Amy would be happy wherever she was, whatever she did, he thought. She made the most of her life. She cared.

She was soaked to the skin. Her braid had come unfastened and her curls were a tangled riot around her face. She was wearing a coat that was too small and clothes that were too old-and she was turning her face into the wind as if she’d been given the world.

It was too much. It would have been too much for any man.

He took her hands in his as if to steady himself, and when her body twisted toward him he pulled her close.

He kissed her.

Of course he kissed her. There was a compulsion happening here that he had no hope of controlling. He couldn’t even try.

She was so desirable. So beautiful. So…

He didn’t know. But there was a damp tendril coiling down her forehead that he had to push softly away. There was salt water on her face that he had to taste… And her lips were soft and pliant and…and waiting.

Waiting for him.

She was so lovely.

His woman…

‘Lady, by yonder blessed moon I swear…’

Moon madness. That’s what this was-the same blessed moon that had caused Romeo to forsake all for his Juliet.

For heaven’s sake, he was a surgeon-not a poet!

But he was a poet tonight. Who wouldn’t be with such sweetness in his arms.

Amy was so right for him. It was as if a part of him had been missing and had found its way home. Each curve of their bodies fitted together as if they knew each other through and through.

Joss held her close and deepened the kiss-because nothing, ever, had felt so right before.

And Amy?

What was she doing? she thought wildly. She’d taken this man to her very special place-her place-the place where she’d sobbed her heart out as a child or come when life had been just too bleak for words. It was a place of sanctuary and of healing.

She hadn’t expected this to happen.

To fall in love…

Because that was what was happening. As though responding to a force beyond her control, she opened her lips to the man who held her. More. She opened her heart.

It was so right! Her body was melting into his-aching-wanting and welcoming.

She felt herself sinking into him. Desperate to deepen the kiss. Desperate to grow closer. Though how could they be closer than they were at this minute? Two halves of one sweet whole. They’d been torn asunder by some mystery of fate and could now come together for always.

Always.

Joss’s hands were pulling her body ever closer. His kiss deepened and deepened again-and so did the wonder.

She was like no woman he’d ever kissed, he thought, dazed with the sensation of what was happening to him. And why? She was sodden with sea spray. She wore no trace of make-up and her clothes were shabby and her hair was blown every which way. There were trickles of rainwater running down her nose, merging with the rain on his face where their lips met. She looked about as far from his ideal woman as he could possibly imagine any woman being.

So how could she be meeting this need-this desperate desire-that until now he’d never known he had?

He didn’t know. All he knew was that she was…Amy.

And that was enough.


And finally-finally-they pulled away, as pull away they had to. The waves were sloshing over their shoes, they were sodden and back on the beach Bertram was starting to bark his anxiety for the world to hear.

‘We’re worrying Bertram,’ Amy managed, and her voice was a husky whisper, full of uncertainty.

‘Worrying Bertram!’ Joss tried to smile down at the confusion on her face. ‘I’m worrying me.’

That worked. ‘Hey, I don’t have any infectious diseases.’

He smiled-but only just. ‘Amy…’

But she put a finger on his lips to stop him saying more. ‘Don’t.’

‘Don’t what?’

‘Apologise. It was a magic night. It is a magic night, and I always think magic nights should be sealed with a kiss. Don’t you?’

‘I don’t understand,’ he said, dazed. ‘Amy, what the hell happened there?’

‘An electric charge?’ Her smile was returning. ‘Moonbeams and water. They pack a lethal charge.’

They certainly did. ‘Amy, I never meant…’

‘Of course you didn’t,’ she said cordially. ‘And neither did I. But Bertram thinks we did and seeing as he’s acting as our chaperon I think we should go back to him. Don’t you?’

‘Yes.’ Of course he did. After all, he was cold and he was wet. Why on earth would he want to keep standing here?

He did. Badly.

But she was more in control than he was. ‘Let’s go,’ she told him, her voice firming as she took his hand to lead him back to the beach. ‘I have a fiancé to telephone and you have a conference to prepare for.’

Right. Right!

Bertram was waiting for them to return to the beach. His conference paper was waiting to be written. The unknown Malcolm was waiting in Bowra.

His life was waiting for him to get on with it.


But how the hell was a man to concentrate on writing a conference paper after that? Joss showered and changed into more of his father’s clothes-he’d kill for another pair of jeans, he decided, and wondered for about the thousandth time how Amy put up with no shops. Dried and warm, he returned to the kitchen to find Amy had disappeared.

‘I’ve gone to bed,’ the note on the table read. ‘Make yourself some cocoa.’

Right. Cocoa. When what he needed was…

Sex?

No. Not sex. Or not just sex.

He wanted Amy.

It was nine o’clock. After the day he’d had he should be exhausted. Maybe he should go to bed, but as he wandered down the passage he heard the shower running in Amy’s bathroom. A vision appeared unbidden…

Whoa. Unless he was careful here, he’d have to take another shower. This time cold.

Bertram was nosing at Amy’s bedroom door, whimpering to be let in to visit someone he’d decided very firmly was a friend, and Joss took his collar and pulled him away.

‘No. We’re not wanted, boy. She has a fiancé.’

It was just as well she did, he decided. The last thing he wanted was a tie that could hold him to Iluka. It was bad enough that he had a father here and he’d have to visit every few months.

But Amy was here.

The sound of the shower ceased. She’d be drying herself.

‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, Braden, get a grip. You’re a grown man.’

‘Yeah, with grown man urges.’

‘She doesn’t want you.’

‘I could just towel her back…’

He was a guest in her house. He wasn’t wanted. He had a bed of his own to go to.

The phone rang and he hesitated, half expecting-half hoping-Amy would open the door and come out to the kitchen to answer it. And then he realised it was ringing in her bedroom. Damn, she had an extension. What business did she have, having an extension when she was broke?

He was losing his mind.

But he didn’t move. He sort of listened-just for a minute.

And from the other side of the door he heard, ‘Malcolm. How lovely. I was worried about you.’

Damn.

He took himself firmly in hand and took himself off to his bed. Alone. She was worried about Malcolm?

He was worried about himself!


Amy had herself under control-sort of-and was answering the phone to her fiancé. What had gone on tonight with Joss was an aberration, she told herself firmly. It had nothing to do with her or with her future. It had only been a kiss.

Which was why she’d made a dash to her bedroom and had locked the door, thankful that her room had an en suite bathroom so she didn’t have to face Joss again tonight.

It was only a kiss, she said to herself like a mantra. A kiss with no future.

Her future was here in Iluka. Her future was with Malcolm. Now he’d phoned, as she’d known he would-though it was really unusual for him to ring two hours late.

‘I was worried,’ she told him, striving to keep her voice light. ‘When you didn’t ring I thought the telephone lines might be down.’

‘No. The lines are fine. But I hear you’ve lost the bridge.’ Malcolm sounded strained, she thought. Unlike him.

‘Yes. We’re stranded but we’re fine. Though there was one casualty…’

‘A casualty?’ Still that note of anxiety.

‘No one we know. A young woman crashed her truck and she was in full labour. She ended up having her baby here in the nursing home.’

‘A baby?’ His voice rose in disbelief and Amy thought, He really is worried. For some reason he sounded terrified.

‘She’s fine, Malcolm. We all are. David Braden’s son is here and he’s a doctor. He was trapped when the bridge came down and Joss is a fine surgeon. He did a Caesarean, delivering a beautiful little girl, and now he’s on the spot for any medical needs we might have.’

There was a silence while Malcolm thought that through, then he said, ‘So…the woman’s fine. And the baby?’

‘Great. Malcolm, is there anything wrong?’

‘No. No. Did the woman say…who she was?’

Amy frowned. Charlotte hadn’t exactly given permission for her name to be broadcast. If it hadn’t been for the policeman tracking of her licence plates, they still wouldn’t know it. ‘For some reason I don’t think she wants her identity known.’

‘Oh.’

‘But I’m afraid she’s as stuck here as we all are. I guess they’ll organise a ferry over the river soon.’

‘Yeah.’

‘You sound…odd.’

‘Do I?’ There was another lengthy silence from the end of the line then he added, ‘It must be the distance or something. Water in the line.’

‘Is everything OK at your end?’ she asked.

‘Why wouldn’t it be?’

‘No reason.’ But still she had this niggle of a doubt. He sounded distracted.

‘You’re OK yourself?’ He still sounded strained.

‘I’m fine,’ she said gently. ‘Just a bit tired. It’s been a long day. Goodnight, Malcolm.’