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When her phone woke her at five Steph was not ready to get up and face a day on the ambulance. No, lying here curled up to Michael was the better option. The best option. The only one.
Except she couldn’t ignore work.
The weight of his arm over her waist, his soft breath on her neck, his length tightening against her backside even before his eyes opened...all excited her.
Twisting around in his arms, she kissed his chin, then his mouth. ‘Good morning, sunshine.’
She hadn’t felt this good in for ever.
‘Morning,’ he grunted, pecking her cheek before giving her a quick squeeze and rolling onto his back. His gaze was fixed somewhere above them.
Oh-oh. Morning-after regrets? Great. Thanks a lot.
Though she only had herself to blame. It was to be expected after his revelation about not getting into a permanent relationship. Had she been silly enough to think he might change his mind after they’d made love? She really didn’t know men at all.
Not true. She’d known it was a risk—that he was unlikely to change his mind over some hot sex. And for him it would have been sex. For her, making love had never seemed so wonderful. But he knew she wanted a second chance at marriage, and he wouldn’t be putting his hand up.
With a heavy heart she sat up and tugged the bedcovers over her breasts. Sharing was all fine and good when they both were enjoying themselves, but she wasn’t about to parade around for him to see all her working parts if he was going to say, Bye-bye, nice having spent the night together, but now it’s time for you to leave.
She couldn’t help the curse that fell from her lips. ‘What’s your problem?’ she demanded, hoping he might say something,—anything—so that she could talk with him.
‘I don’t want to hurt you, Stephanie.’
Back to her full name. She’d used to like him using it, but now, after last night and the way he’d dragged out the word ‘Steph’ in a moment of ecstasy, she’d changed her mind.
‘I got the picture when you told me about your responsibilities. You do not want a relationship that involves more than sex. I don’t understand it, but I knew about it when I willingly came in here with you last night.’
‘This can’t go anywhere.’
Even though this was nothing new she felt her heart die. It was doing that a lot these days.
‘Then why did you make love to me?’
‘I couldn’t help myself. Nothing would’ve stopped me unless you’d demanded I back off. I’ve wanted you from the moment I saw you on your first day back. You do that to me.’
Michael reached up and wrapped her in his arms. His forehead touched hers and she waited for his lips to settle on hers.
‘I’ve been selfish and I’ve hurt you. I regret that more than you can ever understand.’
His arms dropped away, leaving her chilled. And lonely. So much for thinking she could do this.
Sliding her feet sideways, she found the floor and the clothes they’d tossed aside in the heat of the moment last night. Grabbing Michael’s shirt, she hauled it over her head. It was bigger to hide in than her fitted jersey that only reached her hips.
His shirt smelled of the same scents that had teased her and taunted her, heightened her anticipation every time they’d made love throughout the night. It made her want to cry. But big girls didn’t do that—not when they’d been warned they were taking a risk.
Would he notice if she kept it? Hid it in her bag and took it away with her? If he did he’d probably have her locked up on a lunacy charge.
‘Right, I’d better get a wiggle on or I’ll be late.’
He didn’t disagree. ‘I should be able to fix my own dressing this morning.’
Dismissed.
The chill intensified, clawed down her spine, while another, icier one surrounded her heart, dulled any warmth she had for him. Safety measures finally taking shape? If only they weren’t too late.
‘I’ve got time to do it before I go.’ There was more acid in her words than intended, but, hey, she was hurting here. ‘And to make breakfast,’ she snapped.
‘Stephanie, stop.’ Michael was struggling to untangle his legs from the sheet. ‘I’m sorry. I was trying to make it easier for you. That’s all.’
‘Fine.’
He still didn’t want her leaping back into bed with him, though. Couldn’t he have pretended everything was fine at least until she’d left for work?
Not likely. Brutally honest, was Michael.
The shower took for ever to heat up, giving her time to stare in the mirror at her pale face and sad eyes. When was she going to learn? Michael had made it as clear as the Fiordland Sounds water that he had no intention of settling down, and even clearer that it would never be with her.
So she must grow a backbone, think of last night as the adventure she’d known it would be before she’d kissed him with all the intensity of her love for him. Be happy about the exquisite sensations he had created within her, the new memories. Or if not happy, then for goodness’ sake she must at least stop looking so glum. It didn’t become her.
A face like the one staring back at her from the mirror would scare the pants off any patient who had the misfortune of having her turn up to load them into the ambulance. They’d run even if they had broken their leg.
* * *
‘Multiple vehicle accident on the harbour bridge,’ Kath informed her as she dumped her bag in the staffroom forty-five minutes later. ‘We’re on. Along with two other crews who already left.’
No time for feeling sorry for herself, then. Perfect.
Steph dug deep for her friendly face, mentally preparing for what they might find on the bridge and crossing her fingers that no one was fatally injured, or even close.
‘The traffic’s going to be diabolical at this hour. Wonder how many lanes are closed?’
Three of the four southbound lanes were cordoned off and traffic in the remaining one was barely moving. Traffic cops directed them through the cordon to park behind the other ambulances.
‘Take the grey car,’ Joe, an advanced paramedic and the site leader, instructed them. ‘The driver’s oxygen saturation levels are dropping. The fire crew is working to lift the steering wheel off her. She’s your priority, followed by the passenger beside her. She has facial trauma but is lucid and aware of what’s going on, and doesn’t appear to have internal injuries.’
Steph approached their patients, the gear pack bumping on her hips. Nothing like an emergency to focus her.
‘Hello. I’m Steph, a paramedic,’ she told the driver, who stared at her through glazed eyes. ‘I’m going to attach a mask to your face so we can give you some oxygen. Okay?’
She didn’t wait for a nod, just got on with the job. There was a lot to do before the firemen got this woman out of her metal prison.
Kath read the BP. ‘Low. Ninety on sixty. The sats are still dropping. We might have to intubate once she’s lifted out of here.’
They worked quickly, minimising the trauma, intubating, crossing their fingers they wouldn’t lose the woman. Steph doubted she’d be able to cope with that on top of her bad start to the day.
‘Ready for us to lift the steering wheel?’ a fireman asked.
&
nbsp; ‘Yes.’ Kath nodded.
Steph stayed beside the woman, keeping a watch on the heart monitor in case the easing pressure caused a blood haemorrhage from internal damage they hadn’t been able to assess. A wedding ring on the woman’s third finger glinted in the sun. They had to keep her alive—otherwise there was a man out there who’d lose the love of his life. Not happening. There might be children who needed their mother to come home too.
‘We need the stretcher,’ Kath called to someone, and immediately it was there, waiting while they continued working on their patient.
Then they were lifting the woman and wheeling her towards the helicopter waiting at the start of the bridge.
‘Good luck.’ Steph called quietly, before turning to the passenger and starting over.
No sooner had Kath called base to log off that call than they were speeding down Dominion Road to a bus versus pedestrian accident. Followed by a call-out to a man who’d been washed off the rocks in Freeman’s Bay as he attempted to land a fish and had broken his leg instead.
Lunchtime was a joke—snatched mouthfuls of bread rolls filled with ham and salad as they raced to another road accident, and then a child who’d fallen off the jungle gym at school, and then a mother who’d knocked a pot of boiling water off the stove and over her toddler.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
MICHAEL PUT THE phone down after his fourth call of the morning. He’d bathed, changed his dressing, dressed in jeans and a shirt. His leather jacket was slung over a chair. He’d drunk a plungerful of strong coffee and for the first time in days felt half human.
Only half. The scene this morning in bed with Stephanie still had to be resolved. But he was working on that.
That look of despair and hurt she’d tried to hide had pierced him deep.
Last night she’d told him she was doing something about where she lived, meaning she was moving forward, wasn’t letting the past hold her back. Throughout the night as he’d made love with her, held as she slept, as he’d breathed in honey, felt need deep in his stomach, he’d known excitement. And relief. Excitement and relief that she was staying—wasn’t rushing away, looking for everything she already had here in her home city.
