Reunited In The Snow. Amalie Berlin

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      She’d just stopped outside his door, with eye contact that pulled at him like gravity, and dragged memories into the front of his mind. The way she smelled fresh from the shower. Or better, first thing in the morning when she had his scent all over her, and it all mingled together. His cabin didn’t smell like home still.

      The sudden heat returned, and he noticed the inconsistency of it—the whole front of him on fire, and his spine like an ice core down his back, a frozen ice dagger digging into the base of his skull. Twisting. Tangling the nerves there, spaghetti-style.

      “I’ve got a meeting, so you and Jordan sort them out,” Tony called from the door as West bent to gather up the paper he’d dropped.

      “Right.”

      He sighed hard enough to waft paper off the top of the pile.

      Just get through the next couple of hours. That was the only thing to do.

      Then she could go back home now and management would have time to get another doctor in there, someone suited to the winter, and he wouldn’t have to spend the next eight months thinking about her and wondering if the woman who lived in the sunshine was all right with the unending dark of Antarctic night. He needed a fresh start. Another fresh start.

      “You all right?” Tony’s voice came from behind him, still there. Not gone.

      And still no answer to give. At least, that he wanted to give. Far from all right. He hadn’t been all right for months, why should today be better?

      “Not sleeping great,” he said. It was the only thing he could think of that wasn’t a lie.

      “Are you taking the sleep aids?”

      “Aye.” He stood. If they were going to talk about his health, he’d say something again about Tony’s. The man was going to overwinter to head some project for NASA, and his weight loss would become more of an issue soon. “You still tryin’ to increase calories? You’re too thin.”

      Tony dropping inches was more of an issue than West’s sleep troubles.

      Tony redirected, ignoring his question. “Get Jordan to do a thyroid check on you when you’re done with the newbies.”

      “Checked last week, man.” West reminded him about that, too, refusing the redirect. “You do the same. Forgetfulness is a T3 symptom.”

      “Fine, fine.”

      Which meant no.

      “Threw me straight out of the bunk.” Jordan’s voice came from the door providing the interruption Tony needed to slip out. He heard Lia’s voice in reply and had to force himself not to look at her until his thundering heart slowed.

      That was one thing he had going for him with this—no matter how riled up, Lia was a quiet talker. If she insisted on having it out with him, he could get her into a treatment bay, close the door, and whatever she had to say to him wouldn’t carry through the walls. So long as he kept his voice down. The walls between the cabins were paper-thin, but not in the medical center.

      But that would entail giving Lia a physical… The thought shouldn’t make that heat burrowing into his chest grow, dip lower, grow hotter. The very last thing he should do was touch her in any capacity. It would snowball. It always snowballed. He had no restraint around her. Even wanting to avoid the conversation he knew was coming, he still wanted to look at her. He still wanted to touch her.

      He picked up the stack of folders and turned to find both Jordan and Lia watching him. Waiting for him to say something. Too bad.

      A quick sort of the folders, and he handed three to the other doctor, making sure Lia’s was on top.

      “Tony wants everyone done ASAP.”

      Jordan shared a look with Lia, but took the folders.

      “If you’re planning to ignore me the rest of your time at the station, get ready to be annoyed.” Lia finally spoke, soft voice, pointed words.

      It was still the three of them, waiting on the arrival of the rest of the new crew. He could risk saying something short. He just didn’t know what to say, other than a direct response or ignoring her.

      “I’m already annoyed.”

      He finally let himself look at her again, holding her gaze for a second before the curious presence of pink on her head had him looking up, and then down over her, cataloging differences between the woman before him and the one he’d known in London.

      Tired. Tanned. Pink hat. She hated pink. Wispy brunette curls poked out from beneath the folded brim, longer than the short, edgy pixie she was known for. The effect was the same, drawing all focus to her soft, feminine features.

      “Welcome to my life,” she said, words still softly spoken in her usual custom, but with steel he’d never been able to resist. Strength he’d long admired. Strength he’d once upon a time pictured in her as the mother to his children. The kind of mother like he’d never experienced, and which might not even exist. A mother who would fight and die to protect her children.

      Another life. Another future he’d failed to build.

      “You seriously want to do this here?”

      She didn’t answer him. A couple of seconds passed, and she just turned to Jordan. “Can you do mine first? I’m the only one here, and I’m really tired from the trip. It’s amazing I’m upright.”

      Shutting him out was fine. Shutting him out was perfect.

      Showdown at least momentarily averted, he headed off to the side of the room where he could spread the files on the countertop for review. It gave him something to do. He’d take anything that dulled the knife at his neck, and helped him ignore the pull she exuded. It was all he could do.

       CHAPTER TWO

      ONCE WEST HAD made a decision he did his best to move on it. Over the hours between Lia’s arrival and the dragged-out end of his shift, he’d decided the only way to handle things was to tackle his Lia problem head-on, as brutally as his conscience would allow.

      The circumstances of his shift only served to wrench up his irritation—two of his three assigned physicals had showed up, but the third, a recalcitrant astrophysicist, had ignored multiple calls to the telescope. Then, five minutes before the end of his shift, an emergency bone-setting had dragged his shift out an extra hour.

      By the time he made it to her cabin door, some of his gut-swirling panic had settled into annoyance, and he let it. Was glad for it. Annoyance helped keep fond memories at bay. He didn’t need anything making him want to go to her, talk to her, make her smile. Kiss her. Even if he could drum up anger for her, he doubted he’d still want to be outside of her presence. Ever.

      The only way to handle this was to make sure she didn’t want him, make sure she hadn’t come all the way to Antarctica to try and reconcile. Make sure she understood they were done.

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