He dipped his head below the surface but even as he scrubbed his face with his hands he knew the cold salty water couldn’t wipe away the taste and feel of her lips on his. The damage was already done. All he could do now was add it to the list of mistakes he carried with him and hope Emily didn’t expect anything more from him than medical input and local knowledge. He’d hate to disappoint her as well as himself.
* * *
Emily suspected the local brew had a lot to do with her falling asleep the minute her head touched the pillow and the weird dreams that followed. She spent the night imagining she was stranded on a desert island with a hunky sea captain who looked suspiciously like Sgt Joe Braden coming to her rescue. There was no need to overanalyse it. It was simply her mind trying to make sense of the day’s events, and better than spending all night worrying about what sort of creatures lurked in her small room, or thinking about that kiss.
Joe more than likely left dazed women in his wake with his throwaway kisses every day and would have no clue of the impact it had made on her. It was silly really to obsess over something so fleeting, but up until last night her husband had been the only man she’d ever kissed.
She remembered every tiny detail of the brief connection between her and Joe. The firm but tender pressure of his mouth on hers, the bitter taste of kava lingering on his lips and her body frozen while her veins burned with fire.
The past eighteen months had made her a jaded divorcee so she shouldn’t have had her head turned so easily. She really needed to work on building up those walls if she was being a fangirl over a peck on the lips from a glorified babysitter.
Today was the start of her placement alongside last night’s fantasy figure. There was no room for schoolgirl crushes when she was already on edge about working here. She’d risen with the sun, showered with the aid of a bucket of cold water, breakfasted on bread and jam with Miriama, and checked on Joni, but she couldn’t put it off any longer. As she walked towards the medical centre she tried to focus on the positives instead of the nerves bundling in her stomach.
The sky was the brightest blue she’d ever seen, her skin was warmed by the sun and she’d swapped her usual restrictive formal attire for a strappy pink sundress and flats. She was confident in her work and her capabilities, it was more the personal aspects causing her anxieties. Last night she’d mixed well with the community but that had been in an informal setting. It hadn’t escaped her attention that very few women had been present at the kava ceremony and they’d had to wait until the men had taken their fill before they’d been served. She hoped it was another nod to tradition rather than any prejudiced attitude towards women’s role in society.
Joni had shown her the route back to the medical centre on his way to school and it really was nothing more than a glorified hut on the edge of the village. Thankfully the boy had shown no signs of concussion this morning but in her line of work it was always better to be safe than sorry when it could mean the difference between life and death. It was a shame that same adage had caused the end of her marriage. Playing it safe in her personal life had driven Greg away and made her sorrier than ever for the risks she hadn’t taken.
Still, her love life, or lack of it, wasn’t the sole reason she’d come all this way. Joe Braden certainly wasn’t the risk she wanted to start with. She was here to help a community that didn’t have immediate access to medical facilities, nothing more.
Once she set foot inside the designated workspace she realised how difficult it was going to be to avoid further close contact with him.
‘Welcome to your new clinic, Dr Emily.’ A grinning Joe greeted her, his outstretched arms almost touching both sides of the hut.
The sun shone in behind him through the one window in the room, the rays outlining the tantalising V-shape of his torso through his loose white cotton shirt.
‘You’ve got to be kidding.’ She hadn’t meant to vocalise her thoughts and for a shameful second she wished this was one time he hadn’t heard her. No such luck.
‘Hey, we gotta work with what we’ve got. I know you’re used to all the mod cons at your practice but you have to remember the context here. Me, you and this equipment donated by the church is more than these people usually have.’
The good news was he thought her only concern was her new working conditions. The bad news was...her new working conditions.
There were two basic camp beds, not unlike the one she’d been put up in at Miriama’s, a couple of medical storage lockers and chairs, some old IV stands and monitors and some sort of curtain on wheels she guessed was supposed to be a privacy screen. There were adequate facilities for routine health checks and not much else but enough to divide the workload and shared space.
‘I think this will work best if we treat this as two different clinics and double the output. You do your thing and I’ll do mine.’ Never the twain to meet and make body contact ever again.
She moved one medical trolley to one side of the room and claimed her half by wheeling the screen between the two beds.
‘If you say so...’ Joe didn’t sound convinced but at least he wasn’t getting precious about this being his territory. Chances were he was happy to block her out anyway after being forced to lead her around by the hand all day yesterday.
‘I do. This is going to work.’ This new set-up enabled her to take back some control of her life here and already made her feel less nauseous about the days ahead.
* * *
This was never going to work. Joe had been here long enough to understand the logistical nightmare of putting her idea into practice. There simply wasn’t enough room to create two viable working spaces, although he didn’t try to dissuade her from attempting it. She’d work it out for herself eventually without him coming across as a tyrant by refusing to cooperate with her plans. It was his fault she felt the need to put a barrier between them in the first place.
After his antics last night he was lucky Peter hadn’t rounded up a posse to turf him off the island for laying lips on his sister. He’d been beating himself up over it all night and this display of skittish behaviour wasn’t easing his conscience at all. By all accounts Emily was recovering from an acrimonious split and definitely wasn’t the sort of woman he should be kissing on a whim.
His one saving grace was their apparent mutual decision not to mention it. Perhaps his casual walk away had lessened the significance of the event. He might start kissing everyone goodbye and make it out to be more of a personal custom rather than the result of his attraction to her. Although there was something intimate about seeing her fuss around the bed where he’d been lying, thinking about her, last night.
He’d been honest when he’d said he preferred the quiet out here to Miriama’s busy household. There was also the added benefit of being able to see the door from his bed. Combat had made him hypervigilant about his surroundings. He wasn’t comfortable in a room where he couldn’t see all entry points. Army life taught a man that concealed entrances were all potential ambushes where the enemy could attack. That level of paranoia had been essential in his survival but it hadn’t left him even after his medical retirement to civilian life. It was simply part of his make-up now and another reason he took to the open road rather than remain cooped up in a two-up, two-down suburban prison.
‘So, do we have any particular schedule, or is this more of an A and E department we’re running?’ Emily encroached