Rescued: Mother And Baby - Part 8
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Part 8

'A mile or two!' Georgie spluttered. 'Tell me you're kidding! The last time I went swimming I only managed about five lengths before I was a heaving wreck.'

Logan slid a look in her direction. 'You seem pretty fit to me.'

She blushed under his obvious admiration and shifted uncomfortably in her seat. 'I was once. When I climbed regularly. But since I had Jess...' She shrugged. 'There never seems to be enough hours in the day. I work. I look after my daughter, tidy up, shop, cook. And by the time I've done all that, I'm ready for bed.' G.o.d, now she sounded as if she was complaining when her life had everything she wanted. Or so she kept telling herself.

'That's why I don't think I'll ever have kids.' Although his tone was light, Georgie had the distinct impression he wanted to make sure she knew he wasn't into offering her a future. 'I'm too selfish, I guess. Too used to pleasing myself.'

Georgie felt a crunch of disappointment. The message was loud and clear. But, then, hadn't she just being telling herself she wasn't interested in a long-term relationship with this man either? She certainly wasn't even thinking of the future. Besides, it seemed that they had little in common, except perhaps a love of medicine. Any attraction she felt for him was purely physical, the result surely of almost three years of celibacy? A warmth spread from low in her abdomen. s.e.x. It had been a long time since she had even thought about it. But with this man she was having a hard time thinking of anything else! Thank G.o.d, he couldn't read minds. But when he turned and grinned at her she began to have her doubts. She could have sworn from the way his eyes were glinting that he had heard every thought as clearly as if she had shouted it.

They drew up in what seemed to be a large empty car park in the middle of nowhere. Georgie was completely baffled. She had imagined a walk in the hills, a trip to Loch Lomond perhaps, lunch somewhere-but this?

All she could see was what looked like an empty Nissen hut and way over on the other side a number of small private planes. As realisation began to dawn, her heart thumped painfully. Not a plane trip, please, G.o.d. And certainly not in one of these tin cans.

But it seemed that was exactly what Logan had in mind.

'There's a hotel on an island about an hour's flight from here, where they have a great restaurant. You can only reach the hotel by boat or plane-it has its own private landing strip. And as I have to keep up my flying hours, I thought it the perfect place for our first date.'

Stunned, Georgie only barely registered his use of the word first. What was she going to do? She could cope with the helicopter, but this was different. This was tiny and she would be unable to pretend she wasn't miles above the ground. She could hardly admit she was terrified at the thought of going up in the two-seater. Logan would have serious doubts about her suitability for the emergency rescue team if she did. On the other hand, she could hardly disguise her fear for the whole journey, there and back. Oh, G.o.d, she had the way back to think about too! The whole date thing was turning into a nightmare. Why, oh, why had she agreed to come? There was nothing wrong with the life she had made for herself. Until she had met Logan she had been content, and she hadn't been constantly challenged.

'But before we leave I've arranged for a tandem skydive.'

This time Georgie's heart sank to her boots. No way. No way at all was she going to go up in a plane to throw herself into s.p.a.ce. He would have to drug her first and wait until she was unconscious before flinging her out. That would teach her to fancy action men. From now on the only men she would date were those whose idea of excitement was a walk in the rain.

Then she realised Logan was laughing at her. 'I'm only kidding. About the skydiving. At least, today.' He laid a hand gently on her shoulder and pulled her round to face him. He lifted her chin with his finger.

'You're shaking,' he said. 'Do you want to tell me why?'

Georgie shook her head.

'You don't like planes, do you?' he said quietly. It wasn't a question. 'But you can cope with helicopters?'

Relief made her knees weak. It was better that he knew.

'I don't mind helicopters so much, because I can't see where we're going. I can make myself believe that I'm still on the ground. But for some reason, the thought of going up in a small plane makes me feel sick. I think it's because...' She bit back the words.

'Because?' Logan prompted gently.

'Because I spent two days in a light aircraft helping to look for my husband's body,' she blurted. 'Now I can't go near one without reliving the whole awful experience. Especially not small ones, like those.' She pointed at the row of planes sitting on the tarmac.

He squeezed her hand and she saw sympathy in his eyes. 'You should have told me. Perhaps I could have helped. '

'And have you think twice about having me on the team?' She shook her head. 'I can cope with the helicopter. That's what matters, isn't it?'

'But we may have to go with the air ambulance plane at some point. And what if your anxiety spreads to the helicopter? We're bound to find ourselves in some hairy conditions sometime. I'm sorry, Georgie. I wish you had said. I can't afford to have someone on the team who could crack at any time.' He looked genuinely regretful.

Georgie swallowed hard. There was no way she was going to give up her place on the team. She had never failed at anything and she was d.a.m.ned if she was going to start now. Hadn't she just resolved to face the future without fear?

She stiffened her spine and faced him. The last thing she wanted was for anyone, especially this man, to see her as a wimp.

'If I can cope with the plane trip, there and back, will you keep me on the team?'

Logan studied her for one long moment. 'One condition. If it becomes unbearable-before it becomes unbearable-you'll let me know.'

Georgie raised her hand in a mock salute and managed a smile.

'Aye, aye, sir. Hadn't we better get going, then?'

Her heart was in her mouth the whole time Logan did his checks. The plane was tiny, with just enough room for the pair of them, and of course she would be unable to avoid looking out unless she kept her eyes closed the whole time. Impossible. Not without eagle-eyed Logan noticing. She was pretty sure he wouldn't be satisfied that she had kept her part of the bargain if she did. Cripes. If she had known what he had in mind she would have stopped off for some mild sedatives. But that wasn't the answer either. No. There was nothing else for it. She would have to grit her teeth and pray.

The worst part was taking off. A wave of nausea brought tiny beads of perspiration to her top lip.

'You have strong fingers,' Logan said wryly as soon as they were airborne. Abashed, she whipped her hand off his thigh, but not before she was conscious of steel-like muscles under her fingertips.

'Years of climbing, I guess,' she said trying hard to keep her voice light. She hadn't been aware she had clutched his thigh. One more embarra.s.sment to add to a steadily growing list.

Logan pointed out various landmarks and soon Georgie found that she was beginning to relax. At least, enough for the nausea to pa.s.s.

As the flight went on, Georgie felt the tension ease. Soon she was able to peer out of the window. They flew over Loch Lomond and seemed to be following the coastline. Below, she could make out tiny boats and yachts as they sailed into the sea.

Twenty minutes later, they started their descent towards a small island. The sea was cobalt blue, lightening where the water became more shallow near the fringes of the island. The sky was cloudless and Georgie felt relaxed.

Nevertheless she was relieved when they touched down with hardly a b.u.mp. Now she only had the return journey to get through. She knew she had all but conquered her fear. Perhaps if she had forced herself to fly sooner, she wouldn't have had those years of worrying, wondering if she'd ever be able to take Jess overseas on holiday. Fear, she realised, was worse in the imagination than reality.

As the plane came to a halt, they removed their helmets. Logan looked at her expectantly. 'Well?' he asked.

'It wasn't nearly as awful as I imagined it would be,' Georgie admitted. 'In fact, towards the end I was beginning to enjoy myself. It's such a relief. I hated being scared.'

'There's nothing wrong with being frightened,' he said softly. 'It's what keeps us safe. It's how you cope with that fear that counts.'

Georgie wondered if he were talking from personal experience. She wanted to know more, but instinctively knew that now wasn't the right time.

The hotel was perched on a cliff overlooking the sea. Despite its remote and inaccessible location, the restaurant was busy. Georgie suspected that many of the boats tied up in the harbour used it as a stopping-off point on their journey up the west coast.

'I've heard of this place,' she said appreciatively. 'Never thought I'd come here, though.'

Logan had arranged the hire of a small boat and organised a picnic for their lunch.

'There's a small deserted island just over there.' He pointed to a small chunk of land out at sea. 'I thought we could take the boat across, have lunch and then go for a walk.'

Georgie had to admit he had picked a perfect day weatherwise. The sun glinted on the sea, turning it to rippled silver. There was a hint of rain to come in the distance, but it would be some time before it reached them.

Logan insisted on rowing across and Georgie was happy to let him. This way she could relax while watching him surrept.i.tiously. He rowed effortlessly, his muscles bunching with the effort. All Georgie could think about was how it would feel to have those arms wrapped around her, holding her tight, and her stomach fluttered nervously.

During their picnic and walk, Logan amused her with stories about his days in the territorial army and boot camp, as well as describing a few of the places he had been posted to during his career. She noticed he kept away from talking about his current posting. She could hardly blame him. He would be going back there soon enough. In turn, she told him about some of the fascinating places her father had been posted to. Talking about them made her realise that her dislocated childhood hadn't been all bad. She had seen and done things she would never have done had her father not been in the army.

The hours sped by and before she knew it they were rowing back towards the main island.

'This has been wonderful, Logan. Thank you,' Georgie said, leaning back and raising her face to the gentle sun.

'It needn't be over yet.' He hesitated and for the first time he looked unsure of himself. 'I made dinner reservations for us at the hotel. But if you'd rather go back...'

She trailed a languid hand in the cool water. She liked seeing this other, less sure side of him. It made him seem more human.

'Leave paradise before I have to? No way. Dinner sounds lovely.' Georgie was glad she had tucked an emerald green wraparound dress into her bag in case her date had required something more dressy. She slipped it on in the hotel rest room, refreshed her make-up, brushed her hair until it gleamed and sprayed some perfume on her wrists and neck before joining Logan in the foyer. He let out an appreciative wolf whistle when he saw her.

'You look beautiful,' he said as she walked towards him. 'I wish I had brought something more formal.' However, he looked completely relaxed and at ease in his jeans and T-shirt.

Their meal more than lived up to its reputation. Georgie had warm pigeon breast to start with then they shared a platter of seafood. It wasn't the most elegant dish to eat, but they both tucked in with gusto.

'Here, try a whelk,' Georgie said, holding out a tiny morsel of the sh.e.l.lfish.

'Think I'll pa.s.s.' Logan said, wrinkling his nose.

'Oh, no, you don't.' Georgie laughed. 'I had to do something I didn't want to today, so fair's fair. Now it's your turn.'

She wiggled the whelk under his nose and Logan obediently opened his mouth to accept her offering. He chewed thoughtfully for a moment before swallowing. 'Not bad. Not great either, but not bad. Now you.' He held out an oyster. Georgie had been avoiding those particular molluscs.

'Sorry, don't do raw sh.e.l.lfish.' Georgie shook her head. 'Anyway, aren't they supposed to be aphrodisiacs?'

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she could have bitten her tongue. Logan smiled slowly. G.o.d, he had the s.e.xiest smile. And the way he was looking at her...All of a sudden she felt hot and fl.u.s.tered. It didn't take a magician to work out what he was thinking.

He reached across the table and cupped her jaw in his hand. She shivered as she felt his fingers on her throat. Heat flooded her body, leaving her breathless.

'Close your eyes and open your mouth.' His voice was low, husky, and time stood still. The other diners receded and she and Logan could have been alone. Unable to stop herself, she closed her eyes and parted her lips. He dropped the oyster into her mouth, and she tasted salt, then the sea, then the unusual feel of the icy sh.e.l.lfish on her tongue.

'Now swallow,' he instructed. His voice felt as if it was coming from a million miles away. She did as she was told. The oyster left a strange, not unpleasant aftertaste and she opened her eyes.

Logan grinned with delight when she gave a nod of approval and her heart stuttered.

They chatted while they finished their meal, keeping the conversation on neutral ground. When they were offered dessert, Georgie declined regretfully, thinking of the weight she planned to lose. The last thing she wanted was for her fitness to be called into question too. At one time she would have been able to run up Dumgoyne outside Glasgow without stopping. Now she doubted she could walk up it without catching her breath. Time for some serious training.

Logan was tucking enthusiastically into a plate of cheese and oatcakes. Clearly he didn't have an issue with weight. Every inch of his body was streamlined perfection. A languorous warmth spread through her lower body as she imagined herself pressed against him. Not once since Ian had died had she felt even the slightest attraction for another man, yet here she was almost salivating over this one.

'Tell me about Ian,' he said suddenly, as if he could read her mind.

Georgie bit her lip. She didn't want to think about Ian right now, let alone talk about him. For the past few hours she had felt safe in a bubble where nothing else mattered but being in the moment with this man, and she wanted to stay right where she was, where death and loss and guilt and fear didn't exist. And she did feel guilt. As if she were being unfaithful to Ian. In her heart, she knew she had taken another step towards a future without him. First putting away her wedding ring and then this date, and although Logan wasn't offering her a future with him, she was in no doubt that he wanted her. But for how long? Days? Weeks? Months?

Across the table Logan was watching her intently. 'You don't have to tell me,' he said gently. 'Just tell me it's none of my business.' His eyes were warm as he looked at her. 'We can talk about something else.'

Outside, the day had darkened and spots of rain tapped against the window. The waiter came across and lit a candle.

No, Georgie wasn't ready to talk about Ian. Not here. Not now. She preferred to remain coc.o.o.ned, forgetting about the past and not thinking about the future. Why couldn't he pretend with her that nothing else existed except the two of them and the here and now?

'The weather is getting worse,' she said.

He followed her gaze to the window. A splatter of rain suddenly hurled itself against the gla.s.s.

'If we're going, we should go now.'

If. He had said if. The atmosphere between them intensified. It was electric, sizzling with possibilities.

'We could stay and go back tomorrow...' Logan said, his eyes drilling into hers.

There was a tightness in her chest and she was having difficulty breathing normally.

'What about Jess?' she whispered.

'Phone home.'

Two simple words and her world stood still. She didn't even pretend not to understand what he was suggesting.

Logan reached across the table and touched her cheek. Her skin felt as if a thousand tiny sparks were flitting across it. Georgie knew she couldn't leave. And she didn't want to.

Unable to speak, she nodded.

Logan stood, his eyes darkening. 'You phone,' he said. 'I'll see if they have a room.'

Her heart racing, Georgie rang home. Her mother answered and after discovering that Jess was in bed already, Georgie asked if she would mind looking after her until the next day.

There was a silence at the other end of the phone.

'Do you know what you're doing, love?' her mother asked quietly. 'I know I said it's about time you got on with your life, but I didn't mean to jump in feet first.'

'Not really, Mum. But I'm going to anyway.'

'Jess will be fine with me,' her mother said at last. 'You take care.'

Logan returned to her side.

'They have a room. Overlooking the sea.' Once more his dark eyes stared into hers. 'You can still change your mind.'

Wordlessly, Georgie shook her head. Logan took her hand and together they made their way out of the hotel.

'They've given us a room in the boathouse, looking out over the beach.' Logan explained. 'It's separate from the hotel, but has the best view.'

Somehow Georgie didn't think they'd be worrying about the view.

As the rain began to fall in earnest they ran the few yards to the boathouse.

Logan opened the door and pulled her into his arms, kicking the door closed behind him.

Georgie was shivering, though whether from the cold or fear she couldn't be sure. But then his mouth was on hers.

The kiss was just how she'd imagined it would be. Firm yet soft. Demanding yet gentle. Heat flooded her body as she moulded herself to him, feeling the hard muscles of his chest and thighs pressing against her body.

He dropped his hands to her hips and tugged her even closer. She kissed him hungrily and the outside world disappeared.

But when he moved to undo the ties of her dress, she stiffened. Involuntarily, she halted his hands, placing hers on top of his.