doubted it. When Charlotte had greeted him it’d been so formal. So forced.
“Whoa, that was a bit rough,” he remarked, as they hit more disturbance. He was no stranger to flying, but that was the most jarring bit of turbulence he’d ever experienced. Of course, he was used to first-class seats instead of being crammed into a small cockpit beside the pilot, especially an alluring pilot like Charlotte.
His shoulders almost touched hers in the tight space, just a near brush of her body against his sending his blood pumping. Just being in her presence again aroused him. Charlotte was a strong aphrodisiac, like ambrosia, and she had tasted just as sweet, too.
Blast. Get ahold of yourself. You’re not some randy med student. You’re going to be Chief of Surgery when you return to Toronto.
Only he couldn’t get ahold of himself. She looked exactly as she had when he’d first laid eyes on her. The slender figure and bright red curls were exactly the same. Her face, with only the barest hint of makeup, still looked as fresh and innocent. It was like time hadn’t touched her.
Perhaps the cold preserves people up here.
Quinn shook his head. He’d never understood her desire to live on top of the world. He hated winter at the best of times. The frigid air seemed to reach down his throat and scald his lungs with ice.
“Is something wrong?” Charlotte asked casually, not looking at him.
“What makes you think something’s wrong?”
The plane lurched and she adjusted her controls. “You’re muttering to yourself. Not used to a small plane, eh? Prefer first class?”
“Well, at least I can get a drink in first class.” He rubbed his hand. “That, and I’m not used to turbulence that seems more like bull-riding at the Calgary Stampede.”
Charlotte grinned. “This is mild.”
“Good God. Mild? Are you certain?”
She chuckled. He’d always liked her laughter. “Positive. There’s a storm coming.”
“Did we hit it?”
She shook her head. “Nope. The storm is chasing us. We’ll beat it.”
Quinn shuddered. Snow. Ice. “I don’t know how you live up here.”
“I like the rugged wilderness.”
“I thought you were afraid of bears. Isn’t this bear country?”
She laughed, her green eyes twinkling. “This is true.”
“You never did tell me why you’re afraid of bears.”
“It’s silly, really.”
“Come on, humor me. There’s no in-flight movie, either.”
“No. I’m not telling you.” She grinned and adjusted some more knobs.
“Come on. I promise I won’t say anything.” He waggled his eyebrows, teasing her.
She shot him a look of disbelief. “No way. And stop that eyebrow-waggling.”
“What, this?” He did it again for effect. Quinn had forgotten it drove her batty and he’d forgotten what fun it was to tease her.
“Lord, you look like a demented Groucho Marx or something.”
“I’ll keep pestering. You know I have a bit of an annoying streak.”
“A bit?” A smile quirked her lips. “Fine. It’s because I’m afraid of being eaten alive.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Is that so?”
Charlotte’s creamy white cheeks stained with crimson and fire flooded his veins as an image of her, naked, flashed through his mind. He could still taste her kisses on his lips, recall her silky hair and her smooth skin under his hands. Their bodies had fit so well together. It had been so right. His body reacted to her presence. So pure and so not the kind of girl his parents would want for him.
They’d never approved of Charlotte but he hadn’t cared. He’d pursued her at first because she was good looking, bright and he’d known it would irk his parents to no end. She had not been like the boring girls they’d kept throwing in his path. Charlotte had not been suitable.
No, Charlotte had been exciting and taboo. Somewhere along the way he’d fallen in love with her. Only they’d wanted different things. She’d wanted a family. He hadn’t. With his loveless childhood, Quinn knew he wasn’t father material.
When his relationship with Charlotte had ended, his mother had reminded him frequently that Charlotte hadn’t been the woman for him. His mother did like to rub salt into a wound.
And they’d been right. Charlotte hadn’t been the woman for him.
They were so different, but her difference was what had excited him most.
Quinn pushed aside all those thoughts. They would do nothing but get him into trouble. He was a professional.
A surgeon.
The plane jolted and she was thrown against the dash. Quinn unbuckled and reached out, steadying her. The scent of her coconut shampoo wrapped around him, reminding him of the summer they’d spent in Yellowknife, in a cabin on the shores of Great Slave Lake. Endless nights of blistering passion under the midnight sun.
“Are you okay?” he asked, closing the small gap between them. He could see her pulse racing at the base of her throat.
“I’m fine. Fine.” She cleared her throat and shrugged her shoulders. Only he didn’t move his hands from her shoulders. He enjoyed holding her again and she didn’t shrug out of his arms or move from his touch.
“Are you certain?” he asked again. The blush still stained her skin, her gaze locked with his and her breathing quickened. She parted her lips and he fought the urge to steal a kiss from her. But he wanted to.
So badly.
LET GO OF HER. She didn’t want you.
“Charlotte?” His voice cracked, he cleared his throat. “Are you okay?”
She broke the connection and turned away. “I’m fine. You’d better buckle up in case we hit some more turbulence.” She didn’t look at him but she appeared perturbed.
“Sure.” He could take a hint. Quinn cursed himself inwardly for letting his guard down. When he’d decided to come up here he’d told himself to keep emotionally detached from her, but two hours in her presence and he was being swayed by her again. Just being around her and he forgot what had passed between them—for him it was like they’d never been apart.
She
