The Honourable Army Doc. Emily Forbes

say he was surprised would be an understatement. Astounded, perhaps. No, flabbergasted, that was a better word. He’d never had an occasion to use that word before but it was the perfect word for this situation.

      He’d just been employed by Ali’s mother? The petite, colourful Indian woman was Ali’s mother?

      That would at least partly explain Ali’s unusual colouring, Quinn thought as he absorbed the fact that she was here, in the flesh, in front of him. He’d suspected Spanish or maybe Mediterranean heritage but an Indian lineage made sense too.

      He hadn’t taken his eyes off her. He couldn’t. She was even more beautiful than he remembered. She was wearing a red silk shirt that exactly matched the colour of her lips. He hadn’t forgotten those lips. The colour had imprinted itself on his subconscious and had not faded in his memory over the past weeks. He didn’t think he’d ever be able to see the colour red without thinking of her.

      She looked healthy and vibrant. Her olive skin glowed. It looked warm and soft, alive.

      She hadn’t moved. He had no doubt she was equally as surprised as he was. He knew not all surprises were good ones but from where he was standing this surprise was all positive. He hoped she agreed.

      Seeing her made him feel that applying for this position had been a good decision. For the first time in a month and a half he felt as though his life wasn’t completely out of control. He recalled the sense of calmness he’d felt on the night they’d first met. Now, more than ever, he could use some peace and serenity.

      He watched as her frown deepened. He could see the questions in her grey eyes.

      ‘I don’t understand. What are you doing here?’ Her soft, sultry voice caressed his senses. He wanted to close his eyes and relax and let her voice wash some of his troubles away. ‘Aren’t you with the army?’

      ‘It’s a long story.’ And a complicated one. Quinn knew that, as surprised as Ali was to see him, his reasons for being here would surprise her even further. It wasn’t something he could explain in a couple of sentences. He needed time and no interruptions. ‘Can we go somewhere else? Your mother will want her room; I’ll explain but not in here.’

      She nodded and led him into the corridor and across the hall. He followed and his eyes were drawn to the sway of her hips, which made the hem of her black skirt kick up, exposing the tops of a pair of long black boots. Even though he couldn’t see her legs he could remember the shape of her calves, the narrowness of her ankles, and he felt the unfamiliar kick in his stomach that he knew was desire.

      Ali opened the third door on the opposite side of the building and turned to face him. He made himself focus, dragging his attention from her backside as she spoke to him.

      ‘This is the spare consulting room. It will be yours while you’re here.’

      She sounded far from convinced and he couldn’t blame her. It was an odd situation to find themselves in and it was obvious neither of them quite knew how to handle it. But he’d have to do his best to explain his circumstances.

      By silent consent he took the chair in front of the desk. The desk was positioned in front of the window and he was vaguely aware of a view onto a side garden but he was having difficulty dragging his gaze from Ali. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail that spilled over one shoulder and she sat in the chair beside the desk and crossed her ankles, tucking her feet under the chair. She was sitting very upright, her posture as perfect as the night he’d met her, but he sensed that now it was more of a conscious effort. Her shoulders seemed tense, as though she was holding herself together, keeping up appearances, and he wondered what it was about the situation that was making her nervous.

      ‘What are you doing here?’ Ali repeated her earlier question. ‘Have you left the army?’

      He shook his head. ‘Not exactly. I’ve taken leave, carer’s leave.’

      ‘Carer’s leave?’ she parroted. ‘Who for?’

      ‘My wife,’ he replied.

      ‘You’re married?’ He saw her glance at his ring finger. It was bare. Just as it had always been.

      ‘Ex-wife,’ he corrected quickly. ‘We’re divorced.’ Their marriage had hardly been a textbook one but even now he struggled with the ‘ex’ part. Not because he still wanted to be married but because it was a reminder of his failings as a husband. For someone who was, by nature, a perfectionist, it bothered him that he hadn’t been able to keep a marriage together.

      Ali was frowning again. ‘You’re caring for your ex-wife? Why?’

      ‘It’s complicated.’

      ‘I’m sure it is.’ She smiled, inviting him to tell her more. But telling her more would wipe the smile from her face. He had no doubt about that. And he wasn’t sure if he wanted to be the one to make her smile disappear. If Ali was smiling he could pretend that things were fine with the world.

      ‘You’re not doing a very good job of explaining why you’re here.’ Ali spoke into the silence that stretched between them.

      Quinn pinched the bridge of his nose and ran his thumb and forefinger out along each eyebrow, trying to ease the tension he could feel through his forehead as he summoned the strength to tell her what she was waiting to hear. He was yet to find an easy way to deliver this sentence. ‘My wife, ex-wife,’ he corrected himself again, ‘has a brain tumour.’

      He was relieved when she didn’t gasp or hesitate or stammer something inane, like most people did. Being a doctor, she grasped the situation better than most. ‘What grade?’ she asked. Her question was matter-of-fact. There was no room for emotion, just the facts.

      ‘A GBM IV.’ He could see by Ali’s expression that she understood the poor prognosis. Her olive skin paled slightly. Ali didn’t know Julieanne, she didn’t owe her any sympathy, but Quinn could see that she felt for her. Astrocytomas were the most common primary brain tumour in adults but their characteristics and prognoses varied widely. Glioblastoma multiforme IV was a fast-spreading, highly malignant tumour. It was not the one you wanted to be diagnosed as having.

      But Julieanne’s condition still didn’t completely explain his reasons for being there. ‘My mother-in-law has moved in with them,’ he continued, before Ali could ask more questions, ‘but she can’t manage to care for Julieanne and the children. I’m doing it for my kids. After all, they are my responsibility.’

      ‘Children?’

      He’d forgotten Ali didn’t know about his daughters. Forgotten she knew virtually nothing at all about him. There was a part of him that felt as though he’d known her all his life. An idea in his head that they’d shared more than just a brief conversation many weeks ago. He nodded. ‘Two girls.’

      Her shoulders relaxed as she leaned forward in her chair, closing the distance between them, letting her guard down. She stretched a hand towards him, as though to touch him, before she thought better of it. Her hand dropped into her lap and Quinn’s heart dropped with it. The movement served to highlight to him how much he wanted to feel her touch. How badly he needed to be connected to another person. To Ali.

      ‘Oh, Quinn, how terrible for them. I’m so sorry.’

      Her response surprised him. He realised he’d expected her to ask him about the girls but instead her first response was one of empathy. He appreciated that curiosity wasn’t first and foremost in her mind. He took her empathy as a show of support. She didn’t find it strange that he would drop everything to care for his ex-wife and he had a feeling she would have been disappointed in him if he hadn’t.

      Ali wanted to comfort him and she was almost tempted to reach for him before she realised that might be inappropriate. No matter how she imagined him, no matter that seeing him again made her pulse race and a bubble of excitement build inside her, the fact of the matter was they were strangers. He probably didn’t need or want her comfort.

      Her own problems shrank in comparison to Quinn’s. Her own disappointment