Where The Heart Is

She could hear a rumbling, crashing noise in the distance. She couldn’t place it at first, and then she realised that small bergs were ‘calving’ from the Grey Glacier and falling into the lake. The wind was driving the smaller bergs down to the shoreline. The smallest lumps of ice were white, but the larger pieces were bright blue, like the glacier.

‘It’s stunning,’ she breathed.

‘The southern part of the Patagonian Ice Field,’ Luke said, his voice filled with pride. ‘It’s the largest ice field in the world.’

Ice, ice, everywhere—and not a single bit of it could cool her body’s reaction to him. Panic made her want to run, but she knew that would be stupid. Immature. Maybe a neutral conversation would help ease the pressure. And didn’t English people always talk about the weather? ‘I thought ice was clear or white.’

‘It is when there’s air in it and the pressure’s low. In a glacier, the weight of the ice causes major pressure within the ice, and that’s why it’s blue. The bigger blocks end up in coves and inlets; as they melt, the density of the ice slowly decreases and they lose their colour.’

‘And I thought they were supposed to move really slowly.’

‘Glaciers, or icebergs? The glacier’s receding at a rate of just over three centimetres a day. New caves and crevasses form every day—so every time I come here, it looks different.’ He sounded wistful.

He was standing close enough to touch her. All she had to do was take a step backwards and she’d be in his arms. She could almost feel the pressure of his body against hers, the warmth leaping out between them. What would it feel like to curl her fingers through his hair? Her hands almost itched with the urge to touch him, to pull his head down to hers and touch her lips to his.

But that would be a seriously stupid move. She didn’t do flings. Didn’t do for evers. Didn’t do relationships, full stop.

She mumbled some excuse about needing to see one of the others, and stepped away. But she was aware of every move he made on the way back. And even though she was sitting on the opposite side of the dining room that evening, during their customary meal of soup, hot tea and stew, it felt as if she was right next to him.

Why couldn’t she get him out of her head?

The worst thing was, the one time she caught his gaze, his eyes were saying exactly the same thing. Hot, dark, full of passion. Passion he kept reined in—but it was there. And she knew it was all for her.

Ah, hell. Maybe she should break a rule. Just this once. Let somebody get close to her. And maybe she shouldn’t. Who knew if one night would be enough, for either of them? And it wasn’t fair to start something she couldn’t finish.

It was another clear night, so Rowena sat at the edge of the lake to watch the stars, wrapped in a scarf and gloves and a thick jacket. Last night, when Stephen had fallen into the lake and she’d been caught up in the rescue, she hadn’t had the time to pinpoint the Southern Cross. Tonight Stephen and his friends were safely inside the refugio—and, she noticed, they hadn’t touched a single drop of alcohol. So tonight she’d be able to enjoy these moments on her own.

The sky was so very different from home. Darker, without the light pollution that usually lightened the city sky. The stars were sharper, more intense, and the constellations unfamiliar. And then she saw it: the Southern Cross.

‘Beautiful, isn’t it?’ a soft voice asked.

She should have guessed that Luke would follow her out here. They’d been avoiding each other all day, ever since the glacier—but every time they’d looked up, they’d met each other’s gaze. ‘Mmm.’

‘Would you rather be alone?’

Yes. No. Both. She shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’

He sat on the rocks next to her, close but not actually touching. ‘At least we shouldn’t have to rescue anyone tonight. That’s something. Did you enjoy the glacier?’ She’d joined the group which had trekked right to the edge of the glacier for the best view.

‘Yes. Funny, a year ago, I wouldn’t even have thought of coming here.’

‘And now you’re raising funds.’ His voice was soft, so gentle. ‘You lost someone to leukaemia?’

Her throat felt tight. ‘A colleague.’ Though Peggy had been much more. Peggy was the mother she’d never had. The kind of mother she’d wanted—and had discovered that she definitely didn’t have. And when she’d first joined the emergency department and Peggy had found out that the young doctor would be on her own for Christmas, she had insisted that Rowena join her family for the holiday. She’d even made up a stocking for Rowena to open—nothing expensive, just a bottle of nail varnish and a tangerine, some nuts and a silly toy—but it had been the first Christmas stocking Rowena could ever remember getting. Which had been something, at the age of twenty-five.

‘I lost someone, too.’

So that was why he was out here. Trying to make a difference.

‘Even though we saved Stephen’s life yesterday, it’s not going to bring back the ones we loved, is it?’ he asked quietly.

To her horror, Rowena felt a tear rolling down her face. She dashed it away. ‘I don’t cry. Ever.’ She’d cried herself out when she was much, much younger. ‘Just ignore me.’

But he didn’t. Instead, he took her hand. The hand she’d used to brush the tear away. And he just sat there, holding her hand in a no-pressure silence. He, too, had gloves on, but she could feel the blood throbbing through his fingers, and panic welled up inside her. People didn’t hold her hand. Not even when…

She wasn’t going back there. The past was staying exactly where it belonged. She didn’t need to explain anything to him. And she didn’t need kindness or affection. Not from him, not from anyone. She wrenched her hand out of his.

‘Why are you running away from me?’ he asked.

She lifted her chin. ‘I’m not.’

He didn’t try to disagree with her, to her relief. But his next words shocked her. ‘Rowena. You feel it, too, don’t you?’

Oh, yes. She felt it. A weird kind of humming in the air between them. When he’d touched her just now, she’d felt as if her body had been supercharged. ‘I don’t do this sort of thing.’

‘Neither do I.’ His voice was wry. ‘But something about you makes me want to.’

This was a very, very bad idea. She didn’t want to be his friend. Or his lover. Somehow, she had to push him away. And she could think of only one way to do it. ‘Don’t you have a girl on every trek?’

‘No. It’s against my principles.’

How could he sound sincere and amused at the same time? She looked at him, and realised he’d meant it. In the starlight, his eyes were very dark and his face very sombre.

And then he smiled. Just a tiny, rueful quirk of his lips. ‘But I want to, with you.’

Just as well she was sitting down, because her knees had just turned back to jelly. ‘I…’ Her mouth was too dry to force the words out.

‘Don’t worry, I’m not going to leap on you,’ he reassured her, clearly misinterpreting her silence. ‘I’m not going to make you do anything you don’t want to do. But I’d really like someone to hold my hand right now.’

He wanted comfort from her? That was a first. Nobody had ever asked her to hold their hand before, except a patient who was in pain. Part of her was in a flurry, not knowing what to do, how to make him feel better. But she suppressed her thoughts and acted on instinct. She reached out and curled her fingers round his hand, keeping the pressure light.

He responded by curling his own fingers around her hand.

And everything else vanished. There was just the two of them at the edge of the lake, under the stars.

‘Is it an anniversary?’ she asked softly.

‘No. Eighteen months and four days.’

So he was still counting.

‘You?’ he asked.

‘Christmas.’

‘There’s never a good time to lose someone, but Christmas has to be the worst. Sympathy cards instead of season’s greetings.’

Except Rowena hadn’t even had those. After all, she wasn’t Peggy’s relative, merely a friend and colleague. Peggy might have been the nearest Rowena had had to a mother—but Rowena wasn’t family. She hadn’t been able to intrude where she’d known she hadn’t really belonged. So she’d stayed on the sidelines and tried to ignore the huge empty space deep inside her.

‘It still hurts. Some days, I wonder if it’s ever going to stop hurting,’ he said. ‘Just when I think I’m doing fine, something triggers a memory and I’m back at the start.’

‘Me, too.’ Even something as silly as Peggy’s favourite dish being the staff canteen’s special of the day.

‘I’ve been single for eighteen months. I had all the tests you can think of before I came out here, and I’m clean. I don’t do flings. I don’t do happy ever after either.’

He could have been speaking for her. Though she’d been single for a lot longer.

‘But right now I want you, Rowena. I want to lose myself in you. And maybe I can kiss you better, too.’

‘And tomorrow?’

‘I don’t know,’ he said simply. ‘I can’t think beyond right here, right now.’ He raked his free hand through his hair. ‘Hell. I’m not even thinking straight. Ignore me. And I’m sorry if I’ve offended you. I mean, asking you for a one-night stand. How tacky can I get? I didn’t—’

She cut him off by leaning over and pressing her mouth to his. Just lightly. It was meant to be a ‘stop babbling, it’s OK’ kind of kiss, but it didn’t work out that way. The next thing she knew, her hands were threaded through his hair and his mouth was demanding more from hers.

‘It’s cold out here,’ he whispered when he broke the kiss. ‘I’d like to continue this somewhere warmer. Somewhere private.’

‘My tent or yours?’

He smiled. ‘I hoped you’d say that rather than slapping my face. Though I should warn you that I don’t think I can stop at kissing.’

She couldn’t either. His hand was resting lightly on her knee, and she was willing it to move higher. ‘We’re both doctors. We should be sensible.’

He clearly guessed she meant birth control. ‘Uh-huh. I could go to the refugio.’

Except that would mean asking round to find someone who had a stock of condoms. Rowena didn’t want the gossip. Or, even worse, the wait. She wanted Luke. Right here, right now. ‘I’m on the Pill. But I don’t sleep around,’ she emphasised. Been there, done that, when she’d been eighteen. Six months of trying to block out the worst of all rejections. She’d learned then that sex couldn’t fill the emptiness, so what the hell did she think she was doing now?

The sensible side of her told her she should stop right now. The reckless side stuffed its hand over the sensible side’s mouth and cheered her on. So she tipped up her face in offering, and he kissed her again.

He was shaking when she broke the kiss. ‘I don’t sleep around either.’ There was a long, long pause. ‘So. Are you saying we…?’

‘Uh-huh.’ She couldn’t resist mimicking him.

‘Right now, there’s nothing I’d like more,’ he informed her, his voice husky, ‘than to beat my chest, do a Tarzan yell, haul you over my shoulder and carry you back to my tent.’

The image made her smile. At the same time, it excited her. Luke MacKenzie was a man who could make her lose control. If she let him.

Rowena stood up and held out her hand. ‘Let’s be civilised about this.’

‘I don’t feel very civilised.’ But he stood up, took her hand, and walked with her back to his tent. Neither of them felt the need to speak.

She crawled into the low tent. He followed seconds later. And then she lost track of everything. She had no idea who’d taken off whose clothes, when or how it happened; she was just aware of a flurry of need, of kisses and endearments, caresses. She thought she might be hyperventilating, and Luke was definitely shuddering with need.

‘N-now,’ she gasped.

He jammed his mouth over hers and entered her. But it wasn’t like it had been when she’d been eighteen, making love with students her own age. Luke was in his thirties, he was all man, and he knew exactly what he was doing. Rowena wasn’t prepared for how good this felt, the surge of power in his body as he thrust into her. All she could do was wrap her legs round his waist and cling to him for dear life. She tipped her head back, exhaling sharply, and he kissed his way down her throat, finding sensitive spots she hadn’t even known existed.

And then she was falling, shattering into little pieces—and flying at the same time. She murmured his name, rubbed herself against him like a cat; and then he went very still, very focused, and she heard him sigh her name against her ear.

‘Thank you,’ he said softly.

‘Mmm.’ She didn’t think she quite had the power of speech yet.

‘You’re going to get frostbite. Hang on.’ Somehow she found herself inside his sleeping bag. And he was pulling his clothes on.

‘Where are you…?’ she mumbled.

‘That’s a single sleeping bag. It’s too small for both of us. And I haven’t finished yet. Give me two minutes.’ She heard him blow a kiss at her and he disappeared out of the tent.

How could he be so coherent when she most definitely wasn’t? By the time she’d asked herself just what made him think she was staying in his tent all night, and started to work up some healthy outrage, he’d returned.

With her sleeping bag and a torch.

‘You can say no,’ he said, clearly reading the expression on her face, ‘but I’d like you to have the choice. You can go back to your own tent, no strings. Or you can stay with me—if we zip our bags together, we’ll have more room. And more warmth.’

Warmth. She couldn’t help smiling. ‘We’re on the edge of an ice field.’

‘It’s about four hours’ walk away, but that’s near enough.’ He spread his hands. ‘Are you staying or going?’

The sensible thing would be to go. But she hadn’t finished either. She wanted to explore him. Tangle her fingers in that glorious hair. ‘Staying.’

A slow, brilliant smile spread over his face. ‘I’m glad.’ His voice dropped to a sultry whisper. ‘And, even better, I get to unwrap you.’

‘One condition,’ she interrupted.

‘Name it.’

‘You strip for me after that.’

‘Deal.’ And, as before, he sealed it with a kiss—a kiss that started out as a light, friendly tribute and suddenly tipped into something much, much hotter. She heard a hiss, and then he was crouching in front of her. ‘Mmm. The first thing I noticed about you was your eyes.’ He gave her a mischievous look. ‘I’ll be thinking about some other parts of you now.’

She felt herself blush, and he grinned. ‘Don’t be shy. You’re beautiful, Rowena. And the only reason I’m covering you up is because you’re going to get cold otherwise.’ Deftly, he zipped the two bags together.

‘Your turn,’ she said softly.

‘Um. Can we take a rain check?’

‘Welching on the deal?’

‘No. But I’ve got a torch on. And anybody outside who looks over at my tent is going to see exactly what’s happening inside.’

If her face had felt hot before, now it was a couple of thousand degrees warmer. Hell. She hadn’t even thought about that. ‘And without the torch?’ Please, don’t let anyone have realised what they’d been doing. And they’d both been quiet…hadn’t they?

‘Without the torch, they’ll see nothing.’

Relief surged through her. She reached over and switched off the light. ‘I wanted to see you.’

‘Tomorrow,’ he promised. She heard the rustling of his clothes, and then he crawled into the sleeping bag beside her.

This time, they savoured each other. Stroked every bit of skin, learned where each other liked being touched, where the sensitive spots were. Luke discovered an erogenous zone Rowena hadn’t even known existed, in the curve of her elbow. And she got to tangle her fingers in his hair.

‘Beautiful hair,’ she said. Soft and silky. And it smelt good, too. ‘I bet you got into trouble at hospital for this.’

‘No. It was shorter eighteen months ago.’

Eighteen months and four days. The memory snapped into her mind. Was that the day his partner had died? And he hadn’t cut his hair since. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring back bad memories for you.’

‘Hey.’ He rubbed his cheek against hers. ‘No pasa nada.’

‘El Mariachi,’ she said, half to herself.

He chuckled. ‘I’m no musician.’

‘Musician?’

‘It’s the translation,’ he said helpfully. ‘But I’ll take that as a compliment.’

She nuzzled his skin, liking his scent. ‘It was one,’ she said softly. The actor was her fantasy man, but Luke MacKenzie was real. And he was here. Holding her.

‘Hmm. I like you, Rowena Thompson.’

‘I like you, too.’

‘Show me how much.’

She grinned, and did so.

The next morning, Rowena opened one eye. Either she’d had a peculiarly vivid dream, or there really was a warm body moulded round hers. An arm clamped round her waist, warm breath against her cheek…

And this wasn’t her tent.

She remembered her night with Luke and her mouth went dry.

‘You’re awake, then?’ The arm round her waist pulled her back against him. ‘Good morning.’

She couldn’t remember feeling shy like this before. ‘Good morning.’ She could barely get the words out.

His lips nuzzled the back of her neck. ‘Mmm. You feel nice.’

‘Um, what time is it?’

‘Early. No one else is up yet.’

So she could sneak back into her own tent with nobody the wiser.

As if he guessed what she was thinking, he let her go. ‘Regrets?’

She couldn’t answer that one. Not truthfully. He’d been a skilful lover, and she couldn’t ever remember being that sated before. She just didn’t want people gossiping about them.

He turned her to face him. ‘We can pretend it didn’t happen.’

She couldn’t read his expression. She pushed down against her feelings of rejection. What they’d done last night had been completely out of character—for both of them, if he was telling the truth. And she could understand why they’d done it. They’d both been lonely, mourning, desperate to reaffirm life. It was hardly surprising that they’d ended up as they had. ‘We could.’

‘Or…’ He stroked her cheek. ‘It felt good, having you in my arms. We could take comfort in each other again, make it a two-night stand.’

‘There’s nearly a week left.’ The words were out before she could stop them.

‘Nearly a week.’ He traced the outline of her mouth with his forefinger. ‘And then the trek will be over.’

She knew what he was asking. What then? ‘And then we go back to our normal lives.’ Well, she’d go back to normal. Back to the emergency department at the Queen Elizabeth hospital in Manchester. He’d still be out here in the Patagonian winter.

‘We say goodbye at the airport. Never meet again.’

‘Like Rick and Ilse.’

He grinned, adopting a Bogart drawl. ‘We’ll always have Pehoé.’

She couldn’t help grinning back. Ah, hell. He even thought the same way she did. She could fight this, or she could sink into the comfort of his body. Let him fill the emptiness in these dark, lonely nights. ‘A week,’ she said softly.

‘Deal.’ He lowered his mouth to hers. ‘And we’ll seal it with a kiss.’

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