His Surgeon Under The Southern Lights. Robin Gianna

ROLLING OF the boat lasted all night and into the next morning, and when the storm finally subsided, Zeke drew a deep breath of relief. He had trouble sleeping no matter where he was, and figured that, between the deep, rocking waves and her poor, sore head, Jordan probably hadn’t gotten much, either.

      When Captain John Stewart announced over the loudspeaker that everyone was now allowed out of their cabins for lunch before they docked, Zeke couldn’t wait to get some fresh air. Out in the hallway he paused, wondering if it would be too pushy to knock on Jordan’s door to see how she was doing. He decided that, since she’d had a head injury, it was perfectly acceptable for him to check on her.

      He rapped on the door. “Jordan? Zeke. Wondering how you’re feeling.”

      “I’m fine.” Her voice was muffled, but she sounded fine. Very fine, just like the rest of her. “Thanks again for your help last night.”

      “You’re welcome.” He stuck his hands in his pockets, wondering if she’d invite him in. Waited for the door to open so he could see her pretty face and deep blue eyes. When it didn’t, he was surprised and annoyed at how disappointed he felt. Probably shouldn’t be, though, since thinking of her just one cabin over, and how she’d felt in his arms, had been part of the reason he’d been awake half the night. “So, I guess I’ll see you around.”

      “’Kay.”

      With that clear dismissal, he shook off the odd feeling and headed to the deck to breathe in the now-calmer wind and talk with people he knew. The main conversation was about last night and how it had been one of the worst Drake Passage storms they’d been through, which morphed into everyone trying to one-up each other with nightmare sea stories from their pasts.

      Grinning at the good-natured arguments and obvious exaggerations, he decided to head to the bridge to find out how much longer they’d be until landfall.

      “What’s with the roll of this tub?” he asked John as he stepped through the door. “Two days ago, you said it looked like smooth sailing. Pretty sure last night didn’t qualify.”

      John laughed, but kept his eyes on the gently rolling swells in front of them. “Sorry. It was one of those times when the weather changed in the blink of an eye. But we’re at a steady twenty knots now, and I think it’ll stay there until we get to shore.”

      “Says the man convinced it would be Lake Drake this whole trip, flat as a pancake.” He thought about Jordan getting hurt flying out of her bunk and pondered telling John about it, since, as captain, he’d want to know. But he had a feeling Jordan wouldn’t want a bunch of questions about it, and he’d look at her head when he had a chance. No need to have John check on her when Zeke could do it himself.

      “Yeah, well, it takes a big man to admit that sometimes he’s wrong,” John said, “and I pride myself on being pretty big.”

      Zeke chuckled, knowing he was referring to his girth as much as anything. “How long until we get there?”

      “About...” He peered at the dials, then the horizon. “Forty-five minutes.”

      “That soon? You told everyone they could come to the lounge for lunch, but there won’t be time for that.”

      “We made better time than I expected. The plus side of the winds and currents we had last night. But we’ve got lunch all ready, so we’re still going to hand it out to those who want it.” John shrugged. “Just sandwiches, though. It was all the kitchen crew could put together with the weather we had, and I didn’t know when it would clear up. So I told them to go ahead and make a sandwich lunch. Trying to eat bacon and eggs from a plate isn’t easy when the ship’s all over the place, as you know.”

      “Sandwich sounds good. Thanks. I’ll grab one before I get all my equipment pulled together. Appreciate the ride, such as it was.”

      “Anytime.” John grinned as they shook hands. “See you the other way in...what? Six months?”

      “That’s the plan, unless I have to leave earlier to make sure my next grant gets approved. See you then.”

      Zeke headed to the lounge to make sure he got one of the sandwiches, since he suddenly realized he was hungry, not having had much for dinner. An empty stomach in stormy seas wasn’t a good thing, but neither was a full one, and he’d tried to find the right balance before he’d headed to bed.

      Thinking of how he’d startled awake with a pounding heart when he’d heard Jordan slam against that wall, then cry out, had him wanting to check on her again. Except she’d made it clear she didn’t want that, so he planned to do the next best thing, which was to be a considerate guy and grab a sandwich for her, too. After getting sick last night, and everything else, she was probably starving.

      The moment he walked into the lounge, his gaze went straight to the tall, slender woman with shiny dark hair to her shoulders. She was standing next to the rows of wrapped sandwiches, and his heart did a strange little pit-a-pat to see her there.

      Apparently, he’d been right. Jordan was indeed hungry.

      He moved to stand next to her, leaning down. “I’m a fan of the Reubens, but the turkey with bacon is good, too.”

      “I thought about getting the veggie, but saw it has raw onions. Yuck.”

      The way she cutely screwed up her face in obvious distaste made him smile. “I’m with you. Raw onions on a sandwich is a solid no for me.”

      “Yes. A solid no.” Her mouth relaxed into a wide grin, and he realized it was the first full smile he’d seen from her. He liked the way it made her deep blue eyes twinkle, and a dimple poke into one cheek. “Any idea when we’ll be docking?”

      “Captain Stewart said about forty-five minutes. Less than that now. So before we do, I want to take a look at your head. How’s it feel?”

      “Honestly? It hurts. Way more than last night. But that’s to be expected of a gash and bruise like that.”

      “Let’s go out on the deck so I can see it.”

      “It’s fine.”

      “You just said it hurts.”

      “Like there’s something you can do about that? Just needs time to heal, that’s all.”

      “So, when you have a patient that refuses to let you follow up after their treatment, you nod and are perfectly okay with that? I just want to look at the glue job, and see if it seems to be holding well.” He wasn’t sure why he felt so frustrated at her stubbornness. She was a surgeon, after all, and knew all about wounds and derma glue, and if she wanted to deal with it herself, what was it to him?

      Maybe because the sound of her hitting that wall in the middle of the night had woken him from the terrifying dreams he sometimes endured, and he still felt a little unsettled by all of it. Wasn’t it normal to want to check on her now, to make sure she was really okay?

      For long seconds, her gaze clashed with his, until she released an exaggerated sigh. “Okay, fine. But can we please find a place where not everyone on the ship is going to be coming up to us and asking what happened?”

      So he’d been right that she wouldn’t want John, or anyone else, making too big a deal of her injury, and what happened last night.

      “I know a good spot.”

      He nearly reached for her hand, but was pretty sure she wouldn’t appreciate the familiarity, even though they’d shared an unusual closeness last night. He stuck his fist into his coat pocket instead. Most people were at the bow of the ship to see Antarctica in the distance, so Zeke led the way to the back of the boat and around a corner where they’d be alone.

      Wind whipped her soft hair into her face and she reached back to gather it into a ponytail behind her head. He tried not to get distracted by the beautiful line of her jaw that he’d noticed in the low light of her cabin last night.

      He drew in a breath and put his