Fiona McArthur - Midwives On Call At Christmas

He shook his head. ‘You don’t have to move a lot.’

He just didn’t get it. The world always moved you on when you started to love a place. ‘Sure. Okay. And thank you.’

She could feel the tears pushing one way as she pushed them back the other but more than that she wanted to look at the pictures and re-immerse herself in the jump so she could forget the look in his eyes. The more she thought about it and the reason Simon had said he’d done it, the more touched she was.

She was an ungrateful wretch with no gift-receiving skills. Where the heck did you get those skills? She leant across and kissed him on the mouth this time. The anticipation was building. ‘I’m sorry. Thank you. It is great.’ She glanced at him under her brows. ‘Wanna look with me?’

He seemed to deflate with relief and she realised he wasn’t as calm as he looked. Maybe Simon was having a hard time dealing with the undercurrents between them too? An intriguing thought that could come back to haunt her.

He slid next to her until their thighs were touching, and she wondered what the passing manger lovers would think about Dr Campbell snuggling up to the midwife, but then she gave up and prepared to open the book. The relief in his face confirmed her suspicion. He’d been worried he’d upset her and she guessed she could get tetchy so he’d been brave to push ahead and buy it. The guy was certainly a keeper. Such a darned shame she couldn’t.

Instead, she opened the album and the first picture captured the day. There she was, the plane disappearing above them, and an expression of sheer exhilaration on her face as they freefell into the clouds. She looked at Simon and there was a look of indulgence on his face that made her pause and then dismiss the ridiculous idea that he might care for her just a little more than she’d thought.

After a hilarious fifteen minutes sitting on the bench, poring over the album, they took the DVD into the house, where they dragged Louisa and Maeve into the lounge room to watch it on the old television.

During the ten-minute DVD Louisa gasped and covered her mouth and even Maeve laughed out loud and expressed her envy that Tara had done something she’d wanted to do. Then it was over and Louisa and Maeve went back to the kitchen and she had to go and check on one of her early labour mums.

‘Thanks again, Simon.’ She’d probably kissed him enough, she admitted with a definite tug of despondency as she turned away. ‘I’d better get going on my home visit.’

Simon nodded and held the door for her and he didn’t lean down enough for her to attempt any sort of cheek-kissing salutation like he did. But he did say, ‘So when are you going to take me on your bike?’

That stopped her. She’d thought it unlikely this conversation would ever come up. And it wasn’t like she could say no now. In fact, she owed him big time. ‘Any time you’re ready.’

He shrugged. ‘I’m officially off call and ready when you are. Make a date and do your worst.’

She looked him over coolly but inside she was doing a little shaking and wondering if this would be a clever thing to do. Simon, pressed up against her, his arms holding on tight. Leaning into corners together. His strong thighs alongside her thighs. But there was barely a wobble in her voice when she answered, thank goodness. ‘I don’t have a worst. Where did you want to go?’

He shrugged. ‘It doesn’t really matter as long as I get to try the full experience.’

This was getting weirder. Whatever that meant. ‘Fine. Then Saturday. We’ll go up to the lookout, it’s a nice drive through the forest and it’s a great place to watch the sunset.’

‘You’re on.’

Almost enthusiastic. Her voice held a hint of indulgence. ‘You’ll be wanting to parachute next.’

‘I haven’t ruled it out in the far distant future.’

She looked at him and he was smiling but whether he was teasing or serious she couldn’t work out. What she could read made her cheeks feel hot. She almost wished he didn’t look at her like that because it was going to be incredibly hard some time in the definite future when the feeling it gave her was lost.

But then her sensible side, the one that said she would survive no matter what, decided that being with Simon was like parachuting—the rush was incredible but the reality was the ground waiting for you. But it didn’t mean you shouldn’t enjoy the ride. This would never last but it was wonderful while it did and from now on she was going to take what was on offer with open arms.

On Saturday Simon was waiting for her when she returned from an unscheduled home visit. One of her caseload ladies was having breastfeeding problems so Tara had sat with her for the last feed until mum and baby were back in sync.

She glanced at her watch. ‘Do we still have time before sunset? Or do you want to wait until tomorrow afternoon?’

‘I’ve been waiting all day to hang off the back of your bike.’ The words were jaunty but the unease was not quite hidden on Simon’s face and belied his statement as he picked up his backpack.

She had to smile at that. ‘Liar.’ She watched him slide his arms into the shoulder straps and hoist the pack onto his back in one adroitly muscular movement. Dragged her eyes away. ‘What’s in the bag?’

‘Never you mind. You worry about me and I’ll worry about the bag.’

Oh, she was worried about him all right. ‘Sounds intriguing. You’ll have to wait while I change.’ She glanced at his long jeans and solid shoes and nodded approval. ‘I don’t ride in shorts either.’

‘Tell me you come in leather.’ A wicked wink suggested he was fantasising and hoping she’d come to the party.

‘I can do.’ She raised her brows suggestively, playing along with him, and couldn’t believe how much fun this stuff was. ‘But normally only for long trips.’ She tossed over her shoulder, ‘You’ll just have to wait and see.’

Simon watched her scoot along the hallway and despite his misgivings about actually being a pillion passenger on a motorbike he had the feeling Tara would be worth waiting for. Ten agonising minutes later he wasn’t disappointed. Sweet mother!

Tara’s long sexy legs were encased in skin-tight, dull black leather trousers and high black boots. The material’s softness curved around the cutest tight little butt, and his fingers curled in his pockets. Untucked, she wore a white shirt with a plunging neckline and a short, black, sleeveless leather vest was loosely laced over the top. Yep, that completed the outfit, and he had to jam his hands into his pockets. Now he really couldn’t wait to get on her bike.

She looked like something out of a Hell’s Angels fantasy world and he was glad they were going into the country and not on the main road. He was man enough to prefer to have her to himself like this and couldn’t wait to have the excuse to hold her around her waist and snuggle up against her. Must have a latent dominatrix fantasy he hadn’t known about and he grinned to himself as he followed her outside and around to the carport.

She pulled the cover off the bike and sat astride as she wiggled it backwards. No, she wouldn’t let him help pull it out and face it the right way, so he did the next best thing and just stood there and enjoyed the show. He decided that Tara was a strong little thing, and the thought made him even hotter, in a non-weather-related way.

Tara set about checking everything was right and finally gave him the nod. She handed him her helmet and pulled her spare on.

‘So have you ever been on a bike before?’

‘No.’

‘Okay. So hold on loosely around my waist, tighter on the corners. Sit up straight. Try and lean gently into the corners in the same direction as I do. If you find the corners too hard just don’t lean the opposite way.’