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The United Air Medics…health professionals to society, ‘bonzer people’
to the populations living in the outback in need of medical attention.
However, behind the scenes is a whole different story.
Generously-proportioned nurse Reg, and the hunky medic Digby, are
having an all-out private war…throw in some cattle duffers and a wild
ride through the skies, and life is going to get a whole lot more
Sitting down in the little dining room, Reg rubbed her hands mentally as she eyed the plateful of roast meat and vegies. No taking the fat off the meat for her, no sirree! Meat was meant to be eaten with fat on it, dripping in gravy, and the potatoes were crispy. Yum yum.
Digby sat down directly opposite her, and Reg mentally rolled her eyes. Salad and a piece of cold meat – with the fat cut off.
He glanced at her plate, then up at her, and smiled. “Hungry? I’ve noticed you’ve quite an appetite.”
The remark stung. “Got a problem with that?”
He blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
“With my appetite?” Of which she suddenly didn’t have any.
“I’m sorry. Did I say something wrong?”
Reg glared at him. “Are you making a crack about my weight?”
“Your weight?” Those bright blue eyes slid over her, lingered on her breasts and drifted back up. “You’re dieting? Because if you are, I might be able to assist -”
“Back up there, mate,” Reg growled. “I’m not dieting. I never diet. You have a problem with that?”
“No, but obviously you do.” His generous lips tightened. “What’s going on, Regan?”
How she hated when he said her name like that. Regan, as though she were a naughty child being called to task for something.
“Nothing.” Spearing a piece of potato, she wiped it through the gravy and looked at him while popping it into her mouth.
“When I first joined this ship a week ago, you were friendly. That lasted one day. Why?”
“I have no idea what you mean.” Just eat your bloody rabbit food.
Digby’s fork and knife hit the table with a determined crack. “Regan.”
Her temper, which had been simmering since the episode a week ago, started to unravel. “What…Dickie?”
“Ah – ha!”
Reg jumped, and the potato she’d just forked up fell off onto her uniform. “Hell!”
One long finger was pointing directly at her, and she scowled from it to the too-handsome owner.
“You only ever called me Dickie a few times, Reg, and that was when you were upset with me about something.” His brow creased. “From memory, when I laughed about your three-legged cat after it came back from the vet, and another time when I….”
“Yes?” Coolly she arched one brow, because if he didn’t remember, she sure as hell did.
“When I…er…” He cleared his throat, his gaze running over her again while a faint flush crept into his cheekbones.
“Told me I was busting out of my dress on my first ever date with a boy?” The stab of her fork into the beans was done with a lethal intensity. “And then, if I remember correctly, you told my brother, Derek, that the only boy who’d take a hefty sheila out would be someone desperate.”
Uncomfortable was a mild way of putting how Digby looked right then, which was just fine by Reg.
“Regan, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you’d overheard that.”
“How about the fact that Derek and you got into a fight over it?”
“I deserved it.” The tension eased from him a little. “Did I hurt you that much back then that you don’t like me now?”
Regan stared at him. How could such an intelligent man be so…so…thick?
“Regan?” Troubled, he held out his hand.
His big, broad hand that could sew stitches into a patient with skill, hold a newborn with tenderness, soothe a cantankerous child…and could make a woman hot up in places that had no right to hot up.
Shaking the mental picture away, Reg raised one brow. “What?”
“I’m so sorry if I hurt you so much that it’s stayed with you all these years.”
“You are still mad with me!”
Exasperated, she shook her head. “I knew you were an over-sexed, hormone-ridden, male slut when you were a teenager, but I could have forgiven you the snide remarks about over-weight sheilas.”
Those gorgeous lips tightened.
“Indeed, I was prepared to get to know you again, seeing as how I haven’t seen you since your family shifted years ago. But a few things have happened since then that makes me certain you’re not much better now than you were then.” With a sniff of righteousness, Reg took a sip of soft drink.
Sugared soft drink, thank you, not the diet stuff.
Digby’s eyes seemed to grow brighter in intensity. “And what could I have possibly done to convince you that I’m still a – how did you put it? Sex-crazed teen?”
“Over-sexed, hormone-ridden, male slut.” Reg rolled the words around her mouth. “Yep, that’s right.”
The nostrils in his aristocratic nose flared. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure, Dickie. Really.”
“Now you can tell me just what I’ve done to make you think I’m still as I was.”
She could tell him. She could tell him and not be so childish as to sulk over it, but geez, now and again the inner child had to have free rein. Right? Taking another slow sip of the soft drink, Reg eyed him over the rim of the glass.
Mr. Gorgeous-And-Make-The-Panties-Wet was watching her with a flash of temper in his fine eyes. Power to the warrior woman!
“Tell me, Regan,” he growled.
“For what reason?” She drawled. “Let’s be adult about this, Dickie, and forget the whole conversation.” The inner child in her chortled.
For some insane reason, she was enjoying pushing Digby’s buttons. Getting a rise out of him. Having him notice her – oops! Where did that come from?
In one abrupt move, Digby slammed his hands down, pushed up out of the chair and strode around the table. Placing one hand on the back of her chair, and the other on the table, he leaned forward and glared down at her. “Tell me.”
“Watch your blood pressure, Doc.”
copyright 2007 Angela Verdenius