Not that she particularly liked filing. She preferred her organized chaos. However, there were a ton of files on her desk, and Rosie had been pestering her for a week to put them away. Instead, she was waiting here for his flight to arrive.
“Flight 207 from Ottawa now arriving at gate three.”
The past, when it came to Dr. Quinn Devlyn, was where it needed to be: firmly locked away. She’d moved on and she had no doubt his life had, too. He was, after all, at the top in his chosen specialty, and she was right where she’d always wanted to be.
This time Quinn Devlyn wouldn’t blindside her or suck her into some crazy off-kilter distracting, albeit passionate, love affair.
No, siree.
Her life was good. Not perfect but, then, whose was? Charlotte was happy.
Courage.
She spun around and saw the plane taxi in on the small airstrip, blending in with the stark, white landscape of Canada’s High Arctic. The only color out there was the brightly painted houses that dotted the landscape. Her pulse thundered between her ears.
He’s here.
The pit of Charlotte’s stomach dropped to her knees. No. Scratch that. Make it the soles of her feet. Not since her MCATs had she felt this way, as though she was perpetually on the verge of hurling.
She was seriously beginning to doubt her sanity in bringing her ex-fiancé up to Cape Recluse. It wasn’t a place where she could avoid him easily. He’d be constantly underfoot and she was dreading every moment of it. Would she be able to resist him? The only time she had resisted him had been when he’d left. When their relationship had ended, she’d never wanted to see him again, but his presence here now was a price she was willing to pay to help out her friend.
Get a grip on yourself.
A blast of cold air shook her from her reverie. Her gaze focused on the tinted windows, watching the passengers head across the tarmac to the warmth of the bright yellow airport building. Immediately she picked Quinn’s form out of the group of passengers.
Tall and broad, even though he was huddled down under his collar against the cold. Just the sight of him made her heart beat a little bit faster, her cheeks heat and the butterflies in her stomach go crazy. Her pulse thundered between her ears like a marching band. She hadn’t seen him in five years—not since he’d walked out on her—but he was making her feel like a giddy teenager again.
Don’t let him affect you like this, Charlotte chastised herself. She’d moved on with her life. The wound he’d left in her heart had finally healed.
The double doors opened and he stepped into the airport, moving to the side to let more people in from the frigid cold.
He set down his luggage and unwound his scarf.
Damn, he still looks as good as ever. Charlotte had been kind of hoping Quinn’s fast, career-driven lifestyle would’ve caught up with and aged him, but he looked as sexy and charming as ever.
Even from a few feet away she could see there was a bit of gray around his sandy-brown temples, but it suited him. Made him look more dashing and debonair. Some stubble shadowed his chin, but it didn’t hide the faint line of the scar that crossed his lips. A tingle of heat shot through her body as she suddenly recalled the way his lips had brushed across hers. A flush of goose bumps spread across her skin just at the thought of the way he would kiss a path down her body, his strong hands caressing her, holding her.
What’re you doing? She was not some lovestruck goofy med student anymore. She was a physician with a thriving practice. There was no way she was going to let him in again.
Hell would have to freeze over, not that it would take much, given the current temperature outside was minus thirty.
Charlotte shut those memories away firmly, refusing to think about them any further.
Instead, she remembered how he’d brushed off the miscarriage of their child as being for the best.
As a chance to move to New York and pursue their careers.
Only New York had not been what she’d wanted. She was where she wanted to be. Not to follow him had been her decision, her right to go after her dreams.
I can do this for Mentlana.
This was all for her best friend. The only thing close to a family she’d had since her father had died when she was ten. Charlotte never knew her mother, who’d died when she was two. Mentlana and her family had been there with open arms when Charlotte had returned to Cape Recluse after Quinn had left and she’d lost her baby.
Correction: their baby.
Now Mentlana needed help and Quinn was the best when it came to neonatal medicine. For her best friend, Charlotte would face death itself. Even though, as far as she was concerned, Dr. Quinn Devlyn was far more dangerous than the Grim Reaper. She’d take him on, anyway.
Quinn would save Mentlana’s baby.
Mustering her courage and holding her head high, Charlotte strode over to him. All the while her heart was racing and her knees shook like they were about to give out on her. He looked up, his chocolate gaze reeling her in as she moved toward him. His eyes were twinkling and she suddenly remembered how easy it was to get lost in those eyes.
They were hypnotizing.
The thought frightened her and she stopped a foot away from him, frozen in fear. Distance from him would be the safest.
Remember, he left you. You can’t get hurt again. You’re over him.
She couldn’t let her guard down when it came to Quinn Devlyn.
Not now that she was finally whole again.
“Well, well. If it isn’t the great wilderness physician,” he teased, as his eyes roved over her from head to toe, a haughty smile on his lips and that damn dimple in his cheek popping up.
His mocking tone made her grind her teeth just a bit. She pressed her lips together, forcing a smile. “Dr. Devlyn. I’m glad you could come.”
“It’s Dr. Devlyn, now? When did we become so formal? I know we didn’t part on good terms, but can we drop the formalities?” The spicy scent of his cologne—a clean scent of masculine soap and something else—teased her senses.
“Fine, but first names are as far as we go, do you understand? You’re here in a professional capacity. Nothing more.”
“Agreed. I would expect nothing less, Charlotte.”
It was the way he said her name that triggered the memory. The two of them together for the first time, locked in a small hotel room in Niagara Falls, and the way he’d whispered her name against her neck.
“God, Charlotte. I need you.”
I need you. Never, I love you. She should’ve taken that as a sign when she’d said yes to his proposal in the first place, but she’d been so blinded by love.
Charlotte nodded, but blooming warmth in her stomach spread to her cheeks. “Did you have a good flight?” she asked, trying to make small talk.
“As good as can be expected. The man next to me seemed to invade my space a lot, but overall it was as enjoyable as any other flight.” He pulled up the handle to his rolling suitcase with a snap. The tone was a bit arrogant and that attitude was why she’d never brought him to Cape Recluse when they had first got engaged. Quinn had champagne tastes and was a city slicker through and through. Of course, if she’d brought him home when they had first got engaged it might’ve saved her some heartache.
Then she wouldn’t have lost the baby, except she didn’t regret carrying