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‘Dr Sinclair, drinking already?’

Isla flashed hot then cold, shock and unwanted excitement coursing through her like petrol, and with the sheer unfairness of his accusation as the match.

She drew in a deep, furious breath. ‘I don’t think...’

‘I’m not asking what you think, Doctor.’ He cut her off instantly. ‘A word, please. Now.’

CHAPTER SIX

NIKHIL BARELY WAITED for Isla to join him before striding out of the bar and back along the corridor to the bank of crew-only elevators, trying not to think about where they’d been heading the last time they’d been in an elevator together.

And wasn’t that the problem?

Seeing her sitting there in the bar, already so at home with his crew, was like a punch to the gut. Not least because he’d been glad to see her there.

What the hell was that about?

He never liked to mix professional and private. Yet, in that moment, the only thing he’d really wanted to do was get her alone and pick back up where they’d left off that morning.

He simply hadn’t been able to help himself from heading over to her. The woman was like some kind of opiate, and he seemed hell-bent on getting a high. If he’d walked away, no one would have known any different. Instead, he’d marched up to her in front of half of the rest of the medical staff and made some kind of damned scene.

All because he wanted Isla Sinclair, with a ferocity that he’d never experienced before.

Stepping inside the elevator beside him, she turned around and folded her arms over her chest, a hint of mulishness about her delicious mouth.

‘I didn’t ask for this transfer,’ she announced.

‘Not here, please,’ he clipped out swiftly.

‘You think someone’s going to overhear us?’

‘Not here,’ he repeated simply. A command, not a request.

And possibly more to keep his own charging, roaring emotions in check than anything else. Still, Nikhil wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d made a point of non-compliance. But, even though she exhaled deeply, she didn’t try to say anything more, and Nikhil was left to his own thoughts.

The overriding one being that he should feel more aggrieved than he did that she was here, on his ship.

He’d received the call from Head Office a few hours ago informing him that, to expedite handovers, they’d opted to transfer a Dr Sinclair to his ship because she happened to be in Chile.

She might never have told him her surname, but his gut had known instantly it was her. If he hadn’t been caught up with a safety boat issue on the crew decks he probably would have been the one to conduct her interview in place of the Captain.

He was glad he hadn’t. It had taken all this time for him to get his head straight. If he even had it straight now.

Deep in the logical side of his brain he knew it made sense. She was in Chile waiting for the Hestia to arrive, once the Cassiopeia had left. So assigning her to this ship meant that they wouldn’t be late leaving port. Apparently, another doctor who was, even now, airborne and on their way to this port would be better placed to join the Hestia instead.

But it wasn’t the efficacy of the transfer that concerned him the most. This thing that was worming its way through him wasn’t annoyance or aggravation. It was something far, far more dangerous. More inappropriate.

It was altogether too much like pleasure. A sort of thrill that she was here—on his ship. And as much as Nikhil tried to punch it down, it wouldn’t go.

He, who had spent his entire career zealously avoiding blurring the lines between his personal life and his professional one.

He’d known he had a problem last night when they’d had sex—maybe even before that. He’d wanted it—her—too much. With a ferocity that he couldn’t explain. And when he’d left that morning it had taken all he’d had not to turn around and stay, just that little bit longer.

And longer, again.

So what did it say that the urge to pull her into his arms, right here and now, and take up where they’d left off that morning was so damned strong?

He clenched his fists tightly and thrust them into the pockets of his uniform. He could smell the light hint of coconut in her shampoo from here, pervading his nostrils and conjuring up images he was a desperately trying not to see, his mind echoing with memories of her gasps and cries as he’d licked her to ecstasy.

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