The Love Islands Collection. Jane Porter

‘You guessed it; I’ll be on duty soon. A diet cola will be fine.’ She watched as he poured and tossed in some ice, a slice of orange and a couple of straws.

      He watched while she took a sip. ‘Nathan seems like a good guy. What’s the problem?’ The bartender’s voice was steady with a curious edge. But it felt as if he’d just drawn a line in the sand as to where his loyalties lay. Great. She couldn’t even come to the bar for a drink.

      She gave her shoulders a shrug and took a sip through her straw. ‘Some might say it’s ancient history.’

      Her eyes met the guy in front of her. He was handsome, but a little rough around the edges. A scar snaked from his wrist to his elbow, he had a closely shorn head, a few days’ worth of stubble and eyes that had seen things they shouldn’t. She wondered what his story was.

      He gave her a knowing kind of smile. ‘Then maybe that’s the best place to leave it. Sometimes history should be just that—history.’

      She’d been wrong. He didn’t seem like a crazy crew member. He was a typical bartender. The kind that seemed to be able to read your mind and tell you exactly what you didn’t want to hear.

      She looked out at the perfect ocean. This place might not have the luxury facilities she’d been promised. But it was an incredibly beautiful setting. The kind of place where you should relax and chill out. The kind of place that probably had the most gorgeous sunsets in the world. She gave a sigh. ‘Sometimes history is too hard to let go of.’

      Len put another glass on the bar and filled it with lemonade. He held it up to hers. She hesitated, then held up her glass and chinked it against his. He smiled. ‘Maybe you should look at this a new way. Maybe it was fate that you both ended up here at the same time.’

      Fate. More like an interfering friend. She arched her back, her hand instantly going to the skin there, tracing a line along her own scar. She hadn’t thought for a second Nathan would be here. Her backpack had two bikinis that she’d never wear in front of him; they’d have to spend the next three weeks languishing at the bottom of her bag. She didn’t want him asking any questions. She didn’t want to explain her scar. It went hand in hand with her relationship with Darius. Things he didn’t need to know about.

      She didn’t really want to consider fate. It didn’t seem like her friend.

      She smiled at Len. ‘So what are your duties around here? I haven’t had a chance to look around much yet.’

      ‘Apparently I tend the bar, refill the drinks, supply ice and help the crew with setting up some of the tasks.’ He took another sip of his drink. ‘I’ve got experience in rock climbing. They said it would be useful for one of their tasks.’

      Rachel’s eyes widened. ‘You might have experience rock climbing but I’m betting none of the celebrities have. How safe is it to make them do something like that?’

      Len shook his head. ‘I’ve no idea. I’m just the extra pair of hands. I’m assuming they’ll have a safety briefing before they start. At least I hope they will.’

      Rachel gave a sigh and looked out over the perfect blue Coral Sea. This place really could be an island paradise. She rested her head on her hands. ‘What on earth have I got myself into?’

      Len laughed. He raised his glass again and gave her a worldly-wise gaze. ‘Probably a whole load of trouble.’

      She lifted her glass again and clinked it against his. She had a sinking feeling he could be right.

       CHAPTER FOUR

      RACHEL WATCHED AS the celebrities rowed towards the island. At least that was what she thought they were trying to do.

      ‘There’s going to need to be some serious editing,’ said the quiet voice behind her. ‘This is really quite boring.’

      She didn’t turn. She didn’t need to. She could actually feel his presence right behind her.

      He was right. The journey to the island didn’t seem like much of a journey. They’d been put into two boats and asked to row ashore as if they’d done it from the mainland. The truth was they were only a few hundred yards away. The boat with the sportsman Frank Cairns was already miles in front of the other. On a hot day his patience was obviously at an all-time low and he’d decided to do most of the rowing himself. His fellow celebs arrived onshore with big smiles on their faces.

      The second boat arrived filled with long, grumpy faces and instant moans. ‘My agent said I wouldn’t have to do anything like this,’ moaned Dazzle.

      ‘Your agent lied,’ muttered Pauline Wilding, the politician. ‘Haven’t you learned anything yet?’

      The male and female TV presenters appeared, trying to placate the celebrities and keep the atmosphere light. Rachel scanned her eyes over them all. One of the older women was limping already. The trek through the forest to the campsite wouldn’t help.

      Darius appeared comfortable. The row didn’t seem to have bothered him in the slightest. It made her feel a little easier. Everywhere she looked she could see potential problems. Scratches and bites that could become infected. Lack of proper nutrition. Contaminants from the horrible toilet the celebrities would need to use. If Darius had asked her if this was a good idea—she would have told him to run a million miles away.

      If any patient who’d just finished another dose of chemotherapy had asked if they should come here she would give a resounding no. A relaxing holiday in the Whitsunday islands on a luxury resort was one thing. Being dumped in a jungle to sleep for the next three weeks was another thing entirely.

      She’d been lucky. She’d only had to take a year out of her medical career. A long, hard year involving surgery to remove her cancerous kidney; chemotherapy, radiotherapy and annual check-ups for five years.

      Darius hadn’t been so lucky. They’d met in the cancer centre, with her fighting renal cancer and him fighting non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma. He’d relapsed twice since, each time becoming a little sicker than the last.

      What the world didn’t know was that Darius really hadn’t been her lover. He’d been her friend. Her confidant in a place she’d just moved to without any real friends.

      Nathan had no idea why she’d left. He’d just lost his parents and realised he needed to be his brother’s guardian for the next two years. She hadn’t mentioned any of the symptoms she’d had—the blood in her urine, the sick feeling and loss of appetite. They’d both been so busy in their first year as junior doctors that she’d barely had time to think much about her symptoms. A simple urine test dipstick on the ward had made her realise she needed to get some professional advice. But then Nathan’s parents had been killed and they were both left stunned.

      She’d held him while he’d sobbed and tried to arrange a joint funeral and sort out all the family finances. He’d just lost two people he loved. She’d nearly forgotten about her investigatory renal ultrasound. When her diagnosis had come she couldn’t possibly tell him. She couldn’t put him and Charlie through that. They needed time to recover. Time to find themselves. Charlie needed healthy people around him. Nathan needed to concentrate on getting his life back and learning how to be a parent to his brother.

      Neither of them needed the uncertainty of someone with a cancer diagnosis. So she’d done the only thing that seemed right. She’d phoned her mother in Australia and made contact with the local cancer unit over there. Her notes transferred and her treatment planned, she’d bought her plane ticket and packed her case.

      Australia had always been on the cards for Nathan and Rachel. They’d applied together. They’d meant to go together. But the death of Nathan’s parents meant all those plans had to be shelved.

      It was too risky to stay in England and be treated. Someone, somewhere, would have come across her and word would have got back to Nathan. She didn’t