He paused. She was watching him carefully, almost holding her breath. ‘It was good experience.’ It seemed the best way to sum things up. Rachel didn’t need to know what he’d seen or what he’d dealt with. She had a good enough imagination. He’d already told her more than he’d intended to.
But curiosity about her was getting the better of him. ‘What’s your speciality?’
For a second she seemed thrown. She bit her lip and fixed her eyes on a spot on the wall, her hand tugging nervously at her ear.
With Rach, it had always been a telltale sign. And his instant recognition came like a thunderbolt. He’d thought he’d known this woman so well. But he hadn’t really known her at all. That was probably what stung the most.
‘I took a little time off when I came to Australia.’ Her eyes looked up to the left. ‘Then I worked as a general medical physician for a while, dealing with a mix of diabetic, cardiac, respiratory and oncology patients.’ Her feet shifted on the floor.
Her gaze meshed with his and something shot through him. A wave of recognition. She tugged at her ear. She’s going to change the subject.
After all these years he still knew her little nuances. ‘I thought you might have gone into surgery. That’s what you were always interested in.’
She was right. He had talked about going into surgery. And he’d certainly had his fair share of surgical experience around the world. But even though he’d just acknowledged that he still knew her little nuances, he was annoyed that she thought she still knew things about him.
She’d walked away. She’d lost the right to know anything about him. She’d lost the right to have any insight into his life.
His voice was blunt. ‘A surgical internship would have taken up too many hours. At least with A & E I had regular shifts without also being on call.’
The implication was clear. Looking after his brother had changed his career pathway. He didn’t like to think about it. He didn’t like to acknowledge it—especially not to someone who had turned and walked away. Maybe if Rachel had stayed he could still have chosen surgery as his path? It would have been easier to share the load between two people.
But Rachel didn’t seem to be picking up his annoyance. ‘You must have got a wide range of experience with Doctors Without Borders. Did you do some surgery?’
‘Of course I did. It’s all hands on deck out there, even though you’re in the middle of the desert.’ His eyes drifted off to the grey wall. If he closed his eyes right now he could almost hear the whump-whump of the incoming medevac helicopters. He could feel the sensation of the tiny hairs on his arms and at the back of his neck standing on end in nervous anticipation of the unknown.
Sometimes civilians—men, women and children—sometimes army, navy or air force personnel. You never knew what you were going to see when you pulled back the door on the medevac.
The medical services were some of the best in the world, but at times Nathan’s surgical skills had been challenged.
The tick-tick of the clock on the wall brought him back into focus. A little shiver ran down his spine.
A warm hand touched his arm and he jolted. ‘Nathan? Are you okay?’
A frown creased her brow. The concerned expression on her face made him angry. How dare she feel sorry for him?
He snatched his arm away. ‘Of course I’m fine.’ He crossed his arms over his chest and walked around to the files again. ‘I’m going to write up some notes. Make a few recommendations to the director. Why don’t you go over to the beach or something?’
It was dismissive. Maybe even a little derogatory. But he just wanted her out of here. Away from him.
For a second Rachel looked hurt, then her jaw tightened and the indignant look came back in her eyes. The Rachel he’d known would have stood her ground and torn him down a few pegs.
But this Rachel was different. This Rachel had changed. She nodded, almost sarcastically. ‘Sure. That’s exactly what I’ll do.’ She picked up one of the pagers from the desk, clipping it to her waist without even acknowledging the act. She walked away without a glance. ‘They better make cocktails at that bar …’
The door closed behind her with a thud and he waited a few seconds before he collapsed back into the seat. One minute he was mad with her, the next he was being swamped with a whole host of memories.
One thing was for sure. This island wasn’t big enough for the both of them.
RACHEL WAS FURIOUS. She couldn’t wait to put some distance between her and Nathan.
She rubbed the palm of her hand against her shorts. It was almost burning. The contact with his skin, the gentle feel of the hairs on his arms underneath her hand was something she hadn’t been ready for.
It was hard enough being around him again. She felt catapulted into a situation she was unprepared for. In her distant daydreams, she’d been sure that if she’d ever met Nathan again she would have been ready. Mentally. And physically.
She’d be wearing her best clothes. Something smart. Something professional. Her hair would have been washed and her make-up freshly applied. She would have practised how to casually say hello. All her responses would be easy, nonchalant. Or at least rehearsed over and over again so they would seem that way.
She would have a five-minute conversation with him, wishing him well for the future, and then walk off into the distance with a little swing of her hips.
She would be composed, controlled. He would never guess that her heart was breaking all over again. He would have no idea at all.
But most of all there would be absolutely no touching. No touching at all. Because, in her head, that was the thing that would always break her.
And she’d been right.
Her hand started to shake. Rubbing it against her thigh was no use. No use at all.
Her footsteps quickened on the descending path. The beach was only a matter of minutes away. A few of the crew members were already on the beach, sitting on the chairs. But the truth was she couldn’t stay here for long. In an hour’s time the celebrities would be split into two teams and dropped into the middle of the ocean.
Their first challenge would be to row to the island. The winning team would be rewarded with better sleeping facilities and more edible food. The others would spend a night sleeping on the jungle floor. Just the thought of it made her shudder. The rangers had already pulled a few spiders as big as her hands from the ‘camp’ and a few snakes she had no intention of identifying. The book that Lewis had given her on poisonous creatures had photographs of them and then notes on antidotes, treatments and antivenoms. It wasn’t exactly fun bedtime reading.
She climbed up onto one of the bar stools, which gave a little wobble. It seemed to be designed for people of an Amazonian stature. She looked down to the sandy matting beneath her.
‘What’ll it be?’ asked the guy behind the bar. He didn’t look like a traditional bartender. He looked like a guy running between about five different jobs. Most of the crew seemed to be doing more than one thing.
‘Remind me not to get too drunk. I don’t fancy falling off this bar stool. It’s a long way down.’
The bartender smiled. ‘It’s okay. I know a handsome doc that will be able to patch you up.’
She shook her head. ‘Absolutely not.’ She held out her hand. ‘Rachel Johnson. The other doc. And, believe me, he’s the last person who’d be patching me up.’
‘Len