabin on the crew deck seemed outrageously luxurious compared to her tent at the camp. Air-conditioning and hot and cold running water and a porthole that was much larger than she’d expected and afforded an amazing view across the water. She just might be in heaven.

CHAPTER THREE

WHEN Tara woke on her first morning they weren’t even at sea. They’d docked at six a.m. She’d never got around to really studying the itinerary before she’d boarded, had been so busy finding routes and equipment that when she opened the blinds, pleasure craft and even a castle on a mountain seemed surreal. Here she was, peering out of her window at the glorious bay of Monte Carlo.

Another good night’s sleep had lightened her step and she found herself smiling as passengers oohed and ahhed over the rich and famous playground off which they’d anchored. There was something amazingly special about sitting at anchor on a floating hotel adjacent to a charming principality.

When Tara walked into the clinic waiting room she found it surprisingly busy for a day in port until she realised that most passengers wanted their tests and injections before they left on the tenders heading for shore.

When she offered to help with the backlog, Marie sent her in a young mother and her small son.

The woman was petite, perfectly coiffed and immaculately dressed. ‘I’m Gwen, and this is my son, Tommy.’ The woman patted his head and touched her son’s forehead. ‘I’m so worried. He’s got spots. He’s not contagious, is he?’

I sincerely hope not, Tara thought as she looked down at the little boy. ‘Hello, Tommy.’ Tara bent down and the little boy held out his hand for Tara to shake. His skin wasn’t hot or dry and his eyes were clear.

‘Is he getting German measles? He has spots,’ his mother said again, clasping and unclasping her hands, and Tara felt the pull of sympathy for Tommy and his obviously distressed mum.

‘You poor thing. Imagine that on the first day of your holiday. But I think he’s fine. It may be a heat rash. Does he seem unwell to you?’ She looked at the reading from the digital thermometer she’d just used in Tommy’s ear.

Tara had seen more than enough German measles to be fairly certain this wasn’t a case. The rash wasn’t typical, barely visible and mildly pink, and the little boy didn’t present as being unwell, but she gave the mother a list of other signs and suggested she bring him back if they manifested.

The mother nodded her head with concern. ‘He’s normally a little terror. Are you sure the spots are okay?’

‘Yes, but you did the right thing bringing him in to check. Especially if he’s going into the child activity centre.’

Gwen shook her head vehemently. ‘Oh, no. I’d never do that. There’s just the two of us. His dad left us, you see, and we’re visiting my sister in Mykonos on holiday. Sometimes he’s not a well little boy and on the ship I don’t have to travel without being safe. It’s Tommy’s holiday too.’

Tara smiled at the pair. ‘He’s very lucky to have you. Bring him back if you’re worried, Gwen.’

Tara showed them out and Marie sent in an older lady who wanted her ear looked at for wax. Marie was chewing her lip, trying not to laugh, and Tara pretended to frown at her. This was not life-threatening stuff at all but the waiting room was emptying. Still no crew and at this rate they’d be clear of patients before the two hours was up.

Wilhelm was still sequestered with his previous patient so Tara took the older lady in with her.

Wilhelm and Tara had planned to catch up on the in-service needed with the new ECG machine, as well as go through the cases from the day before, and Marie planned to venture ashore to peep into the casino in Monaco.

Tara couldn’t help but wonder what a certain bar-staff member was doing because most of the bars were shut when the cruise ship was in port. No doubt by the end of the cruise she’d have a fair idea. She even toyed with the idea of looking for him after tea, she’d seen the bar on the wall directions, but a swell came up and the hospital was inundated with motion-sickness sufferers and that put paid to that. Good thing too.

* * *

On the second morning when Tara woke they were tied to the wharf at Livorno, the gateway to Florence, the leaning tower of Pisa and Tuscany, none of which she’d seen. Or would.

But Tara was off duty later in the morning and quite happy to explore the less-crowded ship.

She ventured through the main passenger areas in civilian clothes and gazed around at the surprising throng of passengers foregoing the shore excursions.

Up in the sunlight, at one of the few open bars on board, Nick lorded it behind the Casablanca Bar like a sheikh in a harem. Tara stepped back behind one of the ship’s columns on the swimming-pool deck and watched him work.

She had to admit he filled his blue T-shirt admirably and the muscles in his chest and those arms were blatantly provocative as he shook his cocktail shaker and grinned at the world.

Why weren’t these women off visiting the city where they were docked? The rattle of ice carried across the hum of conversations that floated above the deckchairs and his teeth flashed as he theatrically poured the contents into a glass from a great height without a splash.

Well, she guessed Nick was one reason. She had to cover her mouth to stop herself laughing out loud, which kind of surprised her because the little bubble of excitement that surfaced just by seeing him was totally unexpected.

She frowned and looked away but there was nothing quite as much fun to look at. She couldn’t dispute she was feeling better than she had been when she’d stepped on board but this guy was nobody to her. And she was certainly a nobody to him.

Her gaze drifted back to Nick as he scooped up a decorative skewer of pineapple and cherry and garnished a creation with a flamboyant wave.

He was so confident, Tara could feel her lips tug again, so clearly a showman and ladies’ man, she probably didn’t have a hope of practising her extremely rusty wiles on him, but if she got the chance, at least it meant he couldn’t be hurt if she did get to first base with him.

Still she hung back. Watched the woman he’d served walk away with an exaggerated wiggle, and noted with approval Nick’s attention was on cleaning his cocktail equipment, not on her bikini bottom. So he took the rules for consorting with passengers seriously. She’d been surprised how severely intimacy with passengers was dealt with on the ship. No doubt instant dismissal wouldn’t look good on his résumé.

Or maybe he just wasn’t interested. He didn’t look gay. At all. She smiled to herself. She wondered how he would look at her if she asked for one of those non-alcoholic ‘mocktails’ they served to teetotallers? She’d never been much of a drinker, most alcohol gave her a headache, and during college she’d usually offered to be the designated driver if she’d gone out.

Maybe that was what Vander had liked about her. She’d often wondered because she’d certainly felt she’d let him down in some way, though he’d never said.

Nick glanced up, saw her skulking behind the pillar, and gestured her over. Well, maybe he wasn’t totally disinterested.

She straightened away from the column and smiled shyly. Funny how that little tug in her stomach made her mouth curve. Her feet seemed pretty eager to move his way too and she tried not to wiggle like the last woman had.

He gestured to a stool at the side of the bar. ‘Hello, there, Dr Tara. Fancy a drink?’

She smiled back. ‘Non-alcoholic?’

‘Sure.’ He gestured to his makings. ‘I’ll have you know there is just as much skill needed for a really top mocktail, if not more.’

‘You reckon you’re pretty good at these, do you?’

‘The best.’

‘I see you lack in confidence.’

‘I know. Sad really. How about a No-jito?’ His white teeth flashed and she had to grin and the extraneous noises faded until it was as if the two of them were in a private little bubble. She bet all the girls behind her at the pool felt like that too. He went on to explain. ‘Crushed mint, loads of limes, sugar syrup and soda?’

‘Sounds great.’ She shook off her absorption of him and glanced around. ‘How’s the bar-manager gig going?’

He smiled at the half-naked women on loungers spread out in a fan in front of him. ‘Always fun.’

She shook her head sadly. ‘Tsk, tsk. Men.’

He leaned towards her. ‘Perhaps it should be “Tsk tsk, women”? Though I don’t mean that. I love women. I have sisters I adore and a new girlfriend every month.’

Tara wondered if he was warning her. Temporary. Don’t plan a wedding. Nice if he was. Because that suited her down to the ground!

* * *

Nick wondered if he was warning her. Bit of an exaggeration, that monthly girlfriend thing, but he certainly wasn’t into permanence. Had discovered long ago that even the most likely couple would stretch to find eternal happy-ever-after. But to warn about his preference for the short term was not his usual tactic when he was trying to chat up a woman.

What made this one different? He’d kept an eye out for her but had been unexpectedly busy with his duties and he’d have much preferred it if his sister had decided on a position with less responsibilities.

Dr Tara had intruded into his thoughts persistently last night when the sea had played games. He’d bet there were a few seasick passengers and some crew not used to the sway of the ship yet. ‘Did the swell bother you last night?’

‘No.’ She shrugged. ‘I have a cast-iron stomach.’ He pushed the peanuts her way but she wasn’t interested. ‘A few of the new beauty staff were a little queasy and we doled out some anti-emetics.’

Nick shoved the cheese and crackers across and she ignored them too. She glanced at the women and changed the subject away from medicine. ‘What about your patrons?’

‘It was pretty quiet for a second night.’ Lord, he just wanted to feed her. He used his tongs to put two hulled strawberries in a dish in front of her. She couldn’t miss them. To his delight she picked one up absently and bit into it. Gorgeous lips, white little teeth… Nick’s stomach kicked as he tried not to mimic her.

He glanced at his watch for a bit of control. ‘So, what time are you off duty?’

‘Apart from being on call?’ She patted her lips with a paper towel he gave her. ‘I’m off now till lunch. Then off again at eight. Why?’

Maybe he shouldn’t do this. He’d always listened to his instincts before so why was this so difficult? ‘Care to join me for dinner about eight-thirty?’

She narrowed her eyes at him and then glanced away. ‘I guess so.’

Had he sounded too eager? She certainly hadn’t. But he’d seen a few other crew members eyeing her and it hadn’t sat well with him. Another out-of-character trait she seemed to bring out in him. Maybe he just needed to demystify her attraction and then he’d understand what drew her to him.

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 of cuddling up with Nick and a blanket under Mediterranean stars was almost tangible. ‘I’ll watch out for those blankets.’ Though she wasn’t quite sure now just what she was watching out for.

‘So why don’t you let me show you around when we anchor off Naples? Maybe hire a convertible. We could take a drive down to Amalfi, check out Praiano and Positano.’

His chest tightened and he realised he was actually holding his breath. This was crazier by the minute. Her toffee gaze slid over his face thoughtfully and he could almost taste her sweetness. Something whispered sweet was dangerous.

‘Sounds good. I’ve always wanted to see the Italian coastline from those windy roads.’ She opened her eyes wide and he had an epiphany as to what they meant by ‘almost fell in’. Was that a come-on? He sure as hell hoped so because he could feel his body stir like leaves in a breeze at that hint of promise.

‘The roads have to be seen to be believed,’ he warned with a grin. ‘And they appeal to the frustrated Ferrari driver in me.’

‘A Ferrari?’ She pretended to frown. ‘They must pay good wages where you work.’

He guessed he could hire one if he wanted to but he’d be too worried he’d scratch it. Not many cars were dent free on Italian roads. ‘No. But maybe a little sports number so we can put the roof down.’ He grinned. ‘You know, feel the whoosh of air as the buses push us up against the cliff.’ He watched her. Deliberately painting the picture to make sure she knew what she was getting into. To his delight, if anything her eyes sparkled more.

‘Oh, yeah. I’ve heard about that. A little danger that’s not blood-product related would be a great way to remember life is for living.’

Not blood-product related. He wanted to hug her. Felt the rapport. Medical people laughed at the oddest things and he was feeling a little more alive than usual himself.

Tara couldn’t believe she was flirting like this. And had made an infectious-disease joke that he probably hadn’t got. He might think she was loony but the idea of capturing a few hours of wind in her face and amazing views was enticing. Cathartic even. And she couldn’t hide the fact the idea of spending time with someone light and mischievous like Nick wasn’t a big plus too.

‘So tell me about your morning,’ Nick said. ‘Any interesting cases?’

Did he really want to know? She doubted it. Probably the whole ‘I’m paying attention to everything you say’ persona he had down pat. ‘It was fine. A few bouts of nausea and a fractured forearm.’