His Surgeon Under The Southern Lights / Reunited In The Snow. Amalie Berlin

get it ready for the thousand or so crew members who’d be arriving in a week or so. Plus, they’d seemed to love the idea of having the marine biologists test her parents’ diving invention while they were underwater gathering samples, which was equally exciting.

      Right now, only about seventy-five people were crossing the Drake Passage on this ship, getting things set up just like she was. Chefs and others prepping the kitchen and food, engineers getting machinery and equipment ready, and other support staff of all kinds. And, of course, a few scientists, with more on the way. Because scientific explorations, studies and discovery were the whole reason Fletcher Station existed.

      Jordan thought about her little flat in London, her steady surgery job and her predictable life, which was exactly what she’d wanted when she’d decided to set down roots for the first time ever. Living all over the world with her doctor parents had been a great way to grow up, but she wanted something different for her adult life, and was happy with her choices.

      She’d had to think hard about taking on this six-month stint in Antarctica. Then had decided, why not? One of these days, she expected that her roots would deepen and grow to include a husband and family, living in the same house together forever and ever. Until then, though, she’d enjoy this adventure, take care of patients and get further testing of her parents’ diving invention, one that would hopefully solve the problem of barotrauma. Doing a trial on how well it worked in Antarctica’s extremely cold water as compared to other places would be another strong step toward getting it on the market.

      The boat tossed hard, and to focus on something besides the rough ride, she tried to visualize what the medical center would look like, and how much would be involved in getting the equipment set up. Then, inexplicably, that picture was interrupted by an absurdly handsome face floating in her mind’s eye. A face that belonged to the man in the cabin next door.

      She’d been trying to get her door unlocked, hanging on to the doorjamb with one hand so she could stay upright, when he’d rounded a corner and strode down the hallway toward the door next to hers. He’d paused, with the key in his hand, to send her a charming smile and ask if she needed help. She’d given him a quick smile back and a “No, thanks” before she finally got the door unlocked and opened. She’d stepped inside and bolted it, relieved to climb up on the bunk and not have to wonder if she’d fall down before she got there.

      Making small talk with anyone while working to keep her balance and swallow down a slight queasiness hadn’t seemed very appealing. But now, in the rolling darkness of her cabin, his tall, muscular body, dark skin and deep brown eyes seemed to float in front of her. Eyes that held humor and intelligence, and a hint of a twinkle that had drawn her in the second she’d looked at him. Had even sent her heart into a ridiculous and unwelcome flutter.

      She frowned, wondering why in the world she was thinking about a guy she didn’t know. The deepening pitch of the boat had her grabbing the metal rungs at the top of the bed and holding on. Good thing she wasn’t prone to full-on seasickness, or she’d probably be crawling her way to the bathroom by now.

      Maybe sleeping on the top bunk hadn’t been the best idea. With the way the boat swayed, she’d been afraid that the equipment she’d brought would slide across the floor, or be dislodged from the top bed, so she’d secured it on the lower bunk. Probably, though, being higher made her feel the pitch of the boat more than she would otherwise. Just as she was pondering if maybe she should just try to sleep somewhere on the floor, the storm sent the boat into its deepest roll yet. First one direction, then the other, then back so suddenly and violently she was flung from the bunk.

      Her brain took a second to compute that she was airborne at the same time an automatic shriek left her lips. When her body reached the other side of the tiny cabin, her head connected with the wall as she slammed into it before dropping hard onto the floor like a rag doll thrown by a toddler. “Ow! Damn it!”

      Dazed, she lay there a moment. The bruises on her elbow and shoulder started to complain. Her head throbbed. Something warm slid onto her forehead, and she lifted a shaking hand, coming into contact with sticky blood. She shoved off her eye mask and felt around her hairline, confirming that her darned head was cut open. Carefully moving her fingers to figure out where exactly the blood was coming from, and to gauge how much was oozing, she determined it was a fairly small trickle. Must not be too bad a gash since scalps normally bled a lot, so nothing to stress over too much.

      She drew a shaky breath before gingerly sitting up. Figuring out what first aid might be necessary and how to actually accomplish it wasn’t going to be easy. Did she even have a mirror in here to try to look at it?

      Three loud raps on her door had her turning to stare at the gray metal panel and blink. It also made her realize that one of her earplugs had fallen out, even though she was sure she’d have heard that banging through double sets of the foam things.

      Breathing deeply through her nose again, she tried to compose herself and removed the other plug, too, shakily shoving it into her pocket.

      “Hey! You okay? Let me in.”

      Great. She closed her eyes and slumped back against the cabin wall. She’d bet good money that was her sexy neighbor’s voice. Last thing she wanted was to have him touching her head and making her feel all fluttery, which she had a bad feeling might happen again, considering she’d been thinking of him just moments ago. But of course that was ridiculous. Attractive? Yes. But so were a lot of other men on this ship. And all were men who traveled for their work, and that she didn’t have interest in.

      Jordan opened her mouth to say she was fine, but as the blood trickled on down to her eyebrow, she had to grudgingly face reality. It made a whole lot more sense to let him see what was going on with her head wound than her trying to figure out how to check it herself. In a dark cabin with no mirrors, while the seas threw the boat around like a toy.

      “Okay.” She tried to stand, but realized she felt surprisingly shaky, which wasn’t helped by the pitching of the boat. She ended up crawling to the door, feeling a little foolish as she reached up to unlock the knob, then leaned back against the wall next to it. “Come in.”

      The door crept open only a few inches, which she realized was smart on his part. Easy to accidentally bash someone if you shoved it wide open without first figuring out where they were. She could see him scan the room, then quickly look down, his brows rising and his eyes deep with concern even in the low light of the room.

      “Are you hurt?” He flipped on the light switch, then crouched down next to her, his hand on the doorjamb to keep himself steady as the boat rolled. “I heard a loud thud, then somebody—you—cry out. What happened?”

      “Got thrown from my bunk. Banged up. My head is bleeding, but just a little. Will you take a look and see what’s going on up there?”

      Another violent roll had her sliding sideways several inches on her rear, and his arm shot out to grab hers. “Let’s get you off this floor and onto the lower bunk, since it’s the only thing screwed down to the floor.”

      “No room. I have a bunch of equipment and stuff secured on there.”

      “Now there’s a good idea. Keep the equipment safer on the lower bunk than your body and head.” A disgusted sound left his mouth. “Hang tight. I’ll be right back.”

      She leaned her aching head back against the wall, hoping this wasn’t a bad omen to start the trip. Then again, some of the craziest and worst stuff that had happened to her and her parents on their working treks around the world later made for some of the best stories and laughs.

      At the sound of his feet coming up the hall, she turned to see him staggering into the cabin with an armload of bedding while the boat tipped deeply to one side again, and she couldn’t seem to keep from sliding back the other direction. “I’m going to tuck you into this corner over here so you’ll be still while I take a look.”

      “Little Jordan Horner sat in a corner eating her curds and whey,” she muttered.

      “You’re getting your nursery rhymes mixed up. Not to mention that’s a little weird.”