Dear Reader

As I started writing this book about a surrogate mother who keeps her baby I automatically called it my ‘bad surrogate’ story. Poor Gemma. The last way she should be described is as a bad surrogate.

Needless to say my heroine with a difference has a very genuine and valid reason for keeping her baby. But she’s been labelled that way by the press after a prolonged court case and she comes to the Scottish island of Arran for a fresh start for her and her daughter.

Arran is a beautiful island just off the west coast of Scotland. The places described on the island are factual, as is Crocodile Rock on Millport, the Isle of Cumbrae, but the people, of course, are entirely fictional.

My hero Logan has lived on the island most of his life and has a real connection with and love for the people there. But like in any small community as soon as he’s seen with the new lady doctor rumours start to fly.

Logan turns out to be Gemma’s knight in shining armour—only his white horses are on the sea rather than on dry land!

I love to hear from readers. Feel free to contact me via my website: www.scarlet-wilson.com

Happy reading!

Love

Scarlet

SCARLET WILSON wrote her first story aged eight and has never stopped. Her family have fond memories of Shirley and the Magic Purse, with its army of mice, all with names beginning with the letter ‘M’. An avid reader, Scarlet started with every Enid Blyton book, moved on to the Chalet School series and many years later found Mills & Boon®.

She trained and worked as a nurse and health visitor, and currently works in public health. For her, finding Mills & Boon® Medical Romance™ is a match made in heaven. She is delighted to find herself among the authors she has read for many years.

Scarlet lives on the West Coast of Scotland with her fiancé and their two sons.

A Mother’s Secret

Scarlet Wilson

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Recent titles by Scarlet Wilson:

200 HARLEY STREET: GIRL FROM THE RED CARPET† HER FIREFIGHTER UNDER THE MISTLETOE ABOUT THAT NIGHT …** THE MAVERICK DOCTOR AND MISS PRIM** AN INESCAPABLE TEMPTATION HER CHRISTMAS EVE DIAMOND A BOND BETWEEN STRANGERS* WEST WING TO MATERNITY WING! THE BOY WHO MADE THEM LOVE AGAIN IT STARTED WITH A PREGNANCY *The Most Precious Bundle of All **Rebels with a Cause †200 Harley Street

These books are also available in eBook format from www.millsandboon.co.uk

Dedication

This book is dedicated to my long-suffering work colleagues and partners in crime Kathleen Winter and Sharon Hardie.

Is it Friday yet?

It’s also dedicated to my lovely, shiny new editor Laurie Johnson.

I’m sure I’ll wear you down at some point!

Praise for Scarlet Wilson:

‘HER CHRISTMAS EVE DIAMOND is a fun and interesting read. If you like a sweet romance with just a touch of the holiday season you’ll like this one.’

—harlequinjunkie.com

‘WEST WING TO MATERNITY WING! is a tender, poignant and highly affecting romance that is sure to bring a tear to your eye. With her gift for creating wonderful characters, her ability to handle delicately and compassionately sensitive issues and her talent for writing believable, emotional and spellbinding romance, the talented Scarlet Wilson continues to prove to be a force to be reckoned with in the world of contemporary romantic fiction!’

—cataromance.com

Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

EPILOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

‘LOOK, MUMMY, THAT’S our island!’

Isla was bouncing up and down and pointing through the ship’s railings. Gemma put her bags at her feet and rested her elbows on the railings. ‘Yes,’ she said quietly, ‘it is.’

The ship gave another shudder as it moved away from Ardrossan Harbour and out into the Firth of Clyde. Arran looked so close she could almost reach out and touch it. But, then, it had looked that way the whole time they had driven along the Ayrshire coast.

Her stomach gave a little flip—and it wasn’t from the choppy waters. Her hand settled on Isla’s shoulder next to her little red curls—the only permanent reminder of her father. This would be better. This would be safer for them both.

A chance for a new start. A chance for some down time.

A chance to meet some new friends who knew nothing about her past and wouldn’t stand in judgement of her. Glasgow and the surrounding area had been just too small. Everywhere she’d gone someone had known Patrick or Lesley. They’d gone to medical school together, or been on a course with one of them, or knew a neighbour. The list was endless.

As were the whispers. The bad surrogate. The woman who’d made the papers when she’d ‘stolen’ another couple’s baby. Not strictly true. But true enough that it had caused her a world of pain, a court case and five years of sleepless nights.

But now it was finally over. Now she could finally move on.

Now, in accordance with the law, Isla was officially hers.

She stared out across the water. Arran. Twenty miles long and ten miles across. A population of ten thousand that swelled to twenty thousand over the summer holidays.

It was perfect. Even down to the cottage she’d purchased over the internet for her and Isla to stay in. Two days’ work as a paediatrician all year long and one day’s work as a GP over the busy summer months. That, along with an occasional emergency shift in the island hospital, would be more than enough.

Some of her friends thought she was crazy, moving to a place she’d only ever visited on summer holidays as a child and making a new life there. Taking up a new job with some extra part-time hours when she hadn’t even sorted out her childcare for Isla yet.

That did make her stomach give a little flip. But she’d had long conversations with the head of the GP practice and he’d assured her he had a few people in mind he could vouch for to help with Isla’s care.

Time with Isla was precious. She was starting school in August. And although properties on the island could be expensive, the sale of her flat in Glasgow had given her a healthy profit. She didn’t need a big income. She wasn’t looking to be a millionaire. She just needed enough to keep her and Isla comfortable.

‘Mummy, can we look at our new house again?’

The brisk sea wind was whipping their hair around their faces. The sun was shining brightly but the wind was cutting straight through the thin material of her summer dress. Maybe she’d been a little over-optimistic when she’d dressed that morning. It was always the same in Scotland, the first glimmer of sunshine and the entire nation pulled out their summer clothes in case it was the only chance they got to wear them. Gemma held out her hand. ‘Let’s go inside and get something to drink. We can look at the pictures again then.’

They settled in with tea, orange juice and two crumpets with jam. Isla pulled the crumpled piece of paper from Gemma’s bag for the hundredth time. She flicked over the pages, her little finger stroking down the paper over the pictures. ‘My room’s going to be yellow, isn’t it, Mummy? It will be so-o-o beautiful.’

She had that little wistful tone in her voice, with the slightly dreamy edge to it. Isla hadn’t wanted to move at first. She was only five but the thought of starting school without her nursery friends had caused her lots of sleepless nights. It had almost been a relief when she’d started to romanticise about their new house and her new bedroom—all set on a Scottish island.

The extra expense of buying her a whole new range of bedroom furniture, along with letting her pick her own curtains and bedding, had been worth every penny.

Gemma had arranged with a local contractor to paint the inside of her house before they arrived. The removals van had left a few hours before them and caught the earlier ferry. Hopefully, by the time she got there most things would have been unpacked and the new carpet she’d bought for the living room would be in place.

She was trying not to concentrate on the fact that the contractor hadn’t answered her emails or phone calls for the last few days. She’d had more than enough to think about. He was probably busy—busy in her new house, making it ready for their arrival. At least, she hoped he was.

The ferry journey was smooth enough. Thankfully Isla hardly seemed to notice the occasional wave swell and Gemma finally started to relax.

Isla had started to draw a picture with her crayons. ‘Look, Mummy, here we are on our new island.’

Gemma took a sip of her tea. ‘Who is that?’ she asked, pointing to a third figure in the drawing.

‘That’s your new boyfriend.’

Her tea splattered all over the table and halfway down her chin. ‘What?’ She grabbed napkins and mopped furiously.

Isla gave her the glance of a worldly eighty-year-old instead of an innocent five-year-old child. ‘We might be able to find you a boyfriend on the island, Mummy. We couldn’t in Glasgow.’

There was so much innocence in her words. Isla had never, ever mentioned Gemma’s lack of a boyfriend before. It had never been an issue. Never come up. But she’d obviously given it some thought. ‘Tammy’s mummy at nursery got a new boyfriend. He bought Tammy a laptop and took her to the transport museum.’

Ah. She was starting to understand. Understand in little-girl terms.

‘I think they might all be taken. Arran’s quite a small island. And Mummy really doesn’t have time for a boyfriend. She’s starting a new job and we need to visit your new school.’ She ruffled Isla’s red curls. ‘Anyway, you’re much too young for a laptop.’

Isla shook her head, her little face instantly serious. ‘I think I might need one when I go to school. I don’t want to be the only person without one, Mummy.’

Her blue eyes were completely sincere. If it had been anyone else in the world Gemma would think she was being played. But she already knew that her five-year-old had concerns about making friends and fitting in at a new school. Sometimes she felt Isla was too old for her years.

Gemma had tried her best. But the flat in central Glasgow hadn’t exactly been the most sociable area for kids. Isla really only had her friends to play with at nursery, and then again on the odd occasion she’d been invited to a party. Juggling full-time work, childcare and single parenthood wasn’t easy.

And that had been part of the problem. Part of the reason she’d wanted to get away to a different style of life for her and her daughter. Being a full-time paediatrician in a busy city was frantic. Particularly when a sick kid came in minutes before you were due to finish. Thank goodness for an understanding childminder. But even she’d had her limits and had eventually told Gemma she was struggling.

She gave Isla a smile. ‘I’ve seen photos of your new school. They’ve got some lovely computers there. I’m sure the teachers will let you work on them.’

Her phone buzzed in her pocket once, then went silent again. Weren’t they still in the middle of the Firth of Clyde? Apparently not. She turned her head. They looked only moments from the island. She pulled her phone from her pocket. It was an unknown number and her signal had vanished. This was supposed to be the best network for the island but it looked as though the coverage wasn’t as good as she’d been promised.

Looked like she still had a lot to learn about Arran.

A loud passenger announcement made her curiosity around the phone call instantly vanish.

‘All passengers, please return to your vehicles prior to arrival in Brodick.’

‘That’s us, Mummy!’

Gemma smiled and took a last gulp of her tea. Isla’s hand automatically fitted inside her own and she gave it a little squeeze as they joined the queue to file down to the car deck.

Her little red car was packed to the rafters. There was barely room for her and Isla to scramble back inside and get their seat belts in place. The removal van was similarly packed and the costs of moving to an island had proved much more prohibitive than moving somewhere inland. As a result most of their clothes were squashed into the car around them, along with a large amount of Isla’s toys.

She tried to remember the directions that she’d been given as the cars slowly trundled off the ferry. It wasn’t too far between Brodick and Lamlash—the capital of the island and the place where they would be staying—and the journey was over in ten minutes.

It didn’t take long to find the house and her heart gave a little flutter when she saw it. Their new home.

Gemma spotted the removals van immediately. There were also a number of men, dressed in their uniforms of black T-shirts and matching trousers. They’d been ruthlessly efficient back in Glasgow, their removal expertise putting her to shame. Trouble was—right now, none of them were moving.

She pulled the car up outside the cottage and couldn’t help the smile that appeared on her face and Isla squealed in excitement. ‘Is this it, Mummy?’

Gemma nodded and helped Isla from the car. The cottage was everything she’d hoped for—two bedrooms, a study and a small conservatory on the back. That, combined with a view over the Firth of Clyde, was more perfect than she could have imagined.

There were even little shutters at the windows. From the look of them they were only decorative and could do with a lick of paint. But they added to the character and she loved them immediately.

Before she could stop her, Isla had raced through the open front door.

Gemma gave her hair a shake, pleased to be out of the stuffy car on such a clammy day. One of the removals men approached her straight away. Her stomach was already jittery with nerves. ‘Something wrong, Frank?’

He nodded. ‘I think so.’ He pointed to the front door. There, sitting next to the steps, was a row of large paint tins. Gemma walked over for a closer look—pale yellow for Isla’s room, mocha for her own bedroom, magnolia for the hall and living room. There was a tightly wrapped parcel at the end of the row. She peeled back some of the wrapping to reveal the purple wallpaper she’d picked for the feature wall in her living room.

Her brow furrowed. ‘What’s all this doing here? I’d an arrangement with a local contractor to have painted and decorated for us before we got here.’

Frank shrugged. ‘He’s obviously bought the materials and intended to do it. Something must have happened.’

Gemma let out a sigh and walked into her cottage. There it was. That instant feeling.

It made her catch her breath.

People said that you made up your mind in the first thirty seconds when you viewed a house. And even though the deal was done Gemma knew immediately she’d made the right decision. She walked around. Some of her furniture and most of her boxes had already been put in some of the rooms.

She ran her finger along the wall. The place looked a little tired. If it had been decorated it would have been perfect. But she could live with it in its current state. If need be, she could do the painting herself.

Frank tapped her shoulder. ‘There’s another little issue.’ He pointed back outside.

Gemma followed him to find her brand-new purple sofa sitting in the driveway. ‘What’s wrong?’

He pointed to the doorway. ‘It’s too small. We can’t get it in.’

She spun around. ‘You’re joking, right?’

He shook his head. ‘Did you ask for the dimensions of the door before you bought it?’

She could feel the colour flare into her cheeks. Of course she hadn’t. She’d fallen in love with the colour immediately, and once she’d sat in it in the showroom her mind had been made up. Dimensions hadn’t even entered her brain. Not once. ‘Could we take the door off?’

He shook his head. ‘We’ve already tried that. It’s just too big.’

Just like she thought. Ruthlessly efficient. She’d half a mind to invite these removal contractors to work with her in one of the big hospitals in Glasgow to see what changes they would make. They would probably have the whole rambling hospital running seamlessly in a matter of days.

One of the other men approached. ‘I’ve checked the back window—the one that’s broken and boarded up. If we take out the window frame we might get it in there.’

‘I’ve got a broken window?’ She was trying not to let her chin dangle open. This was just getting better and better.

‘You didn’t know?’

She shook her head, her long strides taking her back into the house and following the pointing fingers to the window at the back of her living room. There were a few remnants of broken glass caught in the window frame, but someone had done a good job clearing up the floor and ensuring it was spotless. The carpet in this room had been slightly worn and damaged in the pictures she’d seen so she’d given instructions for it to be lifted. Her new carpet was currently rolled up inside the removal van, waiting to be fitted—another aspect of the efficient company.

She touched the edge of the window. ‘I knew nothing about this. I guess I’ll need to phone the estate agent.’ She sighed. ‘If taking the frame out is the only way to get the sofa in then just go ahead.’

Two other men appeared with the underlay and carpet, ready to fit it. One of them gave her a smile. ‘I take it you just want us to go ahead, lift the old carpet and get the new one laid?’

She gave a little nod. She’d have to worry about paint stains later. The removals company had covered just about every angle. It was just a pity the decorator hadn’t fulfilled his duties.

Her phone rang sharply and she pulled it out of her pocket.

‘Dr Halliday? Are you here yet?’ It was a deep voice and one she didn’t recognise.

‘That depends. What “here” do you mean? And who are you?’

‘Sorry. It’s Logan Scott. One of the GPs you’ll be working with. I needed to see if you could cover a shift.’

She let out a laugh. ‘Cover a shift? I’ve just got here. And my house isn’t painted. A window’s broken, I haven’t unpacked a thing and I would have no one to look after my daughter. So, Dr Scott, I don’t think I’ll be covering any shifts any time soon.’ She winced at the snarky tone in her voice. She was taking her frustrations out on a perfect stranger—and, worse still, a new workmate.

‘You have a daughter? I didn’t know that.’

She felt herself bristle. What did that mean? And what business of his was it that she had a daughter? But he continued, ‘You’re at the cottage? I’ll be there in two minutes.’

Before she could say another thing he’d hung up. She shook her head and walked back inside, just in time to see the wooden board being taken off the window and the window frame being slid out of place.

The underlay was already down on the floor and was being anchored in place. These removal guys really didn’t waste any time. Then again, she could bet none of them wanted to risk missing the last ferry home and being stranded for the night. She’d been warned in advance that the Arran ferry could be cancelled at the first gust of wind.

She walked along to Isla’s room. Her bed was nestled in the corner with the new bedding and curtains sitting on top of it. Isla was on the floor with one of her boxes upended and toys spread across the floor. She was already in a world all of her own.

Gemma’s eyes ran over the room and she gave a groan. No curtain poles. She hadn’t even given it a thought. She’d just assumed there would be some still in place. Another thing to add to the list.

Isla’s oak wardrobe and chest of drawers had been put in place—in the exact spots where Gemma would have positioned them herself. Most of Isla’s clothes were in the car—still on their hangers—it would only take a few minutes to pick them up and start to get Isla’s room ready.

She walked outside and opened her car door. The wind was starting to whip her dress around her legs and she grabbed it as she leaned inside to grab a handful of Isla’s clothes. The last hanger slid from her hands on to the floor between the front seats and the back. She leaned further, her feet leaving the ground as she stretched as far as she could, just as the biggest gust of wind caught her dress and billowed it upwards.

‘Well, there’s a sight I don’t see every day.’

‘What?’ Panic filled her chest as her cheeks flared with heat. Her left hand thrust out behind her and caught the wayward fabric of her dress, pulling it back firmly over her underwear as she scrambled back out the car, pulling Isla’s clothes with her. Several of the items landed on the ground at her feet. So much for keeping everything on their hangers to save time.

She pushed her hair out of her face. She couldn’t really see properly. The cheeky stranger was standing with his back to the bright sun, which was glaring directly at her.

‘Look, Mummy!’ shouted Isla. ‘There’s one! I told you we’d find you a boyfriend on Arran!’

Her eyes adjusted. Oh, no. Just what she needed. A tall, almost dark and very handsome stranger with a smattering of stubble across his face. Her biggest vice.

Ground, open up and swallow me now. Complete and utter mortification.

What else could go wrong?

* * *

Logan didn’t know who to be more amused with. The little girl for just embarrassing her mum to death, or the rogue dress and sea winds, which had just given him a glimpse of some lovely pink satin underwear.

He held out his hand. He’d love to stay here all day, but he really needed to get things sorted. ‘Logan Scott. It’s a pleasure to meet you.’ There it was. The light floral scent that he’d thought was floating in the air was actually coming from her. Hmm. He could get used to that.

Her cheeks were scarlet. Her long curly brown hair with lighter tips was flapping around her face like mad, caught in the brisk sea winds, and her dress was once again joining in the fun. He hadn’t expected her to look quite so young. Then again, he hadn’t expected her to have a child either. Maybe he should have paid a little more attention when his colleagues had said they had recruited someone for the summer.

The dress was really playing havoc with her. Now the pink and white material was plastered back across her body, revealing every curve, every slope and the outline of her underwire bra. Having glimpsed one half of her underwear he tried not to wonder if it was a matching set.

It was obvious she was trying to collect her thoughts. She held out her slim hand towards his outstretched one and grasped it firmly—as if she was trying to prove a point. ‘Are you always so forward with your colleagues, Dr Scott?’

He shrugged his shoulders. ‘Only if they look like you. Welcome to Arran, Dr Halliday.’

The little girl waved her hand. ‘Come and see my new room, it’s beautiful.’

Gemma tucked her hair behind her ears and thrust the pile of clothes she had in her hands towards him. Her embarrassment was still apparent, but it was clear she intended to get past it. ‘You might as well make yourself useful. These are Isla’s. Just hang them up in her cupboard.’

For a second he was stunned. Then a smile crept across his face. It wasn’t any more presumptuous than he’d just been. Maybe he’d just met his female equivalent?

He followed the little red-haired girl into the house and fumbled with her clothes. Most of the hangers had tangled together and some of the dresses landed in a heap at his feet as he tried to slot them in the wooden wardrobe.

‘Careful with this one. It’s my favourite.’

She held up a pale blue dress with some obvious netting underneath. A little-girl princess-style dress. The kind of thing his sister would love.

He took the dress and carefully put it on a hanger. ‘There we go. Do you want to hang it up yourself?’

She shook her head, her curls bouncing around her. ‘No. Mum says that’s your job.’ Like mother, like daughter.

‘How old are you, Isla? It is Isla, isn’t it?’

She smiled. One of her front teeth was missing. ‘I’m five. I’ll be going to the big school after the summer.’

He nodded. ‘There’s a lovely primary school just around the corner. I’ll show you it later if you like.’ He pointed to her tooth. ‘Did the tooth fairy come?’

She rolled her eyes and planted her hands on her hips. ‘No, silly. The tooth fairy only comes if a tooth falls out by itself.’

He straightened his back. ‘Why, what happened to yours?’

She sighed. She’d gone back to her dolls and had obviously lost interest in him now. ‘I got it knocked out when I was playing football.’

He blinked. So the little curly-haired redhead who liked princess dresses was actually a tomboy?

Gemma appeared at the door with another pile of clothes, which she started automatically hanging in the wardrobe. ‘I can see Isla’s entertaining you with her terrifying tales.’

Logan gave a slow nod. ‘Football?’

Gemma nodded. ‘Football. Is there a team she can join?’

‘At five?’

‘Yes. She was in a mixed team back in Glasgow. They played in a mini-league.’

Logan leaned against the wall and folded his arms. ‘I think the primary school has a football team, but I’m sure it’s the primary six and sevens. We can ask at the surgery, someone is bound to know.’

Gemma finished hanging her clothes and turned around. ‘I’m not really sure what you’re doing here, Logan. I certainly won’t be ready to start work for a while. Look around. My contractor hasn’t appeared and one of the windows is broken.’ She ran her hand through her tangled hair. ‘And I have no idea where to start with that one. The estate agent isn’t even answering her phone.’

Logan glanced at his watch. ‘That’s because it’s a Thursday and it’s two o’clock. Nancy Connelly will be getting her hair done.’

Gemma’s chin almost bounced off the floor. What did she expect? Logan had spent most of his life on this island and could tell her the ins, outs and daily habits of just about everyone.

She started shaking her head. ‘Well, that’s not much use to me, is it? I would have thought she would have the courtesy to call me and let me know that my property had been damaged. I’m going to have to find out who can do replacement windows around here, and then I’m obviously going to have to find an alternative contractor since the one I’ve paid hasn’t done his job.’

It sounded like the start of a rant. No, maybe that was unfair. She’d just arrived on a strange island with her little girl and probably wanted to get settled in straight away. At least she’d planned ahead. Her cottage was supposed to be ready just to walk into, and the reality was she wasn’t supposed to start at the GP surgery for another few weeks. He was going to have to appeal to her better nature—and just hope that she had one.

He put up his hands. ‘Whoa. I’m sorry. I should have got to the point but you’re a bit like a whirlwind around here. Harry Burns was your contractor. The reason the work hasn’t been started is because Harry had an MI last week—just after he’d delivered your paint to start decorating. The reason the window is broken is because he was up on a ladder, cleaning out your guttering, when he fell off.’

Gemma put her hand up to her mouth. ‘He had a heart attack here? At my house? And why on earth was he cleaning my guttering?’

Logan shrugged. ‘Because that’s just Harry. He saw it needed doing, and thought he would help out. He was lucky. He usually works by himself, but his fourteen-year-old grandson was with him that day. He called us and we were lucky enough to get him to the hospital in time.’

Gemma took a deep breath. ‘Do you have facilities for things like that? I thought most of the emergency stuff had to go to the mainland?’

Logan picked his words carefully. He didn’t want to vent his frustration on their new doctor. It often took newcomers a while to adjust to what could and couldn’t be done on a small island. ‘We can treat MIs with rtPA—the same as they would get in a coronary care unit. What we can’t do is an immediate angioplasty to find the problem. So we treat the clot, ensure they’re stable then transfer them to the mainland for further treatment.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Your new window should be on the two o’clock ferry. We ordered it last week and they said they would supply and fit it today.’

There it was. A little colour appearing in her cheeks. She blushed easily—obviously embarrassed about her earlier almost-rant of frustration.

‘Oh, I see. Thank you.’

Logan knew he should probably stop there. But he couldn’t. He cared about the people on this island. ‘Do you have to have the work done straight away? Can you wait a while? Harry is already upset about the window. If he hadn’t had a heart attack I can guarantee the job would have been done perfectly for your arrival.’

Gemma looked around her. Isla seemed oblivious to the décor. The walls were marked here and there, with the odd little dent in the plasterwork—all things that Harry had been paid to fix. Did it really matter if she had to wait a few weeks for the house to be painted, and for her feature wall to be papered in the living room? Who else was going to see the house but her and Isla?

In an ideal world, her room would have been painted before she laid the new carpet, but she wasn’t prepared to wait. Which was just as well as the men were almost finished. They were poised outside, waiting to try and fit her sofa through the window.

She placed her hands on her hips as she took a few steps down the corridor. The place really wasn’t too bad. It just needed freshening up. ‘I suppose it’s not the end of the world to wait a few weeks. I guess Harry will need around six weeks to make a full recovery. But I don’t want him to be pressured into working before he’s ready. Maybe it would be less pressure on him if he knew someone else had done the job?’

He understood her reasoning. It was rational. It was also considerate. But this woman had obviously never met Harry Burns.

He shook his head; he couldn’t help a smile appearing on his face. ‘Actually, if I tell Harry someone else is doing it, his blood pressure will probably go through the roof and he’ll have another heart attack.’

She smiled. A genuine smile that reached right up into her warm brown eyes. ‘Well, I guess that would never do, then, would it?’

He shook his head. She was mellowing. She seemed a little calmer. But then again, she’d just moved house—one of the most stressful things to do. That, along with the fact she was about to start a new job, meant her own blood pressure was probably through the roof. He was leaving out the most obvious fact. The one that it seemed highly likely she was a single parent.

There was no sign of any man. And all the clothes packed into the back of the little red car were obviously hers and her daughter’s.

His curiosity was definitely piqued. But he couldn’t show it—not for a second. On an island like Arran they’d have him huckled up the aisle in the blink of an eye and all his mother’s cronies would have their knitting needles out and asking about babies.

‘About work...’ he started. That was better. That was the reason he was here.

‘What about it?’ she said absentmindedly, as she opened a drawer and started emptying a bag of little-girl underwear into it. ‘I think I’m supposed to meet Sam Allan next Tuesday. He’s the head of the practice, isn’t he?’

‘Normally, he is.’ Logan chose his words carefully and let the statement sink in.

Her eyes widened and she turned around. ‘Oh, no, what are you about to tell me?’ He could tell from the tone of her voice that she knew exactly where this conversation was headed.

‘About Sam...’

‘What about Sam, Dr Scott?’ She folded her arms across her chest.

He almost laughed out loud at the expression on her face. Did she have any idea how identical her daughter was to her? Even though the hair and eye colour was obviously different, their expressions and mannerisms were like mirror images of each other.

‘I think you should start calling me Logan. We’ll be working together enough.’

He could see her take a deep breath. He liked this woman. And as soon as he had a minute he was going to go back to the surgery and read her résumé. He could only hope that her paediatric skills would be transferable to their GP practice.

‘Sam Allan managed to fall down Goat Fell earlier today. It’s about the hundredth time in his life, but this time he’s been a little unlucky.’

Her eyes narrowed. Goat Fell was the highest peak on the island. ‘How unlucky?’

‘Unlucky enough to break his leg.’ He couldn’t keep the sound of regret from his voice. Sam Allan was one of his greatest friends. ‘Sam’s problem is he’s nearly seventy but thinks he’s still around the age of seventeen.’

Her words were careful, measured. ‘Then, Logan, I guess it will be you I’ll be meeting next Tuesday instead.’

Logan scratched his chin. Stubble. He still hadn’t had time to shave. That must be around two days now. He must look a sight. Time for the bombshell.

‘Actually, I was kind of hoping you could start now.’

CHAPTER TWO

‘YOU ARE JOKING, right?’

He shook his head and lifted his hands. ‘Nothing like the present time to get started.’

She looked at him as if he was crazy. ‘Look around you, Logan. Do I look like I’m ready to do any kind of GP surgery right now?’ She pointed at the cottage. ‘I haven’t unpacked a thing. My removals men are still here. I’ve got a broken window. And I haven’t even started to look for childcare for Isla.’ Her hand lifted up to her face. ‘Oh, no.’

‘What?’

‘Sam Allan was going to put me in touch with some people who might have been able to help with Isla. He’s not going to be able to do that now.’

Logan felt a little twist in his gut. He could picture in his head exactly who Sam might have had in mind. And he wished he’d talked to him about it first.

Logan’s mum was as desperate to be a grandparent as his sister was desperate to be a mother. He didn’t have a single doubt that Sam would have volunteered her as a surrogate granny for Isla.

And, after having met Isla, he knew instantly they would be a perfect match. His mother would love the little girl who had an old head on her shoulders. And Isla would love the fact that she could have his mother’s undivided attention.

So, why did it make him squirm a little?

His mother had been lonely these last few years. The unexpected death of his father ten years ago had been a bombshell for them all. One moment playing golf on a summer’s day, next moment an aortic aneurysm had killed him instantly. Logan had just completed his first year as a junior doctor and taken up a post in a medical unit in Glasgow. Guilt had plagued him.

If only he’d come home the week before, the way he’d been supposed to. Maybe he would have noticed some minor symptoms that could have alerted him to his father’s condition. The looks on the faces of his mother and sister as they’d met him from the boat would stay with him for ever. He hadn’t been there when his family had needed him most.

He’d always put his dad on a pedestal, and even to this day he still missed him. He’d been a fantastic father. Smart, encouraging, with a big heart and an even bigger sense of humour. Filling his shoes as the island GP had been a daunting task. Even now, some of the older patients referred to him as ‘young Dr Scott’.

His mother had probably always imagined she would have a house full of grandchildren at this point. Something to fill her days, keep her busy and keep her young.

But things just hadn’t worked out that way for Claire, or for him.

He’d been an ‘almost’. He’d seriously dated a woman with a gorgeous little boy for six months a few years back. All his fears about doing as good a job as his dad and having enough hours in the day had almost been pushed aside. Until Zoe had decided island life wasn’t for her and she was leaving. Saying goodbye to little Ben had ripped his heart out. And he’d never dated a woman with children since.

Too difficult. Too many risks.

At least with introducing Isla it would take the pressure off him for a while. And it might even take the pressure off his sister Claire. Seven failed IVF attempts had just about finished her, and now the strain of the adoption process wasn’t helping.

It should be a perfect solution all round. Only it just didn’t feel that way.

He took a deep, reluctant breath. ‘Don’t panic. I think I might know who Sam was going to recommend.’

‘Who? Is it someone reliable? Someone safe? I can’t just leave my daughter with a perfect stranger. And I’m not sure how quickly I’d want to do it anyway. I was only supposed to be working one day in the surgery. We should have some time to settle in together. Have some time to meet the person and make sure I think they are suitable. Will I get references for childcare?’

She was rattling on. It seemed to be her thing. Whenever she got anxious, she just started to talk incessantly.

He put up his hand and tried to stop the smile appearing on his face. ‘Oh, you’re safe. I think I can give her a reference—it’s my mother.’

She stopped. ‘Your mother?’

He nodded.

‘Oh.’ First time he’d seen Gemma stunned into silence.

‘Well, I guess that will be okay, then. Providing, of course, she’s happy to do it—and Isla likes her, of course.’

‘Of course.’

‘Isla likes who?’

Isla had appeared next to them.

Logan knelt down. ‘My mum. She’s going to be your new surrogate granny. If you like her, that is. It means your mum will be able to work in the surgery for a while.’

It was the strangest thing. The little girl opened her mouth to say something and, from the corner of his eye, he could see Gemma shake her head. ‘We’ll talk about it later. Go inside, Isla.’

Logan straightened up and stretched his back with a loud clicking sound. What was going on?

‘Eurgh!’

He raised his eyebrows. ‘Orthopaedics not your thing?’ He gave his back a shake. ‘What can I say? Years of abuse from sailing.’

‘You sail?’

‘Just about everyone on Arran sails. That’s the thing about staying on an island.’

She looked out over the water. ‘I suppose. Listen, about starting right away. I only agreed to do one day a week. I don’t know how much help I’ll actually be to you.’

He nodded. ‘I know. When are you supposed to start your paediatric hours?’

‘The week after next. I’d timed it so we would have a little time to settle in and sort out childcare and things.’

He could hear the tone in her voice. The gentle implication that she really didn’t want to do this. She wanted time to settle herself and her daughter. But he was desperate. The surgery was currently bursting at the seams. And would be for the next few weeks—there was no way a replacement GP could be found on an island like Arran.

He scratched his chin. ‘We might be able to rearrange things. The health board are used to there being issues on Arran—and looking at flexible options. How would you feel about deferring your start date for the paediatric work? Sam will be off for at least six weeks. It would give us a little more leeway.’

She gave a little laugh. ‘I get the impression you’re not really listening to me, Logan. Don’t you know how to take no for an answer?’

He tried not to laugh out loud. ‘Only in personal circumstances. Never in professional.’

She gave a little sigh and held up her hand. ‘If, and only if, I like your mother and Isla likes her, I’ll agree to help you out. But not today, definitely not today.’

‘Tomorrow afternoon? That surgery is a stinker.’

He was chancing his luck, but it was the only way to survive in these parts.

‘You make it sound so appealing.’

‘Oh, go on. You know you want to.’

‘What about the health board stuff?’

He waved his hand. ‘I’ll sort that. You’ll cover until Sam comes back?’

She nodded. ‘Four weeks only. Three days a week. I need to start my paediatric hours soon or they’ll forget why they employed me.’ It was almost as if she were drawing a line in the sand.

‘And a few on-calls for the hospital?’

A soft pink teddy bounced off his head. ‘Only if there’s absolutely nobody—and I mean nobody—else that can do it. I’d need to wake up Isla and bring her in the car.’

‘Understood.’ He held out his hand towards his latest lifesaver.

‘Welcome to Arran, Dr Halliday.’

* * *

Gemma opened her eyes. Curtain poles were going to be an issue. It was only five-thirty and sunshine was streaming through her bedroom window. She made a mental note. First thing, see if anywhere on the island sells curtain poles.

She rolled over in her bed and tried to stifle a groan. Second thing. Don’t let perfect strangers steamroller you into starting work early.

She should be having a leisurely day with Isla, sipping tea and sorting out some boxes. Instead, she’d be introducing her daughter to a potential babysitter and getting a guided tour of the local Angel Grace Hospital and GP surgery. She must be mad.

‘Mummy, are we getting up now?’

She smiled. Isla seemed to have an internal radar and knew whenever her mother’s eyes flickered open. Gemma pulled back the cover and swung her legs out of bed. ‘Tea and toast?’

‘Tea and toast,’ Isla said, in her most grown-up voice.

* * *

Three hours later they were standing in front of a cottage with pretty flowered curtains. The blue front door opened and an older woman with an apron tied around her waist stuck her head outside. ‘You must be Isla,’ she said immediately. ‘I’ve been waiting for you. I was just about to start some baking. Would you like to help me?’

There was the quick nod of a little head and Gemma was summarily dismissed. Moments later Isla was standing on a wooden chair at the kitchen sink, washing her hands, a little girl’s pink apron tied around her waist.

Gemma hesitated at the kitchen door. ‘Mary, thank you for this. Are you sure you don’t mind? Would you like me to stay to give you a chance to get to know each other a bit better?’

She’d had a chance to have a long conversation on the phone with Mary Scott last night. Logan had been right. His mother seemed delighted to look after Isla and had asked Gemma about her interests so she could plan ahead.

A floury hand was waved. ‘We’ll be fine. Go on and get to work.’

Gemma grabbed a piece of paper to write down her mobile number. ‘Here’s my number. Call me about anything—anything at all.’

‘We’ll be fine, Mummy. Go and meet Logan. I liked him.’ Gemma felt her face flush, and could see the not-so-hidden smile on Mary’s face. She dreaded to think what was going on in her head. Isla had lifted a glass jar of sultanas and was ready to pour them into Mary’s mixing bowl.

Children were so much more relaxed. So much more at ease than adults. Her stomach had been in a permanent knot since last night at the thought of starting work early and having to meet the rest of her new colleagues. Isla didn’t seem to have any such worries.

Gemma picked up her car keys again. ‘Okay, then.’ She dropped a kiss on Isla’s head. ‘See you later, pumpkin. Be good for Mary and I’ll pick you up in a few hours.’

The surgery was only a five-minute drive away and the hospital five more minutes along the road. If she needed to get there in a hurry, she could.

The practice was buzzing as she entered. Patients were already sitting in the waiting room, with a number queuing at the reception desk. Gemma hesitated and then joined the queue, waiting her turn until she reached the front.

The receptionist, with long brown hair in a ponytail and a badge that read ‘Julie’, gave her a friendly smile. ‘Are you a holidaymaker? Need an emergency appointment?’

‘No, I’m Gemma. Gemma Halliday, the new doctor. I’m supposed to be meeting Logan Scott here today.’

The smile faltered for the briefest second as Gemma felt the young receptionist’s eyes quickly run up and down her body. Should she have dressed more formally? Her pale pink shirt and grey skirt had suited at her last job. Maybe things were a little more formal in Arran?

The girl leaned backwards in her chair. ‘Logan!’ Her shout was like a foghorn. ‘Our new doctor’s arrived. Get out here.’

‘He’ll just be sec,’ she said, as she picked up a pile of patient notes and disappeared through a door behind her.

Gemma turned slowly. She could feel every set of eyes in the room studying her. All potential patients. Giving her the once-over. She took a deep breath and smiled nervously. ‘Hi, there.’ Her normally steady voice came out as a surprising squeak. This would never do.

She jumped as a hand settled in the small of her back. ‘Hi, Gemma.’ Logan’s voice was low, husky. Not what she expected in the middle of busy waiting room. She shifted a little. ‘I take it my mother and Isla are getting along famously?’

She nodded. ‘How did you guess?’

His hand pressed into her back, guiding her away from the watchful eyes in the waiting room and towards one of the consulting rooms. ‘My mother could hardly contain her excitement. She spent most of last night deciding what the two of them could bake together.’

Gemma smiled. ‘Yip, they were both on their way to being covered in flour when I left.’ She wrinkled her brow. ‘Doesn’t your mother have any grandchildren of her own.’

Something flitted across his eyes. ‘Not yet.’

What kind of answer was that? She instantly felt uncomfortable for asking the question. She watched as Logan poured coffee into two cups and handed one to her. He must have a wife or a partner and be trying for a family. Her eyes fell to his hand. No ring. But, then, these days that meant nothing. Lots of men didn’t wear rings.

His hand gestured towards the chair opposite his as he took a seat. He gave a professional kind of smile. It seemed it was all business with him here. That cheeky demeanour she’d witnessed the day before didn’t seem to feature.

‘You can see we’re already starting to get busy. This is just the start of the season. Arran’s population doubles in the summer months.’

She nodded. ‘I had heard that.’ She took a sip of her coffee. ‘Did you clear it with the health board about me working here for the next month?’

He gave her a smile as he gritted his teeth apologetically. ‘Six weeks, actually. They agreed you can start your paediatric hours when the school session starts again.’

Her brain started to whirr. This was a new colleague. But he obviously didn’t know her at all. People making assumptions about her made her temper flare. He could have consulted her first.

She took a sip of her coffee and looked at him carefully. Logan Scott was probably used to being a force to be reckoned with. On a small island like this, he probably pretty much got his own way. It was clear to Gemma that at some point they would lock horns.

‘It would have been nice to be consulted, Logan,’ she said simply. He had already moved his attention elsewhere and was pulling up screens on his computer for her to look at.

‘What? Oh...right, sorry.’

He didn’t look sorry. He didn’t look sorry at all. The moment the words had come from his lips they had just vanished into the ether.

She pulled her chair around next to his to look at the information he was pulling up on the computer screen. ‘That’s fine. Just don’t do it again.’ Her voice was firm this time. Much more definite.

And this time he did pay attention. His bright blue eyes met her brown ones, with more than a little surprise in them.

The smile had disappeared from his face, replaced by a straight line. ‘If you say so,’ he murmured.

* * *

It only took an hour or so to familiarise Gemma with the practice systems and introduce her to the two other GPs who worked at the surgery. She seemed to pick things up quickly, only asking a few pertinent questions then going round and introducing herself to the rest of the staff.

The working-hours negotiations were a little more fraught. He’d hoped she’d be a bit more flexible. She needed to cover three days within the practice, but it would have worked out better if she could have worked some mornings and afternoons and actually done her hours over five days.

But Gemma Halliday was an immovable force. She was adamant that three full days was all she could do. No extra surgeries at all. Her time was to be spent with Isla.

They walked over to the Angel Grace Hospital. It was a nice day and the brisk walk did them both good.

‘I’m hoping you’re happy to see everyone who comes into the practice.’

‘Why wouldn’t I be? Isn’t that what GPs do?’ He should have asked her if she had a jacket. The breeze was rippling her pale pink shirt against her breasts, and the unbuttoned collar was flapping in the wind. Boy, she could be prickly.

‘I just thought you might request to see only the kids.’

She shrugged and shook her head. ‘Not at all. Happy to see anyone. If the other partners want me to see more than my share of kids, that’s fine too. Obviously, they’re my specialty. But that doesn’t mean I won’t see other patients.’

‘Good. That’s good.’

‘How much antenatal care do you have?’

He shook his head. ‘Minimal. We have around twenty-five to thirty-five births a year on the island. Our midwife, Edith, generally does all the antenatal care. It’s only if someone is a complicated case that we become involved.’

‘Do the mothers deliver here?’

‘Most deliver on the mainland. Last year we had six home births. All planned with military precision by Edith. A few more requested them, but Edith and the obstetric consultant deemed them too risky. When we have plans for a home birth, both midwives on the island have to be on call. It can get a little complicated.’

They reached the door of the hospital and Logan held it open for her. ‘So what happens in an emergency situation—for anyone, not just maternity cases—and we need to transport someone quickly?’

He led her down one of the corridors of the hospital. ‘That’s when we call in the emergency helicopter from the naval base at Prestwick. Surgical emergencies, unstable head injuries and maternity emergencies would get transported that way. Ayrshire General Hospital is only about ten minutes away once the helicopter gets in the air.’

He opened another door. ‘We do have a theatre that can be used in emergencies, but it’s a bit basic. This is mostly used for minor procedures.’

She looked around the single theatre. She’d already noticed that the hospital was an older building, probably left over from the war. ‘Do you have a lot of emergencies that require the helicopter?’ Even the thought of the helicopter made her nervous.

‘We had ten last year. They are search-and-rescue helicopters. There are three of them and they normally get scrambled every day. They cover a huge area—twelve times the size of Wales—and we only call them out if absolutely necessary. We’ve transported stable patients on the main island ferry before, or we occasionally run a private boat if the ferries schedules are unsuitable, and transport patients to the mainland where we have an ambulance waiting.’

They walked further along the corridor. ‘Oh, and there’s also the hyperbaric chamber over on the Isle of Cumbrae—Millport. It’s one of only four in Scotland and used for anyone with decompression sickness.’

‘You deal with that around here?’ She shook her head. She hadn’t even considered anything like that. And she didn’t know the first thing about decompression sickness.

He nodded slowly. ‘It would surprise you, but we have a lot of diving in and around the island, and along the Scottish coast. But don’t worry, there’s an on-call hyperbaric consultant at Aberdeen Hospital. He’s the expert in all these things.’

They continued along the corridor and Gemma tried not to let the panic on her face show. She really hadn’t realised the realm of expertise that would be required to work in an island community. At this rate she was going to have to go back into student mode and start studying again. They’d reached the single ward in the hospital. Logan pointed through the glass.

‘Sixteen beds, with patients that we normally reassess on a daily basis. It’s kind of like a mix between a medical ward and an elderly care ward. Lots of chest conditions and confusion due to low oxygen saturation. We have good permanent nursing staff that are more than capable of dealing with any emergency. They re-site drips, give IV antibiotics and other meds, order X-rays and can intubate during an arrest.’ He pointed down the corridor.

‘There are also a few side rooms if required and an A and E department that is chaotic during the summer.’

Gemma’s eyes widened a little. ‘How is that staffed?’ His stomach curled a little. This woman could practically see things coming from a million miles away.

‘It has its own doctor, a couple of nurse practitioners and some regular nursing staff.’ He pointed to a rota on the wall. ‘If the A and E doctor isn’t busy, he would deal with any issue with the ward patients. If not, we get called out.’ He could tell from the expression on her face that she was worried. ‘Don’t worry, it doesn’t happen too often.’

She nodded slowly. ‘I knew there would be occasional callouts because I was covering one day a week for the GP practice. I guess I’ll just need to bring Isla with me.’

Darn it. He hadn’t considered her little girl when he’d persuaded her to work three days a week in the GP practice for the next six weeks. Her job as a paediatric consultant two days a week wouldn’t have included any on-call services. He’d only been thinking of the needs of the practice, not the needs of a single parent and her five-year-old daughter. With one step he’d just trebled her chances of being called out.

He smacked his hand on his forehead. ‘I’m sorry, Gemma. I hadn’t even considered Isla. We’ll need to have a look at the rota.’

She shrugged her shoulders. ‘There’s not much you can do. It’s only for the next six weeks. I guess I’ll just have to cope.’

But the guilt was gnawing away at him. He hadn’t been entirely truthful as he’d given her the tour. Isla just hadn’t entered into his radar at all.

This was the problem with being a single guy with no other responsibilities. Work was his only real consideration in life. Once he had that covered, he didn’t think about much else. ‘Yeah, well, about that...’

‘What?’ Her eyes had widened, giving him an even better view of just what a warm brown they were. She was much smaller than him, maybe around five feet two or three? The kind of small woman that men like him usually wanted to protect. It was instinctual.

But he had the strangest feeling that Gemma Halliday was the kind of woman that didn’t want to be protected. She was more likely to kick you in the groin than cower in a corner.

‘How about I show you where the canteen is in here?’ He tried to guide her along the corridor. From the look of her small frame, the chances were slim that he could fob her off with coffee and cake but it was worth a try.

* * *

Gemma was suspicious. She could practically see Logan Scott shuffling his feet like some nervous teenager waiting to tell you that they’d smashed the car or broken a window. He’d been quite straightforward up until this point, so she had a pretty good idea she wouldn’t like what he had to say.

She let him guide her down the corridor towards the canteen. Coffee sounded good right about now. The hospital set-up looked fine. It was old, but it was clean and functional. The patients in the ward looked well cared for. The staff around here seemed efficient.

It was obvious she wouldn’t find the latest state-of-the-art technology here but, then again, why would she need it? They had X-ray facilities and an ultrasound scanner. An emergency theatre that she hoped she would never see the inside of, and a way to transport the sickest patients off the island.

Logan pushed open the door in front of them and held it open. It took around two seconds for her senses to be assaulted by the smell of prime-time baking. ‘Wow. What do they make in here?’

He pointed at the counter. ‘Della makes cakes every day. And you can make requests if you find a favourite and want it on a particular day.’

She couldn’t help but smile. ‘And what’s your request?’

His answer was instant. ‘The carrot cake...or the cheese scones...or the strawberry tarts—they’re giant. Not like the ones you would buy elsewhere.’

They’d reached the counter. It was clear that anyone who set foot in here wouldn’t want to leave. Piles of freshly baked scones and crumpets, some tray bakes and a whole array of cakes. Gemma didn’t hesitate, she leaned over and picked up a fruit scone. It was still warm. She could practically taste it already.

‘What kind of coffee?’ Logan was poised at the coffee machine. Gemma pointed at the china mugs he was holding.

‘What, no plastic cups?’

He shook his head in mock disgust. ‘On Arran? Not a chance. Everything is served in china over here.’

‘I’ll have a latte, thanks.’

She waited until he’d filled the two cups and they settled at a table, looking out across the hospital gardens, which were trimmed, neat with lots of colourful flower beds.

Gemma started cutting open her scone and spreading butter and jam. ‘What? Never seen a woman eat before, Logan? Stop gawping.’

He smiled as he started on his carrot cake. ‘You don’t look like the kind of girl that eats cakes.’

There it was again. His directness. Sneaking in when you least expected it. ‘Because I’m small?’

He sipped his cappuccino and wrinkled his nose. It was obvious he was trying to wind her up a little. Playing with her. Obviously hoping to soften her up for what was to come. ‘You’re not small, Gemma. You’re vertically challenged.’

She raised her eyebrows. ‘Really?’

‘Yip.’ He leaned back in his chair. ‘That’s my professional opinion.’ His long legs stretched out under the table, brushing next to her own. What was that? That little tremor of something she’d just felt? It had been so long since she’d had time to even have a man on her radar that she didn’t even know how these things worked these days.

His shirt was pale blue, almost like a thin denim, with a few wrinkles around the elbows and open at the collar, revealing some light curling hairs.

She was trying to place who he looked like. But the tiny blond tips of his hair were throwing her. That was it. He needed a captain’s uniform. He looked like that new young guy they’d drafted in for the latest Star Trek movie. If his hair was only the tiniest shade darker he could be a clone.

She took a bite of the scone. Just as she’d suspected. Delicious. She leaned back in her chair. ‘I think I’m just about to put on two stone.’

He smiled. ‘The food here is good. If you have any special requests or dietary issues, just let them know.’

She raised her eyebrow. ‘Dietary issues? Trying to tell me something, Logan?’

He shook his head swiftly. ‘I wouldn’t dare.’

Her eyes narrowed slightly. ‘Okay, then, out with it. You’ve obviously kept the bombshell for last. Hit me with it.’

His eyes drifted away from her and he fixated on something outside. ‘Yeah...about that.’

‘About what?’ Her voice was firm. How bad could this be?

He shifted in his seat. ‘You know how I told you that if A and E is quiet the doctor will cover the ward patients too?’

She nodded. ‘Yes.’ She was feeling very wary of him now.

‘Well, it kind of works both ways.’

She felt the hairs standing up at the back of her neck. ‘What do you mean?’

He stared at her. With those big blue eyes that could be very distracting if you let them.

‘I mean that if the A and E doc gets snowed under, then they usually call us out for some assistance.’ He was visibly cringing as he said the words. Obviously waiting for the fallout.

She ran her tongue along her dry lips. He was worried. And a tiny part of that amused her.

She’d only agreed to help out for six weeks. She would only have a few on-calls. How bad could this be? Maybe she should make him sweat a little. After all, he had been quite presumptuous so far.

She picked up her scone and regarded him carefully. ‘Think carefully before you answer the next question, Logan. I can tell you right now that if you spoil my scone, this could all end in tears.’ She took a little bite. Was he holding his breath? ‘Exactly how many times does the A and E doc call you out?’

Logan shifted again. ‘Well, in the winter, hardly ever. Maybe once every six weeks.’

She knew exactly where this was going. ‘And in the summer?’

He gave a little frown and a shrug of his shoulders. ‘Probably...most nights?’

‘What?’ Her voice had just gone up about three octaves. He had to be joking. ‘Every night?’

His head was giving little nods. No wonder he’d worried about telling her. ‘More or less.’

She put her scone back down on her plate, her appetite instantly forgotten. This was going to be far more complicated than she could possibly have expected.

Logan held up his hands. ‘Look, Gemma. I’m sorry. I hadn’t really taken Isla into the equation. I’m so used to being on my own I didn’t even consider the impact it would have on her. I mean, you are a single parent, aren’t you? You don’t have another half that’s going to appear in the next few weeks?’

There it was again. His presumptions. And was she mistaken or did he sound vaguely happy—as well as apologetic—about the situation?

And why did she care? This guy, with his rolled-up sleeves revealing his tanned arms, was giving her constant distractions.

Like that one. Since when did she notice a man’s tanned arms? Or the blond tips in his hair? Or the fact he might resemble a movie star?

She’d been so focused for the last five years. Every single bit of her pent-up energy had been invested in Isla. In the fight to keep her, and all the hard work that went along with being a single parent, working full-time.

She hadn’t even had time to look in the mirror, let alone look around her and notice any men.

Maybe this was just a reaction to Isla’s out-of-the-blue drawing with the feature boyfriend.

Her stomach gave the strangest flutter. Or maybe this was just a reaction to the big blue eyes, surrounded by little weathered lines, currently staring at her across the table.

She took a deep breath. Were his thoughts really presumptions? He’d helped her unpack. He must have noticed the distinct lack of manly goods about the place.

She nodded her head. She was used to this. She was used to the single-parent question. She’d been fielding it for the last five years. ‘Yes, I’m a single parent, Logan. I hadn’t really expected to be called out at night on a frequent basis. That could cause me a number of problems.’ She was trying not to notice the fact he’d just told her he only had himself to think about.

She was trying to ignore the tiny flutter she’d felt when he’d revealed the possibility he might be unattached. She was trying not to notice the little flicker in her stomach that Logan wasn’t married with a whole family of his own. What on earth was wrong with her?

He lifted his hands. ‘Look, I’m sorry. But I’m desperate. I really need someone at the surgery right now. How about I cover some of your on-calls?’

She bit her lip. ‘That’s hardly fair, is it?’ She couldn’t figure out the wave of strange sensations crowding around her brain. Then something scrambled its way to the front and a smile danced across her face. ‘Don’t you have someone to go home to?’

There. She’d said it.

The quickest way to sort out the weird range of thoughts she was having. He may not wear a wedding ring but he was sure to have another half tucked away somewhere on the island.

Another woman. Simple. The easiest way to dismiss this man.

He smiled and leaned across the table towards her, the hairs on his tanned arm coming into contact with her pale, bare arm. She really needed to get a little sun.

‘You mean, apart from my mother?’ He was teasing her. She could tell by the sexy glint in his eye that he knew exactly why she’d asked the question.

She let out a laugh. ‘Oh, come on. Someone your age doesn’t stay with their mother. You certainly weren’t there when we arrived this morning.’

There was something in the air between them. Everything about this was wrong. He was a colleague. This was a small island.

She was here for a fresh start and some down time.

So why was her heart pitter-pattering against her chest?

It seemed that Arran was about to get very interesting.

CHAPTER THREE

LOGAN RAN HIS fingers through his hair. They’d finally reached a compromise.

He was going to cover as much of the on-call as possible, even though Gemma had been determined to do her share. She was feisty.

And so was her daughter.

He’d nipped back home after lunchtime and found his mother being ordered around by Isla. Granted, it was in a very polite manner—but the little girl clearly took after her mother.

But what had struck him most of all was the expression of joy on his mother’s face. She clearly loved the interactions with the little girl. His father had died ten years ago. Logan had settled back on the island once he’d completed his GP training and bought a house just along the road. His sister Claire had been battling infertility for seven years. And his mother had been patiently knitting and stashing tiny little cardigans in a cupboard in the back bedroom for just as long.

It was a nightmare. The one thing he’d never given much thought to during his medical career. Fertility.

Sure, he understood the science of it. And, of course, he always had empathy for his patients.

But to see the true, devastating effects of unexpected infertility and how it impacted on a family had been brought home to him in the past few years. The highs of being accepted for treatment and at the start of each attempt. The lows and desperation as each failure lessened the likelihood of future success. The slow, progressive withdrawal of his sister, along with the cracks that had subsequently appeared in her marriage.

At times, Logan had no idea how his brother-in-law managed to keep things on an even keel. Claire could be so volatile now. The slightest thing could set her off. The beautiful, healthy, lively young woman had turned into a skeletal, unconfident wreck.

And it affected every one of them.

And now he’d just given his mother a taste of being a grandmother.

It wasn’t as if his mum hadn’t stepped in before. She’d loved little Ben as much as he had and had watched him occasionally as he and Zoe had dated. But the connection with Isla was definitely stronger. Why, he wasn’t sure. But watching them together and hearing the way they spoke to each other made him laugh. It was like a pair of feisty older women, rather than a little girl and his mother. They were definitely kindred spirits.

Was he being unfair? Because his mother currently looked as if she were loving every minute of this. Isla too. And there was no question about the fact that Gemma needed trustworthy childcare.

But what would Claire think if she found out her mother was acting as a surrogate gran? Would it hurt her even more? Because he really couldn’t bear that.

The phone rang on his desk. He picked it up swiftly. ‘Yes?’

‘Logan, we’ve had too many calls for emergency appointments this morning. We’re going to burst at the seams.’

He frowned. ‘Have you scheduled Dr Halliday to see any of the emergency patients?’

‘Well, no. You told us not to. She’s supposed to be doing the house calls this week to try and find her way around the island.’

‘Let’s leave that for next week.’ He couldn’t afford the time needed for Gemma to navigate her way around the outlying farms and crofts that he could find in his sleep. ‘Schedule her for some of the emergency GP surgeries this week, there’s just no way we can do without her.’

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