Louisa George - The War Hero's Locked-Away Heart

Her pupils flared as she spoke, warm and welcoming. ‘Dan will show you the way to our sparkly new staff kitchen. If you’re ever passing by, you must pop in, we run an open house here. I’ll be with you in a jiffy. Just got a quick blood pressure to check.’

‘I’d forgotten you two had met the other day. Great nurse, even better cook.’ Dan opened the tin of flapjacks and the air was filled with the aroma of golden syrup and butter. Home cooking. Not something Adam had had much on the road. His mouth watered.

And either Dan wasn’t used to home baking either, or he was just darned hungry, judging by the two pieces he had in his hand. ‘Quite a quirky character is our Skye. All hard on the exterior, and soft and gooey on the inside. A bit like these flapjacks, really. If you ask me, all that dark makeup’s just an act. She just wants to give men the stand-off.’

‘Oh?’ Those black-rimmed eyes hadn’t given him the stand-off, not when they’d stalked through his daydreams. No matter how much he’d tried to stop them.

Adam’s stomach growled as he bit down into the oaty slice. A blast of sugar made his cheeks hurt. ‘But why would she do that?’

‘History, mate. Some bloke in Auckland broke her heart. She’s sworn off men. Shame.’

Intrigued, Adam suddenly wanted to know more. Who? Why? And a dozen or so other things he found himself questioning about her. But gossip wasn’t his style. And neither was traipsing through someone else’s history. His brain worked to shut down his interest. All he wanted was a job he loved, a place of his own and not to get involved with anyone again. In any way. Anyhow.

‘Good, you found it.’ She flew into the room and greeted them with a flash of perfect white teeth. A regular ray of sunshine. Hell, if her smile got any brighter, he’d need to wear shades.

Having poured herself a coffee, she leaned against the sink next to Dan. ‘So, Dan, you still okay for tonight?’

His colleague shifted uncomfortably and Adam’s interest was piqued. A date?

Dan put his hand on Skye’s shoulder and she turned to him. From this vantage point Adam watched her in profile. Long black eyelashes accentuated those huge eyes. The glint as the jewel in her nose caught the light. The swell of her full breasts. And always that wide-open smile that welcomed everyone in.

Adam felt a stirring in his gut of something he’d long forgotten. And this while she was talking about a date? With his new colleague? He stomped on his instinctive reactions. Inappropriate .

‘No. That’s why I’m here. I can’t make it.’ Dan looked sheepish. ‘I’m really sorry, Skye. I didn’t mean to let you down.’

‘But you promised, Dan. We’re down to two now. Just me and Connor. Mim can’t do it because she’s way too big. She gets uncomfortable if she can’t move around.’ She shook her head and Adam glimpsed a frown. ‘So, there’ll only be two of us. That’s not going to work, is it? We need at least three or we might as well give up. The medical team needs you. It’s all falling apart.’

Judging by the seriousness of their tone it was imperative that someone step up. Clearly someone with medical skills. Never one to back down from the call of duty, Adam coughed. ‘Is there anything I can do to help?’

‘Genius! Of course. You could do it. We need to train someone up for when I’ve gone anyway.’ Putting her hand on his arm, she sat down on the couch next to him. She winked at Dan then turned back. She laughed and leaned in. From this angle Adam caught a glimpse of pale skin and red lace. Interesting. So not everything about her was encased in monochrome, and when she did colour it was seriously appealing.

‘I only hope you’re up to the job, though, Adam. It’s a tough call. High pressure. Are you man enough?’

‘He knows about guns and all that stuff,’ Dan interjected. ‘He’s good on the van, knows his medicine. But I can’t vouch for his knowledge and skills in other areas. You know—’

‘What the hell am I getting myself into?’ Adam dragged his eyes away from the distraction. Sat up straight.

His heart thudded as he glanced between the two of them. The seriousness had dissipated and he had the distinct impression he was being taken for a ride. ‘Are you two winding me up? Is this some kind of initiation process, like in my new recruit days?’

‘Oh? Tell all.’ Her eyes widened.

‘You don’t want to know.’

‘Another time maybe?’ She sipped her coffee and held his gaze for a second. Another. Then another. A flimsy invisible thread held them locked together. He knew he shouldn’t stare at her. But he couldn’t help it. Something about her bright sunny smile called to a dark corner of his soul. Soothed it. Healed it slightly. Which was a stupid notion, he knew. How could a smile heal?

Then she shook her head. ‘It’s not a wind-up. Far from it. It’s a matter of honour. And I guess you’d be good at that, being a soldier.’ Did he imagine it? Did her eyes linger for a moment on his scar?

‘I doubt it.’ He shrugged. Ran a hand across his cheek and tried to cover the slice in his face, the permanent reminder of all he’d lost. Monica hadn’t been able to look at his scar. She’d winced and turned her face away too many times. He’d believed it had reminded her of the man that had left and the shell she’d got in return.

But Skye just seemed interested in it.

Her eyes flitted away from his face and she clasped her hands in her lap. ‘We’re defending our eight-week championship run. Pub quiz. We’re the Mad Medics.’

‘The Mad …?’ He shook his head. He’d been had. More people, faces, noise. More trying hard to fit in. More dodging intimacy like bullets. But he’d stepped right into the trap and couldn’t back out now.

‘Tonight. Eight o’clock.’ She stood and beamed again. ‘You just got yourself on the team.’

‘You’re looking very glam for a pub quiz. Hoping to dazzle the opposition into surrender? Or is it … something else? For someone else?’ Connor placed a pinot gris in front of Skye and sat next to her at the small round table they’d reserved. For three. Only the third member hadn’t arrived yet. Was Adam going to turn up? He’d looked dubious earlier when she’d sprung it on him.

‘Oh, this old thing? It’s nothing special.’ She fiddled with the lace on her black top. One of the few items she’d bought on her last trip to Auckland. For ever ago. Something for a special night out. Not that they ever happened in Atanga Bay. In the dim light of her bedroom it had looked okay. It went well with her black skinny jeans. ‘Too fancy? Over the top?’

‘No. It’s fine. Crikey, haven’t seen you so wound up for ages.’

‘I’m not wound up. I just thought I’d make an effort for the team. No harm in that.’ Plus the waxing, plucking to within an inch of her life, shaving, exfoliating, mud wrap. All for a darned pub quiz. She’d clearly lost her mind. She pressed a hand to her cheek, hating being the focus of attention. She’d endured too much condemnation of her appearance in the past. ‘And don’t be ridiculous. Since when did I dress up for anyone? I gave that useless malarkey up years ago.’

After Brian, her ex, had told her over and over that no man would ever find her attractive, so why should she bother?

Not worthy of commitment . And the insecure fool that she’d been had believed him. Put up with years of abuse because she hadn’t believed she deserved better. But with a mother who cowered at the hands of her husband and a lifetime of putting her own needs after everyone else’s, it had taken Skye a long time to reclaim her self-esteem and identity.

So, why the heck had she got herself decked up in lace?