The Flyer Read Online Free PDF Page B

God-fearing way of life.
    That’s what they had to look forward to.
    He’d never thought about it much, but hell, he’d hate to see those amazing legs hidden behind too much wool.
    Too bad he couldn’t remember the feel of his hands on her…
    Still, his fingers tingled. Her hair was as soft as a newborn lamb. He knew it, somehow.
    Beneath the short, black dress, hanging in pleats around her knees below a wide belt that hugged her hips, her calves were muscled and just the right size, too. Try as he might, however, he couldn’t remember them wrapped around him last night.
    “They’ve been outside for more than an hour, clamoring for your attention. You should say a few words about heroism. Or foolish whimsy, perhaps?”
    Paul scanned Doc’s parlor, adding his location to the mystery of his throbbing injury. Obviously, he’d been hurt last night. The last thing he remembered clearly was sliding onto a high stool at the bar in Grogg’s Pub and buying the first shout of the evening. It had been followed by several more than several shouts from his mates.
    He continued to strain his memory. Something had happened … Bessie.
    He’d nailed it. Last night, he’d killed the croc and nearly died doing it. That’s why he’d come to Doc’s place.
    Then it hit him. Like a bullet right between the bloody eyes. The woman was a doctor. She’d treated him. And then …
    He’d made a pass.
    Blasted
.
    He forced himself to stand and did his best to ignore the increased pounding in the back of his head. Tried to steady himself. He hadn’t been that drunk in years, not since before the Great War when his youth had been responsible for … well, for his irresponsibility.
    Crikey, he’d been stupid to slide into the billabong last night. He hid a sigh by wiping one hand over his mouth and scratching the full day’s growth of beard on his chin.
    Helen Stanwood, if he remembered her name correctly, faced him. The accusing expression on her face hadn’t changed. The eyebrow still cocked at him like a loaded Enfield. “You’re hardly presentable. But I’m afraid you’ll need to have your friends disperse just the same. This is a medical clinic, after all. Not a circus.”
    “Too right,” he answered, somehow mesmerized by the chastising glare she sent him. Even censure couldn’t hide the fact she was more than beautiful. More than sensual.
    He pushed away the image. She had no idea who he was, and with any luck, she’d forget the advance he’d made the night before.
    When he reached the door, he pulled it open gently, already fearing the increase in the noise level would send him straight to his knees.
    He braced himself, holding to the door with a tight grip.
    The moderately sized crowd of local citizens cheered when they saw him. Shrilling, loud, and with an enthusiasm that turned his already-sour stomach.
    Tim O’Leary hung off to one side. He approached Paul, his hat tilted back slightly, and whistled. “They wouldn’t leave, mate. They all heard about what you did last night.”
    Paul frowned while he glared at Tim. “I wonder how that happened.” He raised his free hand, signaling the crowd to settle down. When the roar faded to a rippling murmur, he smiled. “Now, folks, I didn’t do anything to warrant such attention, did I? I appreciate your sentiments, but I’m as pleased as the rest of you that the De Grey’s shores will be a might safer for the next little bit. Go on home, and I’ll be happy to regale you with the adventure some other time.”
    Several groans of disappointment grew from the crowd. He waved them away and slowly, the group thinned.
    A shock of white, neatly combed hair bobbed through the mass of people. Doc reached the steps and paused. “You’re cracked, you know that?”
    Paul smiled. “Aye. So you’ve told me before.”
    “He’s been cracked since he was born, Doc,” Tim added, before tipping his hat and escaping in the direction of Grogg’s Pub. To embellish last night’s