Cam, midstride, had to catch himself so he didn’t falter under what he could only describe as the glare she sent him.
But even with lines between her eyebrows and her lips pursed into a disapproving rosette, she was gorgeous. He had only a moment to register her high cheekboned face and skin like golden syrup mixed with cinnamon before she turned back around, but the effect lingered.
Something about the curve of her cheek and chin, the long line of her throat, gave him a jolt of adrenaline on top of the residue already keeping his nerves jangling. It had been a very long time since the sight of a woman had brought him to total awareness, filling him with curiosity and inciting the kind of physical interest he least expected, or wanted.
Since leaving his job with a refugee agency four years before, and taking over the management of Eilean Rurie, he had made the island his base. The transition to being in one place after travelling the world had been difficult, but in a strange way it had afforded him the chance to do more of the adventurous activities he enjoyed.
He had time to travel now, to climb, cave, to do whatever else he wanted, and he was having the time of his life. There was no room in his life for the kind of visceral fascination he felt with just one glimpse of this young woman.
It would be okay, he reassured himself as he finally neared the group. She wouldn’t be around for very long. He just had to get through the Christmas rush, and then he could find a permanent replacement. Ignoring this strange attraction wouldn’t be too hard.
“There you are—finally,” Dora said.
“You’ll be late for your own funeral,” Sela added.
“The later the better. But I’ll have you know I’m exactly on time,” Cam retorted, giving his watch a pointed glance before turning to the silent young woman and holding out his hand. “Nurse Kinkaid, I presume?”
“You presume correctly,” she replied, seeming to hesitate for a moment before taking his outstretched hand and giving it a brief, firm shake. “And I understand you’re Dr. MacRurie?”
Her eyes were gorgeous. Hazel, fringed with dark, tightly curled lashes, they matched her skin tone and gave her the look of a haughty lioness. Her watchful gaze, coupled with the low, husky voice made his toes curl.
Taken aback, especially by his reaction to her, all he could manage to say was “In the flesh.”
“You mean in the wetsuit, don’t you?” Ingrid asked, making all the CIs snicker.
Suddenly aware of his state of undress—which hadn’t bothered him in the slightest before—Cam frowned, making them all giggle harder. Nurse Kinkaid didn’t join in, but the little lines between her brows quickly came and went.
“Yes, well… If you’ll come with me to the Dock Master’s Office, Nurse Kinkaid, I’ll change and take you over to the surgery.”
“So, did you give Sanjit the approval to run his new business?” Katherine interjected, before he could make his escape.
“Unfortunately, no.”
“Liability?” asked Ingrid, who was a retired barrister, and Cam nodded.
“Got it in one.” Before any of them could get going again, he quickly added, “Let me take your suitcase, Nurse Kinkaid, and we’ll be on our way.”
As he matched actions to words the CIs chorused their goodbyes, peppered with lovely-to-meet-yous and we’ll-catch-up-soons, all aimed at the new nurse—who, wisely, exited their orbit with just a friendly wave and the slight upturning of her lips.
“Will we see you at the planning meeting this evening, Cam?” called Dora.
“Of course,” he called back, making sure not to break stride in case they took it as an invitation.
“Wow,” the nurse said, as soon as they were out of earshot. “They’re something, aren’t they?”
“That they are,” Cam said, but was suddenly protective of the women who often drove him bonkers. “But, despite being a pain in my rear most of the time, they’re invaluable to the island. With such a small population it’s good to have people willing to get involved and organize things.”
“I’m sure. However, I hope that doesn’t apply to your practice? I find I work best with only one boss. Causes far less confusion.”
“Good Lord, no.” Cam actually laughed at the thought of the CIs butting into his real work.
He opened the door to the Dock Master’s Office, and stood back for her to enter ahead of him.
“They’re involved with practically all other aspects of life on the island, though, just so you know.”
“I can see that being the case.”
She’d stepped through the door ahead of him and Cam found himself admiring her figure, which was full and curvy. Lush hips swayed with a siren’s rhythm as she walked, mesmerizing him until he caught himself and resolutely tore his gaze away.
Even more aware of the wetsuit, and feeling silly in the face of his new, rather formal nurse, Cam said, “If you’ll wait here, Nurse Kinkaid, I’ll get changed as quickly as possible and take you to your apartment.”
“Please, call me Harmony,” she said, while looking around the office. Seemingly without conscious thought, she straightened a pile of magazines on the table beside the door. “When I hear ‘Nurse Kinkaid’ like that, I instinctively look around for my mother.”
“Sure,” he said, seeing an opening to get to know her better but unable to take advantage of it. She completely unsettled him, making him want to get away and catch his breath, not to mention get out of his wetsuit. “I’ll remember that. Be right back.”
But as he shimmied out of the wetsuit he found himself wondering what she’d look like if she truly smiled. Something told him that rather prim mouth would turn sumptuous and appealing.
Become eminently kissable.
Cam cursed to himself.
She’s definitely going to be a problem.
He just had to make sure that, no matter what happened, the problem didn’t involve him.
The interest she stirred in him wasn’t something he’d ever consider acting on. Even if getting involved with an employee wasn’t tacky—which it was—he liked his relationships short and with no strings attached. No matter how quickly her tenure on the island would be over he’d have to work with her, and the chances of it all going sideways were large.
Finally dressed in his street clothes, he grabbed his jacket and went back out into the main part of the office. Danny Smith, the Dock Master, wasn’t there, so Harmony was still alone, standing in front of one of the myriad pictures on the wall. It was a painting of one of the rescue boats that used to be launched from the island in rough seas back in the early part of the twentieth century.
“That’s my great-grandfather in the prow of that boat,” he said, going to stand beside her. “They were probably going out to help with a sea rescue after a wreck—or at least that was what the artist was portraying.”
She sent him a brief glance, and once more he felt a zing of electricity when he realized her eyes were more green than gold. Getting used to them was going to take some doing.
“Do you still have a lifeboat station here?” she asked.
“I wish,” he said.
How many times had he stood staring at this painting, imagining himself on that boat, fighting the seas, on his way to save lives?
“Now the Coast Guard handles all the rescues. In the old days almost all the islands had manned boats, because it took the authorities much longer to get to the site of a wreck. Now, once someone radios the helicopters can be in the air in a matter of minutes. The private