The Mighty Quinns: Rogan. Kate Hoffmann

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it wouldn’t be too much trouble to double the number of tents from three to six,” he said. “As long as your patients don’t mind carrying their own. Just keep in mind our two-person tents for this type of expedition are eight pounds. So everyone will have to carry that extra weight on their packs.”

      “Eight pounds? That’s not much,” she said.

      “It is when you’re climbing a steep trail,” he countered. “Which we will be doing on this trip.”

      “Perhaps you could send someone ahead with the tents?” she suggested.

      “Dr. Mathison, I thought you wanted to challenge your clients. Take them out of their comfort zone. I’ve planned a week of survival training and wilderness camping. If you want Max Adrenaline to do all the work, then we should just make reservations at the nearest spa and settle in with massages and mineral baths.”

      A long silence fell between them and Rogan bit his lower lip. He knew better than to sound off like that, especially with a new client. But if this was how she meant to go on, the trip was going to be a rough ride for them both. In addition to her ever-growing list of necessities to calm her phobic patients’ fears, now she was taking away the basic challenge of the trek. This woman seriously needed to loosen up.

      Still, they were desperate for her business. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Maybe I should ring you back after I’ve had my coffee.”

      “Perhaps that would be best,” she said. “I’ll speak with you later. Ring me at twelve forty-five my time. That would be three forty-five for you. I have a twenty-minute opening in my schedule and we can work out the final details.”

      Rogan rubbed his forehead. If it was nine in the morning where he was in Auckland, then it was seven in the morning in Sydney, where she lived. “Do you always get to work this early?” he asked.

      “I don’t need much sleep,” she said. “I’ll talk to you later.”

      “All right. Catch you later.”

      Rogan flopped back down on the bed and threw his arm over his eyes. A few seconds later, Kaylee pressed a kiss to his chest. He looked down to see her smiling at him, her blond hair tumbled around her face. “Good morning,” she said.

      “Morning,” he replied. “Sorry about that.”

      “No worries,” she replied. “It’s time to get up. I’ve got a lot of packing to do today.”

      Rogan frowned. “Packing? Are you going on holiday?”

      Kaylee gave him an uneasy smile. “No. Actually, I’m relocating.”

      “Really? Getting a new place?”

      “More like a...a new life,” she said. She sat up beside him and pulled the bedcovers up around her naked body. “I meant to tell you last night, but then we had a few drinks and things got randy between us. I’m moving down to Christchurch with Denny Fitzgerald. He’s gotten a promotion and he asked if I’d come with him. And I said yes.”

      “Wait,” Rogan said, shaking his head. “You and Denny?”

      Kaylee shrugged. “Yeah. He’s a nice guy, Rogan. We’ve been getting closer. He’s sweet and he loves me and he wants to make a life with me. And he’s around.”

      “When did this happen?”

      “It’s been going on for about a year, but nothing official. Until now, that is.”

      “Why haven’t I heard about it?”

      “I don’t know. Maybe because you’re never home. Listen, you’re a nice bloke, Rogan, but a girl can’t live on a few weeks of incredible sex three or four times a year. As good as it all is, it’s just not enough. I want something...more. I want a husband and a family. Denny can give that to me.”

      “I could do more for you,” Rogan said. But even as the words came out of his mouth, he realized they weren’t true. If he really had wanted more with Kaylee, he would have made it happen. He’d been perfectly content with what they’d had—great sex every two or three months when he happened to be home...and then not a moment spent worrying about her in between.

      Kaylee reached out and smoothed her hand over his cheek. “That’s just what you think you want,” she murmured. “But I know you. You could never be tied down. It’s just not you.”

      “Yeah,” Rogan muttered. “But occasionally I wish it was.”

      A wistful smile curled the corners of her mouth. “Denny and I are going to be very happy.”

      Rogan reluctantly nodded. “I hope he appreciates what a great girl he’s getting.”

      “I think he does.” She crawled over him and began to search the bedroom for her panties. “You’ll find someone else. Women are always attracted to men like you. At least for a while.”

      Rogan watched silently as Kaylee slipped into her clothes. He wanted to pull her back into bed and have his way with her just once more. But that would serve only one purpose—to make him feel worse about her leaving. Of all the girls he’d dated, she’d been his favorite. Though he and Kaylee had never defined their relationship, beyond enjoying each other in the bedroom, he’d still looked forward to seeing her again at the end of every trip. She was sweet and sexy and undemanding—always satisfied with what he had to offer. Until now.

      She plopped down on the bed and tugged on her shoes, then turned to him. “So, I guess it’s goodbye, then.”

      “I guess so,” Rogan murmured.

      She bent over him and brushed a quick kiss on his lips. “It’s been fun. And I’ll miss you. Take care and don’t fall off any mountains.”

      Rogan reached up and smoothed a strand of flaxen hair out of her eyes. “I’ll miss you, too.”

      She laughed, her eyes sparkling with a devilish glint. “No, you won’t. You’ll have a new girl in your bed by the end of the week.”

      Kaylee jumped up and walked to the door, turning back just once to blow him a kiss. “Ta ta, Rogan. Have a nice life.”

      “Ta ta, Kaylee. Take care.”

      He listened to her footsteps as they echoed through the cottage, then shut his eyes as the front door closed. “Bloody hell,” he muttered.

      The sound of the front door opening ended his temporary depression and Rogan grinned. Maybe she’d changed her mind already. Denny Fitzgerald was a tosser, and no sane woman would choose him. “Back so soon?” he shouted.

      “It’s me.”

      A few moments later, Rogan’s older brother, Mal, walked through the bedroom door. “I met Kaylee on the way out. Rotten news, that.”

      Rogan cursed softly, then crawled out of bed and grabbed his jeans, tugging them on as he walked to the loo. “When did you find out about her and Denny Fitzgerald?”

      “Dana told me a few months ago. I assumed you knew.” Dana, their sister, usually wasn’t great about keeping

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