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He wore gray cotton gym shorts that loosely hung to mid-thigh, riding up to reveal well-defined quads when he touched the tips of his tennis shoes. A white cotton T-shirt with “NAVY” emblazoned across the front caressed his thick chest. He straightened, reached high over his head, his shirt hem riding up to reveal a sliver of toned abdomen.
Suzie sighed with great appreciation. “If I’d thought I was going to spend the rest of my life curled up in bed next to that and suddenly found out I wasn’t, I’d be devastated, too.”
“Be serious,” Amelia snapped, wanting to physically drag her friend’s eyeballs away from Cole, practically having to do the same to keep her own gaze from bouncing around like an overeager puppy wanting another glimpse of tanned flesh. Did he know they were talking about him? “There’s more to a man than the way he looks.”
“Yeah, but when a man looks like he does, a girl can forgive a lot of flaws.” Suzie sighed, moving her arms back and forth in motion with the handlebars, her workout making her sound slightly breathless.
Or maybe it was Cole making her friend breathless.
“I can’t forgive his flaws.” Amelia refused to be so superficial. She’d once been fooled by his in-your-face male magnetism and charm. Never again would a man weaken her that way.
“Yeah.” Her friend nodded in agreement. “But you’re made of fortified Stockton steel and only have an Achilles’ heel for stray kittens.”
“Stray kittens?” Amelia scowled. “I do not.”
“Sure, you don’t,” Suzie teased, knowing Amelia well enough, unfortunately, to push her buttons. “If you lived inland you’d have a yard full of fuzz-balls, and you know it.”
Would she? Amelia rarely thought of what her life would be like if she weren’t in the military. Not that she’d ever considered doing anything other than military medicine. She hadn’t. It’s what their family did. Her father had been a surgeon with the navy, her mother an air force nurse.
“I don’t even like cats,” she protested half under her breath. She’d actually never had a pet to know if she’d like a cat or not. Growing up in a military family where they’d lived either on base or with whatever relative could look after them while their parents served their country, they’d moved too often to accumulate pets. Or close friends. Was that why she’d latched onto Cole? Had treasured their friendship so much?
“Don’t look now, but something else you don’t like is headed this way.” Suzie slid a sly look her way. “Or should I say someone?”
Before she could stop, Amelia glanced toward where Cole had been stretching. Her gaze collided with his vivid blue eyes. His lips curved upward in an amiable, hopeful smile and her breath caught in a way no exercise equipment could ever induce.
In a way that was pure Cole Stanley breathless.
She almost agreed with Suzie. A woman could forgive a multitude of sins when a man looked like Cole. It would be easy to get caught in his charm, in the warmth of his smile, the intensity of his azure eyes, the lure of his friendly demeanor. He wasn’t her friend, though.
In that moment, Amelia hated Cole. Hated him for hurting her family, hated him for whatever it was that seeing him did to her insides, hated him for turning her brain to mush by merely slanting his gorgeous mouth upwards.
She ignored the little voice warning that she protested too much, that hate was a strong emotion and she should be careful: the opposite of hate was love.
That was one emotion she could never feel for Cole.
Great. Cole sighed in frustration at Amelia’s narroweyed rejection of his smiled peace offering. Right back to square one.
For just a millisecond when their gazes had met, before the anger had slid into place, he’d glimpsed the same curiosity that burned in his soul. A curiosity that made him long to open Pandora’s box and dive into the unknown depths of whatever mysteries lay between them.
He cursed that her anger had quickly bubbled to the surface and drowned out all other emotions. Amelia hated him for what she believed he’d done to Clara and she wasn’t going to forgive him any time soon. If ever.
Damn it. He wanted her forgiveness. Now. Yesterday. Two years ago.
Patience had never been one of his virtues, but surely he didn’t expect her to welcome him on his first day aboard ship?
No, Amelia Stockton was like a wild mustang. To gain her trust would require endurance, fortitude, strength of mind, diligence.
Why Amelia? Why Clara’s sister? He’d asked himself why a thousand times. More. But he never came up with a satisfying answer.
Satisfying. A wry smile twitched at his lips. He hadn’t lied when he’d told Amelia he hadn’t been satisfied in years.
He hadn’t. Amelia had bewitched him and he simply didn’t want anyone other than her. No doubt that played into his current level of frustration, but sex for the sake of sex had been a poor substitute. After a few failed attempts to forget Amelia, he hadn’t been willing to settle for that.
He still wasn’t, which explained the insanity of his request to serve on the USS Benjamin Franklin.
Amelia’s glossy dark hair was swept back in a ponytail, swishing to and fro with each movement of her tight body. Her legs pumped the elliptical machine back and forth, her arms making a rapid ski motion while she stared straight ahead as if she couldn’t see him, as if he no longer existed. Was that what she’d done? Written him out of her life as if they’d never shared kisses that had set his insides aflame?
Cole bit back an appreciative groan. He wasn’t the type who ogled women at the gym. Usually. Today, he was thankful his gym shorts were loose. Otherwise he’d find himself in an embarrassing predicament. She was hot—and not just because sweat glistened on her skin, dampened her hair.
He wanted to step into her fire and go up in smoke. Rich, deep, satisfied smoke.
“Ame—Dr Stockton,” he recalled just in time, climbing onto the elliptical on the opposite side of her, reminding himself to take baby steps, not to push too much too soon or his hopes for the future would be what went up in smoke.
Without glancing toward him, a scowl was her only response.
Cole reminded himself not to jump the gun. Eventually, Amelia would come around, would see that he was the same old Cole who had once been such an integral part of her life. He hoped. He desperately wanted that position back. But this time he didn’t want her to see him as her sister’s fiancé and he sure didn’t want her feeling like his baby sister.
Not that he believed she’d kissed him that way. No, Amelia had wanted him the way a woman wanted a man when the chemistry is crackling.
They’d crackled.
“Hi,” a pretty Asian woman on Amelia’s right called, leaning forward. “Amelia was just telling me you’re the new surgeon.” The woman ignored the I’m-going-to-kill-you glare coming her way from Amelia and gave him a welcoming nod without missing a beat on her machine. “I’m Suzie Long, one of the two dentists. Welcome aboard.”
Grateful for a friendly face in enemy territory, he flashed a smile. “Nice to meet you, Suzie. Or should I say Dr Long?”
Blowing out an exasperated huff, Amelia muttered something unintelligible under her breath.
“Unless I’m telling you to open wide,” the petite woman flirted, giving him a friendly smile, “it’s Suzie.”
Liking her, Cole laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
In between them, Amelia stopped exercising, waited for inertia to catch up with her machine. The moment the movement stilled enough for safe dismount, she climbed off. Without a word to him and only a glare at the woman she’d been chatting with until he’d joined them, she walked off. Picking up a gym bag, she took out a sports bottle and took a long drink.
Cole tried not to watch. But he did. When it came to Amelia he couldn’t help but watch. His throat grew dry, withering him with thirst. A thirst he desperately wanted to quench, but which only her lips could quell.
Medical school had trained him to do without sleep. The navy had trained him to do without basic life necessities. Neither had prepared him for denying his need for Amelia.
“You’re so barking up the wrong tree,” the dentist advised, following his gaze to where Amelia tightened the lid and dropped the water bottle back into her bag. “Not meaning to be blunt, but she can’t stand you.”
“I know.” He sighed. “She has reason.”
“She told me.”
Cole cut his gaze to her. “She told you?”
“About her sister and you? Yep.”
That surprised him.
Apparently reading his mind, the woman went on. “I doubt she’s told anyone else you were a runaway groom, though. Shame on you for that, by the way!” Her smile softened her reprimand. “Amelia and I are bunk mates.”
Runaway groom? He cringed at the description. Yes, he supposed that’s how Amelia saw him. He glanced toward the woman two machines down. “You’re Amelia’s bunk mate? That’s good to know.”
Her expression was positively wicked. “In case you ever want to visit?”
“In case I ever want to visit,” he repeated, his gaze going back to where Amelia lifted a dumbbell from its rack. Her toned flesh flexed as she extended the weight, muscles shifting temptingly with her movements, making Cole think of other ways her muscles would shift with movement.
Snorting, Suzie’s gaze followed his. “Yeah, right. She would have you court-martialed if you so much as made a pass at her. Even if she didn’t think you were the scum stuck to the bottom of the boat, she wouldn’t be interested in an on board romance. Her career means too much to her for that.”
Not that on board sexual activities didn’t occur, but one could lose everything if caught. Much better to take their time aboard ship to reestablish their friendship and earn her trust, as planned. Not destroy his career as well.
Besides, the only reason his request to serve aboard Amelia’s ship had been granted was that they both valued their careers enough not to put them as risk. Of that, he had no doubt. When they were at port call, off ship, well, all was fair in lust and war, but Cole hadn’t pointed that out.
Suzie eyed him expectantly, waiting for his comeback, waiting for him to tell her what she wanted to know. What she already knew because she could see his interest in Amelia as plain as the nose on his face.
If he played his cards right, she might just be on his side. An ally behind enemy lines. Something he hadn’t counted on. Not beyond the person who’d helped him get on board.
A slow smile spread across his face. “What I want to know is whether or not you think I’m the scum on the bottom of the boat, too?”
Obviously pleased by his response, the woman laughed. “I think you’re far worse than the scum on the bottom of the boat, but I’m pretty sure I’m going to like you, anyway.”
His gaze went back again to where Amelia curled a free weight, her muscles flexing beneath her sleek skin.
“At least that’ll be one person in your room who likes me.”
But if the way Amelia kept casting surreptitious glances toward him was anything to go on, she felt the chemistry between them that hadn’t let up with time and distance.
He understood she was confused. Understood her dislike of him. Understood she was going to combat the underlying attraction between them.
Cole was ready for the fight of his lifetime and when all was said and done, he’d win Amelia’s forgiveness.
The stakes were too high not to win.
Chapter Four
COLE had been on board the USS Benjamin Franklin for two weeks and had fallen into a routine. He scheduled procedures early morning, finished in the surgery suite on most days by ten, and then hung out in the sick ward “helping” until all patients had been examined.
Amelia could do without his kind of help.
His kind of help distracted her.
Made her feel as if she were in need of a doctor herself.
Tachycardia, shortness of breath, dizziness, flushing, mental cloudiness, thick tongue, tingling breasts.
Pathetic. Absolutely pathetic that he was having such an effect on her body. Her breasts did not tingle. It was more like an itch. And not the kind she needed scratched. At least, not that kind of scratching. No, it was more the allergic-to-jerks, stay-away-from-me type of itch. A reaction one had when something was harmful to their health. Yeah, right.
“I heard Dr Carter—” the other medical doctor on board “—wasn’t feeling well and you’re by yourself. Need my help?”
Think of the devil and there he was, looking way too handsome in his scrubs. His stethoscope dangled around his neck and he looked the picture of good health. Not like he’d barely slept for the past two weeks because of a disturbing presence from his past. Irritated that she was the one looking like the walking dead, she gritted her teeth.
“No.” What she needed was him off her ship so she could get back to her regularly scheduled life program.
“Fine.” His smile never faltered.
No matter how many times she cut him off, he just kept smiling, kept being nice, kept coming back for more. He was driving her crazy, making her remember too many of the reasons she’d fallen under his spell to begin with.
“I’ll see who’s in triage and take care of whoever I can.”
During his short time on board, Cole had gained the respect of the medical crew by jumping in to help wherever needed. He triaged patients, took blood pressures, gave shots, whatever.
Not only had he gained the crew’s respect, he’d gained their friendship. Everyone liked him. Except Amelia.
“Hey, Dr Stockton, is it okay if Dr Stanley uses bay two? He’s going to repack an abscess.”
Cole stepped back into the sick bay, holding a triage sheet. Having heard Richard’s question, he glanced at her, seemingly waiting for her approval. As if what she said made any difference whatsoever. Along with Richard and the rest of the crew, the senior medical officer thought Cole was the greatest thing since butter on toast.
Amelia had thought the same once upon a time. During medical school she’d idolized him, had viewed Cole as the perfect man. Funny, generous, intelligent, handsome, charming, compassionate. Had she not loved Clara so much she might have resented her sister’s perfect life. Beautiful inside and out, Clara had held Cole’s heart from nearly the moment they’d met. Only, in the end, Cole had kissed Amelia and walked away from both women.
“If that’s okay?” he added to the corporal’s request.
“Fine.” She turned away, knowing she was unnecessarily brusque yet unable to bring herself to show any grace. If she gave Cole an inch, he’d take a foot. She had to keep her distance for her own peace of mind, from loyalty to her sister.
Clara, whom she hadn’t been able to tell that Cole was on her ship despite their e-mails. Clara, who had volunteered for yet another crazy assignment. Clara, whose notes sounded so unlike the woman she’d once been while engaged to Cole.
Oh! She despised what he’d done to her big sister and she clung to that like a drowning woman clutching a life preserver.
“There’s a positive strep throat in bay one,” Tracy said, snagging Amelia’s thoughts back to where she was washing her hands.
She’d scrubbed so hard she was surprised to still see skin.
Drying her hands, she nodded at the nurse. “Thanks.”
Tracy’s face twisted in thought then she pulled Amelia aside. Under her breath, she quickly spoke. “I wouldn’t say this if I wasn’t your friend, but the whole crew has picked up on your…not hostility but a definite lack of friendliness toward Dr Stanley.”
“And?” Amelia fought to keep her face emotionless. As she’d told Cole on that first day, she wouldn’t let her animosity toward him interfere with the care of her patients. In her mind, she’d stuck to that. She may not like him, but she was doing her best to be professional. She’d even set up several patients to see him during his stint thus far. Obviously, however, she hadn’t done such a great job of hiding her feelings from the crew, which truly did affect both their jobs.
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