THE NEXT MORNING in the seminar room, Della tried to focus on Harvey’s talk on sports-related trauma, but her mind kept wandering. Had last night really happened? How had they gone from arguing in Savu’s to sleeping together again? Oh, she’d instigated it by asking him to stay. The minute he’d stood on the doorstep and apologised, the minute he’d opened up, let her in, hinting at his beliefs on love, the minute he’d alluded to the fact that, despite appearances, he’d always had a thing for her, all the anger and humiliation inside her had drained away.
How could she stay angry with Harvey, when she’d always had a thing for him too? When she’d seen another side to him? And how could the sex between them have been better than the last time? They’d had sex three times—the second time in the shower and again in bed before finally collapsing into a state of replete exhaustion. She’d awoken at dawn to the unfamiliar heat and sounds of a tropical island and nudged Harvey awake. He’d untangled his limbs from hers, kissed her, dressed and rushed back to his own bungalow, giving Della a brief reprieve to come to terms with the fact that Harvey seemed to be hotter than ever before.
How was that even possible, let alone fair? And what did it mean for her attempts to resist him? Dragging her gaze from the man in question, Della glanced around the room. A small audience, predominantly doctors and physiotherapists from the hospital with a handful of local GPs, listened to Harvey talk. Della zoned back into what he was saying, their eyes briefly meeting, before he looked back down at his notes.
Shivers of both delight and dread danced down her spine. What was he thinking? Did he want this physical fling to continue for the duration of their time in Fiji, or was he done? He was giving little away, although he could hardly look at her the way he had last night in front of an audience. Della herself was horribly confused. On the one hand, having incredible sex with Harvey was better than two weeks of arguing. They were trapped there, after all. But was it wise? She’d never known Harvey to see a woman more than a few times. Would he even be up for a holiday fling? Or should they agree to put the sex behind them again and simply focus on working together? Her stomach sank at the thought. But just because she still wanted him, just because she’d witnessed a deeper side to Harvey she hadn’t known existed, she’d do well to remember that when it came to relationships, they were total opposites. She sighed; she was talking herself around in circles.
The audience broke into a round of applause, and Della joined in. Harvey’s talk had obviously concluded, although she’d missed most of it with her lusty daydreams.
‘Thank you, Dr Ward,’ Dr Tora said. ‘A very informative update. We’ll take a fifteen-minute break. Refreshments are available out on the veranda.’
While Harvey was approached by an audience member with a question, Della stepped outside and helped herself to a glass of iced water. There was no point trying to eat. Her stomach was too full of butterflies, her head too full of the dilemma. In theory, a little holiday sex hurt no one, especially when she and Harvey understood each other so well. At this moment, Della wasn’t ready for more than sex, and even when that changed, she’d never consider Harvey. He didn’t do relationships. So where was the harm in a brief sexual fling? But could she spend all this time with him, explore a sexual relationship that was obviously heading nowhere, and keep emotional boundaries in place?
‘Thanks for the wake-up call,’ a deep voice said over her shoulder, jolting her out of her thoughts.
Della hid a delicious shudder of anticipation, turning to offer Harvey a tight, professional smile as if they were no more than colleagues. ‘You’re welcome. The sunrise woke me.’ Finding Harvey’s big, manly body sprawled in her bed, taking up more than his fair share of space, she’d watched him sleep for a few indulgent seconds, carefully sniffing the scent of his shampoo and memorising the small scar on his shoulder. Even asleep, he was outrageously handsome.
‘So...how are you feeling today?’ he asked in a low voice, taking a sip of what smelled like strong black coffee, his favourite. ‘Any regrets? I know I’m not your favourite person.’ His voice was light as he watched her intently over the rim of his cup, his playful reminder well-timed. They’d been adversaries for so long. Could they truly be lovers, even temporarily?
‘Hmm...’ Della kept her expression serious and pretended to think about it. ‘I guess I can live with what happened, given I was the one to instigate it.’ She didn’t want him thinking last night was his idea. ‘How about you?’ she asked, with a twitch of a smile. ‘Have you booked the first flight out of here and deleted me from your contacts yet?’
Just because he’d admitted he’d thought all of her boyfriends including her ex-husband unworthy didn’t mean their very different views on commitment and love had changed. What had he called it? A brave gamble? But why?
Harvey shrugged, his stare flirtatious. ‘Not quite yet.’
Della fought a smile and looked down. There was a perfectly professional distance between his body and hers. To the outsider, they might be having a medicine-related conversation. Instead, her body was aflame. How could zero physical contact generate so many sparks?
‘When you think about it,’ she said, emboldened but her heart galloping with nerves, ‘holiday flings are pretty harmless.’ A safe, casual sex fling might do her a world of good. She searched his stare for any sign that he was done, although this was Harvey—short-lived flings were his forte. But if he was waiting for her to beg, he’d be waiting a long time.
‘Hmm... They do have considerable benefits.’ Harvey nodded, his expression thoughtful. ‘A nice, neat end date when you fly home to the real world.’
Holding her nerve, she waited. She refused to crack until he cracked first. But surely they were on the same page? Surely them sleeping together benefited them working together harmoniously?
Flushed from her shameful justifications, Della held her breath as Harvey inched closer and dipped his head. ‘As long as both parties use the other for the same thing, of course.’
Heartened, she caught a flicker of excitement in his eyes. Mentally, she raised a victory fist. She was willing to be used for sex, as long as she could use him in return.
‘Of course. And this Fiji. Different rules apply,’ she added, looking for his agreement. ‘Once we leave this island, usual business resumes.’
‘I agree,’ he said, a small frown tugging at his mouth. ‘Because we will see each other again.’
Della nodded, the warning clear. It was the same debate she’d been ruminating on all morning. Yes, their affair would end, but they couldn’t ghost each other. Harvey would still be Brody’s best friend, and Della would still see him at Wilton family functions.
‘But by then,’ she went on, reassuring herself as much as Harvey, ‘we will have each moved on. Melbourne has a very active singles scene, I believe.’ Harvey would find ample casual distractions once he returned to Australia. As they said, a leopard never changed its spots.
Harvey’s stare intensified with that flicker of challenge she was used to. ‘And maybe you’ll find everything you want in Auckland—that devoted husband, a houseful of adorable children. You already have the successful career part.’
See, they knew each other so well. Uninvited, his words from the night before rushed Della’s mind... It’s not that I don’t believe in love... Last night, she’d been too upset with him to give the statement much thought. But now it niggled at her. Was this another of Harvey’s hidden depths? Was there some reason he’d sworn off relationships beyond his general cynicism following his parents’ divorce?
‘So, where does that leave us, I wonder?’ she asked, dismissing the idea, because his motivations for staying single changed nothing. Harvey would likely never cancel his membership to the singles club, and Della still wanted it all with the right man. She wasn’t stupid. There was no way she and Harvey, of all men, could be anything serious. She’d already made one big mistake with Ethan. Next time she risked her heart, she’d make sure the man was all in.
‘I guess the door is still open to possibility,’ he said cryptically, his stare sparking with heat, the expression doing silly things to Della’s pulse. How could she still want him after last night? She’d lost count of how many orgasms she’d had, but it would be so easy to become addicted to sex that good.
‘Speaking of possibility,’ he said, stepping back so they were once more that respectable distance apart, ‘I wondered if you’d like to explore one of the smaller islands with me later, as we have the afternoon off? We could rent a kayak and some snorkel gear. There’s no point wasting the fantastic downtime opportunities.’
‘That sounds good,’ she said, visualising other opportunities—them alone and naked. ‘As long as it’s not Mallau Island,’ she added with a mock grimace. ‘I spent my ill-fated honeymoon there.’ She offered him a wry smile, shoving all thoughts of Ethan from her mind. She’d moved on, her biggest regret that she hadn’t seen through him sooner and saved herself both time and heartache.
But Harvey sobered, a small frown lodging between his brows. ‘I wouldn’t want to bring up any painful reminders for you. Why don’t you choose our destination. A clean slate.’
‘I will,’ Della said breezily, hoping to reassure him, while enjoying that he was...protective. ‘Don’t look so worried. Mallau isn’t the only stunning island in the archipelago.’ There were over three hundred.
‘In that case,’ Harvey said, leaning in a little closer and dropping his voice, ‘I’ll do my best to keep your mind very much in the present and help you make some new memories.’ The innocently phrased promise dripped with suggestion, filling Della with the thrilling fizz of anticipation.
‘No, I’ll help you make some,’ she breathed, already looking forward to exploring Fiji with Harvey. Despite a worrying start, her working holiday had taken a very unexpected but pleasurable turn. Maybe two weeks trapped with Harvey in paradise wouldn’t be so bad after all.
Just then, Dr Tora appeared from the seminar room, his face tense with concern. ‘Excuse me, everyone,’ he called. ‘There’s been a vehicle collision off the King’s Road north of here. A minibus full of backpackers left the road and ploughed downhill into the dense bush. There are multiple casualties expected in the emergency department shortly. Can everyone who’s available please head there to help where they can?’
As he spoke, multiple pagers sounded around them, urgent calls to their Fijian colleagues coming thick and fast.
Della and Harvey glanced at each other and abandoned their drinks. Their afternoon off, their downtime together—exploring, snorkelling, falling into bed—would have to wait. Duty called. They took off running, making it to the ED a few minutes later, in time to intercept the first wave of casualties.
‘We have a twenty-three-year-old male with a penetrating abdominal wound,’ the paramedic handing over a patient said as he wheeled the stretcher into a vacant resuscitation bay.
‘He was flung from the window and impaled on a broken tree branch,’ the paramedic continued. ‘He has IV access, and I’ve given him morphine and IV fluids. Blood pressure is on the low side, but he’s been conscious throughout.’
The casualty groaned in pain. Della sprang into action, listening to the young man’s chest and abdominal sounds as nursing staff connected him to heart monitors and oxygen and began cutting away his clothing. A junior ED doctor drew blood from the man’s arm to cross-match for a blood transfusion.
Harvey removed the dressing and exposed the wound in the patient’s abdomen. A five-centimetre-diameter tree branch protruded from the wound just under his ribs on the right.
Della met Harvey’s stare, seeing her concerns mirrored there. The risk of internal haemorrhage with injuries of this nature was high. This patient would need an urgent laparotomy to assess the internal damage and remove the branch. But if he was bleeding internally, first he must be stabilised.
‘Let’s get four units of blood cross-matched,’ Harvey called to the junior ED doctor. ‘Any sign of pneumothorax?’ he asked Della, reaching for his own stethoscope.
‘No,’ she said, drawing up some more analgesia, ‘but it will be a miracle if this has avoided his liver.’
Harvey nodded, his expression grim. They needed to operate on the man as soon as possible.
‘I need an infusion of intravenous antibiotics, please,’ Della said to Seema, the ED nurse, keeping one eye on the blood pressure monitor. Before her eyes, the pressure dropped. Her stare darted to Harvey, a different kind of adrenaline flooding her system. As if making a joint decision, Harvey nodded to Della and unlocked the wheels of the stretcher.
‘Send the blood round to theatre,’ he said, his voice calm but full of authority. ‘Dr Wilton and I are taking him straight to surgery.’
It was the same call Della would have made. There was no time to waste. But as they rushed round to theatre, wheeling the patient with them, what shocked Della most was how good it sounded to hear Harvey automatically refer to them as a team.