His Surgeon Under The Southern Lights. Robin Gianna

worry. I’ve seen plenty of sick people on this exact boat. No point in fighting it. You’ll feel better, then I’ll get your head fixed up.”

      “I don’t—” Oh, Lord, she couldn’t hold it back any longer, totally mortified as she got sick into the can.

      He stroked her hair, rubbed her back, talking the whole time in a soothing voice. She wasn’t sure what he said, and also wasn’t sure if his sweetness endeared him to her even more or made her want to hit him for not leaving her alone like she’d asked. What a way to get to know a guy.

      Except she didn’t want to get to know him, right? Trying to think of this horror as a potentially positive thing, she gave up trying to hold it back and got sick all over again.

      Finally, the awful feeling subsided. She went to wipe her mouth, avoiding looking at him, and he tucked a damp cloth into her hand along with a tin of mints. He disappeared with the trash can and she was torn between feeling beyond embarrassed he was having to play nurse, and grateful that he was getting rid of the mess. In minutes, he was back and reaching into the box he’d brought.

      “You feeling up to me cleaning your head? I can wait if you’re not ready.”

      “Ready.” Or as ready as she was going to be, with his body so close and his hands touching her, her embarrassment warring with a quivery feeling that had nothing to do with being tossed around the boat or with feeling sick and being injured.

      With a last swipe of the cloth across her mouth, she popped one of the mints. Feeling marginally better, and glad to have minty fresh breath instead of the prior awful taste in her mouth, she leaned her head against the wall to let him take care of the first aid she needed. Whatever he’d put on the gauze stung as he cleaned the wound. He obviously knew what he was doing, working slowly and gently, but she still couldn’t help but wince.

      “Hang in there. I know it hurts. Almost done with this part. Then I’ll glue it.”

      “Why do you have derma glue?”

      “Did you think I was lying when I said I’m a trained medic?”

      “I...forgot. Did you become a medic first, then decide to get your PhDs in marine biology and whatever else you said? Or the other way around?” she asked, as much to distract herself as because she wanted to know.

      “I grew up in a place where knowing first aid came in handy.” That seemed like an odd answer, and just as she was going to ask him what he meant, he continued. “Now I spend a lot of time in potentially dangerous waters and up mountain ranges and glaciers, like here in Antarctica. Cuts on coral, and bites and stings from sea life, or falls and other injuries, happen sometimes despite good planning. You better know what to do to treat yourself, or the people with you.”

      She nodded, and he cursed in response. “Hold still. I’m about to put the glue on now to close it. The cut’s barely an inch long, so won’t take but a second. Don’t. Move.”

      She steeled herself, but didn’t need to because she didn’t feel a thing. “Thanks so much for everything. I...really appreciate it. Trying to clean it and glue it myself wouldn’t have been easy.”

      “Hopefully, I won’t need your assistance the same way, Dr. Flynn, but we never know, do we?” He gave her another knee-weakening smile before he stood, his legs wide to keep his balance. “Stay put for a minute. I’m going to move everything off the lower bunk and secure it somewhere else, so you can sleep there instead of the top bunk.”

      She opened her mouth to protest, because some of the equipment was delicate. If any of it got broken, it would take a long time for more to be sent on a future ship. Then she realized that he was right, and she trusted him to make sure everything would be kept safe. Must be the calm strength and confidence that simply oozed from the man.

      She knew she’d sleep better, assuming she slept at all, if she was only a foot from the floor. And the last thing her banged-up body needed was another jolt out of that top bed. If that happened, she might not be able to get the clinic and hospital ready to go before the next ships arrived.

      “Thank you. Again.”

      “You’ll find we’re all a team here. No need to thank me for anything.”

      In no time, he had everything off the bed and secured as well as possible, the covers pulled aside, then came back to her. She felt strangely comfortable tucked into her corner with all that bedding and wasn’t sure she wanted to go back to that bunk. Except it was probably Zeke’s own bedding wrapped around her. He doubtless needed it back, or neither one of them would get any sleep.

      “Okay. Bed’s ready.”

      His arms moved to slide beneath her legs and back, and her independent side kicked in, knowing she shouldn’t let him carry her again.

      “I’m... I can walk.”

      “I’m sure you can. But why would you, when you’re probably shaky and the boat is still moving all over the place and I’m here?”

      “Well... I admit my head is throbbing, and I don’t much feel like staggering across the room right now.”

      “Appreciate a sensible woman.”

      He lifted her against his wide chest and held her close as he stepped to the bunk to lay her on it, then pulled the covers up to her chin. She had to smile even as she felt a little ridiculous. “You’re making me feel like a little kid with a boo-boo.”

      “Want me to tell you a nursery rhyme?” He smiled down at her, and her heart beat a little harder as their gazes met and held.

      Somehow, she shook herself out of the trance that Zeke Edwards seemed to put her in all too easily. “Not necessary, thanks. But can you do me one more favor?”

      “What’s that?”

      “My eye mask is somewhere on the floor near the door.”

      “Eye mask?” He barked out a laugh. “Is it filled with cucumber essence to keep you bright and beautiful?”

      “Funny. It’s great for travel, so don’t knock it until you’ve tried it. Makes me feel like I’m in a little cocoon, along with the foam earplugs I wear. Helps me sleep on long journeys or in strange places.”

      “Can I borrow yours to try?”

      That grin and the humor in his eyes tugged her mouth into a reluctant return smile. “Yes, because I always have at least two with me on a trip. Just in case.”

      Another chuckle as he picked the eye mask up from the floor and brought it to her, carefully sliding it over the top of her head before adjusting it to cover her eyes.

      “Sleep tight, Jordan Flynn.”

      “Good night, Zeke.” Jordan lay there still and quiet until she heard the click of the door.

      Well, damn.

      Yeah, she just might be in trouble here, but no way was she falling for a guy like Ezekiel Edwards. She wasn’t a fling kind of woman, and her next relationship would be with a steady man who wanted to share a perfect little house with a picket fence in a lovely neighborhood. Live in the same place for years and years, and have a few children who’d get to see their cousins and grandparents all the time. Grow up with the same friends their whole lives.

      Antarctica was not the place she’d find her future husband who wanted the same things she did, only men like Zeke who traveled the world for their work just as her parents had.

      She fished her single earplug from her pocket, having no idea where the other one had ended up, and stuffed it in her ear. Tried to eliminate thoughts of Zeke from her mind, without success. But it would be okay. Once at Fletcher Station they’d both be busy and she’d have no trouble steering clear of him, except in the most superficial, coworker way.

      She was sure of it. And never mind that her body still tingled from his touch.