‘No strings,’ he murmured.
‘N-no strings.’
‘You’re sure?’
She looked at his face in the moonlight and she felt fear. A sensible woman would retreat right now, she thought. But…
But she’d suddenly had it with being a sensible woman. Life was suddenly far too bleak. The future was suddenly far too scary. Heaven knew what would happen tomorrow-she certainly didn’t.
They’d both seen too much grey, she thought, and if she was suddenly defiant rather than sensible, who could blame her? The night was still and warm. This man was right before her. Back at home lay…
No. Don’t think of that. She could see from Fergus’s eyes that he was feeling exactly what she was. He needed this night and so did she.
And she’d take it. No matter how stupid. No matter how dumb.
‘I don’t suppose,’ she whispered, ‘that you have a condom at hand?’
There was a moment’s hush. The laughter faded and then sprang back again.
‘Can you doubt it? I’m a doctor. Up in my truck I have a doctor’s bag with almost a fully equipped pharmacy inside it. Ginny, are you sure?’
‘That means we have to go via your truck, right?’
‘Um…yeah.’ His hands pulled her into him, holding her close. ‘There’s probably all sorts of creepy-crawlies here anyway. Snakes and stuff.’
‘Probably,’ she agreed equitably. ‘And snakes-and stuff-are decidedly unsexy. I know a better place.’
‘There you are then,’ He grinned. ‘I have a condom, you have a place-what more do we want?’
‘Each other,’ she whispered. ‘For tonight. But just for tonight, Fergus.’
‘Just for tonight,’ he agreed. ‘No strings. But, Ginny…’
‘Mmm?’
‘For tonight I’m going to love you.’
CHAPTER SEVEN
GINNY had no intention of returning to the house. Neither did she want to go Fergus’s apartment, attached via a connecting door to the hospital, with all the connotations that held.
But down on the lake was the Viental boatshed. In her awful teenage years, Ginny had used it as a refuge. She’d gone there when life had simply overwhelmed her. It didn’t seem like home. It didn’t seem like any other place. It was simply the boatshed-her retreat from the world.
She directed Fergus. They drove in silence, with Fergus every now and then glancing across at her, as if reassuring himself that she was still there. Still real.
She sat with her hands clasped loosely on her knees and tried not to think the same of him. This was a moment out of time, she thought. One grasped moment of unreality, a gift not to be extended. A magic disappearing gift, here for tonight but gone in the morning. The contact with someone who shared…her heart?
Let’s not be fanciful, she told herself, but her lips curved in a tiny smile that wasn’t quite mockery. She looked sideways and found Fergus was smiling as well. An echo?
Just for tonight, she told herself. Just for tonight.
The world was holding its breath.
The boatshed was nestled in a patch of natural bushland just off the road. Fergus pulled the car onto the verge. He grabbed his jacket from over the seat and Ginny grinned.
‘You need a jacket?’
‘My phone’s in the pocket,’ he said apologetically, and her smile died.
‘Medical imperatives, huh?’
‘I did agree to take this job.’
‘Are we expecting medical imperatives?’
‘They’d have to be pretty damned imperative. You unlock the boatshed. I’ll get my bag out of the back.’
‘Because it contains medical imperatives?’
‘Absolutely.’
Was this wrong? Ginny hauled open the boatshed door, feeling like she should be feeling qualms. Or conscience. Or worry. Or something. She felt none of those things. She just felt…right.
By the time Fergus followed she had the doors open on the other side of the shed. This was a dry shed, with the boat having to be winched up a tracked ramp to be under cover. The boat the family had used had long been sold, but the shed itself was weatherproof and completely dry.
Ginny had always loved it. It had become a bolthole, when things had been too awful at home, and she’d squirrelled things away here. Blankets. Pillows. An old mattress, with a couple of broken springs. Her comforts were ancient but not so old they couldn’t be very useful now.
Fergus stopped at the door and gazed around in appreciation. The moon was almost full, and as soon as Ginny flung open the boat doors onto the lake, the moonlight flooded in.
‘I have candles,’ Ginny said, a trifle self-consciously and he nodded.
‘I bet you have. With little cupids engraved…’
‘There’s no need to mock.’
‘I’m not mocking,’ he said softly, grinning. ‘Ginny, this is magic. A man could fall in love…’
‘But you won’t.’
‘Of course I won’t,’ he said, though he suddenly sounded a trace unsure. He came up behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders, turning her to face him. His smile faded. ‘Ginny, are you sure?’
‘About tonight? I’m as sure as I’ve ever been about anything. But tomorrow…there’s no tomorrow, Fergus. We both know that.’
‘So we do,’ he said gently. ‘But there is tonight.’
She looked up at him, fixing her eyes on his. Making sure. And then, suddenly, before any more of these stupid scruples could get in the way, she tugged her shirt over her head. Then she flicked the fasteners of her bra, letting it fall free, and reached for the zip of her jeans.
He caught her hand.
‘This is not an offering you’re making,’ he said softly, catching her other hand as well and holding her before him. ‘This is mutual love-making we’re indulging in here. Mutual. I want you, Ginny, but I want you to want me.’
‘I do want you,’ she whispered.
‘Not for sex, Ginny. For love-making. Whether or not there’s a tomorrow, this needs to be an act of love or I want no part of it. I need you to kiss me.’
She gazed up at him. He was looking down at her, but he wasn’t looking at her breasts, as some men might have. He was searching her eyes.
He was so…so…
There was something changing inside her. Something she hadn’t been aware could be changed.
Fergus.
She twisted the grip of his hand so it was she who was doing the holding. She lifted his hand high, so the back of his hand was against her cheek. So she could feel the roughness of his skin against her.
This was so right. For this night, this was her man. He was big and tender and scarred with the same horror she’d faced. She put her hands up and touched his face, gently, tenderly, never letting her eyes move from his.
‘Fergus.’
He bent and he kissed her.
And in that instant her world readjusted itself. The awful tilted axis somehow righted itself. Love-making, he’d called it, and maybe it was the right description. For now, for this wondrous moment, the horror of commitment made way for…
