CHARLI SLID OUT from the booth as a waitress delivered pizzas to the table. She had only been in Australia for two days and was still suffering the effects of jet-lag after the long flight east. Her body clock was telling her she’d been up all night and her stomach heaved at the thought of pizza for breakfast, even though it was just a little after ten p.m.
Her sister and her friends looked as though they were preparing to kick on and Charli needed something soft to drink if she was going to last any longer. Amy and her fellow ski instructors seemed to be able to hold their drinks far better than Charli ever could. She’d heard the Australians partied hard and she doubted she’d keep up even if she wasn’t exhausted.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a decent night’s sleep. It felt like years ago. She’d spent the past seven years studying hard and working part time in her hours off. While she’d had plenty of late nights, very few had been because she’d been out having fun. Medical school had been hugely demanding of both her time and effort, and her two years of Foundation Training had been even more exhausting. Sleep had been hard to come by for many years and, most recently, it had been thanks to her lousy ex, but she’d come to Australia to forget about him and she refused to waste any more time thinking about past mistakes. She’d make a trip to the bar and order a round of drinks and then maybe no one would notice if she sneaked away early.
The bar was crowded, the crush of the après-ski crowd several people deep, and Charli could feel herself swaying on her feet as she waited to be served. Her eyes drifted closed, just briefly, but it was long enough to cause her to lose her balance and stumble. She staggered backwards, bumping into the person behind her. Large hands grabbed at her elbows, steadying her.
‘Whoa, are you okay?’
She heard a deep voice in her ear. She turned around and looked up into a pair of very dark eyes.
She blinked as she tried to clear her head. She felt foggy, disoriented and she focussed hard. Her first thought was that this man who had her by the elbows was cute. About her age, several inches taller than her, maybe a smidge over six feet, with messy dark hair to go with his dark eyes.
‘Are you okay?’
She could see his lips moving, she could see his teeth, which were even and white in contrast to the shadow of a beard on his jaw. She heard him speak but the combination of jet-lag and his broad Australian accent meant it took her a few moments to translate his words into something she could make sense of. She nodded. ‘Yes, sorry about that.’
‘Are you sure you should be ordering more drinks?’
‘They’re for my friends.’
He raised one dark eyebrow and she noticed he had a small scar just under his left eye. She must be standing way too close if she could notice that but the crowd around her, coupled with the fact that he was still holding onto her, meant she couldn’t move away. His hands were warm and gentle and she found she didn’t actually want to step away.
‘I promise,’ she said. ‘I’m having a lemonade. I’m just jet-lagged.’
‘In that case, let me order for you. What else can I get you?’
‘A jug of beer—’
‘And a lemonade,’ he added as he dropped his hands and turned towards the bar.
Charli nodded as she pulled her purse from her handbag, wishing he hadn’t let go of her. She still felt a little unsteady but this time she didn’t think it was solely because of the jet-lag. She studied his back as he placed the order. Her eyes took in the breadth of his shoulders and the way his hair curled over the collar of his T-shirt. His shirt fit him snugly, showing off his muscular physique. She lifted her eyes up to his as he turned back from the bar. ‘How much will it be?’ she asked.
‘Twenty bucks should cover it.’
‘Twenty? What colour is that again?’
‘Orange.’
‘I’m still getting used to your money,’ she said as she fished in her purse for the colourful note. ‘It’s pretty.’
‘You’re English?’
She nodded. ‘Just arrived. Hence the jet-lag,’ she said, holding out the note. He reached for the money with his left hand and her fingers tingled as she placed the note in his hand. She noticed he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. Maybe her jet-lag wasn’t as bad as she’d thought.
‘Whereabouts are you from?’ he asked her.
‘London. Have you been there?’
‘I have.’
‘Did you like it?’
‘To be completely honest, I prefer it here. Fewer people, better weather.’ He smiled at her, softening his words, but she wasn’t offended. He’d probably be able to say anything that he liked without upsetting people as long as he said it with a smile. His smile was wide, making his eyes crinkle at the corners and his mouth turn up at the edges. It suited him.
‘In case you haven’t noticed,’ she said, ‘you’re in the snow. Snow is snow all around the world.’ Somehow, she managed to continue the conversation even though she was distracted.
‘Yes, but in Australia we choose to go to the snow, we don’t have to put up with it unless we want to, and even in the snow we get our fair share of sunny days. There’s nothing better than wearing a T-shirt and getting a sun tan while you ski.’
‘You ski in a T-shirt?’
Her eyes roamed over him again, taking in the view from the front this time. It was even better than the back. His chest was broad, his stomach flat, his arms were tanned and muscular, lightly covered with dark hair—enough to be masculine, not enough to be off-putting—and his skin was olive. His T-shirt hugged his chest and abdominals and was tucked into a pair of red ski pants that had some official-looking emblem on them, but she couldn’t make out what it said in the dim lighting of the bar.
‘You bet.’ He spoke in the same laid-back, friendly manner that Amy’s friends used. Unhurried, relaxed. She’d have to get used to the Aussie way of speaking.
He paid for their order but made no move to pick up his drinks and leave the bar.
‘Hey, Reeves, a man is not a camel!’
Charli saw him turn his head at the comment. She followed the direction of his gaze and saw a group of men, all wearing the same navy and red uniform, standing around a tall round table. ‘Are they talking to you?’ she asked.
‘Afraid so.’
‘I’d better let you go,’ she said, hoping he’d say he’d stay. ‘Thank you for your help.’
‘It was my pleasure…’ He paused and she knew he was waiting for her name.
‘Charli.’
‘Charli,’ he repeated. She liked the way it sounded when he said it. ‘Maybe I’ll see you around.’
She hoped so, she thought as she took the jug of beer and her lemonade back to the booth, sliding in next to her sister.
‘Who was that?’ Amy asked.
‘I don’t know,’ she said, realising belatedly that she had no idea. She had a name but no idea if it was his first or last.
‘I bet he could take your mind off your troubles for the next few