‘I’m sorry for blubbering all over you.’

‘It’s okay.’ His fingers slowed as something in his gaze changed, heated. Her breath caught.

The hand at her jaw moved back, curving around her nape, his thumb settling against the underside of her chin. He used it to apply gentle pressure to tilt her head further back.

His gaze settled on her mouth. Oh, man—was he going to kiss her?

Unable to stop herself, she licked her suddenly parched lips.

‘Molly…’

The word was whispered. A statement, not a question. But she heard the request nonetheless.

Dear Reader

One would expect a seasoned traveller to love the adventure of flying from place to place, living in lands far from home, learning about new cultures and different types of food. That’s me! All except for the very first point: flying from place to place. During my adult years I’ve lived outside my home country more than I’ve lived within its borders. That means I have to fly. A lot. And you know what? I tremble every time I step foot on a plane.

My father—a man I look up to—spent his life around planes. He served with the Hurricane Hunters, a group of brave souls who fly into hurricanes gathering information. And later, during his time with the Navy, he worked as a flight mechanic aboard an aircraft carrier. He still loves planes. I should have inherited a little of that love, right? Nope. My husband still has to grip my hand during each and every take-off. What would I do if I were married to a pilot? That simple thought led to DOCTOR’S MILE-HIGH FLING—the story of a rescue pilot and the doctor who works with him.

Thank you for joining Blake and Molly as they experience the joy and heartbreak of working under very difficult conditions. Their dedication to their patients helps Molly overcome her fear and rise to meet each new challenge. Best of all, this special couple finds love along the way. I hope you enjoy reading about their journey as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Sincerely

Tina Beckett

Born to a family that was always on the move, Tina Beckett learned to pack a suitcase almost before she knew how to tie her shoes. Fortunately she met a man who also loved to travel, and she snapped him right up. Married for over twenty years, Tina has three wonderful children and has lived in gorgeous places such as Portugal and Brazil.

Living where English reading material is difficult to find has its drawbacks, however. Tina had to come up with creative ways to satisfy her love for romance novels, so she picked up her pen and tried writing one. After her tenth book, she realised she was hooked. She was officially a writer.

A three-time Golden Heart finalist, and fluent in Portuguese, Tina now divides her time between the United States and Brazil. She loves to use exotic locales as the backdrop for many of her stories. When she’s not writing you can find her either on horseback or soldering stained glass panels for her home.

Tina loves to hear from readers. You can contact her through her website, or friend her on Facebook.

Check out her exciting debut,

DOCTOR’S GUIDE TO

DATING IN THE JUNGLE.

Doctor’s

Mile-High

Fling

Tina Beckett

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To my two greatest heroes:

my father and my husband. I love you both.

CONTENTS

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

CHAPTER ONE

A FINE line existed between taking a dare and actually going through with it.

Molly McKinna was about to cross that line. Belted in and ready to take off, she glanced out of the window at her partner in crime, who simply made a rolling motion with his hand: get on with it.

Easy for Doug to say. His clammy fingers weren’t the ones glued to the sides of the copilot seat of the small Cessna.

Flying. Why did it have to involve flying?

“Are you ready?” The flash of a hard dimple signaled the rescue pilot’s amusement, but he could laugh his head off for all she cared. As long as he brought her back from Dutch Harbor alive.

She agreed with Doug, really she did. She had to decide if she could hack the flight from Anchorage to the Aleutian islands before accepting the job. But why did she have to choose a location where the only mode of transportation involved whizzing across the ocean as if shot from a giant slingshot?

You’d think being born to a bush pilot would give her an innate love for flying. But since her father, a man with thirty years of experience, had died in a plane crash on this very same route while she’d been in medical school, she no longer had much confidence in the whole flying scene. In fact, she’d avoided it ever since.

And yet here she was. Desperation sometimes bred stupidity.

Realizing the man at the controls was awaiting her reply, she mumbled, “Do I look ready?”

Either he didn’t hear her, or figured that was as close to an affirmative answer as he was likely to get, because his mouth quirked once again before he revved the engines to a howling fury and raced toward the end of the tarmac.

Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God…

Then they were off the ground and climbing fast.

She only realized her eyes were screwed shut when her traveling companion’s deep voice broke through the whine of the engine. “You can let go now.”

Cracking open one eyelid, she glanced sideways and encountered the pilot’s strong tanned jaw, the lightest dusting of dark stubble making him look more human somehow. When she’d first arrived at the airport, he’d seemed a little annoyed at being recruited to fly her to check out the medical facilities on the islands. Moments later, she’d decided she’d either imagined his reaction or he hid his emotions all too well.

Even so, she couldn’t blame him for being irritated, since he’d wound up having to watch and wait while Doug had given her a pep talk about cars being more dangerous than planes. Not that his speech had helped calm her racing heart!

No way could she run now, though. She was strapped in and hanging high above the sea. And she still had the return trip to look forward to.

“So the flight takes three hours?” Molly forced her hands off the seat and into her lap, linking her fingers in what she hoped was a reasonable facsimile of casual indifference.

“Depending on weather conditions, yes.”

“And today’s conditions are…?”

“For this time of year?” He slid a sideway glance at her and raised his brows. “About normal.”

Normal.

Molly gave an inward eye roll. Well, that certainly gave her a lot to go on. Why did every pilot she’d ever met speak in that deep soothing baritone that only made her want to scramble for the nearest life vest? Did their final exam include an “octave” test or something? Were the pilots with high squeaky voices ejected in mid-flight?

Her teeth came down on her lip. Okay, the words ejected and mid-flight were officially banned from her vocabulary.

“I’m sorry about your father.” He looked straight ahead. “He was a good man.”

“You knew him?” That surprised her—enough to let her push aside some of her fear. She’d seen the hunky pilot around the hospital from time to time. She even knew his name was Blake Taylor, but her father had never mentioned him when he’d been alive.

Maybe someone had seen fit to enlighten him. The accident had happened four years ago, but the people in charge had laid the blame squarely in her dad’s lap. They felt he’d been reckless to attempt to fly during that storm. As did her mother. It infuriated her to no end. Most of her friends knew better than to bring up his name in her company. Then again, this man wasn’t a friend, neither was he likely to become one. And if he said one ugly word about her father, she was going to—

“Wayne helped train me. In my opinion.” His voice trailed off.

Molly’s backbone stiffened further. Was Blake aware of the circumstances of the accident?

A hand came off the yoke—how had she even remembered that word?—and touched her arm. “I think he made the right call to fly that day, for the record.”

“Y-you do?” It was chilly inside the cockpit, and the heater struggled to keep up, kicking out a lukewarm stream of air. But the touch of the pilot’s hand heated her instantly. “That’s not the prevailing opinion, from what I’ve heard.”

Not even her mother had cut her dad any slack, nagging him relentlessly to give up flying—to get a job closer to home. Her bitterness at his refusal had aged her, tilting her mouth permanently down at the corners. Once Molly had returned from medical school, her mom had focused that vast reservoir of neediness on her only daughter, urging her to live at home. Between her mother and her ex-boyfriend, those two years in Anchorage had sucked the life from her, left her feeling suffocated and alone.

Then a job had opened up in the Aleutians, and she’d leapt at it, flying or no flying. Her mother’s reaction to the news still rang in her ears: Go on and get yourself killed. Leave me all alone. You’re just like your father!

Was she?

Heavens, she hoped so. Maybe that was another reason she’d needed this job so very badly. It was not only a means of escape but a way to hang on to a little piece of her father.

She glanced out the window. The more altitude they gained, though, the more she rued her decision as an impulsive lapse in judgment. But the alternative was untenable. Staying at the hospital had been awkward at best, disastrous at worst. Besides, her father had loved his job, had said he couldn’t imagine doing anything else. Maybe she just needed to make peace with that—to try to understand what had motivated him to keep making these trips.

Blake smiled at her, breaking into her thoughts. “Don’t listen to them. They’re all too happy to shift the blame to someone other than themselves.”

She had to blink a few times to realize he wasn’t talking about her mother but about those who blamed her father for the accident. “So not everyone thought my father was at fault?”

“Ask a few of the local pilots. I think you’ll be surprised at their answers.” He paused. “The weather over the islands can be unpredictable even during the summer. One minute it’s clear blue skies, and the next…”

“So why do it?” Maybe she should be asking herself that very same question. “Surely you could have been an EMT or chosen something safer than this? Alaska Regional could always use a few more paramedics.”

And not one of the single nurses—or any of the married ones, for that matter—would complain if he hung around the hospital a little more. Blake was something of a legend around that place. But from the whispered comments she’d overheard, none of the women in question had managed to worm their way past that charming smile and into his bed.

He shrugged. “As a kid, I loved watching old videos of Evel Knievel. Since I can’t rocket across Snake River Canyon, I figure I can fly from Anchorage to Dutch Harbor. All I lack is the cool jumpsuit.”

“Evel Knievel never successfully jumped that river.”

“But he tried.”

Molly shuddered. She hoped he wasn’t drawing an analogy between the famous daredevil’s doomed flight and the one she was now on. Did she really want to work with a man who seemed to be hooked on adrenaline? She didn’t have a choice, since he was considered the best of the best now that her father was gone. Accepting this position meant she’d fly with him from time to time as they medevaced patients from the islands to the hospital in Anchorage.

If she took the job.

Nothing was set in stone. In fact, she couldn’t risk jeopardizing the project, if she couldn’t get past her fear. She’d have to let someone else take her place. Except none of the other doctors had stepped up and volunteered—they all had families, and no one was anxious to leave a thriving hospital to work in a government-funded clinic.

And part of her father’s heart was still on those islands. A part she wanted desperately to understand.

She blinked, realizing the stabbing terror that had frozen her on takeoff was trickling away. She was still afraid, but the more Blake talked the more her nerves settled.

It had to be his voice. Maybe flight instructors gave lessons in hypnotism as well as voice modulation.

“What about you?” he asked. “Are you seriously thinking about taking the position? Forgive me for pointing out the obvious, but you don’t seem to be in love with the idea of flying.”

Was that his way of calling her chicken? The urge to flap her wings and cluck had only happened once so far, during takeoff. “Maybe I need to understand why my dad traveled back and forth between the mainland and the islands. To make peace with where his journey led him.”

No need to tell him she was a coward in more ways than one. That sometimes it was easier to run than to stand your ground and fight.

He was silent for a minute, before he answered softly. “You can’t always make peace with it. Sometimes all you can do is accept what life dishes up and then move past it.”

Or you could always fly away from it as fast as you could.

The plane dipped for a second and so did Molly’s heart. “What was that?”

“Just a pothole.”

“Sorry?” The fear was back, stronger than ever. She licked her lips, trying not to focus on the vibrations of the plane around her but noticing every tiny shiver just the same.

“Turbulence. It’s like bumps in a road. You wouldn’t expect to have glassy-smooth highways forever, would you?”

“No, of course not.” She relaxed her grip on the shoulder harness.

He was right. It was just a pothole. Not even a very big one.

Somehow thinking of it like that made it easier. “My mom hated flying. She never went to the islands with my dad, no matter how many times he asked her to. Not even to take a vacation. She wouldn’t let me go either. And after his plane went down, she became even more…” Demanding? What exactly was she planning to say? “I just don’t want to be like that, you know?”

“Understandable. But if your mom didn’t let you fly with him, then when did you…?” He frowned. “This isn’t your first time up, is it?”

“No!” She bit her lip. “Well, not exactly. I mean, I’ve been on a plane before.”

He scrubbed a hand through his hair, the dark silky locks falling neatly back into place. “Really? When was the last time you were on one?”

“A few weeks ago.” She tossed her head as if it had been nothing special.

He seemed to relax in his seat. “Where’d you go?”

“Go?”

“On your flight.”

“We, uh, didn’t exactly go anywhere.” The mumbled words sounded weird even to her.

“I don’t follow.”

She hesitated. If she didn’t tell him, he’d just ask Doug why she’d acted so whacked out during the flight once they got back to Anchorage. “The plane was part of a desensitization course.”

Something she’d needed to make sure she could survive this trip.

“A what?” His head jerked to stare at her. “You mean you’ve never flown before in your life?”

Indignation washed over her. She had, but why should it matter? It was ridiculous to expect everyone to have flown all over the world from the time they could crawl. “I have flown. Just not recently. I—I couldn’t.”

Not since her father’s accident.

“Oh, hell.”

She shifted in her seat to face him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means if you’re looking for a pilot to help you get past your fear, you’d better keep looking. A desensitization expert I’m not.” He laughed and the sound was no longer low and mellow. “I know of at least one person who’d testify to that fact. Only she’s no longer speaking to me.”

The anger behind that last comment made her hackles rise. Had he purposely scared someone during a flight? If so, he was right. She didn’t want him flying her anywhere. “Fine. Once we get back to Anchorage, I’ll make sure you never have to—”

“Wrong. Those ‘bumps in the road’ I mentioned? They’re going to get worse the closer we get to the islands. And the landing strip at Dutch Harbor is barely up to FAA standards.” He glanced up as if sending a distress call to some higher power. “Listen, I signed on to take a doctor to Unalaska to scope out the work at the clinic. I’m not here to be the next rung on your twelve-step ladder. If you expect me to sweet-talk you into getting back on the plane tomorrow, you’re out of luck.”

Her chin went up. “I guarantee that’s not going to happen.”

“You’re right. It’s not.” His dark eyes swept over her face and the expression in them chilled her to the bone. “If you’re not on the plane, strapped into your seat, by eight o’clock in the morning, you can find yourself a new pilot.”

* * *

Okay, so he could have handled that better. A lot better.

But from the moment Blake had noticed her clutching her seat, a warning siren had gone off in his brain. He’d quickly dismissed it, chalking up her reaction to takeoff jitters. A lot of people got nervous, especially on flights to the Aleutians, where landings could be very hairy. Transitioning from a jet engine to a turboprop seven years ago had given him a few gray hairs of his own, so who could blame her?

Besides, her dad—a man Blake had looked up to and respected—was famous in these parts, so he’d had some ridiculous notion that Wayne McKinna’s daughter would have logged some serious flight hours. Her physical appearance had only added to that impression. Brown, choppy locks were cut in a way that gave her delicate face a fearless impudent look. And the bold, take-charge style drew immediate attention to her eyes. Green. Intelligent. Framed by incredibly thick lashes.

She looked ready to take on any challenge that came her way.

Desensitization classes. Great.

What the hell was she doing, taking a job that involved medevacing patients to Anchorage?

Even Sharon hadn’t been that afraid of flying. And yet her constant nagging to move back to the mainland and to switch to flying passenger jets had proved to be the final straw in an already disintegrating marriage. Wayne had understood exactly where he was coming from, said he’d fought the same battles with his own wife.

Blake loved the island where he’d grown up. Loved the challenge of landing on that tiny airstrip in Dutch Harbor.

Sharon hated both.

After the divorce, he’d decided no one would take those things away from him. Not again.

He glanced over at Molly. She was furiously staring out the front window, her arms folded across her chest, her full bottom lip thinned.

You can find yourself a new pilot.

The fact that she’d answered his outrageous declaration with silence told him everything he needed to know.

He’d blown whatever chance he might have had with her.

If he’d even had one. The woman probably had men doing penance laps until their knees bled, hoping for a chance to go out with her.

He’d noticed Molly bustling around the ER over the past year as he’d checked on some critical-care patients he’d flown in from the islands. Her cheery attitude and gorgeous smile had attracted his attention immediately. When someone had told him she was the daughter of the late, great Wayne McKinna, what had started as a tiny spark of attraction had caught and held. She’d been away at medical school when her father had shown him the ropes, so they’d never been officially introduced. By the time he’d realized who she was, she was already spoken for. Besides, he was from the islands, and Molly appeared to be very much a city girl at heart.

As he’d found out the hard way, oil and water might flirt with each other for a while, but they eventually separated.

He should have reminded himself of that fact and kept his distance.

Then she’d broken off her relationship and signed up for the new health-care position the government had opened up in the Aleutians. The temptation had been too much. He’d juggled his schedule so he’d be the one flying her to the islands. Hoping he was wrong and that they might not be so different after all. Surely Wayne’s daughter had vestigial wings hidden somewhere under that lab coat—the love of flying must be bred into her.

Wrong.

His jaw tightened. When would he learn? He should swear off marriage forever.

But he eventually wanted a wife. A family. Just not with someone who wanted to crush who he was and remake him into someone completely different.

That need went both ways, however. If he expected a woman to love him as he was, she had a right to expect the same.

Could he love a woman who was afraid of flying, who might end up hating the islands as much as his ex-wife?

Not a chance—he’d already tested that theory once. But that didn’t mean he had to be an ass about it.

“Hey, listen. About what I said—”

“Don’t worry. As soon as we land, I’ll be out of your hair.”

“Let me hook you up with someone I know who can fly you back. He’s totally safe. Doesn’t take any unnecessary chances.”

“I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.”

She might be all grown up, but the quiet joy that had caught his attention at the hospital was gone.

Reaching over, he touched her hand, marveling at the softness of her skin. “Molly, we haven’t got off to the best start here.”

“You think?”

“I just didn’t expect Wayne’s daughter to be…”

Was there any good way to finish that phrase? He didn’t think so.

“You didn’t expect her to be what? A wimp?”

“I wasn’t going to say that.” Well, not those exact words, but the meaning was still there. “Knowing how your father died, it can’t be easy for you to get back on a plane.”

“Good thing you won’t have to deal with that problem any more, then, isn’t it?”

He waited for her to finish chopping him to bits, but Molly was evidently done, and rightly so.

Before he could figure out a way to smooth over the situation, the plane bucked, then settled back into place. He glanced out the cockpit window, realizing their heated words had diverted his attention for the past several minutes. Not good, because they were heading right into a long line of clouds stretching from side to side.

A front.

And an ugly one, from the look of it.

Molly threw him a panicked look, and Blake tensed.

There’d been nothing in the weather reports to indicate rough conditions today. But he knew things could blow up out of nowhere in this part of the world. This wasn’t exactly the way he’d hoped the day would go.

But then again, when did his plans ever fall smoothly into place?

“Make sure your harness is tight.”

“Why? What’s happening?”

“See those clouds?”

“Yes.”

“The little bumps in the road we’ve experienced are nothing compared to what’s coming up.” He glanced at her, adrenaline already beginning to spike through his system. “It looks like our smooth highway is about to turn into one oversize construction zone.”

CHAPTER TWO

A SIREN sounded somewhere inside the plane, but Molly was too busy trying not to throw up to open her eyes and look around her.

They’d been bouncing around for what seemed like forever. How much more could the tiny aircraft take without coming apart at the seams?

Her fingers gripped her shoulder strap, the nausea from the turbulence almost overwhelming her. She breathed through her mouth, but didn’t try to talk, too afraid she’d distract Blake and cause him to make some kind of fatal error.

Like her sniping and complaining might have already done.

Why hadn’t she just sat back and pretended she was heading for the warm sands of the Caribbean with a handsome man? Because she was done pretending. Done going along with what others wanted her to be and do.

Maybe he’d report her.

To whom? The Brotherhood of Wronged Pilots?

Pilots probably had to deal with frightened passengers on a regular basis. Molly had just never dreamed she’d end up as a prime example of one.

He could report her to anyone he wanted, as long as he got them through this storm in one piece. And if he couldn’t…

She swallowed the bile that rose higher in her throat. Her mother would have one more loved one to bury. Just like she’d predicted in that last rant before Molly had left the house for good.

Scratch that. They’d never found the bodies of her father or the nurse he’d been travelling with.

If Molly and Blake crashed into the ocean, theirs probably wouldn’t be found either.

The siren cut off. Chancing a glance to the side, she noted the way Blake’s hands fought with the controls, and she hurriedly shifted her attention to his face. The sight there wasn’t any better. The muscles in his jaw stood out in stark relief to the rest of his features, his eyes narrowed in fierce concentration.

That had to be a bad sign. The man who worshipped Evel Knievel was worried.

Are we going to crash?

She kept the words to herself, but they repeated over and over inside her head.

The plane plummeted for several gut-wrenching seconds, before righting itself and climbing back to its previous position. Her stomach didn’t follow suit, though. It was still dangling somewhere beneath the aircraft.

A mass of multihued gray bands seemed to scrape along her window as the plane plowed through the middle of the clouds. She flinched at each new bump and shimmy, expecting to be sent tumbling headlong into the sea at any moment. The fact that they were even high enough to be swallowed by clouds surprised her. For some reason she’d thought they’d be cruising well below them. “Don’t worry. I’ve flown through worse.” The tight words swirled around the cabin as if they too were caught up in the boiling turbulence outside.

Her hand went to her stomach and pressed hard. He’d flown through worse? An alarm had sounded, for heaven’s sake. How much worse could it get?

A gust of wind shoved the plane to the right before releasing its grip. She couldn’t hold back the question any longer. “How much farther?”

“We’re about a half hour out. We can’t land until the weather clears a little.”

“Can’t we climb above the storm?”

Another blast of air kept Blake from answering her for a minute or so. “Cessnas can’t fly as high as commercial jets.”

“Oh.” Molly decided it was in her own best interests to let him concentrate on flying rather than having to field a constant stream of questions. Besides, there was always the not so off chance that her voice could transform into a high-pitched scream that would end up killing them both.

Better to maintain silence.

Between stutters and bumps, she studied him, finding that concentrating on something other than the conditions outside the plane helped keep the nausea and fear at bay. At least, partially.

Blake’s hands were strong, his long tanned fingers gripping the controls. He’d shoved the sleeves of his black sweater halfway up his forearms, exposing lean muscles that bunched and released as he worked to steady the aircraft. Her eyes followed his arm up, curving over substantial biceps before she reached his shoulder. Broad. Taking up his space and some of hers in the tiny cockpit.

Reliable. Competent.

She couldn’t see his eyes at the moment, but knew they were deep blue. She’d watched them go from warm and balmy to icy cold in a matter of seconds. Much like the weather outside had done.

Unfortunately, just as she was about to move her attention to that thick head of dark hair, he turned, catching her in mid-stare. “You okay?”

“Oh, uh…yeah.” She scrambled for an excuse. “Just seeing if the view from the side is as horrible as it is from the front.”

Ack! That hadn’t come out right. “I meant the view outside the plane. I wasn’t talking about you.”

Maybe trying to explain herself wasn’t the way to go.

She caught the flash of white teeth as he turned to face the weather again. “Well, that’s a relief.”

Forcing her attention back to the front windshield, she noted that the wind was calming a bit, along with her stomach.

Thank God. Maybe it was almost…

Suddenly, like a bullet exiting the barrel of a gun, they shot through the clouds and came out on the other side. The fierce turbulence vanished as quickly as it had started.

The contrast between dark and light was so startling, she was forced to squint as the sun peeked in at her and glinted off the nose of the plane. Once she regained her equilibrium, she sat up and drew a slow, careful breath, making sure she was still in one piece. Still alive.

She exhaled just as slowly. The second breath she took, however, was in reaction to the beauty surrounding her.

“It’s gorgeous,” she whispered. “I’ve never seen skies so crisp and blue.”

“It’s pretty amazing, isn’t it?” Blake’s voice had gone soft as well.

She glanced to the side and caught him looking at her. Her stomach tightened. Why had she ever thought his eyes were cold? Right now they were warm and alive, and looking at her like…

She shook herself. He was glad they’d broken through the clouds. Just like she was.

That shivery look he’d thrown her meant nothing more than that.

She leaned forward as several land masses came into view. Some of them stretched toward the sky like the volcanoes she knew them to be. “The Aleutians.”

“Yes.” The reverence behind the single word made her take a closer look below. Her father had loved the islands, despite the treacherous conditions she constantly heard about in the news reports. She’d never understood why someone would willingly live in a place where fog, wind and icy conditions were almost constant companions.

Until now.

One of the distant island peaks wore a thick covering of clouds like a top hat. It brought a smile to her face.

“My father loved it here.”

“I know.” Blake’s hands loosened on the wheel. “He told me.”

Molly’s mother had often complained he loved the islands more than his own family. Why else would he take a job most pilots chose to avoid? He could have had a nice cushy job as an airline pilot, and been better paid for his trouble. He’d turned a deaf ear to his wife’s protests and as the years had gone by, her clinginess and grumbling had taken a toll on their relationship. If he hadn’t been killed, Molly doubted their marriage would have survived another year.

It was one of the reasons she’d wanted to take the job, to try to see the islands through eyes that weren’t tainted by bitterness.

The turbulence of the last half hour had made her rethink that decision. But the second they exited that storm, well, she’d been blown away.

The experience had been breathtaking. Magical.

She’d never seen anything like it in her life.

The plane banked slightly, heading toward the islands. She listened as Blake called in their position and requested permission to land.

As they descended, she craned her neck but couldn’t see anything that looked like a landing strip. The mountains seemed to take up every inch of surface space. “Where’s the airport? Is it on the other side of the island?”

“Nope, we’re heading right for it.”

All she saw was a short road bisecting a narrow pinch of land. The pavement went nowhere, both ends dumping into the…

Ocean.

“You’re kidding me. That?” She wedged herself into her seat as Blake pushed the yoke farther in, increasing their rate of descent. Oh, Lord. “You’ve landed this before, right?”

“Many times. Relax.”

Easy for him to say. If they set down too early or too late, they’d be swimming instead of flying.

Or worse.

As the plane continued to descend, the turbulence picked up again. Molly tried to remain calm, but ended up back in her original takeoff position, both hands gripping her seat, fervently praying she’d live to see another day.

Down, down, down they went. Just when she was sure the wheels were going to trail through the whitecaps below, the landing strip reached for them, grabbing them to safety.

Or so she thought.

Nothing could have prepared her for the bone-jarring conditions of the asphalt as they hurtled down the strip and toward what looked like the end of the world.

Her fingers tightened with each yard they gained, the brakes of the plane throwing her against her shoulder harness. She pressed down with both feet, hoping the plane would intuitively figure out that she wanted it to S-T-O-P. Now!

What seemed to take forever was, in all probability, over in a matter of seconds. They slowed to taxi speed, with several yards of runway to spare. Okay, so it was more than that, but when you were landing on something the size of a small driveway, any extra room between you and disaster was a welcome sight.

“Are you all right over there?” Blake turned the controls, and they powered toward a building that stood at right angles to the landing strip.

“Yeah. Fine.” She hoped he didn’t notice the way her voice cracked from one word to the next.

“See? We made it all in one piece.” He squeezed her wrist and, as if he’d pressed a switch, her hands released their hold of the seat. “You did great, by the way. The first time is always the hardest. But, believe me, once you get used to it, you’ll find yourself wanting to do it every chance you get.”

CHAPTER THREE

HAD he really just said that?

Blake jerked his hand from hers. Any hope that she’d missed his unfortunate choice of words flew out the window when color flared along her cheekbones.

Serve him right if she took off to find a new pilot, especially after the way he’d acted on the flight. He’d been angry when he’d realized how afraid she was of flying. Leave it to him to be attracted to women who were the worst possible match for someone like him. First Sharon and then Molly.

He’d always thought Sharon would come around, but she hadn’t.

And now he’d unintentionally compared flying to sex with the next girl who came within range of his radar. Two for two. Yeah, he was in rare form.

Shutting off his internal critic, he went about his after-flight check. Molly unhooked her restraint harness and turned toward him.

“Thanks for getting us down in one piece. I know I probably haven’t been your easiest passenger.” She paused as if expecting him to heartily agree. “But I appreciate you not turning around and hauling my butt back to Anchorage.”

“Would that have been before we entered the storm, or after we came out?”

She tried on a smile. “Just so you know I didn’t set out to deceive you. I never claimed to be a seasoned traveler.”

“I know. Your reaction on takeoff just took me by surprise. Sorry for being rude.” He stood to unlock the door, then followed her down the steps as they exited the plane. Once they hit the tarmac, the ground crew met them, asking about their bags. He squared everything away then crossed to where she stood.

“I don’t blame you for not wanting to fly with me again, but…” She paused as if gathering her thoughts. “I’d appreciate it if you’d give me a lift home tomorrow. I promise you won’t have to sweet-talk me onto the plane.”

Despite the sun shining down on them, super-chilled air quickly found its way into the collar and sleeves of his leather jacket. He could do without the constant wind on the islands. Or the reminder of how his marriage had crashed and burned. Against his better judgment, he asked, “You sure?”

“Sure you won’t have to sweet-talk me?”

He shifted his weight, trying not to think about how he might like to do just that. “No, I meant are you sure you want me to fly you home? I was serious about hooking you up with an experienced pilot.”

Glancing at his face, she bumped him with her shoulder and wrinkled her nose. “You’ve seen how I handle rough weather. Do you really want to foist that on some other unsuspecting soul?”

So she could laugh at herself. His shoulders lost some of their tension.

Actually, now that they were on the ground, she was charming and funny. “Well, since you put it that way, maybe it would be better for everyone if we stuck to our original arrangement. For this trip, anyway.”

“My thoughts exactly.” She wrapped the flapping ends of her jacket around herself and zipped it tight. The stiff breeze played with her hair, lifting the short strands up and away from her face, before allowing them to fall in delightful disarray. “Now, if you could point me in the direction of the nearest diner, I have two urgent needs.”

“Food?”

“That’s second on my list. The first is to find a heater that actually works. No offense, but my toes are still frozen from the flight.” She pursed her lips. “But I could go for a nice hot meal, now that my stomach’s starting to settle down. The cold is good for something, anyway.”

“I know where they make a mean crab cake. I could show you around the island afterward.” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his leather coat, trying to keep the cold from encroaching any further. It was evidently disrupting his thought processes. “You’ve seriously never been here before?”

“Nope. First time, remember?”

Just like that flight out. Hard to believe she’d lived in Alaska all her life and had never visited the islands.

Sharon had called Unalaska “quaint” on her first visit. Until she’d realized there was no mall. No fashion boutiques. Just simple, hard-working folks. She’d quickly felt trapped—had run back home before six months had been up. He’d do well to keep that in mind before he went and did something stupid.

Like offer to eat lunch with Molly and show her the sights? Who knew how long she’d even stick around?

She was terrified of flying. Her mother was afraid of flying. If she had a dog, a cat, or a chipmunk, it would probably be petrified as well. It didn’t bode well for someone who’d be medevacing patients on a regular basis. Even as he told himself distance was his friend in a situation like this, he’d already committed himself as tour guide for a day.

Damn. No backing out now. But after lunch and a quick trip around the island, he’d put his pro-distance plan into motion.

Over a basket of crab cakes and fries, Molly grilled him about the islands. She already knew the obvious stuff, like the reality show dealing with the perils of deep-sea fishing that was filmed here, and that the island chain separated the Bering Sea from the Northern Pacific. But she seemed fascinated by some of the quirkier details. Dutch Harbor and Unalaska were essentially the same community separated by a short bridge, but the arguments about which name was correct continued unabated. Both names had stuck. Dutch Harbor was used for the port and business sections, while Unalaska was where everyone lived when the workday was through.

“So, if Aleutians comes from a native word for island, doesn’t that make it redundant to call them the Aleutian Islands?”

He took a sip of his soda, then leaned back in his seat. “I guess it does.”

“How long have you been flying this route?”

“Seven years, but I grew up here.”

“And you said my father helped train you?”

Setting his drink back on the table, he nodded. “Yes. I already had my pilot’s license, but decided I wanted something with a little more oomph.”

“Like Evel Knievel. I remember.” Her brows went up. “My mom never understood why my dad wanted to leave a relatively safe job as a commercial pilot in order to be a bush pilot.”

He tensed, hoping she wasn’t going to ask him if Wayne had talked about his family. Because, while Wayne had loved his wife and daughter, he’d given serious thought to ending his marriage and moving away. His mentor’s misgivings had echoed his own. It had taken Blake two years from the time of Wayne’s death to realize Sharon’s attitude wasn’t going to change. After forcing him to leave one job, she’d ended up hating its replacement just as much, more so once they’d moved to his old house on the islands.

The home where he’d been born and raised—given to him when his parents had retired and moved to Florida—had gone from a place of happy memories to a battle zone where no one had ever won. The happiness his parents had found with each other seemed to elude him. When Sharon had finally filed for divorce, he’d been secretly relieved.

“The weather’s not always as bad as it was today.” No. Not always. Sometimes it was much worse.

He motioned at her empty plate, ready to be done with this particular conversation. “If you’re finished, I can show you where the clinics—the two that are currently functioning, anyway—and the hotel are. Are you staying at the Grand Aleutian?”

“No, I’m at the UniSea.”

He’d expected her to spring for the pricier accommodations, although he wasn’t sure why. Maybe because it was what Sharon would have done. “I have a house here, but I can drop you off at the hotel.”

“If I take the job, I may end up renting something.”

If I take the job.

Blake motioned for their check. “That flight didn’t scare you off?”

“Maybe. We’ll see. A lot of it depends on whether or not there are enough patients to make it a wise use of funds. Alaska Regional agreed to partner with the clinic for a year. After that…who knows? There’s plenty of need in Anchorage, if not.” Her lips tightened. “Or in one of the other big cities in the lower forty-eight.”

Big cities. Was that a prerequisite?

When the waitress came with the bill, he waved off Molly’s attempt to pay. “I’ll turn it in for reimbursement. No sense in each of us filling out an expense report.”

“Thanks. My turn next time.”

Next time.

Right. Like that was ever going to happen. He needed to bow out of this gig as soon as possible.

But as she moved from the booth and stretched her slender frame, his resolve seemed to dry up—along with his mouth.

The heavy jacket she’d shrugged out of while they were eating had done a thorough job of hiding her figure, as did the white lab coat she normally wore in the ER. But the creamy white sweater had no such problem. Soft and clingy, it skimmed over each and every curve all the way to the middle of her thighs, where dark jeans bridged the gap between the sweater and her knee-high leather boots.

Hell, she was gorgeous.

Maybe he should rethink this.

Crazy. Allowing a flicker of attraction to dictate his actions could never end well.

They moved outside, and Blake clicked the lock on the car he’d left at the airport.

Molly hesitated before getting in. “I should have rented a car. I don’t expect you to be my taxi service while I’m here.”

“The island’s not that big, so it’s no trouble. Once I drop you off at the hotel, though, I’ll need to head home and get some rest before the flight tomorrow. So if you’re looking to take in some of the night life, you’re on your own.”

At least his mouth had finally got with the program.

The last thing he wanted was to see another woman’s lip curl at what the island had to offer in that regard.

“I’m an early riser, actually, so I think I’ll turn in after dinner.” She tilted her head back to glance at him. “Besides, I want to make sure I don’t miss my flight. The pilot didn’t seem all that inclined to wait around.”

Several strands of hair slid across her cheek as she looked at him, exposing a delicate earlobe. It took more effort than he expected not to reach out and sift his fingers through the shiny locks to see if they were as soft and silky as they looked.

“I’ll be there.” The temptation to touch her washed through him again. But before he could, she opened the car door and got inside.

He climbed in as well, irritated by the repeated tugs of attraction. Being trapped inside the closed vehicle just made the situation worse. He’d been too busy during their flight to notice the delicate mixture of vanilla and clean sea spray that clung to her skin. Now the scent drifted toward him, making its way inside his head.

Damn. Erasing that fragrance from his memory was going to be impossible. The image of sliding his nose along the naked length of her neck and inhaling deeply rose unbidden, and he gritted his teeth.

The sooner he dropped her off the better.

This whole trip carried a surreal element he struggled to understand. Some of the nurses at the hospital had thrown him looks that held veiled invitations, but he’d never been tempted to return the flirtation or even ask for a phone number. He valued his hard-won freedom far too much to risk messing things up. And he had no intention of moving back to Anchorage to be with another woman.

But his reaction to Molly made him wonder if he was really as immune to the opposite sex as he liked to think. He started the car and tried to put the thought out of his mind. Unfortunately the very thing he’d decided not to think about ended up being the one subject he couldn’t banish.

Go home. Take a shower. Go to sleep.

If he could do those things, in that order, this whole crazy day would soon be behind him. Before he knew it, Molly McKinna would be out of his life forever. Unless she actually decided to stay on the island, in which case they were bound to run into each other on a regular basis. And there was the fact that he was one of the few medevac pilots who flew these islands. But that didn’t mean he and Molly had to be anything more than casual acquaintances or professional colleagues. She would still be tied to the hospital in Anchorage and would probably return there eventually.

He gave himself a mental thump.

Thick skull, meet harsh reality. You two are about to become really good friends.

* * *

Molly stood in the white-tiled waiting room of the clinic as Blake made the introductions. Sammi Trenton, the community health aide, tossed her thick dark braid over her shoulder. Tall and slender with high cheekbones that spoke of an island heritage, the young woman smiled in welcome. CHAs played a huge role in healthcare in Alaska, especially in the Aleutians, where population density was low and funding dollars were scarce. Learning about the medical problems the island faced on a regular basis would give Molly a head start for when she actually came to work in a few weeks. Besides, she could do with a few friends right about now.

“Glad to have you.” Sammi shook her hand. “We could sure use the help. Hope you plan on sticking around longer than…”

The woman’s eyes cut to Blake, a playful smirk on her face. “Oops. Sorry. Don’t know where that came from.”

“Still kicking me in the shins after all these years, I see.”

Sammi’s brows lifted. “I didn’t have a choice back then. That was the only thing I could reach.” She glanced at Molly. “I was the runt who always got picked on.”

“You were the runt who always did the picking on,” Blake returned, with an easy smile that carved out a deep groove in his cheek.

Molly’s heart rolled over for a second before righting itself.

Okay. No staring. She forced her gaze back to Sammi.

“How was the flight in?” Sammi tilted her head at Blake, her thumb rubbing at a tiny spot on her monkey-stamped smock.

Great. Here it came. The perfect opportunity for Blake to get in a shot at Molly’s expense. She tensed in preparation.

“We hit a stormy patch on the way in, but once we got through it, it was smooth sailing.”

A sardonic brow lifted in her direction made her wonder if he was referring to the actual weather or to the clash of tempers that had gone on between them. As for smooth sailing, that was yet to be seen.

“Well, now that you’re here, let me give you the grand tour. Besides, that’ll give us girls a chance to get to know each other better.”

Blake’s brow furrowed. “Be nice.”

“Moi? I’m always nice.” She motioned for Molly to follow her through the door that led to the back of the clinic, wiggling her fingers at Blake as a goodbye.

Although these two were obviously friends from way back, nothing seemed to suggest there was anything more between them than that. Even if there was, it was none of her business. She had to admit, though, they’d make a gorgeous couple, with Blake’s rugged good looks and Sammi’s dark hair and striking features. And the other woman was tall enough to almost look Blake in the eye, whereas Molly barely reached his chin. Talk about runts.

Sammi took her to one of the exam rooms which, along with the familiar scent of disinfectant, was clean, airy and well appointed. The soft green walls and creamy Formica countertops gave the space a cool, calm atmosphere, a definite plus when working with worried parents or frightened youngsters. “We have three exam areas, but there’s normally only one of us on duty at any given time. Having the Anchorage hospital sponsor you will make our jobs a lot easier.”

“You said, ‘our.’ What’s the staffing like?”

“We have two receptionists, a nurse and a PA, who can also write prescriptions. During medevacs, things get hectic because someone has to accompany the patient.” She gave an innocent blink. “That’s where you come in, right? You’ll be taking over that part of the job, unless we have more than one emergency.”

Molly was tempted to plead ignorance and say she was strictly part of the ground crew, but the hospital had specifically wanted one of their own doing the medical transports. So that line of reasoning wasn’t going to fly. “That’s what they tell me.”

“Blake’s great. You’ll like working with him.”

This was her chance. “You’ve known each other a long time?”

Sammi led her back out into the hallway and pushed open a door to the restroom, so Molly could see it. “We grew up together, so I guess you could say that.” She hesitated. “His ex put him through the wringer a couple of years back. He can be a bit touchy about the subject.”

“Understandable.” Molly was a little raw from her own experience with her ex, Gary, so she’d be happy to swing clear of that particular subject.

The door at the end of the hallway opened to a tiny break room, complete with refrigerator and microwave. There was also a cot along one wall. “You spend the night?”

“Every once in a while, if we’re waiting on a birth or need to transport a patient to the airport to be medevaced. But we all carry cellphones. If there’s an emergency, most folks know how to reach us after hours. Are you okay with going on the phone list?”

“Of course. Anything I can do to help.”

“Now for the all important question: when do you want to start?”

Molly swallowed. If she wanted to back out, now was the time. But Sammi was so nice, seemed eager for her to take some of the load off the other workers. And she really, really didn’t want to go back to Anchorage and face Gary day in and day out or field his constant calls. He refused to believe it was really over, even after six months. As did her mother. Was it really fair to allow them both to keep holding out hope?

No. It wasn’t. “I have to go back to Anchorage to finish packing. I could probably start in two weeks. Oh, and I’ll need to find a place to rent. Do you know of anything?”

“Let me check and give you a call in the morning. Blake says you’ll be over at the hotel? We’ll find you something. Any preferences?”

“Not really. Just a place to sleep. Nothing fancy.”

“Good, because nothing fancy is what Unalaska does best.” She squeezed Molly’s hand. “Just leave it to me. Now I’d better get you back to Blake before he has a hissy fit. See you in two weeks?”

“Definitely.”

And if Blake didn’t want to fly her back in two weeks, well, like he’d said, there were plenty of pilots where he came from.

* * *

Molly awoke to the sound of something pinging against the windowpane of her hotel room. Squinting, she tried to see the clock.

Too blurry.

Ugh, her contacts were still on the nightstand. She reached over and felt around for the glasses she’d left next to her contacts case. Slipping them on, she glanced again at the clock.

Her heart stalled in her chest.

Seven-thirty! She was supposed to be at the plane in a half hour.

Blake hadn’t asked about her breakfast plans or mentioned picking her up and taking her to the airport. In fact, by the time he’d shown her around the island and dropped her off at the hotel yesterday afternoon, he’d seemed all too anxious to be rid of her. He’d said goodbye with a wave of his hand, before getting back in his car and driving away to wherever he lived.

He’d probably been exhausted from their flight and from schlepping around with her all day. Molly loved the clinic, and Sammi had seemed especially nice, not a hint that she or anyone else viewed her as a threat.

Except maybe Blake, who’d said she needed to be strapped into her seat by eight o’clock.

Or else. Leaping out of bed, she scrambled for her clothes, thankful she’d taken a shower the previous night to banish the chill that had burrowed deep into her bones.

The pinging noise outside was still going strong, like someone throwing pebbles repeatedly against the glass. Well, she could think of at least one person she could rule out, if that was the case.

She tiptoed to the window, clothes in hand, and parted the curtains several inches. Still dark. Then she caught the glitter of stones on the sidewalk.

No, not stones. Hail. The size of gumballs.

And it wasn’t just hailing. Now that she was awake, she realized the gloom was caused by heavy gray clouds that covered the sky. The wind was also howling, kicking up leaves and sending some of the scattered ice drops skittering down the walkway. Her fingers tightened around the clothing she held. Even if she made it to the airport on time, could they take off in these conditions?

Please, no. She’d already flown through one storm. The last thing she wanted to do was make a bigger fool out of herself than she had yesterday.

With her luck, no pilot in his right mind would agree to fly with her after that.

And by the end of the day Blake had seemed so…

Impatient.

He was probably dreading the return trip as much as she was. Maybe she’d be better off not even taking the job.

Except she’d promised Sammi she would, and the hospital was counting on her to follow through. And this job was a lifeline, appearing just when she’d really needed it.

Apart from the flying, which she wondered if she could do—especially while dealing with critically ill patients—she found she liked the island and its inhabitants. She knew the biggest industry was fishing, but was surprised to learn the port itself did quite a bit of business. As they’d driven around yesterday, Blake had pointed out a huge vessel stacked high with various-colored shipping containers getting ready to dock.

She continued to stare out the window, wondering what she should do, when a dark familiar shadow stopped in front of her door. With one hand shoved deep into his pocket, Blake braced himself against the wind, preparing to knock. Just as she got ready to slam the curtains back together, their eyes met.

Argh! Too late.

She still had on the sweatpants and threadbare white tank top she’d worn to bed. And if she could see him, he could see…

His lips quirked, and a rush of heat poured into her face. She held up a finger, hoping he’d catch her meaning. Maybe she could get dressed really fast and…

Poor guy. It was freezing out there. She glanced down. It wasn’t like she was in a negligee or anything. She could at least let him into the room while she ducked into the bathroom to get dressed.

Padding over to the door, she made sure her clean clothes were draped to conceal key areas of her chest before opening it. “Come in. I’m running a little late—sorry.”

“I tried to call, but they’re having trouble with the phones evidently, because I couldn’t get through.” He glanced at her as if seeing her for the first time. “Uh, I can wait out here until you get ready.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s hailing. Besides, I’m freezing standing here.”

That worked. He slid through the opening and let her shut the door behind him.

Heading for the bathroom, she called behind her, “I’ll just be a minute.”

Once she made it safely inside, she leaned against the wall. Did she even want to look in the mirror?

She opened her eyes and peered into the reflective surface.

Glasses. Great. They weren’t even her good pair. And she’d left her contact case on the nightstand.

Leaning closer, she moaned at the sight that met her eyes. Tangled hair, sticking out every which way. Waistband of her sweatpants skewed way to one side, creating a series of unflattering wrinkles that slanted from right to left. And was that a piece of sleep?

Yep. Right in the corner of her eye.

She dropped her head in her hands and moaned. Maybe if she stayed in the bathroom long enough, he’d go away and let her die in peace. He looked clean, rested and, most of all, well groomed.

He smelled good, too, like he’d just hopped out of the shower.

Well, all she could do was work with what she had. He’d just seen her at her worst, so even dragging her fingers through her hair would be an improvement.

She worked as fast as she could, dressing in jeans and a heavy turtleneck, scrubbing her teeth and face then sweeping a coat of clear gloss over her lips. Once she’d finished, there was a moment or two when she entertained the thought of hiding out for a while, before deciding to be a big girl and face him. One deep breath later, she’d opened the door.

Camped out in a chair, Blake sat next to the bed, which was a wreck from all the tossing and turning she’d done during the night. His elbows were propped on his knees as he stared at the images flickering across the weather channel. He glanced up, his eyes sweeping over her as she came into the room. He sat up straighter.

“I like your…er, glasses. I didn’t notice them yesterday.”

“That’s because I wore contacts.” That he’d had to scrounge around for something nice to say couldn’t be good. She gave an internal shrug. So what if she’d noticed every incredible inch of him from the moment he’d climbed aboard that plane, while he barely even remembered what she looked like?

She squared her shoulders. The last thing she was trying to do was impress him. “How’s it looking out there?”

“Not good. I think we might end up staying another—”

A knock at the door interrupted whatever he’d been about to say. Molly frowned at him in question before hurrying over to fling it open.

“Dr. McKinna?” A man, shrouded in a drab green raincoat, stood in the doorway, his head covered by the jacket’s hood. Even shadowed, and with water sluicing down his face, she thought she saw worry in his eyes.

“Yes. Is something wrong?”

“Sammi said she tried to reach you by phone and couldn’t get through, so she asked me to drive over and see if you were still here. There’s a man down over at the dockyard.” He braced himself against a gust of wind, and Molly had to hold the door to prevent it from being ripped from her hands. Blake came up behind her, the heat from his body warming her back.

“Hi, Mark,” he said, confirming his presence. “What’s going on?”

“The damn wind knocked a container sideways and it caught one of the workers in the leg. I was checking on a shipment for a customer and saw it happen. It’s bad, there’s bone showing through. I came to see if the doc here could take a look.” He glanced at her just as a growl of thunder rumbled through the atmosphere, bringing with it another blast of wind. Her fingers scrabbled to retain their hold of the door just as the man’s next words chilled her to the bone. “If there’s any way you can get the plane up, he needs to be transported out. The sooner, the better.”

CHAPTER FOUR

“HAVE you moved him?”

Yanking on her jacket, Molly’s mind ran through various scenarios. Compound fractures could be tricky. When a bone ripped through skin and muscle and was left open to the elements, infection could easily follow. The less sanitary the accident location, the worse it was for the patient, especially if anything outside the body had contaminated the exposed bone.

The man who Blake called Mark dragged a hand through his hair. “No, the bone is…Hell, it looked so bad, no one dared. The men threw a couple blankets over him and were rigging some plastic to keep him dry until I could find you. I’d medevac him myself, but Blake’s plane is basically a flying ambulance. Mine just doesn’t have that kind of equipment.”

“You made the right decision.” Although she hated to think of an injured man out in this weather, she didn’t want that exposed bone receiving additional damage from attempts to drag him to another site. And she hoped to God those blankets were clean. “How much bleeding is there?”

“Some. But nothing’s gushing.”

Thank God. No severed arteries.

“Is he conscious?”

Mark shook his head. “As soon as he hit the ground, he was out cold.”

Blake had gone out to warm up the car without being asked, for which she was grateful.

She and Mark hurried outside, and Molly slammed the hotel room door behind them. “We’ll follow you, okay?”

“You bet. The crate fell across the aisle, so we’ll have to circle around a bit to reach him, but at least it’ll block the worst of the wind.”

After she jumped into the car, Blake accelerated, following the taillights in front of them. “Put your hands over the vent. It’ll help keep them warm until we get there.”

She yanked off her gloves and held them over the heated flow of air. Not because it felt good, but because the warmer her hands stayed now, the more nimble they would be once they arrived. For a pilot, Blake knew a thing or two about medicine. But then again he flew rescue missions all the time. It gave her another insight into her father. By the time of his death he must have known almost as much as the EMTs and nurses he’d worked with.

“How far to the dockyard?” she asked.

“With the weather, fifteen minutes or so. It’s in Dutch Harbor, so we won’t have to cross the bridge into Unalaska.” He clicked the wipers into high gear to keep up with the sleety rain as they followed Mark’s taillights.

She peered into the sky. Heavy gray clouds. No sign of the rain letting up any time soon. “Why would anyone work in weather like this?”

“Sometimes you don’t have a choice.” He slid a glance at her, his lips tight. “You’re working.”

“Yes, but this is an emergency. And it’s my job.”

“Mine, too. The dockyard folks have to work as well, even if it’s just to secure the area.”

He had a point. And in a place famous for its rough weather, it probably came down to working or going hungry.

This was what her father must have faced time and time again. And yet he’d claimed to love it.

Why?

By the time they got to the container area, her thoughts had shifted to the job at hand. Blake followed Mark as he cruised between aisles of stacked containers.

So big.

She swallowed. “Can you imagine if one of these fell on somebody?”

“Yeah. I can.”

He’d not only imagined it, he’d seen it up close, if his tense jaw was anything to go by.

“Did he live?”

“Who?”

“The person you’re thinking about.”

A quick shake of his head conveyed his meaning all too well. Crush injuries were among the worst. And if the crate landed directly on top of someone…

The truck in front of them pulled to a stop, and Molly immediately spied a huge blue tarp stretched between two shipping containers.

She pulled the hood of her coat into place since it was still sleeting, grabbed her medical bag, then exited the vehicle. She was vaguely aware that Blake had also gotten out. Hurrying around Mark’s parked car, she found four men standing under the plastic, with a fifth man kneeling next to the victim, who appeared to be unconscious at the moment. The patient’s pale face and the slightly blue cast to his lips signaled shock. Her eyes quickly scanned the body through the blanket.

Crouching next to him, she felt for a pulse—which seemed strong enough—before pulling back the layers of blankets from his bottom half, noting the fabric of his work pants had been slit up the middle, laying bare his leg from ankle to groin. Good thinking.

The fracture was in the left femur, the jagged edge of the exposed bone pointing to the left as if thumbing a lift out of there.

Soon. I promise.

The other half of the break was nowhere to be seen, hidden somewhere deep inside his leg. But if it looked anything like the bone she could see…Her stomach knotted. Move him the wrong way and the sharp edges could indeed slice through an artery and kill him.

“How long’s he been unconscious?”

One of the men behind her answered. “About a half hour, maybe a little longer. I saw the whole thing. He was out as soon as his head hit the ground.”

“How hard did he hit?” She made a mental note to check for signs of a concussion or skull fracture.

“Pretty hard. And once we saw the angle of the leg, we knew it was broken. We just cut his pant leg to see how bad it was.” The man swallowed hard. They hadn’t expected to find what they had.

She slipped on a pair of latex gloves then used her thumb to pull back the wounded man’s right eyelid. Flicking the beam from her penlight across the pupil, she then repeated the action with the other eye.

Equal and reactive. Good. No evidence of brain trauma at the moment.

Working quickly, she again took his pulse, then ran her hands down his unaffected limbs, making sure she wasn’t missing another obvious fracture. Everything felt solid.

Blake knelt beside her. “What can I do?”

“I want to get an IV into him, but we can do that once we get to the plane. Right now, I need to stabilize his leg. Can you find me some heavy sticks or a couple pieces of lumber? Not too long, maybe—”

She held her hands apart, approximating the size she wanted.

“I’m on it.”

He hadn’t balked at the task, neither had he batted an eyelash at the sight of the man’s open wound. Evel Knievel or not, he was evidently good at his job.

While he was gone, she grabbed a small bottle of saline and sponged away the blood so she could see the area better. She then wet several pieces of sterile gauze and laid them over the wound, one on top of the other, to keep the bone moist and avoid further contamination. Those layers were topped with a few dry ones, in case the bleeding continued. Blake was back by the time she was done, holding a couple of clean-looking one-by-fours.

“These okay?”

“Perfect.” She nodded toward her bag. “I’ve got some hand sanitizer and some surgical gloves in there. I’ll need you to help me splint him, if you’re up to it.”

As soon as she said it, she glanced up to make sure he was in agreement, but he’d already handed off the wood to someone else and was squirting the sanitizer onto his hands.

“Does anyone have a truck or a van we can use to transport him to the airport? Something with a large covered area?”

Neither of the local clinics were equipped to do surgery like this, and Anchorage had a great orthopedic surgeon who was willing to come in at a moment’s notice. She’d radio it in once they were in the air.

“I do.” The man who’d been kneeling next to the patient spoke up. “It’s in the parking lot.”

She noticed his hesitation and wondered if he was worried about liability issues. “I’ll take responsibility,” she said.

“It’s not that. He’s going to be okay, isn’t he? He’s…he’s my…”

When the man’s voice cracked, Mark spoke up. “They’re brothers. Jed—your patient—lost his wife to cancer a few months ago. He’s got two young kids at home.”

Oh, boy.

She turned to the man who couldn’t have been older than his early twenties. No need for him to see what she was about to do. “We’re going to take good care of him, I promise. Do you think you could bring your truck as close as you can? Once we splint his leg, we’ll be ready to go.”

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.