Rescue Heat (11 page)

Brigid didn’t envy them. She was uncomfortable enough carrying her own backpack which was weighted with a few heavy pieces she had taken from Matt’s.

To distract her mind from her weary, aching bones, she concentrated her gaze on Matt’s back. Well, Matt’s back, Matt’s legs, Matt’s shoulders and Matt’s muscular behind. A day and a job like this had to have its rewards.

Eight hours later, Brigid drove her car into a suburban cul-de-sac. Dave’s house was in a more modest neighbourhood than hers and Matt’s. As well as the normal Australian cars parked on the street, she could see the enormous Range Rover that belonged to Matt.

Brigid now felt as if she could face polite company. A hot bath and a short sleep had not quite reversed the effects of last night, but at least now she could walk without a hunched back. A flowing maxi dress and her hair elaborately braided, added to her feeling of well being.

Getting out, Brigid was carrying a carton of imported beer. If she couldn’t cook, at least she could provide a generous gift of alcohol. Instead of going to the front door, Brigid walked, with long familiarly, around the side of the house. Loud talking and laughter told her that the small gathering of maybe a dozen people was already in full swing.

“Hey Brigid,” called Dave, as he appeared out of the crowd, wearing an apron. “Or should I say Lady Fancy Pants, seeing Queensland beer isn’t good enough for you anymore.”

“Queensland beer is fine for me,” said Brigid. “But seeing you men are such metro sexuals now, I wanted to accommodate your refined palates.”

Dave’s attractive blond wife Wendy heard this comment and judging from her laugh, loved it.

“Was it the shower gel that gave him away?” she asked, as she came and hugged Brigid.

“The shower gel, the super clean shave, the cappuccino coffee order. What can I say, the clues kept on piling up,” Brigid said, as she smiled at the burly pilot and his wife.

“Well the steaks are almost ready so go and grab yourself a drink.”

Brigid glowed under the casual warmth of the greeting. A year ago, it would have been impossible. Doctors and rescue crews usually shared respect, rather than social lives. As a Cairns outsider and a woman from an obvious privileged background, Brigid had to work even harder to earn her place in the social circle. Today was a good reminder of why she valued her place in the team so highly.

Brigid wound her way through the laughing children who were playing backyard cricket. The quarter-acre block was generous enough for them to be able to run at full tilt. She could see Matt leaning against the back brick wall, dressed casually. Chris waved her over.

“The Yank was just telling me that you guys got a paid camping trip out in the bush.”

Brigid went and gave Chris a social kiss. An occasion like this was only time either would show affection.

“Believe me, I think I’d prefer to take a bunch of teenagers camping, rather than hike in for a miserable night watching a patient,” Brigid replied.

“You obviously haven’t taken my kids camping. At least with the patient you can give him the green whistle to shut him up,” said Chris.

As Brigid and Matt laughed, she noticed a deep scratch on his arm.

“Hey Matt, what have you done to yourself?” Brigid asked, even as she put her hands on him to get a better look. As a doctor, Brigid was used to touching human flesh. However, nothing prepared her for the effect that putting her hands on Matt’s warm skin would have on her. His muscle was a tactile pleasure. Healthy, hard and tanned.

“It looks painful, please tell me you have disinfected it properly,” Brigid continued.

“It’s fine. A stick poked me through my shirt,” Matt said.

“Make sure she doesn’t start demanding my first aid kit,” Chris interjected. “She’s a doctor and a woman, which makes her unstoppable on these things.”

“Don’t worry I put disinfectant on it when I had to bathe my face in it,” said Matt.

“I noticed the scratches,” said Chris. “That’s why the Australian bushies wear the wide brimmed hats, unfortunately they aren’t regulation uniform.”

Macho solidarity didn’t allow for much sympathy.

Wendy came over to their small group. “No shop talk, you guys. It’s Matt’s first Australian barbeque.”

Wendy’s gentle chiding prompted Brigid to greet, hug and kiss, her way around the party. Jo and Pete were there along with the other rescue crews and their spouses. Being the only woman on the active rescue roster meant it had taken her a while to gain the trust of their wives and girlfriends. It was only through her rigorous integrity and careful distance from her male workmates, that she found acceptance in their company. If talking shop put that in jeopardy, it was a pleasure she was willing to give up.

Dave was working the barbeque, fending off conflicting advice. Australian men liked to be kings of their own grill.

“Brigid how do you want your steak done?” he asked.

Brigid walked over the buffet and filled her plate with potato salad and coleslaw. Once everyone had been served, she found herself on a deck chair beside Matt. As the only single people at the party, she supposed their social pairing was inevitable.

“Did you have to spend much time at the hospital with Greg?” Matt lowered his voice, obviously wanting to avoid trouble for talking about work.

“It was an easy handover,” Brigid said. “He might need surgery but that’s for the orthopaedic consultant to decide.”

“Did he tell you about how he went for a walk off-track because he had a fight with his girlfriend?” Matt asked.

“Imagine the fight they’re going to have now that he’s spending the rest of their very expensive holiday on crutches,” said an amused Brigid.

Matt and Brigid’s attention was quickly absorbed into the rest of the group’s discussion. A debate raged on the relative merits of Australian football versus American football.

After eating, Brigid could see Dave’s toddler son, Luke, looking curiously at Matt. Matt’s drawling accent and his towering frame must make him seem like an exotic creature to a small boy. Matt must have noticed Luke’s regard, because he crouched on his heels and spoke gently to him.

Brigid tried not to let her heart melt. What was it about watching masculine men deal gently with young children that kicked primal instincts into high gear?

“He seems like a nice man, doesn’t he?” Wendy’s question made Brigid hope that no one else had seen the intensity of her gaze.

Brigid shrugged, trying, very carefully to look casual.

“He’s good at his job which is important,” she replied. “And who wouldn’t be nice to that adorable child of yours? Is he sleeping through the night now?”

Wendy’s very amused glance told her that her attempt at changing the subject was not as seamless as Brigid might have hoped. However, Wendy was a nice enough woman to allow this observation to go unsaid. She launched fondly into a discussion about her child’s habits.

As Wendy and Brigid talked pre-school, Brigid could see, out of the corner of her eye, Matt being talked into the game of backyard cricket. Matt, Chris, Dave and Pete each teamed up with a young child and set themselves up against the teenagers. You could tell a lot about a man if he could leash his competitive side enough to play well with children. So far, Matt seemed to be passing the test.

After the men called a draw on the cricket, they cleared the equipment away for a soccer game. A few mothers with toddlers sat to the side but everyone else had been drafted to play, including any child over the age of ten. Goal posts were created using chairs.

Brigid knotted up her skirt and discarded her delicate strapped sandals. She blamed exhaustion on her bad choice to wear such hard-to-move clothes to one of Dave’s barbeques. He always managed to include physical challenges as part of the social entertainment.

Dave cleverly choose teams by making the demographics as even as possible. The game was full of laughter, missed kicks and children scoring assisted goals. The score was barely kept and Brigid ran breathlessly from one side of the ‘field’ to the other. Dave finally called the game amongst spirited debate.

Once Brigid sat down, she savoured her first drink of beer. One drink was all she would allow herself when driving. She was interested to note that Matt seemed to be adhering to the same policy.

Driving home from the party, Brigid could see the square headlights of Matt’s Range Rover. Damn she hated having to drive in front of anyone she knew. Good at most things, somehow driving wasn’t one of them. Brigid was aware she had a tendency to drive too close to the corners, vary her speed for no discernable reason and hesitate before properly merging. Her driving wasn’t dangerous, she had attended far too many road accidents for that, she just wasn’t very co-ordinated.

When Brigid pulled into her driveway, she was surprised to see Matt stop behind her.

“Didn’t feel quite ready to go home to an empty house,” he said, as they got out of their respective cars. “Can I take you and Moby for a walk on the beach?”

It was dark, but the moon was high enough to make a walk possible, even enjoyable. His overture surprised her, but perhaps this was a dawn of a friendship that had begun last night.

“Sure,” Brigid replied. “Let me drop off my shoes and grab his lead.”

As soon as Brigid opened her gate, an ecstatic dog came over to greet them. Unconcerned with their clothes, both Brigid and Matt knelt down and ran their hands over Moby’s fur.

Brigid led Matt through her sandy garden and ducked into her laundry for Moby’s lead.

“In case we see the ranger,” Brigid laughed, as she made no attempt to attach the clip to the collar of the dancing dog.

“Were you tempted to take him over to Dave’s?” Matt asked.

“The kids do love him,” Brigid replied. “But I thought it was a bit mean, considering I was away last night, to expect Moby to be patient with them. Toddlers like Luke tend to love to pull ears. Moby doesn’t bite, he just gives me a pained look, proving teenagers aren’t the only animals who specialize in guilt trips.”

Matt and Brigid walked out the front gate of her house directly onto the sand of the beach. The moon was full and high enough to light up the ocean with silver.

Even when relaxed, Matt never lost his military bearing. His shoulders remained ramrod straight under his polo shirt, even as he walked over the wet sand.

“It was a nice barbeque. Dave and Wendy are good hosts,” said Matt.

“You were good with the children,” said Brigid. “I wouldn’t have thought you had a lot to do with them after spending so much time in the army.”

“A few of the men in my unit have kids so I’ve spent some time with them stateside. Also playing soccer with the local kids is something our unit always did. Everywhere in the world, children know the rules of football.”

The beach was deserted and the romantic atmosphere made Brigid nervous. Anxiously, she dived in with another prong of conversation.

“From what I heard you managed to avoid the question about where you lived again. I’ve got to warn you, you won’t be able to avoid the topic forever. Real estate is a favourite topic in Australia and Australians really aren’t too shy about money issues.”

“Yeah, I somehow got that impression,” Matt shrugged. “The main thing was that I prove myself to the team before they decide I was a rich dilettante.”

As Brigid looked at Matt in the moonlight, she couldn’t tell him that he was verbalizing her fear. With all that money at his disposal, what was the guarantee that he wouldn’t walk away from rescue as soon as he got bored?

Moby must have decided that the pace they were walking was simply too slow, because suddenly he rushed for the water. Matt looked down at the laughing woman, as she exclaimed fondly, “mad dog.”

Watching her animation, Matt felt an immediate rush of attraction. Last night, he had been able to watch her serene sleeping figure. Just hours ago, she had been running, completely disregarding the glamorous dress, tucked around her knees.

Now, she took an involuntary step towards him as a soaking wet dog charged them. This instinctive move, from a strong, daring woman, stirred something in Matt. Before he could think, he bent his head and put his lips to hers.

Exhilaration ran through Matt’s veins as he stepped into the warmth of Brigid’s body. She really was kissing him back. Matt savoured the sensations as he ran his hands down the delicate muscles of her back. Soft breasts pressed against his chest and her mouth opened, fully returning his kiss.

Only a sharp bark from Moby entered his sensual haze. It certainly seemed to bring Brigid back to reality. She wrenched her mouth away and stepped back from his aroused body.

Matt’s hands dropped back to his side. His arms suddenly felt achingly empty. Looking at Brigid’s moist lips, Matt had to stifle the word that almost erupted from his own. He wasn’t going to apologize for that kiss, so he kept his silence.

Brigid was the one who had to speak. “That probably shouldn’t have happened.”

“Maybe not,” Matt replied. “But I’m not sorry.”

God, it had felt fantastic to finally have his hands on her body but seeing her now averted gaze, it didn’t seem the right time to tell her.

“Can we mark this up to a great romantic setting and go back to being platonic workmates?” Brigid asked.

She stepped further back, as if he had suddenly transformed into a lethal animal. Matt chose not to agree or disagree. Instead, he decided to be the one to deliver the parting line.

“I’ll see you Tuesday morning.”

With that, Matt turned and walked up to his property. He certainly wasn’t going to look around to see if she was watching.

Two days later Matt had his hands in soapy water, washing the climbing ropes. Salt was corrosive, so all traces had to be removed if he was going to trust his or anyone else’s lives on this equipment. He had already exchanged awkward ‘hellos’ with Brigid this morning; now they were both involved in their respective busywork, she with her drug audit, he with his rope maintenance.

Today, of course, had to be one of those days where stand-by failed to turn into action; where the chopper didn’t lift into the air. The enforced semi-leisure didn’t suit Matt’s mood. He had already spent far too long imagining getting his hands on Brigid. His hands, his mouth, his bare skin on hers.