His Surgeon Under the Southern Lights Read online

  “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.

  CHAPTER TWO

  THE ROLLING OF the boat lasted all night and into the next morning, and when the storm finally subsided, Zeke drew a deep breath of relief. He had trouble sleeping no matter where he was, and figured that, between the deep, rocking waves and her poor, sore head, Jordan probably hadn’t gotten much, either.

  When Captain John Stewart announced over the loudspeaker that everyone was now allowed out of their cabins for lunch before they docked, Zeke couldn’t wait to get some fresh air. Out in the hallway he paused, wondering if it would be too pushy to knock on Jordan’s door to see how she was doing. He decided that, since she’d had a head injury, it was perfectly acceptable for him to check on her.

  He rapped on the door. “Jordan? Zeke. Wondering how you’re feeling.”

  “I’m fine.” Her voice was muffled, but she sounded fine. Very fine, just like the rest of her. “Thanks again for your help last night.”

  “You’re welcome.” He stuck his hands in his pockets, wondering if she’d invite him in. Waited for the door to open so he could see her pretty face and deep blue eyes. When it didn’t, he was surprised and annoyed at how disappointed he felt. Probably shouldn’t be, though, since thinking of her just one cabin over, and how she’d felt in his arms, had been part of the reason he’d been awake half the night. “So, I guess I’ll see you around.”

  “’Kay.”

  With that clear dismissal, he shook off the odd feeling and headed to the deck to breathe in the now-calmer wind and talk with people he knew. The main conversation was about last night and how it had been one of the worst Drake Passage storms they’d been through, which morphed into everyone trying to one-up each other with nightmare sea stories from their pasts.

  Grinning at the good-natured arguments and obvious exaggerations, he decided to head to the bridge to find out how much longer they’d be until landfall.

  “What’s with the roll of this tub?” he asked John as he stepped through the door. “Two days ago, you said it looked like smooth sailing. Pretty sure last night didn’t qualify.”

  John laughed, but kept his eyes on the gently rolling swells in front of them. “Sorry. It was one of those times when the weather changed in the blink of an eye. But we’re at a steady twenty knots now, and I think it’ll stay there until we get to shore.”

  “Says the man convinced it would be Lake Drake this whole trip, flat as a pancake.” He thought about Jordan getting hurt flying out of her bunk and pondered telling John about it, since, as captain, he’d want to know. But he had a feeling Jordan wouldn’t want a bunch of questions about it, and he’d look at her head when he had a chance. No need to have John check on her when Zeke could do it himself.

  “Yeah, well, it takes a big man to admit that sometimes he’s wrong,” John said, “and I pride myself on being pretty big.”

  Zeke chuckled, knowing he was referring to his girth as much as anything. “How long until we get there?”

  “About...” He peered at the dials, then the horizon. “Forty-five minutes.”

  “That soon? You told everyone they could come to the lounge for lunch, but there won’t be time for that.”

  “We made better time than I expected. The plus side of the winds and currents we had last night. But we’ve got lunch all ready, so we’re still going to hand it out to those who want it.” John shrugged. “Just sandwiches, though. It was all the kitchen crew could put together with the weather we had, and I didn’t know when it would clear up. So I told them to go ahead and make a sandwich lunch. Trying to eat bacon and eggs from a plate isn’t easy when the ship’s all over the place, as you know.”

  “Sandwich sounds good. Thanks. I’ll grab one before I get all my equipment pulled together. Appreciate the ride, such as it was.”

  “Anytime.” John grinned as they shook hands. “See you the other way in...what? Six months?”

  “That’s the plan, unless I have to leave earlier to make sure my next grant gets approved. See you then.”

  Zeke headed to the lounge to make sure he got one of the sandwiches, since he suddenly realized he was hungry, not having had much for dinner. An empty stomach in stormy seas wasn’t a good thing, but neither was a full one, and he’d tried to find the right balance before he’d headed to bed.

  Thinking of how he’d startled awake with a pounding heart when he’d heard Jordan slam against that wall, then cry out, had him wanting to check on her again. Except she’d made it clear she didn’t want that, so he planned to do the next best thing, which was to be a considerate guy and grab a sandwich for her, too. After getting sick last night, and everything else, she was probably starving.

  The moment he walked into the lounge, his gaze went straight to the tall, slender woman with shiny dark hair to her shoulders. She was standing next to the rows of wrapped sandwiches, and his heart did a strange little pit-a-pat to see her there.

  Apparently, he’d been right. Jordan was indeed hungry.

  He moved to stand next to her, leaning down. “I’m a fan of the Reubens, but the turkey with bacon is good, too.”

  “I thought about getting the veggie, but saw it has raw onions. Yuck.”

  The way she cutely screwed up her face in obvious distaste made him smile. “I’m with you. Raw onions on a sandwich is a solid no for me.”

  “Yes. A solid no.” Her mouth relaxed into a wide grin, and he realized it was the first full smile he’d seen from her. He liked the way it made her deep blue eyes twinkle, and a dimple poke into one cheek. “Any idea when we’ll be docking?”

  “Captain Stewart said about forty-five minutes. Less than that now. So before we do, I want to take a look at your head. How’s it feel?”

  “Honestly? It hurts. Way more than last night. But that’s to be expected of a gash and bruise like that.”

  “Let’s go out on the deck so I can see it.”

  “It’s fine.”

  “You just said it hurts.”

  “Like there’s something you can do about that? Just needs time to heal, that’s all.”

  “So, when you have a patient that refuses to let you follow up after their treatment, you nod and are perfectly okay with that? I just want to look at the glue job, and see if it seems to be holding well.” He wasn’t sure why he felt so frustrated at her stubbornness. She was a surgeon, after all, and knew all about wounds and derma glue, and if she wanted to deal with it herself, what was it to him?

  Maybe because the sound of her hitting that wall in the middle of the night had woken him from the terrifying dreams he sometimes endured, and he still felt a little unsettled by all of it. Wasn’t it normal to want to check on her now, to make sure she was re
ally okay?

  For long seconds, her gaze clashed with his, until she released an exaggerated sigh. “Okay, fine. But can we please find a place where not everyone on the ship is going to be coming up to us and asking what happened?”

  So he’d been right that she wouldn’t want John, or anyone else, making too big a deal of her injury, and what happened last night.

  “I know a good spot.”

  He nearly reached for her hand, but was pretty sure she wouldn’t appreciate the familiarity, even though they’d shared an unusual closeness last night. He stuck his fist into his coat pocket instead. Most people were at the bow of the ship to see Antarctica in the distance, so Zeke led the way to the back of the boat and around a corner where they’d be alone.

  Wind whipped her soft hair into her face and she reached back to gather it into a ponytail behind her head. He tried not to get distracted by the beautiful line of her jaw that he’d noticed in the low light of her cabin last night.

  He drew in a breath and put his hands on either side of her head, tipping it slightly down. Moved her hair gently out of the way so he could see the wound. A raw, red line spanned the bruised lump that resembled a miniature purple eggplant just above her hairline. But the edges of the gash seemed firmly closed together, and it obviously hadn’t bled during the night, so it seemed the glue had done its job.

  “Looks like it hurts like hell. But the good news is the wound is still nicely closed, so unless you whack it again, it should heal just fine.”

  “I thought it felt secured, but couldn’t be sure.” She gave him a twisted smile that showed she knew her stubbornness a moment ago about her dealing with herself hadn’t made a lot of sense. “Thanks again for patching me up.”

  Shocked by an urge to press a soft kiss to her head, he dropped his hands and stepped back. “I’m going to check with the captain, see when it would be okay to go below and start to gather my gear, which is going to take a while. If I see you, I’ll give you the heads-up on how close we are so you can pull yours together, too.”