The Most Magical Gift of All Read Free Page B

to the belted waistband was a soft white T-shirt that clung to his broad shoulders and, given the bronzed and bulging arm muscles that escaped from under the short sleeves, she imaged the rest of the shirt covered very toned abs.
    Jack Armitage exuded the confidence of a man who knew what he wanted and Sophie envied him that. She knew for certain what she didn’t want in her life but she wasn’t at all sure she had any clue what she really did want. She lurched from one vague plan to the next. Australia had beckoned when the stress of working in a war zone had her so worn out that any loud noise made her jump, and every day had become a strategy in survival. She needed some breathing space and she needed to embrace normality. She probably should have gone to see her father but the thought of returning to England in December was unconscionable. She’d have gone just about anywhere to avoid Christmas, just like she’d done for years.
    After fifteen minutes of walking and talking, Jack paused; they were now back at the admissions desk. ‘So is all this making sense?’ Strikingly vivid eyes—the same colour of the purple-blue mountains she’d seenin the distance when she’d hopped off the bus—sought confirmation.
    Eyes that held a current of leashed energy that had sparked like electricity, pinning her to the wall, the moment she’d first locked eyes with him. Eyes that had unabashedly appraised her from across a room and were still doing it.
    His gaze heated every part of her it touched, setting up an itch under all of her skin that she knew no amount of calamine lotion would soothe.
    You’ve been out of circulation for too long and that’s making you imagine this attraction. She had to be imagining it, because nothing like this had ever happened to her before and the intensity was almost scary. She breathed in a long, slow, breath; the technique she’d learned as a teenager when her life had changed forever, and then honed when working with Frontline Aid. Immediately her heart slowed down, her body drained of its heat, and she centred her thoughts firmly on what Jack was saying. ‘It’s all making total sense. The information’s very clear and straightforward.’
    â€˜Great. Now, these are the numbers if you need to evacuate a patient.’
    He reached across in front of her and grabbed a bright yellow sticky-note to mark the page; the scent of sunshine and fresh soap tickled her nostrils.
    She breathed in deeply, inhaling the robust and almost decadent scent, but instead of slowing her heart rate it immediately sped it up again, overruling all attempts at calming thoughts. Delicious warmth followed a second later, building into heat which trailed through her veins with addictive sweetness, leaving hot spots of something she knew intimately but didn’t want to name.
    Her brain grinned, totally ignoring her, and with a loud trumpet fanfare named it: longing .
    No. This was just the recognition of, and longing for, normality. This was the longing for a safe haven because for the last six months she’d been working abroad with the stench of war and disease in her nostrils, and she’d avoided such deep, lung-filling breaths. Now she was out in the safe desert of Australia, she could take her fill of the cleansing, pure air.
    Pure lust.
    Jack’s head tilted sideways and concern backlit with a simmering heat flared in his eyes. ‘You OK, Sophie? You look a bit dazed.’
    The flat vowels sounded strange to her ears but the deep melody of his voice moved through her like the rich vibrating bass of a bassoon, before settling inside her where she hadn’t known there was a space. ‘I’m fine.’ No, you’re not, you’re wigging out. No man has ever affected you quite like this. ‘I’m just jet-lagged, with a bit of culture shock on the side.’
    â€˜England’s smaller and a lot greener,’ he teased,