Mistaken Engagement (5 page)

“Saul.”

“Get dressed,” he said and began unzipping the suit.

The SES centre was its usual organised chaos. People, Grace hadn’t seen in months greeted her cheerfully and asked about her medical studies. Cups of tea and sandwiches were available. The St Johns Ambulance officer accepted her offer of help. She’d worked with him before, even taken courses with him, and he knew she was accredited to assist. They bathed smoke-reddened eyes and dressed minor burns.

The bushfire had apparently sprung out of nowhere.

”Fireworks,” more than one man growled. They wore their orange overalls and heavy boots and accepted Saul as one of their own. He’d been volunteering for years.

The SES chief was Tanya Ashanto and she ran a tight ship. Saul was sent out to the West Road sector.

Grace and Saul had driven to the centre with her stepfather, and his presence had effectively prevented them talking.

Her chest hurt, and she didn’t think the tightness was from the smoke in the air. She’d hurt Saul and she hadn’t meant to — she hadn’t thought she could.

What had she been trying to do? Prove to him and to herself that he wasn’t important?

The hours slipped by. The severity of the injuries increased and the easterly wind wouldn’t stop blowing. It was blustery and potentially lethal, driving the fire in huge jumps that laughed at the SES workers’ containment lines. Houses were lost and livestock burned alive.

Her stepfather came in with smoke inhalation. Nothing too dangerous, but there was no way he could go back out. She phoned her mum and had her come in and drive him home. He went, protesting.

Saul remained out in the West Road sector.

Grace took a five minute break and studied the latest chart. The fire was dangerous there. Chief Ashanto was talking of bringing the crews in.

The radio message silenced the centre.

”Truck overturned. Fire … West Road …”

“Saul!”

Her fellow St Johns Ambulance officer gripped her arm, keeping her upright, then keeping her from dashing off. “Wait,” he said harshly.

Chief Ashanto snapped out commands. She refused to let Grace accompany the rescue crew. “You’re too emotionally involved.”

The other first aid officer went, leaving Grace to tend injuries on auto-pilot. Her whole being strained to hear the news through the radio.

It was the worst time for mobile phone coverage to fail. One of the towers must have been damaged by the bushfire.

Some people laughed at the patriotism shown on Australia Day and questioned what it was the holiday celebrated. As Grace waited agonisingly for news of Saul, she could have told them. Australia Day was about the community supporting one another. Mateship meant more than sport and school friends. It was about being there for one another.

She shared her terror for Saul with everyone waiting at the SES centre for news of their friends and family members.

And she cheered and cried with them as the news came through.

“No fatalities,” the rescue crew reported over the crackling radio. “Repeat. Everyone’s alive.”

The bad news was broken bones and burns. A helicopter couldn’t land in the middle of the inferno, but the rescue crew and the surviving truck crew were ferrying everyone else out.

In one of the ironies of nature, the wind swung to the life- and property- saving westerly sea breeze as the rescue expedition limped in. Ambulances met them to carry the most badly injured to hospital. Cars waited to transport those who could walk.

Saul jumped down from the driver’s seat of the surviving fire truck.

Grace ran up and hugged him. She was crying too hard to say anything coherent. They stood there for minutes, not saying anything, just holding each other tight. Then she wiped her eyes on his dirty uniform and punched him. “Don’t you ever, ever do that again.”

“Do what?” He didn’t even pretend to flinch at her blow. His thumb smeared the tears along her cheekbone.

“Make me think I’d lost you.”

This time his hug nearly cracked her ribs. He smelled of smoke and sweat and she didn’t care. She didn’t care that she was snuffly with tears. She kissed him as if he was life itself, and he kissed her back.

An hour later Saul had finished his de-briefing and Grace had handed over to two other first aid officers. The fire wasn’t under control, but thanks to the change in wind direction, it was getting there. Grace had her stepfather’s car keys. Saul took them from her and opened the passenger door.

She was shy with him. Her red-rimmed eyes avoided looking in his direction.

He caught her chin. “I love you.” He closed the car door and walked around to the driver’s side.

Her wide-eyed gaze snagged on him as he got in.

“I’m sweaty and stinky and I need a shower in the worst way. This isn’t how I ever thought I’d tell a woman I love her. But I do, Grace. I love you.”

Since she seemed incapable of a response, he started the car, edged out of the crowded parking area and headed for home. Her response could wait because he knew how she felt. She’d admitted it with her desperate hug and tears.

They reached his house before she said anything, and then her voice was overly calm, almost detached. “You’re ready to settle down. You said so yourself. You want marriage and kids and everything. You think I’m the sensible sort of woman who —”

He stopped her with a kiss. “No, Grace, I fell in love with you, and then I had to work out what the weird feeling meant.”

She turned away from him, getting out of the car, then walked with him to the back door.

He opened it and stooped to unlace his boots. He kicked them off and stepped out of the scorched overalls. His cotton t shirt and shorts clung to him.

“Does being in love mean being scared and euphoric and not being able to imagine smiling without you?” She watched him with eyes that ate him up.

“Yes. And it also means wanting to romance you, but knowing that being with you, here, now, in unromantic reality is far more important.”

Her lovely smile dawned. “It’s real between us, isn’t it?”

“Real and forever.”

Grace felt the muscles on his back shift and strain as he lifted her. She wrapped her legs around his waist. “Where are we going? Bed?”

“Ultimately.” He kissed her deeply. “Shower first.”

“Mmmhmm.” His mouth did impossible things to her self control. She loved the flavour of him. “Did I say, I love you?”

“No.” He bit her lower lip. “I thought I’d make you scream it.”

She shuddered at the sensual threat.

In the bathroom, he let her slide down his body, then stepped back to strip off his shirt and shorts.

She fumbled with her own clothes, more concerned with what he was revealing.

He was already aroused and grinned as he saw her looking. “I want you.”

Naked, they stepped into the shower. The water pounded down on them, sliding into their kiss and over their skin.

“Let me just scrub off quickly,” he said.

The soap slid over him, tracing a pattern she wanted to follow with her hands and mouth.

He watched her watch him, and tossed the soap away. “Come here.”

The water ought to have steamed. Everywhere he touched her came to screaming sensitivity. His mouth was torment and promise.

“Please, please, please.”

Only his arm held her up as his free hand teased her to orgasm.

“You’re beautiful.” He slammed shut the water as she panted for breath.

“Saul!” Her eyes opened in protest.

“Condom. Bed.” The monosyllables and flush across his cheekbones proclaimed his arousal. He held her hands away from him. “No! Don’t touch me. Otherwise it’ll be over too soon. I want you so much.”

He carried her into his room and dropped her onto the bed, following her down for a hard kiss before rolling on a condom. A moment later he was inside her.

Her whole body arched at the ecstasy of the rhythm he set. When they came, together, nothing had ever felt that good. Nothing ever would. “I love you.”

“Yeah.” He smiled, arrogant, macho, gorgeous — and hers. “I heard your scream.”

Escape

About the Author

Jenny Schwartz is a Western Australian author. Her high school yearbook predicted she’d be a writer — something about always having her nose in a book. When not living up to others’ expectations, she enjoys lazy days in the suburbs and is working on a collection of life-saving recipes, “Simple Meals for Forgetful Cooks”.

Her website is
http://authorjennyschwartz.com/

ISBN: 978-0-85799-017-4

Title: Mistaken Engagement

Copyright © 2012 by Jenny Schwartz

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First days on any job were terrible, but in this job, other people’s first days were even worse.

Dr. Brigid Adair looked out the door of the swaying helicopter to the small sea platform below. The white caps of the waves and the rush of wind against her face said this rescue could turn into a special type of hell. For the patient and the dive master below, hell had obviously already arrived. The patient had gone from having the dive of a lifetime in North Queensland’s usually sparkling waters, to coughing up blood while a helicopter circled overhead.

The tension in the close confines of the helicopter was running higher than usual and it wasn’t just the uncertain conditions that had everyone on edge. They had a new crewmember onboard. Unfortunately, for Brigid’s peace of mind, she was going to be strapped to him while being lowered on a wire. Their destination was the wildly rocking sea platform below.

All rescue teams hated the first week for new team members. The training regime was fierce and no incompetence would ever be allowed into a team as elite as helicopter rescue but, when your life depended on each other, trust was not automatic. A helicopter crew only attended the most serious of medical situations. They worked against the clock and learned to anticipate each other’s actions.

Brigid did a secondary check on the contents of her medical bag as she waited for the pilot’s confirmation that the rescue was actually going ahead. Dave, their pilot, always had the final say on any rescue attempt. While she was responsible for the life of the patient on the platform below, Dave’s first responsibility was to the lives of everyone on board the helicopter. Today, those lives numbered herself, Chris the aircrew winch operator and Matt, their new rescue paramedic.

As they waited for Dave’s final call, Brigid looked over to Matt, sitting in the jump seat opposite her. At least his eyes were calm and there were no obvious first-day jitters. In fact, she couldn’t see any emotion whatsoever in those fathomless dark eyes. He was strapping the harness around him, keeping his gaze on the conditions below.