the groups dotted around the lounge. The aroma of male with a hint of something exotic—cinnamon perhaps—hit her as he leaned close. ‘And who’s the enemy?’
‘Right, er, Sergeant? Corporal? I hope you don’t expect military precision because you’re going to be sorely disappointed.’ She showed him the quiz sheets in front of her. ‘Eight rounds, ten questions each round. Music, geography, current affairs, you know the score. It’s more a case of luck than judgement. Or skill. Or even knowledge really.’
‘I’ll fit in, then.’ His eyebrows rose, creasing the scar down his cheek into tiny broken lines. From here it looked well healed. Obviously old. But it would have been deep, painful. She wanted to reach out and trace it. Stupid idea.
She wanted to ask him about it too, but realised she didn’t know him enough to pry about his injuries. ‘So were you a captain, or a private, or what?’
‘Staff sergeant medic.’ His shoulders squared and his jaw twitched a little. The pale trace of light in his eyes diminished. The shutters came down.
She sensed something tragic had happened to him. She understood, knew how bruised the heart and soul could get. Maybe his abruptness wasn’t lack of social grace, maybe it stemmed from something deeper.
There she was with the amateur psychology again. Still, when faced with pain and lies, she’d read as many self-help books as she could get through.
‘I’m sorry if I seem nosy. Rearing three teenagers consisted of too many questions and never enough answers.’ She flashed him a smile and hoped she could drag him out of whatever sombre place she’d put him with her stupid line of questioning. ‘You know what boys are like, I imagine. There’s enough of them in the army, eh?’
‘Yeah.’ His shoulders tensed. He glanced over to the bar and seemed to relax at the sight of Connor returning with the beer. Either he had a mighty thirst or he wasn’t comfortable chatting with her alone.
She ran her finger round the rim of her glass and gave him her best smile. Trying to work out exactly what she felt for this just-a-guy. She came up with confused. He’d been relaxed with Dan, chatty with Lukas … but with her he gave little away. Other than that brief connection at the beach, he was a stranger to her.
She didn’t want to get closer to him. But she sure as heck wanted to make him smile. His eyes spoke of too much pain.
Story of her life, really. Finding waifs and strays. Trying to make people smile. Putting their needs before hers. Giving up her dreams.
She dragged her eyes away from him and prayed the quiz would start soon to distract her from her wayward emotions, her wired libido and the strange effect of Adam Miller on her sensibilities.
CHAPTER THREE
THE quizmaster tapped the microphone for quiet. ‘Final round. It’s neck and neck. Who’s going to win tonight’s grand prize? Bright Sparks or Mad Medics?’
‘Mad Medics, obviously.’ Adam looked at the other two members of the team, chests puffed with pride, and wondered how the heck he’d got to be here, doing this. Normal things, with good people. For once the ghosts of his past hadn’t spoiled his humour. ‘We’ve got this sewn up.’
‘Is that confidence or just plain cocky?’ Skye leant towards him. He knew she couldn’t help it as the pub had become progressively crowded as the night had worn on. There was barely enough room to move, certainly no space to avoid physical contact.
He scraped his chair back from her, didn’t want to savour the enticing sensations running up and down his skin every time their arms brushed. The heat sizzling between them. He had no business enjoying being with her. Not the way his body was enjoying it anyway. ‘The key is do not entertain the thought of defeat. We will win.’
‘Yes, sir. I love all that who-dares-wins stuff. That’s SAS isn’t it? Green berets or something?’ Her huge eyes stared up at him. Such innocence and interest. For the first time in four years he almost wanted to talk about his old life. Guessed she wouldn’t judge. But words failed him. What if he was wrong?
He slugged back some beer. Better not to open up about anything. Keeping quiet had served him well over the years. It had. It might have lost him Monica, but at least his sanity was intact.
‘So, ladies and gentlemen, what are you scared of? Spiders? Snakes? The number thirteen?’ The quizmaster regarded each table in turn. ‘Scared of losing perhaps, Mad Medics? Or just losing face? Our last round is all about phobias.’
A loud beeping was met with a wall of silence that lasted two seconds. Then shouts of ‘Cheats!’
‘They’re using a phone!’
‘Put it away!’
Connor snatched his smartphone. His voice cracked as blood drained from his face. ‘It’s Mim. She’s having regular contractions. Mim’s having the baby. Shoot.’
He stood as cheers erupted across the room. All eyes were on the father-to-be.
‘Oh, my goodness.’ Skye clambered to her feet too, pale-faced, her body on alert. Primed for action. She clutched the edge of the table. ‘I’ll come with you.’
‘Oh, no. You know what first births are like, it’ll be ages yet.’ Connor’s mouth turned down and he raked a hand over his hair. Adam recognised the jittery voice, the shaking hands of a man half-frightened to death. ‘Okay. Okay. Right. We’ll be fine. You just stay here and win the quiz for us. I’ll call you.’
She slicked a kiss on his cheek. ‘Make sure you do. I want to be first to hear. Give her my love.’
‘Okay.’ Connor nodded, his eyes on Skye but his brain obviously elsewhere. Adam felt a twinge of sympathy for the man. He had a big night ahead. ‘We’ll be fine.’
‘Now we know what he’s scared of.’ Adam watched as Connor pushed his way through the crowd, greeting each pat on the back with a handshake. ‘The whole town seems excited about this birth. Is it something special?’
‘Every birth’s special.’ Skye smiled. ‘But Mim and Connor’s baby kind of belongs to all of us. Those two are the life blood of the place.’
‘As it should be.’ All his life he’d been looking for this kind of community, acceptance, sharing good times. Now he’d found it he didn’t know if he could fit in.
He’d joined up to belong to something and it had worked, for a good part of his time there. Leaving had been the right thing to do, but it had rendered him homeless in too many ways. But the community focus of Atanga Bay had a real comforting feel about it. Maybe he’d chosen the right place to settle. If he could settle at all. ‘For a doctor he looks terrified.’
‘For an about-to-be father I think that’s probably right. How exciting.’ Skye sat down, her eyes glowing. Colour rushed back into her cheeks. She had a pretty mouth, Adam noticed for the hundredth time, full lips hidden underneath a swathe of lipstick. Red. Not as dark as the other day. But glossy. Kissable.
No. She’s leaving. On a jet plane.
Skye had plans. They didn’t involve him. Couldn’t. And he’d sworn
