They were so different, but her difference was what had excited him most.
Quinn pushed aside all those thoughts. They would do nothing but get him into trouble. He was a professional.
A surgeon.
The plane jolted and she was thrown against the dash. Quinn unbuckled and reached out, steadying her. The scent of her coconut shampoo wrapped around him, reminding him of the summer they’d spent in Yellowknife, in a cabin on the shores of Great Slave Lake. Endless nights of blistering passion under the midnight sun.
“Are you okay?” he asked, closing the small gap between them. He could see her pulse racing at the base of her throat.
“I’m fine. Fine.” She cleared her throat and shrugged her shoulders. Only he didn’t move his hands from her shoulders. He enjoyed holding her again and she didn’t shrug out of his arms or move from his touch.
“Are you certain?” he asked again. The blush still stained her skin, her gaze locked with his and her breathing quickened. She parted her lips and he fought the urge to steal a kiss from her. But he wanted to.
So badly.
LET GO OF HER. She didn’t want you.
“Charlotte?” His voice cracked, he cleared his throat. “Are you okay?”
She broke the connection and turned away. “I’m fine. You’d better buckle up in case we hit some more turbulence.” She didn’t look at him but she appeared perturbed.
“Sure.” He could take a hint. Quinn cursed himself inwardly for letting his guard down. When he’d decided to come up here he’d told himself to keep emotionally detached from her, but two hours in her presence and he was being swayed by her again. Just being around her and he forgot what had passed between them—for him it was like they’d never been apart.
She was like a drug that intoxicated him quickly.
Charlotte’s cold brush-off brought him out of the past into the present, and keenly reminded him of how lonely his life had been without her. He didn’t like to be reminded of that.
He buckled back up and looked out the window as the clouds dissipated. In the distance the white landscape became dotted with brightly colored buildings, which appeared to be raised on stilts above the snow, smoke rising steadily from the chimneys.
So this is Cape Recluse.
The cape was at the mercy of the elements and the Northwest Passage surrounded it on three sides. The town itself was nestled against a panorama of majestic mountains. Squinting, he faintly made out what looked like a tiny airstrip on a sheet of ice.
The whole town looked barren and very, very rustic. It was like something out of the old frontier towns of the Wild West, only snow covered. Quinn knew he was on the edge of civilization, here.
This was what Charlotte preferred over New York?
She flicked on the radio and gave out her call number. “Preparing to land.”
“Roger that,” came the crackling acknowledgment over the line.
Charlotte brought her plane in to land. Quinn was impressed with her piloting abilities as she brought the aircraft to a smooth landing on the slick airstrip. When the wheels of the plane touched the ice, the jet skittered slightly, but Charlotte kept control and then visibly relaxed.
As she swung the plane round towards the small hangar, Quinn saw a group of villagers milling about.
“That’s quite a homecoming.”
“Yes, well, there’s not much winter entertainment up here,” Charlotte said.
“I’ll bet there isn’t.” Quinn regretted his muttered comment the moment it had slipped past his lips.
Smooth move.
Charlotte’s eyes narrowed and flashed in annoyance, but all she said was, “Well, we’ll get you settled.”
She taxied the plane into the hangar.
“Sounds good.” He could do with a long, hot shower and some sleep, but judging from the size of the town he didn’t see any four-star accommodation nearby. The sooner he dealt with Mentlana Tikivik’s case, the sooner he could get back to Toronto, and sanity.
Charlotte’s pulse rate felt like a jackhammer at the moment and she hoped Quinn hadn’t noticed how much he had affected her.
Damn.
One stupid little embrace during turbulence had set off all sorts of crazy hormones zinging through her body.
His stay in Cape Recluse was going to be more trying than she’d originally thought and had tried to tell herself it would be. To make matters worse, there were no hotels in town and Quinn would be staying with her. He had to stay with her.
When his arms had wrapped around her in the cockpit, her blood had ignited and her common sense had wrestled with the side of her that had wanted to toss aside the plane’s controls and throw herself into his arms.
Totally irrational.
She was the fly to his spider, apparently.
It wasn’t like she was desperate. She’d gone on other dates with good-looking, exciting men, but she hadn’t lost her head around them.
And that was the point. Quinn always made her feel giddy, like a lovestruck fool. He was exciting, sexy and handsome, and made her body burn with a pleasure she hadn’t felt since he’d left.
Every day she’d be forced to face Quinn, the man who had broken her heart, but she had to do this for Mentlana. She knew she’d be putting her heart at risk, and it had only recently mended since he’d left her for the greener pastures of New York. She’d rarely thought of him for the last couple years.
Liar.
Of course she’d thought about him, even though for the last couple years it hadn’t been as constant as it had been before that. Except for one day. Every year on the anniversary of the day she’d miscarried the baby and had nearly bled out, she’d thought of him and what could’ve been had he not walked away.
Only, what could’ve been was just a fantasy. Quinn wouldn’t have settled down. She realized that now.
Her throat constricted as she tried to swallow down those emotions. When she thought of what could have been, when she thought about the family she’d always dreamed of, she fought the urge to break down in tears.
Don’t think about it.
Charlotte took a deep, calming breath, removed her headpiece and climbed out of the cockpit. “Doc Charley!”
Charlotte glanced up to see George, her paramedic, approaching the plane. She embraced George, who was like a brother to her.
“Good to see you, Doc. Good flight?” he asked, though Charlotte knew he wasn’t really that concerned about her flight. He was a pilot, too, and the Citation was like his baby. George moved away and stroked the side of the jet for good measure. “Any problems?”
“None. Your baby is fine and the flight was good.” She glanced back to see if Quinn was disembarking okay. He appeared to be, as he climbed stiffly out of the cockpit.
“Dr. Devlyn.” Charlotte waved him over, and Quinn strode over, his gaze intently focused on George. He didn’t respond. Charlotte gritted her teeth. “Quinn, this is George Atavik. He’s my paramedic and copilot. George, this is Dr. Devlyn, the specialist from Toronto.”
George grinned, flashing brilliant white teeth.