One night is never enough...

For trauma doc Major Elle Caplin, spending one night in Lieutenant Colonel Fitzwilliam’s arms is out of character but oh so good! It’s meant to be a one-off, until Fitz shows up on her army base!

Fitz doesn’t do long-term—he knows he’s bad news to anyone he cares about—and learning that he’ll be working with capable flame-haired Elle puts her in the strictly off-limits category. But with the memory of their hot, life-changing encounter keeping him awake, suddenly Fitz is tempted to break his one-night rule!

Dear Reader,

I’ve always been inspired by true heroes and heroines—both military and non-military.

For years, working in the office on Saturday mornings for my father, to earn my pocket money, I enjoyed chatting to a lady who would pop in to pay her bill. Then one day she happened to mention that the first time she spoke to her future husband was when, as a World War II RAF pilot, temporarily left unable to see after a dogfight, she had calmly guided him and his plane down to the ground. They didn’t meet, and indeed carried on their duties. However, years later they were unwittingly introduced and he immediately recognised her voice. The rest, as that well-known saying goes, was history.

Clearly I love a good real-life love story—especially one with a military theme. I should perhaps confess that I met my own husband when he was a twenty-six-year-old lieutenant. As I was a twenty-four-year-old officer cadet at the time, he was also my troop commander! We resisted the attraction for three years before eventually going on our first date—and only because I’d received my call-up papers. Never let it be said that my now-husband rushes into things!

I really loved the idea of writing about best friends Fliss—my heroine from Encounter with a Commanding Officer—and Elle, who have forged their army careers together, and their stories were incredibly fun to write! I could have written an entire corps worth of them!

I do so hope that you, equally, enjoy reading them.

Charlotte x

Born and raised on the Wirral Peninsula, in England, Charlotte Hawkes is mum to two intrepid boys who love her to play building block games with them and who object loudly to the amount of time she spends on the computer. When she isn’t writing—or building with blocks—she is company director for a small Anglo/French construction company. Charlotte loves to hear from readers, and you can contact her at her website: charlotte-hawkes.com .

Tempted by Dr Off-Limits

Charlotte Hawkes

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Books by Charlotte Hawkes

Mills & Boon Medical Romance

Hot Army Docs

Encounter with a Commanding Officer

The Army Doc’s Secret Wife

The Surgeon’s Baby Surprise

Visit the Author Profile page at millsandboon.co.uk.

Montgomery and Bartholomew,

my beautiful boys.

Make every step one you believe in and shine.

xxx

Praise for Charlotte Hawkes

‘The romance that shone throughout the story was well-written, well-thought-out and one of greatness. The characters were some of the most thought-out that I’ve come across lately. This is definitely one to pick up for an amazing story.’

—Harlequin Junkie on

The Surgeon’s Baby Surprise

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Dear Reader

About the Author

Title Page

Booklist

Dedication

Praise

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

‘HEY, GORGEOUS, THOSE lips of yours look so lonely, do they wanna meet mine?’

It took Elle a moment to realise the cheesy pick-up line had been aimed—or, more accurately, slurred—at her. She cringed and hoped that if she ignored him he might get the message, even as a part of her wondered why she didn’t make one of the witty, no-nonsense comebacks for which she was renowned among her army colleagues.

Two weeks ago she would have.

In fact, two weeks ago she wouldn’t have been sitting on this barstool, having nursed the same warm drink for the last couple of hours. She’d have been tearing up that dance-floor, alone or not.

Then again, two weeks ago she hadn’t walked in on her fiancé, Stevie, in bed with not one—as she’d told her best friend, Fliss, in some last desperate grasp at dignity—but two bimbos. Two. As if cheating on her wasn’t enough, he had to utterly humiliate her. They were football groupies, who’d then sold their sordid selfies to the tabloids. And in that moment it had been as though Stevie had stripped away all of Elle’s self-assurance, the very foundation of her confidence, which had been so carefully cultivated over the last decade or so, leaving her feeling more like the nerdy, geeky outsider of her youth.

The fifteen-year-old girl who had let her new stepmother bully her when her bereaved father hadn’t been around, and her schoolmate peers had pushed her around when her adored teachers hadn’t been looking, until the cool, sixteen-year-old rising football star Stevie had taken a shine to her and everyone had reluctantly backed off. They hadn’t disappeared altogether but had hovered, waiting for their chance to pounce as soon as Stevie dumped her.

But he hadn’t, they’d been together for fifteen years in total. Two kids from a no-shoes-poor background who had dreamed of breaking free. He was the only boy she’d ever kissed, the only man she’d ever slept with. Without his support—both emotional and financial—her deep-seated desire of going to university to study medicine would have remained a pipe dream.

She was only grateful that her photo hadn’t appeared within Stevie’s double-page spread, including the moment he’d scored the winning goal for his club in the most recent Premier League match. And surely that in itself was fairly damning? Her photo hadn’t been there because—fifteen years or not—the press had, mercifully, never really known about her. For the first few years of their relationship they’d been practically inseparable, looking for each other in school or at lunch-breaks, and then she’d gone to university and everything had changed. For almost the last decade of her relationship with Stevie she’d tried to keep her life and career as a respected army trauma doctor as far away from his professional footballer lifestyle as she possibly could.

‘Man, what’s a bloke gotta do t’get some attention around here?’

Elle startled as the drunk man next to her lolled over the bar, trying in vain to get the bartender to notice him. She refrained from telling him that she’d seen sober people wait up to about ten minutes to get served; she doubted he’d get anything more to drink from anyone. He seemed to have forgotten about her and she didn’t particularly want to engage the bloke when she didn’t have to.

She glanced around the bar-cum-club with its Latin dance vibe and sexily dressed patrons and reminded herself why she’d come tonight. In a matter of days she’d be thousands of miles away back on the second half of her latest tour of duty, and after the last fortnight holed up in her hotel room down the road she’d had something of a light-bulb moment. Why was she letting someone else—why she was letting Stevie—control her happiness, when it finally occurred to her that aside from the shock and humiliation of walking in on...that, she wasn’t remotely as devastated as she perhaps should feel. If anything, a tiny part of her actually thought it felt...relief? So she’d ended up here, trying to be cool and independent and remind herself of the strong, capable woman she’d finally become, instead of the insecure, frightened girl she’d felt on discovering her fiancé’s betrayal.

Instead, she just felt like a fish so far out of water she might as well have been back in the scorching desert she knew so well. It was time for her to cut her losses and go back to her hotel room, indulge in a long soak and snuggle down into that huge, fluffy, pure white bed. In a couple of days she’d be back out on her tour of duty and back into an environment she understood. Some people hated their jobs, but she loved hers. Always had. A small smile of relief tugged at her mouth.

‘You took your time, huh, darlin’, but I guess your lips liked the idea of meeting mine after all?’

Elle barely had time to snap back to reality to realise that the drunk man was still there, and was now lurching towards her with an excited gleam in his eye, clearly taking it as an invitation to plant a sloppy wet one on her. Apparently ignoring him hadn’t worked after all, and now a second guy hovered in the background, grinning inanely at his buddy’s apparent good fortune.

‘Like I said...’ she pulled away hastily, but caught off guard she was barely able to keep herself from toppling backwards off her barstool ‘...I’m not interested.’

‘Sure you are, hot stuff. You just don’t know it yet.’

A grabby hand snagged hers and she had to yank sharply to free it, her attitude changing immediately as she pulled herself back together.

‘You’re not listening,’ Elle ground out coldly. ‘I’m really not interested.’

‘Tell you what...’ he leered like he was making some huge concession ‘...I’ll even buy you a drink to help loosen you up.’

‘You’re not the first man—and I use that term loosely where you’re concerned—to offer to buy me a drink this evening and I declined.’ A few of them had been pretty good looking, too, and she still hadn’t been tempted. ‘They were polite about it and took no for an answer. I suggest you do the same.’

If she had to physically defend herself, she knew she could. The army had trained her well enough, even though she’d been fortunate enough never to have to use it in practice. But it didn’t mean her stomach wasn’t churning in a way that it hadn’t been a moment ago, or that she preferred not to make her debut in a bar back in the UK with some inebriated idiot.

‘Aw, c’mon, don’t be a tease...’

Elle reacted, some of her old self racing back to her in that instant as her hand closed swiftly, efficiently and discreetly over his, exerting just enough pressure on the first joint of his thumb. The words suddenly died on the man’s lips, replaced with an audible intake of breath while his eyes bulged slightly. She felt a sliver of pride slip back into place.

Abruptly she became aware of someone stepping up behind her. Her grip still firm, Elle was about to turn around when the look on the drunk man’s face changed as his bloodshot eyes attempted to focus just to the right of Elle’s shoulder and upwards. And then up again. He clearly didn’t like what he saw and she could only assume it was someone coming to her rescue.

Not that she needed rescuing. Stevie might have knocked her confidence as a woman, but he certainly hadn’t knocked her confidence in her ability to take care of herself, thank you very much. She opened her mouth to tell the unseen stranger that she had it under control when the fine hairs on the back of her neck stood on end and a voice spoke, deeper, smoother and richer than the luxurious one hundred per cent cacao hot chocolate she’d indulged in that afternoon. It positively oozed dominance.

‘Is everything okay here?’

The drunk man struggled to catch his breath, grunting as he winced.

‘Get lost, jerk, I saw her first.’

She could practically feel the disdain radiating from the newcomer and unexpectedly something kicked low in her gut.

‘Everything is just fine,’ Elle countered lightly, determined not to reveal quite how her heart was hammering in her chest, though whether it was adrenalin from the confrontation or the unexpected impact of her would-be rescuer, she couldn’t be sure.

‘I have the situation under control,’ she added quietly.

The dark shadow appeared in her peripheral vision and a decidedly muscular figure moved to insert himself between her and her misguided suitor, but Elle twisted her wrist and pushed her other hand over another barely imperceptible notch so that he went from red to puce. His friend was opening and closing his mouth but not moving to help.

‘Like I said,’ she repeated firmly, ‘it’s under control. The gentlemen were just leaving for some much-needed fresh air. Isn’t that right, boys?’

‘Okay, okay,’ he gasped. ‘We’re leaving.’

Similarly, her would-be hero took a half-step backwards in tacit acknowledgment that she did indeed have matters in hand, though he did remain close as if for back-up should she need it. Elle appreciated both actions, even as the drunk man stumbled backwards, nursing his hand and shooting her a baleful look before appearing to realise he was free again. His eyes gleamed and he stood his ground, jutting his chin out pugnaciously. She opened her mouth to issue another warning, but this time the stranger beat her to it.

‘There isn’t a problem here, is there, lads?’

It ought to have been a question but it wasn’t. The stranger’s physical presence only emphasised his strength, and yet somehow he managed to make it do it without actually crowding the men or looking as though he was threatening them.

Her eyes were still firmly locked on the drunken man—something warned her that to look at the stranger directly would be as dangerous as staring straight into the sun. Elle tried to sound disapproving out of the corner of her mouth.

‘I really can handle him. But thanks.’

‘He’s drunk and humiliated. You have no idea which way he’ll jump,’ the liquid gold voice murmured.

‘Besides, that was one impressive thumb-lock you executed back there. I’d fancied myself to have been swooping in here like some modern-day superhero when I saw you almost fall off your stool before. At least throw me this bone now so I don’t feel completely impotent.’

There was something utterly secure in the stranger’s tone that made Elle smile. She doubted this man had ever felt anything close to impotent in his whole life. In any sense of the word. And his compliment had warmed her far more than it perhaps ought to have.

‘Then far be it from me to emasculate you.’ She covered her mouth with her hand to hide her sudden, irrepressibly inane grin.

Then, crossing her leather-trouser-clad legs on the bar stool—the brand-new purchase intended to lift her spirits—she gestured discreetly.

‘Be my guest.’

Without another word the stranger stepped forward. Goose-bumps coursed along Elle’s arms and over her skin and for one long second her gaze lingered on a tight backside and muscular thighs, all wrapped up in black jeans, then slowly travelled upwards. He was tall, very tall, and solidly built, with a black T-shirt seemingly following every contour of his exquisitely hewn torso.

She blinked—since when did she ogle?—before forcing herself to focus on what he was saying.

‘Well, lads? Didn’t you say you were leaving?’ he said, offering the men a way of backing down while still allowing them the appearance of keeping their dignity.

It was a pretty impressive skill, which was sadly lost on the drunken duo. One of them craned his head up to glower, swaying precariously.

‘D’you wanna fight, or shhomething?’

‘I don’t, particularly.’ The response was even, conversational, but there was no mistaking the ominous tone. ‘But if that’s really how you’d like to end your evening...?’

For a moment everything seemed to hang. And then, to Elle’s relief, the one turned to his mate, muttering something about her not being worth the effort, and slunk away into the crowd. Still, the stranger watched with his arms folded across his chest making his biceps bunch appealingly from behind, and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Poised, controlled, but ready if they suddenly returned.

‘Better?’ she asked him, once she was sure the men had left.

Affecting nonchalance, she deliberately plucked a non-existent stray thread from her thigh, wondering who had removed all her internal organs and replaced them with a veritable butterfly pavilion.

‘Much, thanks,’ he agreed with no trace of embarrassment, pulling a comical pose as he flexed his muscles. ‘I feel like a man again.’

She finally made herself look at him properly, and the instant she did she found she couldn’t drag her gaze away.

And what a man.

He was strong, fit—Stevie had been fit, his football giving him an enviable physique—but this was something...more. A whole different level. The stranger had a dangerous power about him that seemed to emanate from the inside just as much as the view on the outside. He was commanding, impressive, thrilling. She’d worked with plenty of majors and colonels and brigadiers in her career, but this guy eclipsed them all.

Was this what she’d been missing all these years?

She barely resisted cocking her head to assess him more thoroughly. Lookswise, his face was inarguably masculine with a defined jawline and a blade of a nose. Not pretty-boy handsome, but far more arresting. The kind of face that would be imprinted in her mind for ever. Greedily she drank in the view. From the honed, squared jaw to the tiny crinkle lines around his eyes, which seemed to add character, it was a face that could have stopped a whole bar full of women and, if the daggers she could feel in her back even now were anything to go in, already had.

Unreadable and intense, his eyes were a smoky blue-grey and were were focussed entirely on her. They drew her in and refused to release her, and so help her she didn’t want to go anywhere. Forget the butterflies; now a hundred tiny fireflies had sprung up in her belly like a magical light show on a warm summer evening.

She couldn’t decide whether it was thrilling or nerve-racking. She flicked her tongue out to moisten nervous lips.

Something momentarily flared in his eyes, something that sent the fireflies racing for cover as fire spread through her entire torso and her heart pounded so hard it would surely leave black and-blue marks on the inside of her chest.

‘Where did you learn to do that thumb-lock, incidentally? Very Jane Bond... You’re not army, by any chance?’

Something about his tone made Elle hesitate, as if it was more important to him than he would have preferred to let on. Maybe he was one of those blokes who hated the military, or one who got a kick out of a woman in uniform? Either way, tonight she didn’t want to be Major Caplin, Dr Caplin, or even Gabriella Caplin. She just wanted to be Elle.

‘Self-defence class when I was a uni student,’ she answered, not untruthfully.

‘Ah.’

She might have been imagining it, but she could have sworn he relaxed. So, not a military fan, then.

‘Are you okay?’

‘Fine,’ she croaked out. ‘Thanks.’

She was jerking her head like she’d just electrocuted herself.

‘Are you always so effective at shooting a guy down?’

‘I don’t know where that came from.’ She shrugged. ‘He put his hand on me and I just reacted, but I had tried ignoring him first. I thought he might have gone away.’

The stranger nodded sagely.

‘Ah, you see, that’s where you went wrong,’ he continued deadpan. ‘That’s a polite woman’s logic. A drunken man just thinks, She hasn’t told me to sod off yet, she must be interested.’

Elle laughed. She couldn’t help it. Some of the awkwardness dissipated.

‘I see. Well, thanks, I’ll remember that for the next time.’

A small smiled tugged at those irrationally tempting lips of his.

‘At the risk of a knee to my most valued possessions, can I buy you a drink?’

For the first time that evening, Elle was actually tempted. More than tempted. And it only had a little to do with the devilish grin he’d just flashed, which turned her insides out, and more to do with the man flashing it.

But something made her stall.

It could have been the fact that she’d been about to head for the door before the unpleasant interlude with the drunken duo. But Elle suspected it was more to do with the fact that this man here was ridiculously hot, making her brain turn to treacle and her tongue forget how to function. She’d come here to rediscover herself, not pick someone up. And if she accepted a drink from him, would he think she was somehow...obligated to more? She had no idea, but she was sure that wasn’t going to happen. Still, what were the rules? How did she go about this flirtation dance stuff? The last time she’d dated had been fourteen years ago.

‘I have a drink,’ she managed, buying herself time to think.

‘Which is no doubt warm and unpleasant since you’ve been cradling it for the last hour.’

She wasn’t sure whether to be feel pleased or creeped out. Something about the guy made her feel more the former than the latter.

‘You’ve been watching me.’

His chuckled. A rich, warm sound that made her stomach flip-flop.

‘I wouldn’t say watching exactly, that might sound a bit...off, don’t you think? I happened to be getting the drinks in when we first arrived.’

We?

‘You’re with someone?’ She tried to remind herself that she had no right to feel so disappointed.

‘Over there.’

She followed the direction he indicated, the ridiculous beam rushing back to her face.

‘A lads’ night out?’

‘I’m glad that delights you so much,’ he commented wryly, turning to the bar with a minimal dip of his head to attract the bartender’s attention. ‘I think I’ll take that as a good sign and order you a fresh drink after all.’

Elle gave herself a mental kick. She had some good qualities, she knew that. Her colleagues generally described her as focussed and driven yet also fun and bubbly, and she prided herself on her ability to master a curveball, but she never had mastered the art of flirting. She’d never had to. And right now she felt about as sophisticated as turning up to an officers’ garden party wearing jeans and a white tee. Yet somehow the obvious appreciation in his gaze stopped her from feeling too gauche.

She was still trying to work out her next move a few moments later as the bartender carefully removed her tepid half-consumed drink and replaced it with a fresh one.

‘How did you do that?’ she marvelled, with a glance at the frantically waved notes in the crowd as customers still clamoured for attention. ‘It was like magic.’

‘No magic, we’ve just got a tab going. And we tip well.’

‘You come here often?’

Oh, Lord, had she really said that?

‘Not really, but when we do it’s usually an all-out affair.’ He grinned, and white-hot attraction seared through her, turning her inside out. Elle swallowed hard, forcing herself to remain nonchalant.

‘Celebration?’

‘Call it a bit of a...leaving do.’

Moments later a generous glass of dark liquid was set quietly in front of the stranger. Elle glanced at the fizzing bubbles in surprise.

‘You’re on soft drinks?’

‘I don’t drink.’ He shrugged casually.

‘Ah.’

Recovering alcoholic? That explained a lot. Like why a guy who looked like he did was still single. And that unexpected bitterness to his earlier comment about not knowing how the drunken guy was going to react.

‘Maybe the odd glass of wine if I’m dining out, but I’m generally happy to be the designated driver on a night out like this,’ he added, as if he’d read her mind. ‘Easier than trying to get a taxi sometimes.’

Yet she didn’t miss the flash of...something that skittered across his face before he shot it down.

So he wasn’t the drunk, but maybe someone close to him?

She gave herself a mental shake at her uncharacteristic curiosity.

What did it matter? It wasn’t any of her business.

Admittedly, she’d dealt with enough soldiers telling her only half-truths about their injuries in order to get back to their unit quicker. If you knew the give-aways it could be easy to spot when someone was holding back, even if you had no idea what they were withholding. But this wasn’t the army now. She wasn’t at work. This was about play. So if this stranger wanted to keep something private then who was she to pry?

She smiled openly.

‘So, you aren’t going back to them? Your friends?’

‘Do you want me to?’

She should tell him it didn’t matter to her either way. Hadn’t she been ready to leave anyway for the comforts of her hotel spa bath and downy bed? Instead, she held out her hand by way of silent invitation.

‘I’m Elle.’

‘Just Elle?’ He smiled, stretching out his arm.

His fingers brushed hers moments before a strong palm enveloped her hand. Something arced between them, making the air seem to crackle. It was all Elle could do not to snatch her hand back.

Or to lean into him and give in to the rash impulse to press her mouth to those inviting lips.

‘Well, then, Just Elle, I’m just Fitz.’

‘Touché.’

She couldn’t help a soft chuckle from slipping out and the instant flare of awareness from the stranger—from Fitz—instilled her with another unexpected boost of confidence.

The guy who was coveted by a good proportion of the females in the place actually fancied her? From something as simple as her laugh?

‘So, Elle, what brings you here tonight? Alone? Only—and forgive me if this sounds impertinent—aside from your impressive moves back there with your unwanted admirers, you’ve looked a little...uncomfortable all evening.’

She offered a rueful smile.

‘Was it that obvious?’

‘You mean aside from the ramrod-straight back? Or the untouched drink? Or the fact that most people are happy to flirt yet you were oblivious to the five or six other, non-inebriated men who tried to make a play for you all evening?’

‘Are you saying I don’t fit in?’ She couldn’t help teasing him, firmly quashing the slither of unease that he might have a point.

‘I’m saying you looked a little like you weren’t used to it.’

She sighed. She could try to be nonchalant, but it wasn’t likely to work. Maybe she should just be honest? She had opened her mouth to speak when a commotion on the other side of the room caught her attention. But as the people jostled she caught sight of a body on the floor, convulsing as a screaming girl tried to hold it down.

Elle didn’t think, she didn’t wait, she just glanced at her watch to note the time and she acted.

Chapter Two

ONE MOMENT ELLE was sitting on the barstool next to him, the next she was thrusting people out of her way as she made a beeline for some hubbub behind him. Call it intuition after fifteen years as an army officer, call it something about Elle’s understated purposefulness, but Fitz was compelled to follow even as he strained to see past the throng.

It was only when he saw the young man on the floor, with Elle gently forcing a sobbing girl to release her grip on him, that Fitz realised what was happening. Icy fingers slid the length of his spine, the length of his body, rooting him to the spot. He fought to shut his mind to the memories that threatened to overtake him, but not fast enough. They slammed into him with brutal force, knocking his breath out like a bullet striking body armour.

The last time he’d seen someone having a seizure like this had been over twenty years ago. His baby sister had had seizures from about the age of one. Not often, but still. How had he forgotten about that?

Memories crowded his head. Images he’d buried along with her body. Her tiny, five-year-old’s coffin next to the adult-size one of their mother. He struggled to shove the unwanted images away and try instead to focus on helping the woman he’d just met who was managing the situation with the same cool efficiency with which she’d dispatched Tweedle-Dum and Tweedle-Dumber earlier.

‘Let him go,’ Elle was telling the girl, kindly but firmly.

‘No. No. I can’t.’ She shook her head manically and tried to shrug Elle off. ‘He’s my brother, he’s going to hurt himself.’

‘How long has your brother suffered from epilepsy?’

‘What? No.’ The girl shook her head violently. ‘He’s seventeen, he doesn’t have epilepsy. He’s never had epilepsy. What’s wrong with him?’

‘Your brother’s never had a seizure before?’ Elle asked calmly.

The same calmness with which Fitz remembered his mother teaching his eleven-year-old self what to do if his sister ever had a seizure if he was alone with her. Not that he’d ever needed to in the end.

‘Of course he’s never had one,’ the girl was wailing. ‘I told you, there’s nothing wrong with him.’

‘What about anyone else in your family?’

‘What? No. I’m his sister, I’d know if he had epilepsy.’ The girl was practically apoplectic. ‘I have to make sure he doesn’t hurt himself. Oh, God, what’s wrong with him?’

‘It’s okay.’ Taking the girl’s head in her hands, Elle forced the kid to look at her. ‘I’m a doctor, do you understand me? It’s going to be okay but you have to trust me. Let go of your brother. If you try to hold him in place you could end up causing more damage.’

Her soothing tone not only seemed to help the girl but him too, and he began to be able to move past his memories just as she glanced up at the room, her stern, clear voice carrying over the now music-free club.

‘Everyone else, can you just back up, please, and give him some room?’ She turned back to the girl. ‘Okay, now this is what you’re going to do. You’re going to move that table away for me so your brother doesn’t hurt himself by banging it.’

All of a sudden Fitz’s legs sprang back into life and, propelling himself forward, he distracted the girl.

‘Come on, I’ll help you. We need to move everything else out of the way. You move those bottles and glasses onto the table down there and I’ll move the table itself, understand? Great, okay, now we should move those chairs and the stool.’

His mind and body acting in slick, smooth unison, the way he’d honed them to ever since he’d joined the army, Fitz eased himself even further away from the unwelcome, debilitating memories. Instead, he concentrated on Elle and trying to pre-empt her needs, passing her a jumper, which she took with a silent nod, balled up and slid under the boy’s head to cushion it. Then he placed himself between the peering crowd and the boy.

‘That’s all, folks,’ he said authoritatively. ‘If you don’t need to be here, I suggest you move away and get back to your own affairs. There’s nothing to see here.’

He nodded with satisfaction as the crowd immediately began to dissipate, but he was hardly surprised when there were a few reluctant to leave, one of whom was even reaching for his mobile phone.

‘Now,’ Fitz growled, taking a step closer so that he was invading the guy’s personal space without making actual physical contact.

It felt as though ever since he’d seen Elle his night had been one incident after another when usually a night out for him, in the rare downtime he had as a colonel, was fairly uneventful.

What was it about this woman, the emerald-eyed redhead, that seemed to turn his world upside down? She was so damned captivating. But as much as he was loath to admit it, he suspected it wasn’t simply about her striking looks, even if they were what had drawn him from almost the first minute his group had walked into the club.

So she was a doctor?

He didn’t like to examine quite how relieved that made him feel. Something about her attitude and confidence had seemed so familiar, he’d suspected she might be military. It wouldn’t be surprising. They were close to a mobilisation army barracks, which was how his group of fellow officers knew about the club. It was one they always frequented before they went on a tour of duty. The place was more bar than pub, and, though it had a dance-floor, it was not a nightclub, so as officers they could be comfortable having a night out without risking running into the junior ranks, who typically opted for the pubs and bars in the centre of town, which would be heaving with soldiers over the next few nights.

But the idea of Elle potentially being military had been more of a let-down than it perhaps should have been. That would have been the one obstacle to make him walk away. Not that there was any military reason that would prevent them from getting together, of course—as a doctor she would be a commissioned officer just as he was—but, still, it was a line he had always refused to cross for his own personal reasons. Ever since Janine. But Fitz suspected Elle might have made him consider breaking his unnecessarily strict personal rules.

He wasn’t yet prepared to examine why he had been so pleased that the fact that she was a doctor, and not military, meant he didn’t have to find out.

‘Fitz?’ Elle’s voice broke into his reverie. ‘Can you call for an ambulance? Tell them a seventeen-year-old male is suffering from a seizure with no known history of epilepsy.’

Without waiting for his response, as though trusting him implicitly, she lowered her head to check on the boy then turned back to the girl with a gentle smile.

‘What’s your name?’

‘Lisa.’ The girl sniffed.

‘Okay, Lisa, can you contact your parents?’

‘Our parents? Oh, God, I can’t call them, they’ll kill us. They’ll kill me. Adam’s only seventeen.’

‘Has your brother consumed alcohol?’ Fitz heard Elle ask as he slid his mobile from his back pocket. ‘Don’t worry, I don’t care how old you are, I just need you to tell me the truth so that I can look after him the best way I can.’

‘Yes,’ Lisa sobbed.

‘Okay, that’s fine. Do you know how much?’

‘A lot. We both had a lot. Oh, this is all my fault, isn’t it?’

Fitz stepped away as the emergency services operator came on the line, and gave their location and the details. After a brief check of the boy he made his way over to the bar and asked for a blanket and then made sure the crowd had dissipated. By the time he turned back to Elle, Lisa was just about calming down as her brother was slowly coming around.

‘My parents are going to kill me.’

‘Shh, you’re okay, Adam,’ Elle soothed, checking her watch again. ‘You just had a little seizure, but you’re safe and your sister’s here.’

‘The ambulance is on its way,’ Fitz muttered quietly. ‘This is for his bladder. I’m going out to check the car, I’ve probably got spare clothes in my gym bag in the boot.’

Gratefully, Elle took the blanket and laid it over the boy’s lap, asking him how he felt and trying to note his clarity of answers through Lisa’s panicked interference. It was clearly going to be a lot easier for Elle to make her assessment without Adam’s sister wailing and babbling.

‘Come with me, Lisa,’ Fitz commanded softly, in the tone he used when he needed people to do things he knew they absolutely didn’t want to do. ‘We’ll work it out, but your parents need to know. However mad you think they’re going to be, imagine how upset and angry they would feel if you didn’t contact them.’

Almost against her will, Lisa backed away from her brother, her eyes still locked on his dazed form.

‘I... I guess they’d be even more angry?’

‘I think you’re probably right. Now, my...friend is going to stay with Adam until the ambulance arrives, but you and I need to call your parents together and let them know what’s going on.’

‘And tell them Adam’s going to need to go to hospital for an EEG,’ Elle muttered in a low voice. ‘Tell them to meet Lisa and Adam there.’

‘Understood.’ He turned back to the sister. ‘Right, shall we step outside where it’s a little quieter?’

The sister flip-flopped again.

‘No, no... I can’t.’

Time to take her properly in hand.

‘Lisa, they’re going to find out some time,’ Fitz informed her sternly. ‘Better sooner, don’t you think? If you’d prefer, I can call them for you, but someone needs to do it. Now.’

The girl hesitated, then nodded, silently handed over her mobile, and followed him outside.

* * *

‘Thanks for moving everyone away so quickly,’ Elle said forty minutes later as they watched the ambulance pull away from the kerb. ‘The last thing that kid needed was to come round to find a bar full of nosy people gawking at him.’

‘No problem. You were quite impressive back there. Again.’ He smiled. ‘Shall we go back inside?’

She shook her head.

‘No, I really do need to go. But thanks for the drink.’

Her guarded gaze caught him by surprise. He couldn’t shake the feeling he was missing something. The sounds of the music thumped sensually into the street from the live band who had taken the stage early to lift the mood of the still stunned crowd, but neither of them made a move.

‘Ah, okay. I did find one thing odd, though,’ Fitz said, stalling for time. ‘His sister really had no idea he was epileptic?’

‘He might not be.’ Elle cocked her head, apparently happy to be delayed. ‘It isn’t uncommon to have a single seizure and then for it never to happen again for the rest of his life. Especially because he’s seventeen and alcohol can be a trigger. The EEG should help to determine whether or not there is unusual electrical activity in Adam’s brain and he’ll go from there.’

‘And what do you think?’ Fitz asked, admiring the way her eyes lit up when she talked about medicine. Clearly being a doctor was more than just a job to her, it was something she loved.

‘I don’t know without the results, but from everything he said afterwards, I’m thinking he’s had a few absence seizures in the past, which he never really thought much about. Then the combination of alcohol, exams in school, finding it hard to sleep at night was a trigger for more. But that’s just a guess.’ She hunched her shoulders. ‘Anyway, from your reactions I’m guessing that isn’t the first time you’ve seen a seizure either?’

‘My little sister suffered from epilepsy. From the first year of her life.’

The words were out before Fitz had time to think and he halted abruptly. He never talked about his sister. Never.

The last time he’d even talked about his family—other than to trot out the one, practised sentence that his mother and sister had died a long time ago—had been to Janine. And even then he hadn’t told her the full story, just enough to satisfy her questions after her colonel father had already told her about the car crash.

He’d certainly never told her about those three years when it had just been his mother, his sister and himself in that tiny, cramped flat. The happiest three years of their lives together until his old man had walked back in that night.

‘Suffered? Past tense?’ Elle asked. ‘Did she grow out of it? I think it’s somewhere around ninety percent of children with childhood absence epilepsy can grow out of it by about the age of twelve, although I understand they can sometimes have other types of seizure.’

‘No. She died.’

Elle held his gaze steadily, her expression changing.

‘I’m so sorry. What happened?’

Old, familiar guilt had resurrected itself, and was pressing on his chest like a flatbed truck was crushing him. Images assailed Fitz. Him getting home, the car gone, the phone lying smashed on the floor, the shattered furniture, leaving the house turned upside down. And everywhere the stench of booze. The stench of him. The man who was Fitz’s father in name only.

‘Car crash. She was six, nearly seven. My mother died too.’

He braced himself for the look, pity coupled with discomfort as they quickly changed the topic. Instead, he simply saw quiet empathy, a calmness and genuine interest. It seemed to slice through all the layers of protective armour he’d spent years pulling into place.

‘Fitz, how awful for you. So it was just you and your father?’

‘He was driving.’ Fitz tried to swallow the words. Elle was a stranger and this was no one’s business except his. ‘Drunk. I was the only one left.’

Instead, they kept pouring out, as if they’d been waiting for this moment—for this woman—for half his lifetime.

‘Is that why you wanted to protect me from the drunken bloke who was hassling me at the bar, and his mate?’ she asked softly. ‘So, how old were you?’

‘Sorry?’ he stalled.

This was the longest he’d allowed himself to think about it in a long, long time. And he didn’t want to. Not here. Not now. Not ever.

‘How old were you when your family died?’ she repeated steadily.

‘You ask a lot of questions for a damsel in distress.’

‘I wasn’t in distress. I had my thumb-lock, remember?’ Another smile that twisted in his gut. ‘But that’s not to say I didn’t appreciate the solid back-up.’

‘Well, then, that makes me feel better.’ He managed a wry smile.

He should have known better than to distract her. Her gaze never wavered and he was compelled to address her unanswered question.

‘Seventeen. But it was the night of my eighteenth.’

He should have had happy memories of the time but all he had was one of his mother and his sister lying in that hospital mortuary. To this day he didn’t know which of the mass of bruises over his mother’s face had been caused by the crash itself and which had been the result of his drunkard father’s cruel fists. Fitz struggled to breathe, let alone regulate his voice, which sounded a million miles away when he spoke.

‘Listen, this isn’t something I like to talk about.’

A beat passed before Elle answered, but not before reaching out to run a hand over his cheek as if she actually cared. And the oddest thing was, he felt like she did.

‘Maybe you should talk.’

‘I don’t need to talk,’ he bit out.

She gave an apologetic shrug, but it didn’t stop her from continuing.

‘I’m sorry. I know it’s probably none of my business but I’m a doctor. I can see the signs when someone has repressed things for a long time. Especially soldiers who think they’re too tough to need to talk and repress all kinds of bad incidents.’

‘What makes you think I’m a soldier?’ he asked sharply.

‘Those spare gym trousers you gave to the boy in there after his seizure had made him lose bladder control? I couldn’t help noticing they were military issue. And there’s just something about the way you handle yourself. I’m guessing Infantry?’

The way she smiled, polite but with none of the openness or interest of earlier, made him sure that discovering he was military had put her off. Ironically, his experience with women was that it was usually the other way around.

‘Not Infantry but, yes, I’m army. A colonel,’ he confirmed, technically not a full colonel, a lieutenant colonel, but he doubted that would make a difference to her.

Neither would the fact that until a couple of months ago he’d been a major in a different Royal Engineers regiment. Now he was at the start of his two-year posting as commanding officer of his very own regiment.

Yet right now all he could think was that something about the army meant that Elle was about to walk away from him, and a part of him desperately wanted her to stay. He wondered if she had a brother, a father who had served and been hurt. Or worse.

‘You don’t like it that I’m in the army, do you?’

‘No, no. It isn’t that. It’s...complicated.’

‘Too complicated to finish that drink with me?’

She sucked in a deep breath, as though trying to make her mind up about something. It was unsettling how much he wanted to spend more time with her. A drink, an hour, maybe the rest of the evening, whatever she was prepared to offer. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d ever wanted to spend time with any woman like this. But at least now her determination to leave had faded and she was looking decidedly undecided.

‘After the last hour, I’m guessing both of us would benefit from a bit of fun now,’ he pressed. ‘A bit of a laugh? A drink? Maybe a dance?’

‘I don’t dance.’ She frowned uncertainly but didn’t refuse him.

She was torn. He still didn’t know exactly what had put her off before but she was clearly as attracted to him as he was to her.

It didn’t make sense. He’d had short-term relationships and a handful of one-night stands over the years, all with attractive women of varying intelligence, but there was something different about Elle that seemed to pull at his gut and not just at the other, more...obvious part of his anatomy. Something glowed, like a whisper of wind over dying embers, inside Fitz; somewhere that had been a gnawing void for longer than he could remember.

He snorted silently inside his head. It was physical attraction, pure and simple. It was just the unusual circumstances of their meeting that had given rise to such a fanciful notion. The unexpected memory of his baby sister and the life he’d long since forgotten.

He hadn’t really wanted to come out tonight, the eighteenth anniversary of his mother and sister’s deaths. Its echoes of celebration seemed cruelly hollow. From today, his life had been devoid of their love and laugher and warmth for longer than they had been a part of it. Hardly a night for letting loose.

But he didn’t have a choice. It was a long-standing tradition with the men with whom he’d gone through Royal Military Training Academy—officer cadets over a decade earlier—to come on a final night out before a tour of duty. To have reneged on it would have raised questions Fitz didn’t want to answer.

And so he’d come, and from the minute he’d walked in and headed to the bar to buy the first round, his gaze had snagged on the arresting woman with the stunning red hair. A glorious, waist-length curtain of vibrant golds and reds and coppers that had evoked long-buried memories of the vivid autumn day over a decade earlier when he’d returned, exhilarated and hooked after his first ever tour of duty. It had tugged at something primal, deep inside him, yet...something he still couldn’t quite identify had also held him back from approaching her immediately.

Then those drunken idiots had given him the excuse he’d pretended he hadn’t been looking for, only to find that she could take care of herself with aplomb, and he’d been even more intrigued.

Fitz reminded himself that tonight was about fun, having a good time. In a matter of days he’d be thousands of miles away in a geographically hostile—though for once non-combat—environment and neck-deep in responsibility for his engineers’ role in a crucial, multi-discipline, hearts-and-minds mission. Tonight was his last chance to blow off some steam.

‘I don’t believe you can’t dance.’ He grinned. ‘But if that’s true, how about I teach you?’

‘You dance?’

Her brows knitted together and his stomach pulled tight. Man, she was cute. He shoved his hands into his trousers to counter the sudden impulse to take her face in his hands and kiss the frown lines away.

‘Not like some of those guys in there who can set the floor on fire.’ He lifted his shoulders. ‘But I can move my feet and keep a decent beat. So what do you say?’

Chapter Three

FITZ COULD MORE than just hold a decent beat, Elle thought an hour or so later as they took a break from another round of dancing in order to get a much-needed drink. He wasn’t competition standard, but he had a few nice moves and she was enjoying herself far more than she could have dreamed a couple of hours ago. She was glad she hadn’t left.

She’d been going to when she’d realised he was army. Not that she had to, it wasn’t against the rules given their ranks, but it was a complication she wasn’t sure she needed. And then he’d told her about his family and she’d felt a connection to him. The patent physical attraction between them only partially explained the draw; he’d trusted her enough to tell her, and that made it easier for her to feel she could trust him too.

Especially after Stevie.

‘Water, please.’ She nodded gratefully as he asked her what she wanted, trying not to read too much into the fact that his hand was still curled gently around her smaller one. ‘Or an orange juice. I could really go for an ice-cold juice right about now. Wait, I’ll come with you.’

‘Fine,’ Fitz agreed. ‘Just stay close.’

Her heart hammered even harder than it had been doing all evening as he pulled her casually to him and began to lead her through the throng to the bar. Then, reaching for a free sample of a lurid-coloured shot, he sniffed it warily.

‘You sure you just want water? You could try this Diablo’s Poison they’ve been pushing all night. I mean, it looks like some hacked jet engine fuel, smells even worse, and would probably strip your insides for the year, but if you can down it in one go you get a selfie and a photo on their media site. I mean, what’s not to love?’

He faked choking and Elle laughed, a rich feeling that seemed to bubble up out of nowhere, washing away the very last vestiges of the grime and sadness of the last few weeks. She was beginning to feel more and more like her old self with every passing moment. Stevie hadn’t got the better of her, and she wasn’t making quite the fool out of herself with this flirting business, as she’d initially feared. His betrayal had knocked her back but it hadn’t devastated her.

If anything, tonight’s unexpected turn of events had reminded her that Stevie had nothing to do with all the best qualities she prided herself on having: her skill as a doctor; her ability to take care of herself; her appeal to someone like Fitz. She didn’t know what it was about Fitz that seemed to lift her the way he did, she just knew the more time she was in his company the more time she wanted to spend with him.

And the fact that he’d confided in her earlier—things about his family that he didn’t tell many people, if any—had allowed her to let her guard down with him. As though she knew him, rather than had just met him. Another side to the man she could easily see as a strong colonel, a dynamic leader, an inspiring mentor.

‘You look more relaxed than you were earlier,’ Fitz said suddenly, ordering the drinks and then turning to her.

His gaze was unexpectedly more penetrating than before, reminding her that her body was tantalisingly close to his.

Abruptly, she ached for more.

They’d been dancing for over an hour, yet it had been so fast-paced that this was probably the closest she’d been to him for any length of time. And her body seemed acutely aware of it.

‘I feel more relaxed,’ Elle admitted, ignoring the irony as she struggled to regulate her breathing, and control the goose-bumps of anticipation from racing over her skin.

‘So, what brought you here tonight?’

She drew in a sharp breath.

‘Why ask that now, particularly?’ she managed slowly.

His mouth curved up into the seductive smile that she’d already discovered turned her insides out.

‘Because, I’d very much like to kiss you.’ He didn’t let her break the gaze for a moment. Direct and concise, just what she’d come to expect from Fitz. ‘But I don’t think that’s what you were looking for when you first came in here.’

‘Astute of you,’ Elle murmured, trying to buy herself some time.

It was as though the evening had been leading up to this point from the moment he’d stepped up to her at the bar. Now it was up to her to decide whether dancing, a drink, a laugh were as far as things went, or if she wanted more with Fitz tonight.

He didn’t answer. He didn’t rush her. He simply waited. And Elle was mesmerised by the way his thumb traced lazy, circular patterns over the back of her hand, as though the two of them had all the time in the world.

With his other hand, he reached between their bodies and picked up her drink from the bar to offer it to her before taking his own.

‘Come on,’ he muttered, turning and leading her back through the mass of rhythmically throbbing bodies and to a quieter corner of the club.

Then he turned back to face her, his gaze snagging hers as easily as before.

Dragging her eyes away, she took a fortifying gulp of orange juice.

Then a second.

Finally, she lifted her gaze back to Fitz.

‘I was in a relationship. Two weeks ago I discovered he’d been cheating on me. I admit that it knocked me. I walked out and have been staying in the hotel up the road ever since. I suppose you might say I’ve been licking my wounds.’

She offered a rueful smile but Fitz just frowned.

‘Long-term relationship?’

‘Fourteen years,’ she confirmed.

He let out a low whistle.

‘That must be tough. You were serious about this guy, then?’

He tailed off and Elle could guess what he was probably thinking.

‘Only I don’t seem as cut up about it as you’d have thought?’

‘I’m not judging.’

She shrugged.

‘I was hurt, humiliated. I felt betrayed. I sat in that hotel room and felt like a prize idiot. I felt as though I didn’t know who I was.’ She’d wondered if she was less of a woman, less sexy, less desirable. Not that she was about to tell Fitz that. ‘And then I had what I call my “light-bulb” moment; I realised it was more about my pride being hurt than me actually being hurt, and I asked myself why I was letting someone else’s actions shake my belief in myself.’

‘That’s very logical.’ Fitz didn’t look convinced. ‘Very controlled.’

She smiled wistfully.

‘Isn’t that the point? I realised we’d been growing apart for a very long time. He was a...sportsman.’ No need to name names. ‘He spent a lot of time training and travelling. And my career is very demanding. I think a part of me was still in love with the idea of childhood sweethearts, when in reality we’d fallen out of love a long time ago. We didn’t see each other like regular couples tend to, and we weren’t really bothered.’

If she calculated it—which she hadn’t been able to stop herself from doing a couple of times over the last fortnight—between multiple tours of duty, training courses and postings around the country, she doubted she’d spent more than thirty long weekends and a handful of week-long or fortnight R&Rs in Stevie’s company over the last decade or so. At best a couple of hundred days.

‘We didn’t even live together. We always had our own homes, blaming it on the distance, but that was just an excuse. As the money rolled in, each apartment became more and more blingy, and they weren’t my style. I visited but he never gave me my own key. I never needed one, but I guess I now know why he was afraid I might just pop in unannounced.’

‘So that was how you found out? You decided to surprise him with a visit?’

‘The doorman recognised me and let me in, sweet old guy who only did a couple of nights to top up his pension. I don’t know whether he knew the girls were up there, or if he did but thought it was time I knew what Stevie was up to. First time I’d surprise visited in years. Pretty dumb, huh?’

‘Only if you’re talking about him.’ Fitz’s thunderous expression somehow soothed her bruised ego.

Elle wrinkled her nose.

‘It wasn’t just Stevie’s fault. I liked my own space, too. I think in the last ten years we might have seen each other two hundred days. Two hundred days out of three thousand, six hundred and fifty-two-ish.’

Her stomach rolled with guilt.

She’d been pretty much fine with that—they both had, by the end—but in the very beginning how many keys had Stevie offered her? In the beginning how many times had he begged her to visit more? To come to his major league matches? To attend some B-list party? And she’d always found an army-related excuse not to. Then again, where had Stevie been when she’d finally graduated or passed out of her Sandhurst course? Out with his teammates, celebrating his own big wins. Too busy to come to either of the two biggest days in her life.

So what did that tell her about the state of their relationship? They’d had three years as teenagers in the flush of first love unable to stand being apart for even a maths lesson, to adults who hadn’t blinked an eye at being apart for three months at a time. Or, at least, she hadn’t. But, still, she would never have dreamed of cheating on him and it wasn’t as though she hadn’t had the opportunity over the years.

Yet Stevie had. A wave of sadness washed over her. He hadn’t always been that way. He’d changed. Fame had changed him. And, as if to add clichéd insult to even more clichéd injury, his excuse had been that the two bimbos ‘meant nothing’, that they were ‘football groupies’, that as a professional footballer he was a ‘high-profile target’ who had done well to resist their seduction skills as often as he had.

She’d taken time to get her head around that prize gem this last fortnight and finally seen it for the bull it was. Finally, he had professed that he couldn’t be blamed for being lonely and needing physical comfort given how often her work kept her away from him. And that particular knife of guilt had been the one to actually lodge in her back.

She shook her head and took another long drink.

‘So why stay in a hotel?’ he asked curiously. ‘Why not just go back to your own home?’

‘I didn’t want him to follow me down here. I didn’t want him to find me.’

She didn’t want to do something stupid like let him cry and beg and guilt her into taking him back.

‘Anyway, it’s not a subject I want to dwell on. I came here to prove to myself that I could enjoy a night out in my own company. I didn’t bank on how eventful it would be, but I’ve felt more like myself than ever. And I guess meeting you wasn’t a bad bonus.’

She managed a deliberately cheeky smile, something tightening in her chest when Fitz finally stopped frowning and laughed with her.

‘Okay.’ He dipped his head. ‘Then what would you like to do now? Another drink? Another dance? I could just walk you back to your hotel if you’ve had enough.’

There was no hint of suggestion in his tone, not that Elle was expecting there to be any. Fitz was the kind of guy who didn’t crowd a girl, and she appreciated it. His interest in her was clear yet at no time this evening had he made her feel under any obligation. He was utterly secure in his own skin in everything he seemed to do, and it was an incredibly attractive quality.

The funny thing was that the more he gave her space, the closer to him she wanted to get.

‘I think this is what I’d like to do now.’

Before she could second-guess herself, she stretched up onto her toes and pressed her lips against his.

Vaguely she considered it might have been better if she’d remembered to set her glass down first, but then a crackle of energy shot between them and Elle forgot everything else.

Everything stopped in that instant as he bent his head. Fitz didn’t merely kiss her back, he claimed her, expertly and devastatingly, licking through her body and firing up senses she’d never even known existed. His hands lifted to cup her head, fingers entangling their way into her hair as though he’d been waiting to touch it—to touch her—all evening, and Elle held herself closer to his powerful frame.

His mouth was crushing hers, tasting her, exulting in her and, in its ruthlessly exquisite way, crushing any last doubts that she somehow wasn’t enough as a woman. He made her feel beautiful, and desirable, and sexy. Fitz made her feel bolder than she’d ever felt before—at least, outside her work persona—as he helped her to discover a side of herself she’d never dreamed existed. A side of herself that was revelling in every stroke of his sensual tongue.

Her fingers bit into his shoulders and she exulted in the power there. Her entire body rocked against his, almost involuntarily, in a rhythm totally apart from the music’s. A rhythm as old as time, yet one that she hadn’t felt for a long time. And certainly never, ever anything quite like this. She pulsed everywhere. Her head was in a mad spin and her chest felt like a band was being wound tightly around her. Yet however close she pressed her body against his strong, unmistakeably hard frame, it didn’t feel enough. She couldn’t get close enough.

His kisses were like a heavenly sin. His arms around her, locking her in place, were like a sumptuous jail. She could feel every perfect, chiselled inch of him along every inch of her. But it wasn’t enough. She wanted more.

Apprehension slithered down her spine, rapidly overtaken by excitement.

She’d never had a one-night stand in her life. And somehow she knew she’d never want one again. No one had ever got under her skin quite the way Fitz had, even in these few hours. And it wasn’t just that she’d always been in a relationship in the past while now she was single. That alone didn’t explain it. She’d worked with enough male army officers in her career to have seen plenty of impressive examples of a man, in confidence, in charisma, in looks. But even if she’d been single, none of them would have affected her quite the way Fitz did. None of them could have tempted her to do something as completely crazy and impulsive as invite them back to her hotel room.

How did she even begin to go about suggesting it?

‘Can we get out of here?’ She reluctantly tore her mouth from his, murmuring nervously. She licked her lips. ‘Maybe go somewhere quieter?’

He peeled her body away from his and Elle was unprepared for the sudden sense of loss.

One hand on her shoulder, the other on her waist, Fitz held her away and searched her face, reading her unspoken suggestion.

‘You’re sure that’s what you want?’

She opened her mouth to confirm it, then paused. She still hadn’t told him they were both army, and she didn’t want to. Tonight wasn’t a night for talking Green, or comparing tours or barracks.

She tried to debate whether she ought to tell him or not.

Military-wise, there nothing compelling her to tell him. They were both single, both commissioned officers, and he wasn’t even in the same corps as her, let alone unit, so there was no conflict. He’d mentioned he was heading out on a tour of duty, that was true, but her tour of duty was a non-combat one so Fitz could be going to a different country, not just region, from her. And even if he was going to the same area, that would mean he’d probably be based out of Camp Razorwire, where she’d spent the first three months of her tour.

But when she returned she would be working in the local civilian hospital almost a couple of hundred miles and about an hour’s helicopter ride away. She’d be working with a different field hospital team on the first wave of a twelve-month hearts-and-minds mission to rebuild the damaged hospital and train the local doctors to carry out surgical techniques for the benefit of the population there.

There was no conflict, no issue, no need to tell him. Tonight she really could be Just Elle. With a clear conscience.

‘Yes, I’m sure that’s what I want.’ She nodded.

Fitz didn’t answer, he didn’t move. He just perused her face again, as if making his own mind up about something.

A horrid thought occurred to her.

‘Is that what you want?’ she asked abruptly.

‘Yes, I want you.’ He didn’t even hesitate. ‘God, I want you.’

His simple, direct, sure response fanned that fire that seemed to burn inside her, making her feel almost feverish. The pulsing in her body redirected itself to between her legs.

‘I just want to know what that hesitation was. I need to be sure.’

‘That wasn’t about this. But I guess I’ll just have to convince you.’

She was proud of herself for keeping the shake out of her tone as she stepped back into his circle of space and ran her finger lightly down his sharp jawline. Then, with a whisper-light touch, she brushed her lips on his. His response was immediate, as she’d hoped it would be.

This time his kiss was hotter, hungrier, and lethally practised. His hands moving over her body trailed sparks in their wake. Her body thrummed beneath his touch and dimly she acknowledged that after sleeping with Fitz there would be no going back. She would never be the same again. Sex would never be the same again.

Elle trembled at the mere thought, and it seemed to spur Fitz on as he muttered against her lips.

‘Then let’s get out of here.’

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