Rules of engagement!

Army trauma doctor Major Felicity Delaunay likes the rules and regulations that give structure to her life. But the arrival of maverick hotshot Colonel Ash Stirling is about to turn her world upside down!

Ash hasn’t overcome his troubled past to get where he is without taking risks, but he never crosses the line. Not with a colleague...no matter how gorgeous! Yet Felicity gets under his skin like no other, and he soon finds himself breaking all his—and her—rules.

His body burned up with desire.

They just had to get through this before Ash gave in to his baser instincts and for the first time in his career on an active tour of duty mixed his army life with his personal one.

Every time he thought he was back in control Fliss slipped beneath the surface and unravelled all his ironclad control as a kitten would toy with a ball of yarn. Suddenly he didn’t want to fight it any more. He wanted to know how it would feel to give in—just this once—and steal one perfect kiss from those plump, quivering lips.

One kiss.

No. He’d survived ambushes, engaged in fifty-hour firefights and fought with the enemy in hand-to-hand combat. He’d pick any one of those over letting this woman get close enough to sneak behind his armour.

Just one kiss.

It was a constant battle between his baser instincts and his brain. Only an animal couldn’t control its baser instincts, he warned himself contemptuously. Besides, this woman could hurt him more than any enemy could.

But just one kiss.

Dear Reader,

This is my first story set in and around the fictional Military Camp Razorwire, in the middle of nowhere, thousands of miles from home—and I’m enjoying writing several more.

I am a great supporter of our armed forces, and am often humbled by the heroic stories of soldiers—both from history and the present day, male and female—who have made that split-second decision to put someone else’s life ahead of their own and then dismiss it as ‘something anyone would have done’.

Both my hero—a dedicated Infantry soldier—and my heroine—an army trauma doctor on the helicopter emergency response—are dedicated to their careers, and both are trying to make up for unhappy childhoods, if for different reasons. Working together proves a distraction neither of them appreciates, and yet ultimately neither of them can hold out.

I have had great fun writing about the push and pull of heroes and heroines who are committed to their careers only to meet—and strive in vain to resist—the one person who can get under their skin. The one person who can make them forget everything they had hitherto held as important.

I do so hope you enjoy reading Fliss and Ash’s story as much as I did writing it.

Charlotte x

Encounter with a Commanding Officer

Charlotte Hawkes

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Born and raised on the Wirral Peninsula, England, CHARLOTTE HAWKES is mum to two intrepid boys who love her to play building block games with them and who object loudly to the amount of time she spends on the computer. When she isn’t writing—or building with blocks—she is company director for a small Anglo/French construction company. Charlotte loves to hear from readers, and you can contact her at her website: charlottehawkes.com.

Books by Charlotte Hawkes

Mills & Boon Medical Romance

The Army Doc’s Secret Wife

The Surgeon’s Baby Surprise

Visit the Author Profile page at millsandboon.co.uk.

To Flo, Thank you for all your understanding and patience this past difficult year. x

Praise for Charlotte Hawkes

‘…well-written, well thought-out and one of greatness…definitely one to pick up for an amazing story.’

—Harlequin Junkie on

The Surgeon’s Baby Surprise

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Praise

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

Extract

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

‘SO, I TAKE it you’ve never had the pleasure of meeting Colonel Man Candy either?’

Fliss paused in her half-hearted attempt to cut up her breakfast with the flimsy plastic knife and fork, and stared at her friend incredulously. Then, given the din of the several hundred men in the Army mess tent, assumed she must have misheard. Clearly the latest forty-eight-hour shift had messed with her imagination.

‘Say again? For a minute there I thought you said Colonel Man Candy.’

‘Yeah, I did.’ Her friend grinned wickedly. ‘But it gets better. Apparently up until a few months ago he was Major Man Candy.’

Fliss snorted. ‘Major Man Candy? Seriously, Elle?’

‘Seriously.’

‘People actually call him that?’

‘They actually do.’ Her friend shrugged. ‘To the extent that I have no idea what his real name is. But I can tell you that a good portion of the camp is buzzing about his arrival, male and female as it happens, though for different reasons. Apparently, he’s also something of a maverick who has risked his life for his men on multiple occasions.’

Unconvinced, Fliss wrinkled her nose.

‘I haven’t heard any buzz. Not even a single z.’

‘No, well, you wouldn’t—you don’t indulge in gossip and anyone who knows you knows better than to engage with you unless it’s strictly Army related, preferably medical.’

‘I do...gossip.’ Fliss nodded uncertainly, biting back the fact she’d been about to comment that it would be inappropriate for any colonel, Man Candy or otherwise, to have any kind of relationship with most of the camp.

Her friend’s snort said it all.

‘Fliss, you cannot gossip for the life of you. And certainly not about fellow military colleagues.’

‘I don’t agree. For a start this, what we’re doing right now, is gossip.’

‘No, this is me gossiping and you listening, about to say something like, Well, interpersonal relationships between ranks aren’t appropriate because they compromise the integrity of a unit.’

Caught red-handed, Fliss could only flush as her friend laughed fondly. She lifted her head.

‘Well...it is true.’

‘Fliss, you know that I love you. In fact, if you were a stick of rock you’d have Army Rules and Regulations stamped through and through.’

Fliss blew out a deep breath, a familiar ripple of uncertainty and frustration lapping somewhere inside her before settling back down again. She’d always been known as serious Fliss, nerdy Fliss, prim and proper Fliss; she couldn’t help it, it was ingrained in her. The result, no doubt, of having being raised from the age of eight by an uncle who was a military man through and through, believing in the extremely high reputation of the British Army with its strong sense of discipline, values and ethics.

And he’d drilled it into her. Not that she was complaining—her highly principled uncle had been her one saviour, her rock, throughout her life. The one person who hadn’t seen her as a burden, but as a bright though shy girl with potential. The one person who hadn’t rejected her. Her uncle had spent twenty-five years supporting her and encouraging her. He’d been so proud of her when she’d finally achieved her dream of becoming an Army trauma doctor, just as she was immensely proud that he was now one of the most highly decorated generals in the army, and that she could call herself his niece.

Spearing a lump of scrambled egg, Fliss popped it into her mouth, but her throat was a little too tight to swallow. Not for the first time, she wished she could forget the baggage and lessons of her past. Just once it would be nice to know what it felt like not to be the solid, dependable Fliss who immediately assessed the ramifications of any given situation, but to be more like her friend, Elle, who was always able to have a carefree laugh and whose sunny disposition and kind-hearted openness made her popular wherever she went.

‘Go on, then—’ Fliss plastered a cheery smile onto her face ‘—tell me more about Major Man Candy.’

She didn’t miss the flash of suspicion on her friend’s face but, to her credit, Elle didn’t question it.

‘Okay, so it seems he’s been infantry major on the front line in warzones, doing several back-to-back tours of duty over the last few years, and, like I said, he has a reputation as being quite the maverick, the kind of guy they make Hollywood films about. Plus, Man Candy has the kind of military commendation record which would leave even the most decorated generals or admirals envious.’

‘And now he’s a colonel in a non-combat zone?’ Fliss looked dubious. ‘Stuck within the confines of a place like Camp Razorwire and meant to work behind a desk all day instead of out in the field. He isn’t going to like that, is he?’

She could still remember the year when her uncle had been promoted from a field-based officer to one who spent most of his time in barracks. He’d found the transition hard and Fliss had hated to see his frustration.

‘Well, if half the single female contingent I’ve heard chatting about him get their way, I think he’s going to be too busy dealing with ambushes and bombardments of a more sexual nature to miss being on the front line in the middle of the action.’

‘You make it seem like they’re all highly sex-charged.’ Fliss frowned, aware she was being prudish but unable to help herself. ‘They are professional soldiers.’

‘And they’re also women,’ Elle pointed out airily, accustomed to Fliss’s more steadfast opinions. ‘Single women. Out here for six months at a time. They’re entitled to a bit of harmless flirtation in their downtime.’

‘Until it all goes wrong,’ Fliss shot back, but a hint of niggling doubt had already set in. Elle’s argument was all starting to sound a little too pointed.

‘For example, if two officers—let’s say like you and oh, I don’t know, a certain new colonel—were to... As long as you were discreet, what harm could it cause?’

‘I knew it,’ exclaimed Fliss, dropping her plastic cutlery on the paper plate. ‘Forget it, Elle. That’s just not my style.’

‘Why not? Because you’ve never done it before? So what? Maybe this is your one time to do something crazy. Especially now that idiot ex of yours is out of the picture.’

A heaviness pressed on Fliss’s chest. Not sadness exactly, but a sense of...failure. She strived to ignore it.

‘Because he doesn’t sound like the kind of guy I’d go for. And please don’t mention Robert—you were always more than honest with me about your feelings about him.’

‘All right.’ Elle chuckled fondly. ‘But, from what I’ve heard, Man Candy is everyone’s type.’

‘He doesn’t sound like mine.’

In fact, he sounded the complete opposite. Robert had been solid, steady, dependable. The pressure increased on her chest. She’d been attracted to the fact that, like her, he was dedicated to his career, driven to achieve. She’d thought they were a perfect match. A logical couple. A practical choice.

Look where that had got her.

‘Well, if anyone would be immune to the Man Candy Effect it would be you,’ Elle teased, oblivious. ‘You’re probably the most highly principled person even I know.’

‘Yeah, yeah, Fusty Fliss.’ The old nickname slipped out before Fliss had time to think about it. ‘I remember.’

‘Where did that come from?’ Elle exclaimed, setting her plastic cutlery down in surprise. ‘I haven’t heard anyone call you that since first year of uni.’

Colour heated Fliss’s cheeks. She hadn’t meant for Elle to realise she’d been feeling a little vulnerable lately. It was a weakness Fliss wasn’t proud of, and didn’t want to reveal. Even to her best friend.

‘Brody Gordon,’ Fliss mumbled. ‘And you’re right, the guy was an idiot. I don’t know why I even said it. Just forget it, okay?’

Ducking her head, she resumed her breakfast but her appetite was waning. She might have known her friend wouldn’t let it drop.

‘Is this about Buttoned-Down Bob?’ Elle demanded. Too close to the bone for Fliss’s liking.

‘Don’t call him that.’ She kept her voice soft, trying to play the topic down. But Elle was like the proverbial dog once it had a juicy bone in its sights. ‘He’s a respected surgeon. A good man.’

Elle wasn’t having any of it.

‘He’s also as boring as they come. Everything he did was so painfully predictable.’

‘Breaking up with me via a Dear John letter whilst I was stuck out here, at Camp Razorwire, in the middle of vast nothingness was hardly predictable,’ Fliss pointed out.

‘All right, but, that aside, he was so numbingly characterless. And, before you tell me I’m wrong, tell me that losing him has broken your heart.’

A restlessness rolled around her chest, along with something else when she thought about Robert—something she didn’t want to identify.

‘Don’t be so melodramatic.’

‘You’re side-stepping,’ Elle said, not unkindly. ‘Tell me your heart broke when you read his words. Tell me you rushed to the phone to find some way to communicate with him and find out what went wrong.’

‘You know I didn’t,’ Fliss muttered, the restless rolling increasing like the rumble of thunder before a flash of lightning.

‘Then tell me you love him, you miss him, you don’t know how you’re going to get by without him.’

She knew what Elle was trying to say but it wasn’t as simple as that.

‘Just because I’m not racked with despair doesn’t mean I didn’t love Robert in my own way. It doesn’t mean I wasn’t hurt.’

Yet she couldn’t explain it to her friend. No, theirs hadn’t been a great romance like Elle had with her own fiancé and childhood sweetheart, but it had been comfortable. He hadn’t looked at her with shame like her grandparents had, and he’d never raged at her like her mother had. Life with him had been predictable, yes. But Fliss had appreciated that. She’d thought they both had.

It had hurt to read his letter and find out that even Robert needed more from a relationship, to see in black and white that even he found her too emotionally distant. The worst of it was that she knew he was right. The heaviness in her chest felt like a rising reservoir of water, its swirling dark depths drawing her closer to the edge. She’d chosen Robert because she’d thought they had the same life goals, and because she’d thought she couldn’t be hurt. But his letter had felt like a painful echo of her childhood rejection.

‘I did care for Robert,’ she told her friend quietly. ‘But I was never in love with him. It isn’t his fault that I couldn’t give him more. It’s mine. I don’t have that capacity in me, Elle. I don’t do passion and emotion and intense love.’

‘Bull,’ Elle snorted. ‘You just haven’t met the right guy. Trust me, when you do, you’ll forget all these daft rules and fears of yours. When you find the one, you’ll know it.’

‘Like you and Stevie?’ Fliss said softly.

A shadow skittered unexpectedly over her best friend’s face and Elle suddenly looked a million miles away—or, more likely, three thousand miles. Concern flooded through Fliss as she placed her hand on her friend’s to draw Elle’s focus.

‘Elle, is everything okay?’

Elle blinked, the instantly over-bright smile not fooling Fliss at all.

‘Of course I am. I’m just trying to help you move on from Buttoned—Sorry, Robert. And maybe have a bit of fun in the process. And, since Man Candy is off-limits to me, I have to live vicariously through you.’

Fliss bit back the questions tumbling around her head. The Army dining hall was hardly the best place to grill her best friend but she knew she had to talk to Elle the first chance they got.

‘Just promise me you’ll think about it? One crazy fling. There’s no better time than now and, by the sounds of it, there’s no better choice than Man Candy.’

‘You realise, of course, that even if I did fall over on my way out of here today, bump my head, change my personality and decide that hot sex is indeed going to sort out all my problems, then there’s still the issue that he’s an infantry colonel and therefore nothing to do with our medical unit and, with around eight thousand of us out here in Razorwire, we’re hardly likely to cross paths.’

‘So, you are at least open to the mere possibility of it?’

Fliss rolled her eyes.

‘If that’s what you want to take from what I said, then fine.’

‘Good.’ Elle nodded, swiping half a round of uneaten toast from Fliss’s plate. ‘By the way, did I mention that Simon wants to see you for an oh-eight-hundred briefing?’

Fliss groaned. Colonel Simon Johnson was the Commanding Officer of their medical unit. A brilliant surgeon and, like a high proportion of the medical team, a civilian volunteer. This was his second tour to Razorwire and Fliss both respected and liked him, but right now, after a forty-eight-hour shift, all she’d been looking forward to was eating her scram and then heading for the Army cot-bed which was calling to her from the shipping container she and Elle shared.

It was because of her tiredness that it took her a moment too long to register Elle’s affected air of innocence.

‘Wait, I have a briefing? What for?’

‘Hmm? Oh, the new infantry Commanding Officer replacing Colonel Waterson is arriving.’

‘Ah.’

Both women fell into a few seconds of respectful silence. They’d only met him once, but Colonel Waterson’s death had been a shock. Razorwire was in a non-combat environment, its task to help local communities rebuild and improve. But the former infantry colonel hadn’t been content to stay behind a desk and had flown out, on a spurious task, to a danger zone some six hundred miles away. His death had knocked the rest of the camp, not to mention rocked his own unit who were now being dragged into an internal investigation which, though standard, had the effect of further dragging down their already low morale.

Fliss could only hope that the arrival of their new Commanding Officer would help the infantry unit to heal. Not least because that particular infantry unit provided the protection units, or Quick Reaction Forces, for any other teams travelling outside of the camp, from logistics to her own medical team.

‘Anyway—’ Elle broke the silence firmly, both women knowing that, especially out here, far from home, it didn’t pay to dwell ‘—since the new colonel’s men form the four-man QRF teams we work with on a daily basis, Simon felt we should meet him.’

Fliss narrowed her eyes at her friend. She should have seen the set-up coming from the start.

‘And this CO, is he by any chance the all-singing, all-dancing Colonel Man Candy?’

‘Why, now you mention it—’ grinned Elle ‘—I do believe he is. Though I think you should wait for Simon to introduce you. I don’t know how the new colonel would react to you actually calling him Man Candy to his face.’

Fliss could only shake her head as her friend chortled with laughter. At the end of the day, she reasoned to herself, it was only a bit of fun between two friends. Man Candy was hardly going to make her go weak at the knees. The things she’d heard other women talk about had never happened to her; it just wasn’t who she was.

‘You’re a sneaky sod, do you know that? And anyway, if you really think someone who’s as allegedly dynamic as Man Candy is going to fall for an uptight wallflower like me, then maybe you’re the one who took a knock on the head.’

‘Piffle,’ Elle sputtered.

‘Piffle?’

‘You heard. You’ve never appreciated how attractive you are; everywhere you go there are guys just clamouring for attention but you never notice. You’re intelligent and wittier than you give yourself credit for, and definitely not a wallflower.’

Gratitude bloomed in Fliss like a thousand flowers suddenly opening their petals. What would she do without her uncle or Elle? They were the only two people she would ever trust. The only two people to whom she mattered. She didn’t need men like Robert; they didn’t offer her anything more than she already had.

‘You’re a good friend, Elle,’ Fliss said, suddenly serious.

‘That is true.’ Elle consulted her chunky sports watch. ‘You’d better go; briefing is in ten. Don’t forget what I said. Open mind, yes? What harm can it do?’

‘Fine.’ Fliss shoved her chair back and stood up, lodging an apple between her teeth as she picked up her tray to take to the clearing section. ‘But don’t hold your breath.’

Man Candy or not, she was never going to believe in love at first sight. It just wasn’t who she was.

* * *

‘Ah, you’re here.’ The medical Commanding Officer beamed with something approaching relief as Fliss was ushered in by the adjutant.

By the look on Simon’s face, the new colonel wasn’t quite as sweet as his nickname suggested. Stepping into the office, she turned to greet the new infantry colonel for the first time.

It was as if time caught a breath; everything happened in slow motion. Even the air felt as thick and sticky as the sweet honey she’d spread over her toast at breakfast. All Fliss could do was suck in a long breath and stare, her mind suddenly empty of anything but the man standing, dominating the space.

So this was Colonel Man Candy?

The nickname simply didn’t do him justice. It suggested sugar-coated and frivolous. This man was anything but.

He was tall, powerful and all hard edges more lethal than a bayonet on the end of a rifle. His uniform—sharp and crisp with that edge to it that seemed to mark infantrymen out over all other soldiers—did little to conceal the physique beneath. If anything, it enhanced it. The perfectly folded up shirtsleeves which clung lovingly to impressive biceps revealed equally strong, tanned forearms. But it wasn’t merely his forearms, more something about his demeanour which suggested to Fliss that he was a soldier who was used to physical exertion in the field. Certainly not the kind of man to relish being stuck behind a desk. He exuded a commanding air. Rough. Dangerous.

He was definitely more suited to an adrenalin-fuelled life on the front line than being stuck here in the safe confines of a place like Razorwire.

Abruptly, Fliss realised that even as she was assessing the Colonel, he was appraising her too. Narrowed eyes, the colour of mountain shale and just as inhospitable, slid over her. And everywhere they travelled, they left a scorching sensation on her skin. She wanted to move, to say something. Instead she stood rooted to the spot, her throat tight and her heart pounding out a military tattoo in her chest.

Something unfurled in the pit of Fliss’s stomach. Something which she didn’t recognise at all but which made her feel the need to regroup. Something which scared her, yet was also perhaps a little thrilling. And then it was gone, so fast that she wondered if she hadn’t simply imagined it.

Slowly, she became aware of Simon speaking with a forced cheerfulness, as though he could sense the undertones but couldn’t compute them.

‘Colonel, this is Major Felicity Delaunay, the trauma doctor who leads one of our primary MERT crews,’ Simon introduced her, referring to the Medical Emergency Response Team which flew out from the camp in helicopters to retrieve casualties from outside the wire.

‘Major, let me introduce Colonel Asher Stirling, the new CO replacing the late Colonel Waterson.’

‘Colonel,’ Fliss choked out, finally finding her voice as she proffered her hand, relieved to see that it wasn’t shaking.

The new Colonel didn’t take it. Instead, he folded his arms across his chest in a very deliberate move.

‘Major Delaunay,’ he bit out. ‘So you’re the doc who thinks she’s so important she’s risking the safety of my men, not to mention the rest of her own crew.’

His hostile glower pinned her in place. She wanted to snatch her own gaze away but found she couldn’t. He was too mesmerising.

Still, a defiant flame flickered into life inside her.

‘Would you care to elaborate, sir?’

She made a point of emphasising the acknowledgement of his superior rank. She didn’t like what he was suggesting, but she had no intention of being accused of insubordination as well.

‘I’m saying your position is on the helicopter, receiving incoming casualties and staying where my men can protect you.’

His voice was deep, his tone peremptory. And Fliss didn’t just hear the words, she felt them too. Compression waves coursed through her whole being. He didn’t just have the rank of a colonel, he oozed it. Authoritative and all-consuming. She had never reacted so innately to anyone—to any man—before. She hadn’t even known it was possible to do so.

She was vaguely aware of Simon attempting to interject but it felt as though there were only the two of them in the room. The CO soon faded out, making some spurious excuse and dashing for the door.

‘Is this about the incident last week when I had to leave the heli to attend a casualty?’

‘As I understand it, not just last week, no,’ the new Colonel continued coldly. ‘My men are there to protect you...’

‘They’re there to protect the helicopter, the asset,’ she cut in.

Waves of tightly controlled fury bounced off him.

‘They are tasked to protect you, but I understand you make that impossible for them on a regular basis. Yet if anything were to happen to you, my men would be responsible.’

‘Your men...’

She stopped and bit her lip, her sense of self-preservation finally kicking in. He clearly only had half the story and if he thought she was just going to stand there without setting the record straight then he could think again. But as much as this dressing-down galled her, she refused to speak badly of his men. They’d been through enough.

Straightening her spine, she jutted her chin out to give the impression she wasn’t intimidated. Instead, it only reminded her just how close to each other they were standing. White heat snaked through her. She had a feeling that when this man spoke, people listened. But Fliss forced herself to push it to the side, forced herself to wonder if he was equally capable of listening.

She was about to find out.

‘Your men are feeling understandably uptight right now, and I appreciate that you’re only looking out for your new unit, but there are two sides to this story, Colonel.’

‘And you’re about to enlighten me?’

It was phrased as a question but the gravelly sound resonated through her, pulling her stomach impossibly taut. This was it. She’d challenged him and now she was going to have to back it up. Either that, or he would dismiss her as weak for ever.

She gritted her teeth but refused to back down. That wasn’t what her uncle had ever taught her. And, besides, a terrible part of her desperately wanted this man’s respect. His esteem.

‘I understand that you’ve recently been promoted to colonel, and that you were a major on the front line before that, so this is a new unit for you, and these are men that you don’t know well yet. I appreciate that you’re only looking out for them after what happened with Colonel Waterson. He was their CO and it was a shock to them. But it was a shock to us all. Razorwire isn’t in a warzone; we have a different mission to whatever we’ve had before. Whatever you’ve had before, on the front line.’

‘And your point, Major?’ he demanded impatiently.

‘My point, Colonel, is that your men—my QRF—are jumpy at the moment. I know why—a helicopter is a big target for anyone on the ground with rocket launchers, and the QRF don’t want us to hang around too long. But we’re not in a warzone, Colonel. We’re on a Hearts and Minds mission and I think your men have forgotten that in the wake of Colonel Waterson’s death. They never had a problem with my getting off the heli before, and they won’t again in a few weeks. And the reason I jump off is because the casualties who can’t get to the heli in time might not make it if we just abandon them.’

There it was, she noted triumphantly.

The flash in his eyes suggested her words had hit home. She’d suspected that, of all people, this new Colonel wasn’t the type to leave a fallen man behind. And she was right; he’d reacted as soon as she’d said the word abandon.

Still, he clearly wasn’t about to give in that easily. And that didn’t surprise her.

‘My men informed me that the casualties weren’t in immediate danger.’

‘With all due respect, sir, your men aren’t trauma doctors. I am. Just because there are no bombs out here, no IEDs, with fatalities and casualties requiring multiple amputations, doesn’t mean there aren’t urgent cases.’

‘I am well aware of that, Major,’ he ground out, his eyes drilling into her. ‘I’ve carried a fair few men to a MERT over the years.’

‘Yes, but usually from the front line, I understand. Out here, we have non-combat injuries to deal with, from Road Traffic Accidents to local kids in gas bottle explosions around their home, from peace-keeping troops with appendicitis to local women in labour requiring emergency medical intervention. It might not always look fatal to your battle-hardened troops but fatality comes in less obvious guises. And I made a judgement call each time.’

And she’d been right each time too, not that she was about to offer that information up. It would have far greater impact when the Colonel found that out for himself. And she knew without a doubt that he would.

‘Indeed?’ The Colonel raised his eyebrows at her.

His mind was not entirely swayed but he was clearly considering her position. She suppressed a thrill of pleasure. It was a victory of sorts. And all the sweeter because, for a second there, she’d almost lost herself to a side of her character she had never before known existed. A side which wasn’t immune—as she had so long believed—to the tedious and feeble vagaries of an instant physical attraction.

But she had fought it, and she had won. Hopefully she’d managed to convince the new Colonel to get his men to back off for the last few weeks of her tour of duty and, with him being infantry and her being medical, there was no reason she’d have to see him again.

Relief mingled with something else which Fliss didn’t care to identify.

It was all short-lived.

He stepped in closer, almost menacingly so, and instinctively her eyes widened a fraction, her breath growing shallower.

He picked up on it immediately, but it was only when his eyes dropped instantly to her rapidly rising and falling chest, his nostrils flaring as she heard his sharp intake of breath, that Fliss realised he was as affected by her as she was by him.

Her? The girl Brody Gordon had referred to as Fusty Fliss? Attracting a guy as utterly masculine as the Colonel? It hardly seemed possible.

And then she realised what this uncharacteristic moment of weakness was all about for her. It wasn’t some incredible, irresistible attraction at all. It was merely the fact that Robert’s rejection had exposed unhealed wounds from her past which she had scarcely buried beneath the surface. Old rejections and feelings of inadequacy that her mother, her grandparents and boys like Brody Gordon had cruelly instigated.

She wanted to pull away from the Colonel now, use the revelation to her advantage. But it seemed that even knowing the truth wasn’t helping her to resist him. He pinned her down, his eyes locked with hers, inching forward until they were toe to toe and her head was tilted right up to hold the stare. For several long seconds Fliss was sure she stopped breathing.

And then, finally, he broke the spell.

‘I must say, Major, my interest is piqued.’ The fierce expression had lifted from his rough-hewn face to be replaced by a look which was simultaneously wicked and challenging. White heat licked low in her belly.

‘I understand your next forty-eight-hour shift begins at oh-six-hundred tomorrow?’

‘That’s right,’ she acknowledged carefully, a sense of foreboding brewing in the tiny office.

‘Good. Then I’ll accompany you for the first twenty-four hours and we’ll see what we discover, shall we?’

Her whole body shivered.

‘You can’t do that; you don’t have the authority. You’re not my commanding officer. You’re not even medical.’

‘No—’ he seemed unfazed ‘—but I am the CO of the infantry unit which provides your protection unit and, since they are my guys, I do have a reason to be on that heli. I hardly think your buddy Simon is going to object when I run it by him. Do you?’

‘It’s my heli, my run. I could tell my CO it wouldn’t be appropriate.’

She was grasping at straws and they both knew it. The wicked smile cranked up a notch, and so did the fire burning low in her core. He dropped his voice to a husky rasp which seemed to graze her body as surely as if he’d run callused fingers over the sensitive skin of her belly.

‘And on what grounds exactly are you going to object?’

He had a point; she could hardly tell Simon that she didn’t want to be in close confinement on a heli with the new infantry CO because there was an inexplicable chemistry between them that, when she was around him, made her body heat up and her brain shut down.

She was trapped and they both knew it. Worse, Fliss was left with the distinct impression that a tiny part of her actually liked it.

Clenching her fists and spinning around as Simon finally bustled back into the room, Fliss studiously ignored the terrifying voice which whispered that the truth was, she just might have experienced her very first lust at first sight.

CHAPTER TWO

CROUCHED IN THE corner of the cramped, sweltering, noisy Chinook—kitted out as a full airborne emergency room, its engines the only thing one could smell or hear—Ash fought down the nausea which was threatening to overwhelm him.

He’d seen the MERT in action too many times to count during his seven tours of duty over the last decade, several back to back. He had an incredible respect for the doctors and medics who ran what was, essentially, an airborne operating room. Many of his men, his friends, were still alive today because of the swift, skilled actions of MERT teams. But although he’d carried many casualties to the heli as part of the infantry team on the ground, the only time he’d actually been on board had been when he himself had been seriously injured.

Ash kept his eyes firmly open. If he closed them, the sounds were too brutally familiar. If he closed them, the scents, the turbulence, transported him right back to that day. If he closed them, he could almost feeling his life ebbing away.

Instead, he studiously watched the attractive blonde major who was running this flying operating room with impressive command and focus. Even now she was diligently prepping any last pieces of equipment. He could imagine her as the focused, methodical doctor, but he still couldn’t imagine her ever breaking the rules to save a soldier, the way his new unit had claimed she’d done on more than one occasion.

But that wasn’t the reason he was here, was it?

From the minute she’d walked into that room yesterday, she’d somehow slipped under his skin and he’d found himself reacting to her in a way that made him feel out of control. And for Ash it was all about being in control. About not allowing himself to feel. Because feeling meant being at the mercy of emotions. And that wasn’t something he permitted.

He’d kept an iron grip on his emotions for two decades now. They were a liability he couldn’t afford. Not since the beatings, the push and pull from the miserable care home to the squalor of foster homes, to his dad, who’d somehow convinced the authorities he’d stopped the drinking, right up until the cycle had started all over again. Only Rosie and Wilf had shown him another way. They’d been the only foster parents able to take on that angry, out-of-control kid that he’d been and show him love, and hope, and a way out.

A darkness unfurled in him, snaking its devious way up to constrict his chest painfully until he found it hard even to breathe. Controlling his emotions, keeping people at arm’s length, had been an important lesson growing up and it was even more important now. Out here on a tour of duty and waiting, at any time, for a phone call to tell him the inevitable had happened, that Rosie had finally lost her fight and he would have to fly home for what was likely to be the worst funeral of his life.

Perhaps it was no wonder, then, that he’d reacted as he had done when the Major had strode into that office yesterday. Even now, at the mere memory, awareness crackled through his body, dancing over the darkness which had filled him a moment ago as though it was nothing. As though that forbidding fear couldn’t compete with the light-hearted lust which toyed playfully with him. As though it knew that once, just this once, he could be tempted to cross the line and consider a hot...fling with someone like the Major, just because it offered him the promise of distraction, a release from the tension of waiting. Of not knowing.

That’s not going to happen.

Furiously, he shoved the idea aside. He never mixed personal relationships with his career. Not out here. Not within the Army. It had too much potential to become...messy.

Yet his eyes slid inexorably across the heli to the commanding Major. She made him react to her in the basest of ways. Yet she also challenged him mentally. He hadn’t intended to give her the dressing-down that he had, anticipating instead that he’d voice his concerns and find out what she had to say before making a judgement. Instead, he’d allowed his attraction to her to override his usual common sense.

But, instead of meekly surrendering, she’d looked him in the eye and refuted every one of his statements clearly and confidently. And that had piqued an interest in Ash. Before he’d known where he was, he’d bagged himself a ringside seat to all the shouts her MERT would respond to over the next twenty-four hours.

This wasn’t helping.

He dragged his attention away from her and concentrated on the four-man QRF team made up from his new infantry unit. The Major had been right about them too. It hadn’t taken him long yesterday to find out that his new unit was particularly wound up about the incident which had claimed the life of Colonel Waterson. He would do well to boost their morale and he had no doubt that, given half a chance, the Major would happily instruct him on that too.

And now he was back to her. Again.

But now, for the first time he could ever recall, his iron grip, honed over the last two decades, was slipping. His focus threatened. And all because of this one woman.

His gaze slipped back to the by-the-book Major as he tried to work out what was so different about her. So prim and proper, she was certainly attractive with those barbed Nordic blue eyes and blonde hair pulled into such an eye-wateringly severe yet generous bun that his fingers had actually itched to reach up and release. To slide his fingers through the silk curtain and soften the strait-laced doctor, even a fraction.

What the heck was wrong with him?

It was the last thing Ash needed. Not just because she was General Delaunay’s niece but because this was the first role Ash had taken behind the wire, in the relative safety of Camp Razorwire. He certainly felt on edge at the prospect of facing the next few years behind a desk instead of out in the field. Out where he belonged. Barely a month ago he’d been a major himself, on the front line and leading his company as he risked his own life alongside his men. Now he was a colonel, in charge of a battalion and destined—maybe not on this tour of duty, but on a future one—not to lead his men but to send them into potential danger zones.

How the hell was he supposed to get used to that?

Behind a desk wasn’t where he functioned best. All his career he had experienced the adrenalin kick, the fear, the buzz, and he’d been in control.

Now, as galling as it was to admit, he felt lost.

Suddenly, the heli filled with dust as it dropped, the rotor blades churning up the ground covering and drawing it into the back on the air currents, blinding them all. Ash buried his nose into his combat jacket like a filter so that he could breathe. And then they landed, rough and abrupt, and the dust was sucked quickly instantly out, leaving the aircraft clear again.

It took everything Ash had to fight his instinct to jump out of the back ahead of his QRF to help secure the area around the heli, safe zone or not. As two of his men secured the rear, where soldiers were already running across the open ground carrying a litter-bound casualty, the other two men leapt up to man the ramp-mounted and side-mounted machine guns respectively. They were smooth and slick and Ash nodded to himself in satisfaction. It was what he’d expected, but still, it was good to see.

‘RTA on the Main Supply Route,’ the young team medic for the soldiers’ unit rushed ahead to the heli to brief the MERT, yelling over the din. ‘Local guy driving a flatbed truck across the bridge running perpendicular above us when he suffered a tyre blow out and lost control. Nothing he could do, his truck jack-knifed and he crashed through the barrier and landed on our convoy. We’ve got three casualties.’

Even as he finished, the soldiers had already reached them with the first casualty and the Major and her team efficiently hauled the litter on board and began their medical care. Just behind, two soldiers were helping the injured local man to hobble to the heli, an open fracture to one arm and clearly shaken. Walking wounded, that was always preferable. The teams would settle him in a seat and then pass him on to the camp hospital for care. But, even from across the helicopter, Ash could see that the first victim had significant crush injuries. He wasn’t a doctor but Ash had enough experience to know. All vital signs were absent and, to all intents and purposes, the soldier was gone. But it wasn’t the MERT’s place to call time of death; they didn’t have the authority. That could only be done when they returned to Camp Razorwire and a team from the hospital came out.

Not that you’d know it from the Major’s poker face; there was no sign of defeat in her expression, nothing to knock the morale of the soldiers on the ground, who wanted her to save the life of their buddy. Instead the MERT were doing their job and starting care, the Major already checking the casualty’s airway and giving oxygen as the team began cardiopulmonary resuscitation. It meant a lot out here, in the middle of vast nothingness. Back on the front line, it would have been exactly the kind of mental boost the guys would need. A reluctant admiration sparked in Ash.

Suddenly, a movement in his peripheral caught Ash’s attention. A third team carrying a casualty, stretcher-bound like the first, was rounding the bend approximately one hundred metres away. Even from that distance there was evidence of heavy blood loss but what worried Ash more was the long metal rod protruding from the casualty’s abdomen. There was no way they would be able to get the soldier onto the heli like that.

In an instant, Ash had sprung out from his corner and jumped off the ramp to dart, body low against the downdraught of the rotors, across the open ground. There was definitely a sandstorm coming in; he’d spent enough time out in the field to be able to sense it before almost anyone else. Reaching the litter, he was relieved to find the casualty on his side, delirious but mercifully still alive.

‘Set him down gently, lads,’ Ash commanded quietly but firmly enough to counter their resistance out of loyalty to their friend. ‘He’s not going to get on board like that.’

Ash watched as, for a split second, understandable desperation to get their buddy to the heli warred with following a senior officer’s instruction. It was only when he heard the voice over his shoulder that he realised the Major had followed right behind him carrying an emergency kit bag.

‘The Colonel’s right, lads. I need to check your buddy out first and we’ll go from there.’

Pushing briskly through, the Major settled next to the litter and pushed lightly to encourage the soldiers to set it down on the level ground.

‘What’s his name?’ she asked.

‘Hollings.’

‘Corporal Hollings.’

‘Okay—’ she nodded, checking the lad’s vital signs ‘—and his first name?’

‘Oh, right. It’s Andy.’

‘Andy, can you hear me? You’ve got the MERT here now; we’re just going to get you ready for transport, okay?’

Ash watched as she began to administer oxygen, all the while calming the other soldiers and creating some space around them.

‘We’re going to need to cut the rod down to a more manageable size prior to transport.’ She lifted her head to look directly at him. They both knew the MERT wouldn’t be able to wait.

Quickly, Ash dropped down until they were close enough to murmur without broadcasting. ‘There’s a sandstorm coming in.’

‘We need to get him out of here as quickly as we can.’

‘I’ll handle it. How long do you need?’

‘Longer than we’ve got,’ she muttered grimly. ‘Radial pulse is weak, thready. He’s not moving air around and there’s pressure in the pleural space. I can carry out a needle decompression but it’s only a temporary measure. All the good kit is on the heli. Because of the location of the rod I can’t get him into a supine position. And that’s without knowing for sure what damage he might have caused internally.’

With a curt nod, Ash raced back to the heli to relay the information, telling them to leave now but to call in the other MERT. At least that way it would have the wait time. The Major had better be able to do what was necessary in that window. Once the storm closed in the helis wouldn’t be able to fly and travelling by road would take too long.

He had to admit, though, that he’d seen a lot of good trauma doctors in his time, but the Major had something extra about her, an edge, which he couldn’t help but respect.

‘Any sheltered locations around here?’ Ash demanded as he ran back to the casualty, which the Major had already moved further back in anticipation of the dust cloud the departing helicopter would raise.

‘There’s a couple of abandoned buildings about half a click away, but they’re boarded up. We’ll have to bust a way in.’

With any luck the MERT would be back before the sandstorm hit. But if they were unlucky, they were going to need a decent place to wait it out, especially with the casualty.

‘Grab any kit we might need and show me,’ Ash commanded one of the soldiers.

‘Okay, when we cut the rod the vibration could cause more internal damage, so you and you hold it absolutely steady,’ she was instructing firmly, calmly, ensuring everyone knew their role whilst still efficiently moving along the task. ‘And you cut right here, understand?’

‘Ma’am.’

Ash was quickly getting the impression that, once this was all over, he was going to owe the Major something of an apology.

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