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up in his arms.
    He’d kissed her again when they were safely inside the helicopter, and she’d sat squashed up against him as it had risen and flown, squashed and in his arms, so her erratic heartbeats had normalised and she’d felt safe because they were his arms.
    ‘Will you ever get over the woman who left you for your brother?’
    He looked down at her, and there was something like compassion in his eyes that hurt her very much.
    ‘I have got over her. It’s my brother—but it’s more than that. I’m far too old for you.’ He stilled her sudden movement. ‘In experience, in the kind of life I’ve lived, and in the far too many women I’ve loved. What you need is someone with no murky past, who can share an optimistic future with you.’
    ‘And if I don’t want—?’
    ‘Bridget,’ he cut in, and released her hand to wipe away the tears that sparkled on her lashes with his thumbs. ‘If there’s one thing you can take away with you, it’s this: you were gorgeous in bed, and don’t let any guy with an oversize ego tell you otherwise. You be selective, now, and make sure you give the men who are not good enough for you the flick.’ He brushed awayanother tear and picked up her hand as his lips quirked. ‘Incidentally, I’m one of those.’
    ‘But I loved being in bed with you,’ she whispered brokenly.
    ‘There’s a lot more to it than that.’ He turned his head as an ambulance drove up and parked beside the helicopter. ‘Your limo has arrived, Mrs Smith.’ He raised her hand and kissed her knuckles again. ‘So it’s time to say goodbye. Take this with you.’
    He rummaged in a seat pocket until he came up with a pencil and piece of paper, upon which he wrote a telephone number.
    ‘If you need me, Bridget—’ his eyes were completely serious now ‘—in case of any unplanned… consequences , this number will always get a message to me.’
    Bridget took the piece of paper, but she couldn’t see what was written on it. Her eyes were blurred with tears. Then it came to her that there were two ways she could do this. As a tearful wreck, or…
    ‘And if you need me,’ she said, dashing at her eyes as she raised her hand beneath his to kiss his knuckles, ‘you know where to find me.’
    They stared into each other’s eyes until he said, very quietly, ‘Go, Bridget.’ His expression changed to harsh and controlled as a nerve flickered in his jaw, and he added, ‘Before you live to regret it.’
    Several hours later Adam Beaumont let himself into a hotel penthouse suite on the Gold Coast, and strode intothe bathroom to divest himself of the orange SES coveralls which had raised a few eyebrows in the hotel.
    He took a brisk shower, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, and padded through to the lounge.
    But with his hand on the telephone he paused and thought about Bridget. Was she still undergoing examination for any unseen injuries? Or was she at home now?
    It annoyed him momentarily to realise he couldn’t picture her ‘at home’ because he had no idea where she lived. And it worried him obscurely to think of her at home, wherever that was, and alone. Not only after her amazing and dangerous adventure, but after their spontaneous lovemaking.
    What had possessed him? he wondered rather grimly.
    She couldn’t have been less like the women he usually dated: soignée, sophisticated girls, well able to take care of themselves even when they discovered that he had no intention of marrying them. Not that he ever tried to hide it.
    As to why he had no intention of marrying them, was it only a case of once bitten, twice shy? Once betrayed by a woman, in other words? Well, there was also the disillusionment of his parents’ marriage at the back of his mind, but even that, painful as it had been as he grew up, did not equal his disbelief, the raw hurt, the anger and cynicism, the desire for revenge his now sister-in-law’s defection had provoked in him.
    Strangely, though, he hadn’t thought