Rescue Heat (15 page)

As he led her to the bathroom, his thumb ran across the sensitive surface of her palm. Matt’s bathroom was straight out of a design magazine with its fixtures and fittings in brass and marble, but Brigid could only concentrate on the man before her as he slipped his hands into her robe and palmed her breasts.

She pulled the tie of her robe loose and stood completely naked as she went to work on his pants. She could hear his breath quicken as she opened his fly and greedily wrapped both hands around his long, hard erection.

Matt did not give her much time to play, before he shackled her wrists in his grasp. He pulled her under the warm waterfall falling from a showerhead the size of a dinner plate.

Brigid was glad to see him bring another plastic packet into the shower. Obviously, the emergency service ethos of safety first, was a lesson well learned.

She couldn’t help but feel a little sensually overwhelmed. Matt’s large, well-honed body dominated the shower stall, even as he ducked to her level and let his mouth explore hers. Brigid decided to give herself up to the moment and the ministrations of Matt’s soapy hands. He knelt and put his mouth to work, making her scream.

“Ok, now I’ve really got to go,” Brigid said, as she pulled her silky blue dress over her still damp body.

“You can stay here if you’d like,” Matt offered, from where he lay naked, stretched out. He looked too large, even on a massive, custom-made bed.

Brigid was surprised by the offer and tempted; her legs were as fluid and rubbery as three orgasms could bring but she said, “We both have to work tomorrow and neither of us have the luxury of falling asleep at our desks.” She smiled, “And if you’re telling me that all we’re going to do in that bed of yours is sleep, I’ll have to call you a big, fat liar.”

“I’m sure we would sleep? eventually,” said Matt. His smug smile confirmed her words.

He got out of bed and began searching for his clothes. “What are you doing?” Brigid asked. “Walking you home,” he said, as if surprised by the question.

“That is very sweet, but I’m a big girl and that is a very short walk. So there’s really no need.”

“And I’m a well brought up boy, so there really is no argument,” he retorted.

She could see he would broker no compromise, so she waited the extra thirty seconds it took for Matt to find his t-shirt. Together, they walked out to the gentle breeze of the night air.

Matt threw a protective arm over her shoulders and she enjoyed the feeling of being tucked close to his warm, muscular body. They walked in silence, matching the lengths of their strides, so their movements were synchronized. When they reached Brigid’s back door, she turned to say goodbye.

Matt bent to kiss her lips. In contrast, to the strength of their earlier passion, this kiss was sweet and surprisingly tender.

Once she was inside the house, Moby ran for Brigid’s legs. He barked in short, sharp bites, obviously disturbed by the scent of Matt on her body.

“I know, I know, shh sweetie, don’t worry I’m just the same Brigid,” she said.

As she walked to the bedroom, she was not sure how true that statement actually was. She had broken a cardinal rule of her professional life by sleeping with a colleague and she had done so without discussing the relationship’s future at all. Passion had ruled.

Sleeping with Matt was a decision she hadn’t thought she would make but right now she couldn’t argue with the results; her body was still humming with the pleasure they had created between them.

The next morning, Brigid took a deep breath before getting out of her car; facing Matt, the morning after he had made her scream in ecstasy, was difficult. Now, she had to work with him in the professional setting that was the centre of her life. She could see from the Range Rover that Matt had already arrived.

“Hey Brigid,” called Dave, as he got out of his own Toyota. “Bound to be busy today. Everyone will have saved their accidents and illnesses for us.”

Brigid was relieved to be walking in, chatting with Dave. Their conversation would cover her potential awkwardness with Matt. She walked in Dave’s slipstream and echoed his greeting to Chris, Jo and of course Matt, who was courteous as ever but whose face remained reassuringly blank.

The calls that Dave had predicted were already in play.

“We have a report from the Coast Guard of a rock fisherman being swept into the sea and then thrown back onto the bottom of the Suffolk cliffs. They’ve called us for rescue and treatment.”

“So I’m guessing we’re going on shift twenty minutes early again?”

Chris nodded in response to Brigid’s question, so she easily swung into her familiar wheels-up routine.

The helicopter hovered next to the cliff face, fifteen metres in the air. Looking down, they could see a young male body lying on the exposed rocks at the bottom of the cliff face. His white body was streaked with red and he was barely moving. The Coast Guard, who had directed them in, could be heard through the radio.

“Glad you guys are here,” said the Coast Guard Captain. “Thought we were going to lose the poor bastard. You can see we had no chance of getting close enough to the rocks because of the swell. But, shit, it was awful watching him get pounded and go under. It was only sheer good luck that a big enough wave ended up tossing him on the rocks.”

Looking at the waves crashing onto the cliff base, Brigid could well see why they had not even attempted a seaside rescue.

Matt had already connected his harness to the wire. “It is going to have to be a scope and run. Those rocks are too unstable to try any treatment.”

Dave replied, “The wind is just low enough for us to hover. I’ll try and keep us steady but if I have to, I’ll abort and we’ll have to go in for a second round.”

“Roger that,” said Matt, as he clambered onto the outside ledge of the helicopter.

Before he swung away, he gave Brigid a gung-ho smile. She imagined she would feel more reassured if she didn’t distinctly remember seeing the same smile before he feasted on her breasts.

Brigid was tense as she watched him lowered slowly, parallel to the cliff-face. Like everyone else who worked in helicopter rescue, Brigid hated cliff operations. Wind around a rock face was notoriously unpredictable and gusts and choppers didn’t mix; while they lowered Matt, both he and the helicopter were in danger of being pushed into the cliff-face.

Finally, Brigid could see Matt’s feet find purchase on the slippery rocks, just metres from where the fisherman was laying. The fact that the man had hardly moved his body on their approach was not a good sign; a helicopter hovering overhead was not easily ignored.

Apart from anything else, Matt would have a hard time moving a non-responsive patient by himself but because of the dangerous conditions, and to save time, he had gone down the wire alone. Brigid would have been second-guessing this decision if she didn’t have personal knowledge of how strong Matt actually was. They also had the advantage that the patient looked to have the light looking frame of a slim man in his late teens.

“He’ll be getting his feet wet down there,” Chris observed, as they watched Matt check over the patient on the rocks. Each wave that came in splattered both men with spray. While they were down there, there was always the very real possibility of a freak wave, like the one that had delivered the fisherman back onto the rocks, sweeping them away. Matt was tethered to the helicopter, but their patient was not yet secured.

As if to confirm Brigid’s earlier thoughts, Matt seemingly effortlessly muscled the patient onto the spinal board. He looked to the helicopter and gave the lift signal.

Brigid breathed through the tension of watching the wire swing, as Matt and the patient were hauled up. They made it safely on-board with Brigid and Chris offering helping hands.

“He’s in severe shock,” said Matt. “He has multiple cuts and contusions and some probable broken bones.” Brigid only had to look down at the young man, to confirm Matt’s diagnosis of shock. His face was pale, eyes glazed and unfocused and his body was shaking violently.

“We need to get this boy to hospital quickly,” she said, through the radio to Dave. “Call ahead to Cairns Base and tell them to organize an emergency CAT scan.”

As she spoke, Brigid gently ran her hands over the patient’s skull. While she suspected a head injury, she was glad not to feel a fracture.

“His name is Paul Ashburn and he’s nineteen,” Matt said as he pulled a wallet out of the teen’s soaking wet jeans.

“Give the ID to Chris,” Brigid said. “He’ll radio through to the police and hopefully they’ll be able to confirm he was out here fishing alone. Otherwise, we might find ourselves out here again searching for a friend.”

While Brigid continued to check for broken bones, Matt gently put headphones on Paul.

“Heya Paul,” Brigid said. “I am your doctor. You’re safe now and you’re going to be feeling better very soon.”

She couldn’t tell how much her words were getting through, but she knew her tone was as important as the message. Next to her, Matt’s hands were working quickly, using gauze to staunch some of the worst bleeding. Until they had some of the deeper wounds bandaged, there was no point in wrapping him in a space blanket.

“Did you get any kind of look at his back,” Brigid asked.

“Briefly. It’s been torn up, much the same as his front,” Matt replied.

“OK, we’re going to have to roll him. We’ll have to do our best to observe spinal precautions but we need to make sure there’s no major bleeder. These jeans are going to have to go.”

Even as the words came out of Brigid’s mouth, Matt was following through with the appropriate actions. First cutting away his jeans, then using antibacterial wipes, they cleared enough of the blood from Paul’s body so they could slap on the main bandages where needed. Then Matt counted into the roll. Seeing the damage on Paul’s body he said, “God, this guy took a bashing on those rocks. I don’t think I’ll be taking up rock fishing in Australia anytime soon.”

“He would have sucked in plenty of water, so I’m just hoping his airway maintains until we touch down,” Brigid said.

An hour later, Brigid walked up the base stairs. It had been a clean handover at Cairns Hospital. Now, the adrenaline gone, Brigid was starting to feel her lack of sleep from the night before.

She heard male laughter and her gut tightened. What if they were talking about her?

When she was younger, Brigid had heard her father discuss his sexual conquests with a friend. That memory had made her afraid of the secret world of men.

What if, right now, Matt was telling Chris and Dave, how he had screwed her up against the marble wall of his double shower?

Brigid took a breath, forcing the air to the bottom of her lungs. The result of Matt telling that story would more likely be a black eye than a manly chuckle. Brigid knew she had to trust in her relationships, not just with Matt, but also with the men she worked with.

Keeping that thought in mind, Brigid put her head around the corner of the rec room. “I’m going to the locker room,” she called.

Brigid needed to change her uniform, as it was again marked with bloodstains. She sometimes forgot that most people didn’t have to contend with blood-removal home remedies to keep their work clothes looking respectable.

The locker room door opened and she looked around. Matt came in, and he carefully closed the door behind him.

“My uniform needs replacing too,” he said, his tone quiet and conversational. “One thing I miss about being in the service is having someone else do my washing.”

“I was thinking much the same thing about surgical scrubs,” said Brigid. “Unfortunately, one of the disadvantages of real life is having no minions for such tasks. But if you ask nicely, Jo will give you some good tips on bodily fluid removal.”

Matt’s half grimace, made Brigid laugh. He asked, “Do you have any plans for tonight?”

“Yeah. Jennifer and I have a regular pizza night,” Brigid replied.

She wasn’t sure if she was glad that her plans were already in place. But, she felt that spending a second night in a row with Matt would be a mistake. He was too strong, too overwhelming, too much.

However, the chemistry between them was strong enough for her to add, “Seeing as we have tomorrow off, why don’t we do the tourist thing in Port Douglas.”

Port Douglas was a calculated suggestion. It was an hour’s drive away, and once there, Brigid was planning to suggest eating at the town’s most expensive seafood restaurant. There they were almost guaranteed not to run into anyone they knew.

“Port Douglas sounds good. I’ll pick you up at nine,” said Matt.

He didn’t show any physical familiarity, and for that, Brigid was grateful. Her professional self felt like it was hanging by a thread and any contact from Matt could potentially set it adrift.

The next day, Brigid and Matt walked into the elegant timber surrounds of Port Douglas’s premier seafood restaurant. They had skirted around intimacy during the journey. Neither of them seemed ready for that. Instead, they had talked about their favourite movies and books, arguing their choices with good-natured vigour.

Now, the restaurant’s maître d’ was treating them with true deference, probably because they looked so different from their professional selves. Matt looked like a wealthy American tourist. There was little he could do about his muscular size, but his cream button up shirt and tan chinos dialled his danger meter down.

Brigid herself had carefully dressed in a beautifully constructed linen sundress and high-heeled sandals. The origami bodice moulded itself to her curves and she had seen a flash of desire in Matt’s eyes, when he had first seen her.

Brigid laughed when she saw the waiter had handed her a menu without the prices on it.

Once the maître d’ was safely out of earshot, Brigid said, “I love how they assume that you’re the one who is going to be taking care of the bill. Especially considering, I was the one who made the reservation.”

“Yeah but he looks to be a smart man who correctly knew I was the one who would win the argument about who was paying the bills,” said Matt, leaning back in his chair, looking smug.