than she remembered, more tan, too. His loose CCPO event T-shirt and khaki cargo shorts did little to hide his broad shoulders and narrow hips. His left hand was still bare of jewelry and had no telltale tan line to hint at deception. Lifting her gaze back to his face, she took in his sandy-colored hair, strong aquiline nose, cleft chin, and toffee-colored eyes that were staring straight into hers with obvious interest. His smile widened and her thighs clenched in immediate response.
He had been that good, but she still wasn’t risking it.
She had too much at stake to play sexual escapades with Trace all weekend.
But boy, oh, boy, did the man tempt everything in her.
* * *
“It’s been a while,” Trace said by way of greeting when he closed the distance between them.
“Four years.”
Four years. Four long years where he’d seen things he’d like to forget, and she was just the woman who might accomplish that for him, even if only for a short while.
A short while sounded like heaven after the hell he’d seen, that he’d no doubt see more of when he returned to wherever they sent him this time.
“How have you been?” he asked, studying her. Other than the change of hairstyle and the few extra pounds she carried, she looked the same as he recalled. Better even. He liked the fullness to her breasts and hips that hadn’t been there four years ago.
His groin tightened.
Yeah, he liked her curves a lot.
His body’s instant reaction to her nearness made him feel like a Neanderthal. It hadn’t been that long since he’d been with a woman. But when he tried to think back to the last time he’d had sex, he struggled to recall exactly how long it had been.
A problem he intended to rectify, assuming Chrissie still felt the strong attraction they’d shared. Time certainly hadn’t faded a thing for him.
Sex just hadn’t been a priority recently. Life—life had been the top priority where he’d been. Helping those who desperately needed help and doing what he could with significantly limited resources had been a priority. Surviving tragedy, and healing, had been a priority.
“I’m great,” she answered, shifting her weight as if she was nervous.
She had nothing to be nervous about. They’d ended on good terms, or so he’d thought, after their weekend. He’d thought about her often enough that had there been anything negative he would have remembered. He’d swear he recalled every detail of that weekend in vivid color.
“That’s good to hear. How’s life been treating you?”
Her gaze cut to beyond him, and, ignoring his question, she said, “Sorry, but if you’ll excuse me, I see someone I need to talk to.” She paused, briefly met his gaze with a steely expression in her green eyes. “Good to see you again, Travis.”
Travis? Ouch.
He watched her walk away, greet Agnes Coulson, a bear of a woman and the Children’s Cancer Prevention Organization founder. True to how he’d just thought of her, Agnes wrapped Chrissie into a big hug, causing her to laugh as she hugged the woman back, then wiggled free.
“It’s so good to see you,” she exclaimed to the woman, showing the excitement Trace would like to have seen when she’d greeted him. He wouldn’t have minded one of those hugs, either.
Instead, he’d effectively been put in his place.
Not that he was buying that she’d forgotten his name.
He wasn’t.
She hadn’t forgotten. But she wanted him to think she had. That was her way of letting him know she wasn’t interested.
Which wasn’t what her eyes had conveyed when she’d first seen him. He’d have bet anything she’d felt the same excitement he had.
He knew she had.
Maybe she’d taken that closer look, seen the harshness that almost suffocated him these days, and known the best thing she could do was stay away.
He wasn’t the same man he’d been four years ago. Not by far. In some ways, he was better. In some, not so much.
“You two had something a few years back, didn’t you? Right before you left for Sudan?”
Trace turned to Bud Coulson, Agnes’s husband. They headed up the event each year. They’d done so for the past twenty years. Their only child had been diagnosed with, and died from, a rare type of brain cancer, and they’d dedicated their lives to raising awareness and funds to fight pediatric cancers. Trace’s family regularly donated to their organization. Four years ago, before he’d left for his Doctors Around the World stint overseas, Trace had done more than pull out his hefty checkbook. He’d volunteered as an extra helper, something he’d done numerous times over the years in different capacities with CCPO.
Even before Doctors Around the World he’d wanted to do more to help others than just practice medicine. Thank goodness for Bud and Agnes’s influence over the years that had planted that seed that drove him to help others.
How could he not support the foundation when it was a way of keeping Kerry alive to the couple he loved so much?
“I was quite taken with her the weekend we met,” he admitted, not letting his mind go to little Kerry and the guilt he always felt when he thought of her.
Instead, he let memories of Chrissie flood through his mind. He’d always wondered if the intensity of that weekend had been because he’d known he was heading into the unknown. Which he’d wanted. He still wanted even if his parents had begged him to come home to stay. He understood their concern.
Especially after the incident at the Shiara MSF hospital in Yemen.
Automatically, he placed his hand over his right lower abdomen. That one had been a bit too close for comfort, but at least he’d walked away with his life, which he couldn’t say of all his colleagues.
Damn cowardly terrorists attacking a hospital. Damn that he’d walked away when so many good people had died.
“Your dad told me about what happened.” Bud gestured to where Trace touched. “You should have come home to let us take care of you.”
Trace rammed his hand into his pocket.
“There was nothing anyone could do.” There hadn’t been. He’d been one of the lucky ones. “Besides, I lived.”
“I was surprised you didn’t opt to come home after that,” Bud mused, then shook his head. “I take that back. That you opted to stay didn’t really surprise me.”
“Coming home wasn’t an option.” Not one that he’d ever considered at any rate. He planned to live his life doing mission work. Settling down wasn’t for him. A wife and kids wasn’t his lot in life and he never wanted it to be.
His gaze cut to the woman still smiling and chatting with Agnes. Her hands waved animatedly as she described something.
