"I loved this book, it was sensual, captivating and heart rending all within these few pages. I couldn’t put it down; the first page captured me from the start and didn’t let me go until the end."
Nurse Harriet Remy and her surgeon husband, Guillaume, thought they had the perfect marriage. They loved working for an overseas medical aid service, and children were never part of their plan. Until Harriet’s fertility came under threat and her subsequent desire for a baby came between them.
After a year apart, they’re together on their final MedSurg assignment. Gill still adores his wife, and for him the assignment becomes more than work: it becomes a mission to save his marriage. And this time he’s prepared to do whatever it takes to keep his bride by his side – for ever.
The divorce papers burnt a hole in her hand as she carried the large yellow envelope to her soon-to-be ex husband’s sleeping quarters. Nausea threatened and she swallowed hard to dispel it. Just knock on the door, hand it over, then leave Harriet lectured herself as her rubber-soled shoes squeaked loudly on the aged linoleum in the hushed corridors. Do not stop for a chat. Do not go in for coffee. Do not let him make love to you.
She tossed her head and clamped down on the irony that threatened to bubble up in her chest and escape as sarcastic laughter. Sex, Harriet. Have sex with you. Their days of love making were long past and she couldn’t afford such romantic stupidity. They were getting divorced. The end. Finito. Period. They were just having a little difficulty remembering their differences in the haze of lust that descended upon them every time they got a little too close. Harriet hadn’t yet worked out the co-ordinates of that invisible line - the one that separated close and too close - but she certainly knew when she’d crossed it. Except by then it was usually... always...too late.
Harriet stopped in front of his door gathering her courage. Tomorrow. She gripped the envelope tighter. She would be gone tomorrow and his signature would be on the papers and she could get on with her life. So she had to do this now. She’d had the papers since she’d arrived in this country over two months ago but part of her had held back. Somewhere inside there had still been a small kernel of hope. A little Pollyanna ray of sunshine that had believed she could truly convince him to change his mind. But two months of alternating between fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants medical drama and snatched moments of incredible can’t-get-enough-of-you sex hadn’t resolved anything. Sex they were great at. Marriage they weren’t.
Harriet took a moment to tie her gorgeous wavy hair back in a hastily constructed ponytail. He was going to look all messy-haired and sleepy and sexy as hell so she desperately needed to look no-nonsense. And he hated her hair tied back and for this task she needed him to hate her a little.
Harriet knocked on the door. The noise echoed loudly down the corridor and she hoped she hadn’t woken anyone else. All the surgical teams had been up until 1 a.m. and she didn’t think they’d appreciate such an early wake up call. But this had to be done. She’d put it off too long already. She heard a mumbled expletive on the other side of the door and smiled to herself as she pictured Gill emerging from under his pillow, staring at the clock and frowning. Please put a shirt on, she begged silently.
The door opened abruptly and Harriet was confronted with his magnificent naked chest. She looked into his grumpy face and watched as he bit of a retort and a slow lazy smile warmed his sleepy face. Oh hell! Of all the men in all the world she had to marry one that looked like a naughty angel.
“Harry,” he murmured. His morning voice stroked across her skin, sending every nerve ending in her body into a frenzy. She knew where the line was today. And she was standing on it.
“I’m sorry I woke you,” she said lifting her eyes off his smooth pectoral muscles and trying to shut down her peripheral vision so she couldn’t see the bulge of his naked biceps.
“I’m not,” he said.
Harriet frowned at him. He lifted a hand and caressed the St Christopher hanging from the delicate silver chain around her neck. He had a mouth that was made for kissing and Harriet could feel herself teetering on the line. She wanted to lean forward and draw his soft bottom lip into her mouth and bite it. She could feel his gentle tug on the necklace drawing her into the room. Harriet resisted. She knew that crossing the line was not what this was about. Give him the papers and go. Run like the wind.
Harriet brought the envelope up between them, abruptly displacing his hand.
“What’s this?” he asked a small smile playing on his lips and dancing in his grey eyes.
“Divorce papers,” she said, and felt stronger just saying the words.
Gill stared for a moment and shot her another slow smile as he took the envelope from her. He tossed it over his shoulder and Harriet heard it land on the floor behind him.
“Gill...” she chided softly. “I need you to sign them. It’s time.”
He stood to one side and gestured her into the room with a flourish of his deft surgeon’s hands. Harriet shook her head vehemently.
“No.” She knew what would happen if she put her foot over the line. His quarters were three meters by three and dominated by an unmade bed and an undressed man.
“Harriet,” he sighed, but she could see the sparkle of amusement lighting his eyes, “I’m not going to discuss our divorce with you in the corridor.”
His rich, deep voice oozed like warm chocolate, coating her in its sweet, sticky web. He held out his hand to her. It sounded so reasonable. She looked behind her at the empty hallway and hesitated briefly, before taking his hand and feeling the gentle tug pulling her over the line.
The marriage assignment
From "THE SURGEON'S MEANT-TO-BE BRIDE" by Amy Andrews