His Surgeon Under the Southern Lights
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Robin Gianna
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CHAPTER ONE
WITH THE SHIP pitching from side to side and up and down like a stomach-churning roller coaster, trying to get any sleep felt impossible. Normally Dr. Jordan Flynn could sleep anywhere, anytime, as long as she wore her eye mask, had earplugs stuffed into her ears and soothing sounds were coming from the white-noise machine by her side. This time, though, none of it helped one bit.
Maybe it was because the top bunk of her cabin seemed to threaten to toss her out of it with every swell of the ship as it crossed the infamous Drake Passage on their way to Antarctica. Or because the noise machine’s nature sounds were completely drowned out by real ones—the shrieking wind that she suspected no earplugs were heavy-duty enough to truly muffle.
She rolled to her side and it seemed the ship rolled along with her. Some people might pay big money to go on a crazy ride like this one at an amusement park, but at that moment, she’d pay even bigger money to get off it, if she could.
She squeezed her eyes closed behind the mask, then laughed at herself a little. Early October might be closer to bringing all-day sunlight to Antarctica, but she knew the low glow coming from a small window above her head wasn’t what was keeping her awake. Trying to somehow force her mind away from the uncomfortable rolling sensations, she tried to think about the plus side of the adventure she was embarking on. And working as a doctor at an Antarctic science station would definitely be an adventure.
Fletcher Station was brand-new, and despite her current discomfort, she was still thankful she’d been chosen to work there as a surgeon and general practitioner for six months. Not only work there, but be the very first person to set up the medical clinic and hospital and get it ready for the thousand or so crew members who’d be arriving in a week or so. Plus, they’d seemed to love the idea of having the marine biologists test her parents’ diving invention while they were underwater gathering samples, which was equally exciting.
Right now, only about seventy-five people were crossing the Drake Passage on this ship, getting things set up just like she was. Chefs and others prepping the kitchen and food, engineers getting machinery and equipment ready, and other support staff of all kinds. And, of course, a few scientists, with more on the way. Because scientific explorations, studies and discovery were the whole reason Fletcher Station existed.
Jordan thought about her little flat in London, her steady surgery job and her predictable life, which was exactly what she’d wanted when she’d decided to set down roots for the first time ever. Living all over the world with her doctor parents had been a great way to grow up, but she wanted something different for her adult life, and was happy with her choices.
She’d had to think hard about taking on this six-month stint in Antarctica. Then had decided, why not? One of these days, she expected that her roots would deepen and grow to include a husband and family, living in the same house together forever and ever. Until then, though, she’d enjoy this adventure, take care of patients and get further testing of her parents’ diving invention, one that would hopefully solve the problem of barotrauma. Doing a trial on how well it worked in Antarctica’s extremely cold water as compared to other places would be another strong step toward getting it on the market.
The boat tossed hard, and to focus on something besides the rough ride, she tried to visualize what the medical center would look like, and how much would be involved in getting the equipment set up. Then, inexplicably, that picture was interrupted by an absurdly handsome face floating in her mind’s eye. A face that belonged to the man in the cabin next door.
She’d been trying to get her door unlocked, hanging on to the doorjamb with one hand so she could stay upright, when he’d rounded a corner and strode down the hallway toward the door next to hers. He’d paused, with the key in his hand, to send her a charming smile and ask if she needed help. She’d given him a quick smile back and a “No, thanks” before she finally got the door unlocked and opened. She’d stepped inside and bolted it, relieved to climb up on the bunk and not have to wonder if she’d fall down before she got there.
Making small talk with anyone while working to keep her balance and swallow down a slight queasiness hadn’t seemed very appealing. But now, in the rolling darkness of her cabin, his tall, muscular body, dark skin and deep brown eyes seemed to float in front of her. Eyes that held humor and intelligence, and a hint of a twinkle that had drawn her in the second she’d looked at him. Had even sent her heart into a ridiculous and unwelcome flutter.
She frowned, wondering why in the world she was thinking about a guy she didn’t know. The deepening pitch of the boat had her grabbing the metal rungs at the top of the bed and holding on. Good thing she wasn’t prone to full-on seasickness, or she’d probably be crawling her way to the bathroom by now.
Maybe sleeping on the top bunk hadn’t been the best idea. With the way the boat swayed, she’d been afraid that the equipment she’d brought would slide across the floor, or be dislodged from the top bed, so she’d secured it on the lower bunk. Probably, though, being higher made her feel the pitch of the boat more than she would otherwise. Just as she was pondering if maybe she should just try to sleep somewhere on the floor, the storm sent the boat into its deepest roll yet. First one direction, then the other, then back so suddenly and violently she was flung from the bunk.
Her brain took a second to compute that she was airborne at the same time an automatic shriek left her lips. When her body reached the other side of the tiny cabin, her head connected with the wall as she slammed into it before dropping hard onto the floor like a rag doll thrown by a toddler. “Ow! Damn it!”
Dazed, she lay there a moment. The bruises on her elbow and shoulder started to complain. Her head throbbed. Something warm slid onto her forehead, and she lifted a shaking hand, coming into contact with sticky blood. She shoved off her eye mask and felt around her hairline, confirming that her darned head was cut open. Carefully moving her fingers to figure out where exactly the blood was coming from, and to gauge how much was oozing, she determined it was a fairly small trickle. Must not be too bad a gash since scalps normally bled a lot, so nothing to stress over too much.
She drew a shaky breath before gingerly sitting up. Figuring out what first aid might be necessary and how to actually accomplish it wasn’t going to be easy. Did she even have a mirror in here to try to look at it?
Three loud raps on her door had her turning to stare at the gray metal panel and blink. It also made her realize that one of her earplugs had fallen out, even though she was sure she’d have heard that banging through double sets of the foam things.
Breathing deeply through her nose again, she tried to compose herself and removed the other plug, too, shakily shoving it into her pocket.
“Hey! You okay? Let me in.”
Great. She closed her eyes and slumped back against the cabin wall. She’d bet good money that was her sexy neighbor’s voice. Last thing she wanted was to have him touching her head and making her feel all fluttery, which she had a bad feeling might happen again, considering she’d been thinking of him just moments ago. But of course that was ridiculous. Attractive? Yes. But so were a lot of other men on this ship. And all were men who traveled for their work, and that she didn’t have interest in.
Jordan opened her mouth to say she was fine, but as the blood trickled on down to her eyebrow, she had to grudgingly face reality. It made a whole lot more sense to let him see what was going on with her head wound than her trying to figure out how to check it herself. In a dark cabin with no mirrors, while the seas threw the boat around like a toy.
“Okay.” She tried to stand, but realized she felt surprisingly shaky, which wasn’t helped by the pitching of the boat. She ended up crawling to the door, feeling a little foolish as she reached up to unlock the knob, then leaned back against the wall next to it. “Come in.”
The door crept open only a few inches, which she realized was smart on his part. Easy to accidentally bash someone if you shoved it wide open without first figuring out where they were. She could see him scan the room, then quickly look down, his brows rising and his eyes deep with concern even in the low light of the room.
“Are you hurt?” He flipped on the light switch, then crouched down next to her, his hand on the doorjamb to keep himself steady as the boat rolled. “I heard a loud thud, then somebody—you—cry out. What happened?”
“Got thrown from my bunk. Banged up. My head is bleeding, but just a little. Will you take a look and see what’s going on up there?”
Another violent roll had her sliding sideways several inches on her rear, and his arm shot out to grab hers. “Let’s get you off this floor and onto the lower bunk, since it’s the only thing screwed down to the floor.”
“No room. I have a bunch of equipment and stuff secured on there.”
“Now there’s a good idea. Keep the equipment safer on the lower bunk than your body and head.” A disgusted sound left his mouth. “Hang tight. I’ll be right back.”
She leaned her aching head back against the wall, hoping this wasn’t a bad omen to start the trip. Then again, some of the craziest and worst stuff that had happened to her and her parents on their working treks around the world later made for some of the best stories and laughs.
At the sound of his feet coming up the hall, she turned to see him staggering into the cabin with an armload of bedding while the boat tipped deeply to one side again, and she couldn’t seem to keep from sliding back the other direction. “I’m going to tuck you into this corner over here so you’ll be still while I take a look.”
“Little Jordan Horner sat in a corner eating her curds and whey,” she muttered.
“You’re getting your nursery rhymes mixed up. Not to mention that’s a little weird.” He picked her up in his arms like she weighed nothing and gently sat her in the corner, stuffing the bedding on both sides of her hips, instantly making her feel more secure. “You feel nauseated? Confused?”
“I’m pretty sure I don’t have a concussion,” she said, wincing as she lifted her fingers to touch the tender lump on her head. “And feeling nauseated would be a given, considering the way the ship’s been rolling for the past who knows how many hours.”
“True.” He shot her that smile that made her feel a little weak in the knees. “I’m Ezekiel Edwards, by the way. Friends call me Zeke.”
“Jordan Flynn.”
“I know. Fletcher Station’s doctor.” He nodded. “I’m a marine biologist and climatologist. PhD. Also a trained medic, so you can trust me to take care of your head.”
“How do you know I’m the station’s doctor?”
“Saw your name on the roster. And okay, true confessions.” That quick smile again. “Someone on this ship told me the doctor on board was drop-dead gorgeous, and as soon as I saw you in the hall earlier, I knew it had to be you.”
“Is this your usual chitchat when you meet a woman?” She rolled her eyes, not even close to surprised about that, then regretted it when it made her head hurt worse.
He chuckled. “It’s just nice to finally meet you.” He pulled a flashlight from his pocket and kneeled in front of her, lifting her chin to look in her eyes.
“Honestly, I don’t have a concussion.”
“How do you know? Do you usually recite nursery rhymes just for the hell of it?”
“Actually, yes. It was something my parents taught me to do when I felt worried about something, or if I was hurt, to distract me.” And right now, she seemed to need a distraction from his chiseled features and sexy lips and the manly way he smelled, way more than from her bruised body and the movement of the boat.
“Huh. That’s a new one.” He gave her a crooked smile as his thumb moved from her chin and slipped across her cheek before dropping away. “Lean your head down so I can see what’s going on with your injury.”
His mouth was so close to her face she could feel his warm breath on her skin as his fingers gently moved through her hair. Her heart beat a little faster, and she had a bad feeling it was from his nearness and not her injuries. If she lifted her head back up, her lips would be in the perfect position to come into contact with his and...and...
Not happening, she reminded herself, scowling at how stupid she was being. She didn’t even know the man. Why was she feeling this serious attraction in the middle of a storm while she had a busted-open head? Maybe she had a concussion, after all. Or brain damage.
“It’s not too bad,” Zeke said as his fingers touched around the rest of her scalp, obviously looking for more lumps or cuts, his voice a deep rumble against her face. “I have some derma glue, which will fix it right up.”
“I have some, too. In that blue box on the bed.”
“Good. I need to get this washed first. Sit tight while I get some stuff.”
Sitting in the corner with the boat moving side to side made her stomach decide to complain even more. Probably it had something to do with her bruises and bleeding, too, but either way, it was bad. Bad that she felt sick, and bad that it was looking like she just might vomit right in front of the world’s sexiest man.
Her eyes popped open in horror at the thought. Wildly, she looked around to see if there was something, anything, within reach she could barf into before he got back. Relief filled her chest when she saw a metal trash can sliding a few inches across the floor as the boat rolled again, and she stretched over as far as she could, desperately wiggling her fingers to try to grab the rim. Before she could get her hand on it, Zeke came back into the room and she stared up at him, a full-blown panic starting to fill her chest over the situation.
“Um... Can you...go away...and...come back in a little bit?”
That smile she’d already fallen for slowly stretched his mouth until his teeth shone white against his dark skin. “Feeling seasick? In a storm like this, that’s totally normal. Not to mention you’re hurt, which also can make you queasy, as I’m sure you know. Here.”
He set the stuff he was carrying on the floor and put the trash can in her hands. She glared at him as her stomach roiled. Swallowing hard, she knew she couldn’t control it much longer. “Can’t you see I need some privacy? Go away, please!”
“Don’t worry. I’ve seen plenty of sick people on this exact boat. No point in fighting it. You’ll feel better, then I’ll get your head fixed up.”
“I don’t—” Oh, Lord, she couldn’t hold it back any longer, totally mortified as she got sick into the can.
He stroked her hair, rubbed her back, talking the whole time in a soothing voice. She wasn’t sure what he said, and also wasn’t sure if his sweetness endeared him to her even more or made her want to hit him for not leaving her alone like she’d asked. What a way to get to know a guy.
Except she didn’t want to get to know him, right? Trying to think of this horror as a potentially positive thing, she gave up trying to hold it back and got sick all over again.
Finally, the awful feeling subsided. She went to wipe her mouth, avoiding looking at him, and he tucked a damp cloth into her hand along with a tin of mints. He disappeared with the trash can and she was torn between feeling beyond embarrassed he was having to play nurse, and grateful that he was getting rid of the mess. In minutes, he was back and reaching into the box he’d brought.
“You feeling up to me cleaning your head? I can wait if you’re not ready.”
“Ready.” Or as ready as she was going to be, with his body so close and his hands touching her, her embarrassment warring with a quivery feeling that had nothing to do with being tossed around the boat or with feeling sick and being injured.
With a last swipe of the cloth across her mouth, she popped one of the mints. Feeling marginally better, and glad to have minty fresh breath instead of the prior awful taste in her mouth, she leaned her head against the wall to let him take care of the first aid she needed. Whatever he’d put on the gauze stung as he cleaned the wound. He obviously knew what he was doing, working slowly and gently, but she still couldn’t help but wince.
“Hang in there. I know it hurts. Almost done with this part. Then I’ll glue it.”
“Why do you have derma glue?”
“Did you think I was lying when I said I’m a trained medic?”
“I...forgot. Did you become a medic first, then decide to get your PhDs in marine biology and whatever else you said? Or the other way around?” she asked, as much to distract herself as because she wanted to know.
“I grew up in a place where knowing first aid came in handy.” That seemed like an odd answer, and just as she was going to ask him what he meant, he continued. “Now I spend a lot of time in potentially dangerous waters and up mountain ranges and glaciers, like here in Antarctica. Cuts on coral, and bites and stings from sea life, or falls and other injuries, happen sometimes despite good planning. You better know what to do to treat yourself, or the people with you.”
She nodded, and he cursed in response. “Hold still. I’m about to put the glue on now to close it. The cut’s barely an inch long, so won’t take but a second. Don’t. Move.”
She steeled herself, but didn’t need to because she didn’t feel a thing. “Thanks so much for everything. I...really appreciate it. Trying to clean it and glue it myself wouldn’t have been easy.”
“Hopefully, I won’t need your assistance the same way, Dr. Flynn, but we never know, do we?” He gave her another knee-weakening smile before he stood, his legs wide to keep his balance. “Stay put for a minute. I’m going to move everything off the lower bunk and secure it somewhere else, so you can sleep there instead of the top bunk.”
She opened her mouth to protest, because some of the equipment was delicate. If any of it got broken, it would take a long time for more to be sent on a future ship. Then she realized that he was right, and she trusted him to make sure everything would be kept safe. Must be the calm strength and confidence that simply oozed from the man.
She knew she’d sleep better, assuming she slept at all, if she was only a foot from the floor. And the last thing her banged-up body needed was another jolt out of that top bed. If that happened, she might not be able to get the clinic and hospital ready to go before the next ships arrived.
“Thank you. Again.”
“You’ll find we’re all a team here. No need to thank me for anything.”
In no time, he had everything off the bed and secured as well as possible, the covers pulled aside, then came back to her. She felt strangely comfortable tucked into her corner with all that bedding and wasn’t sure she wanted to go back to that bunk. Except it was probably Zeke’s own bedding wrapped around her. He doubtless needed it back, or neither one of them would get any sleep.
“Okay. Bed’s ready.”
His arms moved to slide beneath her legs and back, and her independent side kicked in, knowing she shouldn’t let him carry her again.
“I’m... I can walk.”
“I’m sure you can. But why would you, when you’re probably shaky and the boat is still moving all over the place and I’m here?”
“Well... I admit my head is throbbing, and I don’t much feel like staggering across the room right now.”
“Appreciate a sensible woman.”
He lifted her against his wide chest and held her close as he stepped to the bunk to lay her on it, then pulled the covers up to her chin. She had to smile even as she felt a little ridiculous. “You’re making me feel like a little kid with a boo-boo.”
“Want me to tell you a nursery rhyme?” He smiled down at her, and her heart beat a little harder as their gazes met and held.
Somehow, she shook herself out of the trance that Zeke Edwards seemed to put her in all too easily. “Not necessary, thanks. But can you do me one more favor?”
“What’s that?”
“My eye mask is somewhere on the floor near the door.”
“Eye mask?” He barked out a laugh. “Is it filled with cucumber essence to keep you bright and beautiful?”
“Funny. It’s great for travel, so don’t knock it until you’ve tried it. Makes me feel like I’m in a little cocoon, along with the foam earplugs I wear. Helps me sleep on long journeys or in strange places.”
“Can I borrow yours to try?”
That grin and the humor in his eyes tugged her mouth into a reluctant return smile. “Yes, because I always have at least two with me on a trip. Just in case.”
Another chuckle as he picked the eye mask up from the floor and brought it to her, carefully sliding it over the top of her head before adjusting it to cover her eyes.
“Sleep tight, Jordan Flynn.”
“Good night, Zeke.” Jordan lay there still and quiet until she heard the click of the door.
Well, damn.
Yeah, she just might be in trouble here, but no way was she falling for a guy like Ezekiel Edwards. She wasn’t a fling kind of woman, and her next relationship would be with a steady man who wanted to share a perfect little house with a picket fence in a lovely neighborhood. Live in the same place for years and years, and have a few children who’d get to see their cousins and grandparents all the time. Grow up with the same friends their whole lives.
Antarctica was not the place she’d find her future husband who wanted the same things she did, only men like Zeke who traveled the world for their work just as her parents had.
She fished her single earplug from her pocket, having no idea where the other one had ended up, and stuffed it in her ear. Tried to eliminate thoughts of Zeke from her mind, without success. But it would be okay. Once at Fletcher Station they’d both be busy and she’d have no trouble steering clear of him, except in the most superficial, coworker way.
She was sure of it. And never mind that her body still tingled from his touch.
