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‘Thank you for rescuing me, Tom.’
Bec spoke softly, the sound evaporating so quickly it was almost as if the words had not been said. But the echo of the message resonated loud and clear, vibrating in his chest.
Tilting her head forward, she pressed her lips gently against his cheek.
The touch was brief, a light caress. But the softness and warmth of her lips sent a riot of sensation ricocheting through him, making every part of him vibrate with suppressed longing.
She trusts me. The warning sounded faintly in the recesses of his mind.
She wants me.
Six weeks of concealed emotions exploded inside him, pushing every rational thought from his head. He couldn’t hold back any longer. He needed her arms around his neck, her legs around his waist, her lips against his own. He needed her now like he needed air.
Have you ever watched a movie and come away from it saying, ‘I am going to visit that place’? I have. The memory of the jade waters of Halong Bay in the film Indochine stayed with me long after the credits had faded. A couple of years later, when a friend came home raving about Vietnam, I booked a holiday.
Vietnam sends you into sensory overload. The sound of horns, the smell of fish sauce and lemongrass, the chaos of people continuously on the move, the spectacular scenery and the friendliness of the people—all of it sucks you into its welcoming vortex.
This got me thinking about a romance set in this beautiful country…Bec, an Australian nurse, comes to Vietnam determined to help the children of the country and escape the memory of her own troubled childhood. She has decided that it’s safest not to love, and is creating an independent life for herself. But she meets Tom, a dedicated doctor. He is Eurasian. Born in Vietnam, raised in Australia, and feeling as if he does not belong in either country, he is working in Vietnam and trying to trace his birth mother. He feels his life is on hold until he knows more about himself. Together they challenge each other’s beliefs about themselves as they travel around Vietnam dealing with medical emergencies.
Just as Halong Bay wove its magic over me, it weaves a special magic over Tom and Bec. But is magic enough to keep them together? I hope you enjoy travelling through Vietnam, and perhaps you might book yourself a holiday there as well. Let me know!
Love
Fiona x
A Woman To Belong To
Fiona Lowe
Always an avid reader, FIONA LOWE decided to combine her love of romance with her interest in all things medical, so writing Medical™ Romance was an obvious choice! She lives in a seaside town in southern Australia, where she juggles writing, reading, working and raising two gorgeous sons, with the support of her own real-life hero!
You can visit Fiona’s website at www.fionalowe.com
To Caroline, Deb, Gayle, Karen and Mon.
Thanks for the laughs, the company and the great tennis.
And to Gayle for her wonderful travel tales and inspiring our visit to Vietnam.
CONTENTS
Dear Reader
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
EPILOGUE
RAIN TUMBLED FROM the sky, a wall of pure water—the response of humidity finally reaching breaking point. Bec Monahan tilted her head back, enjoying the refreshing coolness on her face. A moment later she sighed.
Hanoi traffic, chaotic under perfect conditions, would now be at gridlock. No point getting a taxi. She glanced around. No cyclos either—all the drivers had retreated to shelter. Damn.
Pulling her non la forward she smiled at the varied uses of the traditional Vietnamese conical hat. Just an hour ago she’d been using it as a fan and a much-needed sunshade. Now it doubled as an umbrella. It also screamed tourist or country hick in the emerging cosmopolitan city.
She didn’t care. Two days after arriving and immediately sweating in tight Western clothing, she’d adopted the local dress of light cotton trousers and a long-sleeved blouse. The outfit was practical, comfortable and plain. She stood out enough just by being Australian, and this way she drew less attention. She’d learned from an early age it was safer to fade into the background.
She peered at the scrawled address as the rain blurred the blue ink, making it run across the page. She bit her lip and sent up a hopeful plea that this time the address was correct. Tracking down Dr Thông had turned into a marathon.
Weaving her way around the impromptu food stalls and parked motorcycles, she turned into a street clearly marked by an enamelled street sign, a legacy from the French occupation. She stopped abruptly. A shiver raced across her skin as a wave of goose-bumps rose in warning.
A dead-end narrow lane. Always have an escape route.
Life
