Free Raphaela's Gift by Sydney Allan Page A

his back to the remaining rafters. Catching Faith by the arm, he gently swung her around, and they walked away. "Damn adrenaline junkies," he cursed.
    She shrugged her shoulders as she fell into step beside him.
    As Garret walked, his fear and anger eased, replaced with the strange peace that always came after a tense moment. He remembered that feeling, a strange mix of relief and elation, which followed the many successful traumas he'd experienced in the emergency room.
    He looked at Faith. "Thanks for helping me back there."
    "I didn't do much," she whispered.
    He glanced at her. "Yes. You did."
    "I kind of forced you to go down there. It was the least I could do--"
    He stopped walking. "No one forced me to do anything."
    Her cheeks flushed pink as she nodded.
    A brusque wind lifted her hair, sweeping one strand across her cheek and another curling around her jaw. She shook her head to send them from her face, and a bolt of heat shot up his spine.
    Since when did a woman's hair blowing in the wind turn him on?
    He looked away; his unwelcome reaction was undoubtedly the result of over three years of abstinence and the day's excitement.
    "How long do you think it'll take us to get back to the lodge?" he asked, beginning to walk again. He glanced down at his watch. Somehow, two hours had passed. Marian would be furious. But then again, he wasn't about to let her moods afflict him.
    "Well, we're going uphill now, and I don't know about you, but I've done more than my fair share of running for one day."
    He glanced at her and realized she still limped from her turned ankle. He gently caught her arm to stop her. "Are you okay? Sorry, this whole, 'I'll be a hero and rescue someone' thing was a bad idea. I shouldn't have let you come down here with me, not with that twisted ankle. You could have hurt it worse."
    She smiled. "What are you talking about? It was my idea, remember? And I wouldn't have listened to you, anyway. Besides, you were truly heroic."
    Ignoring the adulation he saw in her wide-eyed expression, he said, "I'm not a hero."
    "Yes, you are." She dropped her gaze from his, and long dark eyelashes brushed her flushed skin. She looked so young at that moment. Idealistic and damned sexy. "You've done something I haven't been able to do."
    He rested an index finger under her chin and coaxed it up. This woman's chin did not belong dropped against her chest. Ever.
    She hesitantly met his gaze. "It's really hard to admit this." She shrunk from his touch, and he didn't try to reach for her again. "Since we met, I thought you were so smart, so sharp and together. You had an attitude, were cocky and defensive, but I just attributed that to our program. I know what many psychiatrists say about Mountain Rise."
    She stopped next to a hollowed out tree stump and sat down, then reached down to slip first one shoe and then the other off her feet.
    He waited, his breathing shallower than he would have expected, considering they weren't running.
    "I faced the same thing one day--in a different way, though--as you did today," she continued. "Everyone watching you, waiting for you to perform some sort of miracle, while deep inside you don't have any idea what you should do."
    The truth in her summary stung, yet he bit back a defense. She hadn't said it in a judgmental way. Still he flamed at the thought of that moment, of everyone looking at him. Despite the fact that doctors were always being observed, he'd never been comfortable being watched and criticized, his every action questioned Had his insecurities been that obvious?
    "You see, the difference between us is simple. You stayed. I ran." She stood up and walked past him on the narrow path. As her shoulder brushed his, the wind stirred her hair again. A lock settled upon her lips.
    He wanted to reach out and pluck the strand from her mouth. In its place, he wanted to plant his own mouth. His hand lifted, a fingertip briefly touching her lip. A jolt leapt up his arm, sending a wave of