Felicity Wilson let herself sink into the armchair in the corner of the emergency department staffroom of Wellington’s Royal Hospital. ‘I thought we were never going to get a break.’
‘It’s been full on, hasn’t it? Thanks for staying on, Fizz, but you can get away anytime now. We’re fully staffed for the afternoon shift and we’ve caught up on the backlog.’
‘I’ll just have my coffee and catch my breath.’ Fizz smiled at her colleague, Tom—one of the senior consultants here. ‘I’ve already ditched my plans to attend a four-wheel drive club meeting. They’re just planning the next run, which is a sand forest gig that I’ve done before. I might wait until the CT scan results come through on that six-year-old kid that fell out of the tree. I hope he hasn’t got anything more than a mild concussion to go with his broken arm.’
‘Young Micky? He’s been a frequent flyer in here since he was a toddler when he fell off the couch and broke his collarbone. Apparently that was his first attempt at flying.’ Tom shook his head. ‘You have to feel sorry for his mother.’ His glance at Fizz was accompanied by a grin. ‘I’ll bet your mother had that worried look a lot of the time when you were growing up.’
‘I wasn’t accident prone.’
‘But you’re into dangerous pastimes. You probably jumped out of trees with a homemade parachute instead of falling out of them.’
‘Actually, no... I was quite a boring kid. Very well behaved.’
Tom shook his head. ‘So what happened? You grew up and just got a taste for things like hang gliding and off-road driving?’
Fizz shrugged. ‘Something like that.’ Yeah...she’d got a taste for an overdose of adrenaline, that was true. Who wouldn’t, when you discovered that it could blow anything else that you were feeling into oblivion?
Things like grief.
And having no faith in the future.
Mind you, it was such a long time ago that she’d discovered the potency of adrenaline as a mood-altering medication it was just a part of her history. A life-changing part, admittedly, especially when she’d eventually found a way of incorporating that kind of excitement into the job she loved so much. At least people were more likely to be impressed when you were putting yourself in danger in order to save other people and not just for personal escape masquerading as enjoyment.
‘And you always just happen to be where the action is happening. That picture of you in the paper a few days ago... Unbelievable... And you just happened to be driving right behind the woman who ran her car off the road?’
‘I saw it happening. Some idiot on a motorbike was trying to pass when he didn’t have room and she had to swerve. Her wheel caught in the gravel on the side of the road and she just lost control and went straight through the barrier.’ Fizz shrugged. ‘Hey...what can I say? Apparently I’m a trauma magnet.’
‘I guess it keeps life interesting.’
‘Yep...’ Fizz took a sip of her coffee, her mind slipping back to that incident the other day. To the adrenaline rush of getting that child and the baby out of that car. To that moment of fear when she’d been underwater and realising that she wasn’t going to get that safety belt undone and that, at any moment, the car could get displaced enough to trap her underwater.
She was no stranger to situations that were scary. She had chosen them, way back, when it hadn’t actually seemed to matter that much if she didn’t survive. By the time she’d got through to the other side of the darkest period in her life, she had every desire to survive but she still didn’t shy away from situations that she knew might be a little too risky, because she knew how good that rush of relief was when they were over. That sheer exhilaration that the odds had been beaten and you were still alive? It was definitely a kind of drug, that feeling.
Addictive...
And every time it added to her confidence in being able to rely on herself. It confirmed her belief that being totally independent was the only safe way to exist and it was okay, because life was still good. Better than good, in fact.
‘Anyway... I’d better get back.’ Tom drained his mug and then rinsed it out under the tap. ‘You in tomorrow, Fizz?’
‘No. Day off.’
‘As in a real day off, or are you doing a shift at the rescue base?’
‘Rescue base,’ Fizz admitted. ‘But you know what they say about a change being as good as a holiday, right?’
Tom was laughing as he left the staffroom. Fizz sipped her coffee again, her gaze drifting towards the big table in the centre of the room and to the pile of magazines and newspapers on one end of it.
It had only been a couple of days since she’d been in the background of that front-page picture. Was the paper still in that pile? Not that Fizz kept mementoes like that but, now that Tom had reminded her, she just wanted to have another look at that photo.
It wasn’t until she’d found the paper on the bottom of the pile that Fizz realised why she’d wanted to see it again. There was something about the man who was the hero of this image that was pulling her back.
Attracting her...
And it had been a long time since she’d been aware of that particular kind of tingle. Had her self-imposed break from men gone on long enough to have run its course? Was she missing male companionship—not to mention great sex—enough to make it worth the risk of having to deal with someone who started wanting something more than she was prepared to offer?
More than she was capable of offering?
Maybe the attraction was simply there because they’d shared a dramatic incident and he’d been the one to tip the balance and make the good result of that rescue possible. Fizz could still feel echoes from that touch of his hand when he’d pushed hers aside to deal with unclipping that seat belt. And when he’d gripped hers to help her keep her balance when they’d been scrambling over those slippery rocks on their way back to dry land. How safe had that physical attachment to that big, solid man made her feel? Not that she needed anyone to make her feel safe but it hadn’t been unpleasant, that was for sure.
She could remember how deft his hands had been when he had been working with her to save that woman’s life on the beach. And that hint of laughter curling through a rather gorgeous accent when he’d said that her name suited her. It wasn’t just Cooper Sinclair’s accent that was gorgeous, either. Fizz stared at the photo. She’d noticed how big he was that day but she hadn’t taken any particular notice of his features—those intelligent eyes, that strong nose and chin. A mouth that looked ready to curl into what would probably be a cheeky smile at any moment.
Okay. The attraction wasn’t just to do with the situation they had both found themselves in. And it wasn’t just that she was over being celibate. This Cooper was something special. He was also a foreigner who might only be in the country for a limited amount of time, which could be a real bonus. If—and, given the impression she already had of him, it might be quite a big if—he was single, it was possible he might be interested in a friendship. One of those friendships that had benefits, even, and were as close to a conventional relationship as Fizz was prepared to allow.
She cast a somewhat furtive glance over her shoulder but she was still alone in the staffroom. Carefully, she ripped off
