Redeeming Her Brooding Surgeon. Sue MacKay

Morton that flashed into his mind. She might be as sexy as anything, but there was something about her that said don’t touch unless you’re serious. He was serious about having sex with her, but nothing more.

      ‘So you’re not interested in Kristina?’

      Silence. He couldn’t lie. Neither would he give Reid ammunition to give him a hard time.

      Ethan sighed. ‘She makes you laugh when no one else does. As for the sparks between the two of you, they had me looking for the fire extinguisher.’

      Again Chase ignored him. Those comments were too close for comfort. If this was what having a friend was like, he didn’t need one. Except over the previous six weeks he had begun to look forward to moments talking with Ethan. ‘Nothing’s going to come of those sparks. I’m all work and no play.’ He already had parents and a sister who loved him and who he couldn’t risk letting down—like he believed he had Nick even knowing he couldn’t have changed a thing. The guilt did that to him. This getting a little friendlier with Reid didn’t mean he was capable of allowing a woman close.

      The breeze moved around him, fanning his face. ‘Got to go. Talk to you again.’

      Kristina slipped up beside him. Apparently she had no qualms about intruding into his private spot out here. From the first trip of the summer it had got around that this particular corner was his, and no one encroached. No one until tonight. Sure, he’d rung Ethan, and been relaxed about talking to him here, because it had been his choice. But... ‘Kristina?’

      The breeze also held that scent of pine and flowers. That sweet and spicy aroma went with her all over the ship. Sometimes it followed him into sleep at night. Those were the times he woke restless and in need of a cold shower.

      Why did she invade his privacy like she had a right to? Funny how he couldn’t find it in him to care. Instead, he felt unusually happy she’d joined him, a feeling he couldn’t explain, neither was he about to try. It didn’t mean he was letting her close. He hadn’t lost all his faculties. They might’ve locked eyes over breakfast, sending the temperature in the room off the scale, but he’d had to deny the need boiling in his gut. Had to. How they’d walked away from each other was a mystery. So send her away before it happened again.

      ‘Please, don’t call me Kris.’

      ‘Kristina. Got it.’ That morning he’d kept crossing paths with her as they’d gone about their patients, and the tension in his body had wound tighter and tighter. Calling her Kris had been a deliberate wind-up. He’d thought she’d be angry, but instead she’d made him laugh.

      ‘Good.’

      ‘Other people must shorten your name.’ There had to be a reason Kris upset her. She wasn’t the type to be precious about her name. She carried herself with confidence and the upright stance common to military personnel. That poise kept everyone on their toes, including him, until one day on the last trip he’d seen a wealth of pain glittering in her eyes as they’d watched a child being buried at sea. Her tiny heart had given up within hours of coming on board—lack of food, too much sun, and who knew what else had taken the ultimate toll. It had been personally painful for him. Failing to save that girl despite doing everything possible and then some to bring her back to life had pained him.

      He hadn’t asked Kristina what was behind her agony. Things like that were too private to share. Hell, he was still getting used to the idea of him and Reid talking about the avalanche that had altered their lives for ever, and how Ethan had said they both had to learn to let go and move on. As if it was that easy. It could be. Oh, sure.

      Leaning her elbows on the rail, Kristina stared out over the moonlit Mediterranean and breathed deeply, saying nothing.

      A female who didn’t talk the lid off a pot? Nothing like Libby, then. His sister never knew when to stop gabbing at him about why he should stop wandering the world and return home to be near the family. Chase sighed. He came out here for solitude while he went through his day and gave himself a pat on the back if he’d saved anyone. But right now he craved to hear Kristina’s voice, couldn’t bear this silence between them. He went with something innocuous. ‘So you and Libby got on okay?’

      ‘She makes the best blueberry muffins ever.’ Kristina’s head bobbed, and hair fell across her cheek. It was rare for her to let it free from the severe ponytail that was her signature style. Army style?

      Many times over the past weeks he’d itched to flick the thick rope that fell down her back, pull away the band holding it in place to run his fingers through the golden waves. Shoving his fists deep into his pockets, he trawled his mind for something safe to say. ‘What did you think of Merrywood?’

      Kristina turned so the small of her back rested against the rail and a soft chuckle winded him with its warmth. ‘I loved it. Everyone was so friendly and welcoming, I wanted to stay on.’ Her fingers intertwined across her belly, tightening his gut further.

      So much for playing safe. ‘It can become claustrophobic, though. Especially when you’re a teenager and don’t want your parents finding out you’ve been smoking down by the river with your pals.’

      There was a wistfulness in her eyes as she said, ‘Surely that’s part of belonging somewhere?’

      Yep, and it tied a person to everyone so that when things went wrong they all were affected. Chase watched her hands making slow circular movements over her abdomen. Was she aware she did that whenever she went all thoughtful?

      This time the urge to make her talk, to break down her barriers didn’t bat him around the ears. Instead he relaxed, leaned against the rail, and went with being beside her, trying to accept this was as intimate as they should get. He had nothing to offer her other than a quick romp in the sack and they weren’t doing that. He didn’t trust this thing gripping him to let him go afterwards.

      But Kristina was unlike any other woman who’d pressed his buttons. She pressed them hard. Could that be the reason for his restlessness? He wasn’t in the market for a partner. Not when he had to be finding more people to save, trying to redeem himself for Nick. How many more lives would it take to be free of the guilt?

      Chase pushed the past aside, took a deep breath. The air was soft and warm, not cooling as the sun dropped below the horizon. Summer warmed his skin and his soul. There’d been a year when he’d followed summer around the world, working in countries where snow and ice were alien, because he’d known how snow could destroy a person and he would never put himself in that position again.

      But it hadn’t been enough so he’d enrolled in med school to learn in earnest how to save people. London winters were cold but his heart had coped, had borne the pain that came with memories of a colder, icier, crueller place he’d never returned to. Not once. Never would. He couldn’t. It wasn’t in him to go there and bury the ghosts. They would never let him get away a second time. Except these past weeks, spending time with Reid, tentatively touching on what had happened, he’d begun looking at things in a different light. Would it be possible to put it all behind him one day?

      Kristina’s soft voice snagged him. ‘I was called Kris in the army. When I wasn’t sir or captain.’ A tightness had crept into her tone.

      ‘You let them?’

      ‘Regardless of what the recruitment officers say, the military is still a masculine world. To fit in I was Kris. But I’ve objected to being called it since I was ten.’

      ‘Am I allowed to ask why?’

      ‘No big deal,’ she answered in a harsh tone, suggesting it was. ‘When my parents split up, my mother took me to LA with her where she met a man she was very keen on. When he proposed he told her in no uncertain terms that Kris was not part of the deal. The way he called me Kris was derogatory. I loathed it.’

      Chase leaned closer, breathed deeply of her scent. He’d never call her Kris again. Not even as a tease. ‘Did your mother tell him where to go?’

      ‘No. I returned to England soon