Wanted: A Father
for her Twins
Emily Forbes

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Table of Contents

Cover Page

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Copyright

Emily Forbes is the pseudonym of two sisters who share both a passion for writing and a life-long love of reading. Beyond books and their families, their interests include cooking (food is a recurring theme in their books!), learning languages, playing the piano and netball, as well as an addiction to travel—armchair travel is fine, but anything involving a plane ticket is better. Home for both is South Australia, where they live three minutes apart with their husbands and four young children. With backgrounds in business administration, law, arts, clinical psychology and physiotherapy they have worked in many areas. This past professional experience adds to their writing in many ways: legal dilemmas, psychological ordeals and business scandals are all intermeshed with the medical settings of their stories. And, since nothing could ever be as delicious as spending their days telling the stories of gorgeous heroes and spirited heroines, they are eternally grateful their mutual dream of writing for a living came true.

They would love you to visit and keep up to date with current news and future releases at the Medical™ Romance authors’ website at: http://www.medicalromance.com/

There are lots of essentials in a girl’s life.

No doubt love scores top position on most women’s

lists, but I suspect friendship is right up there for

most of us, too. And there’s no friendship quite like

the relationship shared with girlfriends. Sorrows that

require chocolate, successes that demand champagne,

laughter and tears all combine to create a tapestry of

‘Do you remember?’ moments that, woven together,

make the bond with our female friends so remarkable.

And so, to my beautiful, wonderful, kaleidoscope-tapestry

of girlfriends, thank you for your friendship.

It means more than you know. And to Helen, Ali,

Manda and Anne, a special thank you for your

unwavering support and encouragement.

And while I hope sorrows are few and far between,

there’s always chocolate in my cupboard

and a place on my couch for each of you.

This one’s for the girls!

CHAPTER ONE

THIS is a perfect moment.

The thought surprised Rosie as she sat on the sparkling gold sands of Bondi Beach, looking out over the clear blue water.

It surprised her because, only a moment before, she’d been reflecting on the one-hundred-and-eighty-degree turn her life had pivoted through two months ago, and every day since: the loss of her beloved brother and sister-in-law; her instant transformation from aunt to the guardian of her twin eight-year-old nephew and niece; the break-up with Philip; the consequent move from Canberra back to Sydney. Since then, she’d been in shock, grief-stricken and feeling like she’d never get on top of her new life.

Yet, sitting here, with the morning sun warming her face, in her first quiet moment that week, she had a brief glimmer of hope that things might somehow work out okay. She picked up a handful of sand and let it trickle slowly through her fingers. The top inch of sand was warm. A little deeper, where the sun’s rays hadn’t yet penetrated, the sand was cool and damp against her skin.

Another glorious summer day lay ahead. Later on, the beach would be crowded. Right now, it was relatively empty and it didn’t take long to scan the beach to check her niece’s whereabouts. The junior surf lifesavers had come out of the water and were packing equipment away, Lucy among them. Rosie stood, shaking the sand off her sundress, and walked along the beach towards the group.

‘How did you go this morning, Luce?’ Her niece had bounded up to her, still full of her usual energy.

‘I got a personal best time for the sand sprint. Did you see me?’

‘I was watching but you were going so fast you were just a blur!’ Rosie hugged the little girl, pulling her into her side. Lucy chatted non-stop as they climbed the path leading from the beach to the esplanade, only pausing for breath once she had her usual post-training Sunday milkshake in hand.

Coming out of Marie’s Milk Bar, Rosie nearly tripped over a small dog that dashed past the entrance. She stopped suddenly and felt Lucy bump into her back. A young boy ran past, calling out to the dog. The dog had no intention of obeying and dashed out into the road.

She could see disaster unfolding in front of her.

‘Stop!’ she yelled, but the boy neither paused nor looked as he chased the animal. Rosie watched with horror as a car swerved sharply to the left to miss the dog, colliding instead with the child.

The car wasn’t travelling quickly, the esplanade was too narrow and too busy for that, but it still struck the boy with enough force to send him spinning up into the air before he crashed to the bitumen.

Traffic came to a stop and the hum of dozens of conversations ceased as people processed what had just happened. For a brief moment there was silence before voices began again and witnesses and bystanders swarmed onto the road.

‘Wait here,’ Rosie said to Lucy, handing over her takeaway latte before joining the gathering crowd.

‘I’m a doctor.’ Rosie raised her voice as she pushed her way through the throng. ‘Let me through.’

The driver, a young female, emerged from the car, shaky and pale. ‘I didn’t see him, I didn’t have time to stop.’

‘Someone call an ambulance and get this woman to sit down.’ The woman would be in shock. Rosie doubted she was injured but, if she was, her injuries would need to wait. The priority was the boy.

He was lying in a crumpled heap on the road, blood spilling from a gash on his head. The car that had hit him was protecting them both from the traffic and Rosie didn’t think they were in any immediate danger from that angle. She knelt down beside the child. He was breathing but his eyes were closed. Was he conscious? She gently shook his shoulder, asking him if he could hear her. There was no response.

‘Can I help?’ Rosie felt, rather than saw, a man crouch down beside her. She didn’t look up from her examination of the little boy, but she didn’t need to look up to know the man was from New Zealand. The inflection on his vowels told her that. ‘I’m a doctor.’

‘Thanks.’ She also didn’t have to look up to know he was tall, and together with the quiet, calm confidence in his voice, it made his presence even more reassuring. ‘He’s breathing but unconscious.’

‘Was there anyone with him? Does anyone know his name?’

Lucy appeared by Rosie’s side, cradling the runaway dog in her arms. ‘Rosie, it’s Matt. From school. Do you want me to get his mum?’

Rosie didn’t want to think about how, or where, Lucy had cornered the dog, but she would like to see Matt’s mum. She glanced up at her skinny-legged niece, her knees covered in bits of grass and sand. ‘Is she here?’

‘I don’t think so but I know where they live.’

Sending Lucy off on her own wasn’t an option. ‘Maybe we can ring her?’

‘I’ll do it.’ Marie from the milk bar was standing behind Lucy.

‘Thanks.’ Rosie nodded at the woman. ‘Go with Marie, Luce, and see if you can reach Matt’s mum.’

‘The ambulance is on its way.’ Someone from the crowd passed this information on.

‘Matt, can you hear me? Matt?’ The other doctor was talking and Rosie turned back to the boy, relieved to find his eyes were now open. ‘Hi, there, mate. Lie still, you’ve had a tussle with a car. My name’s Nick, I’m a doctor, and I’m just going to check a few things out. This is…’

He paused and Rosie knew he was waiting for her response. She looked at him properly for the first time and, as their eyes met, she felt a bolt of attraction so strong it made her catch her breath. What an incongruous reaction, she thought as she managed to answer, ‘Rosie.’ Her voice came out as a whisper.

‘She’s a doctor too.’

Rosie had to force herself to concentrate as they both turned their attention back to Matt. She applied pressure to the gash in Matt’s head, using a clean beach towel from her bag, and took his pulse with her other hand.

‘Where does it hurt?’ Nick asked.

‘My arm and my leg.’ His right leg was bloodied and there was already significant swelling around his knee.

‘Can you wriggle your toes?’

Matt could move his toes but moving his foot seemed to cause him pain. Rosie watched as Nick ran his large hands gently over Matt’s leg, feeling for any major trauma. Matt had probably sustained a fractured fibula and possibly even tibia but, as his leg was still straight, Rosie suspected it wasn’t too bad. As she listened to Nick’s examination she couldn’t help but catch glimpses of him whilst checking her watch and timing Matt’s pulse.

His jaw was strong, slightly square in shape without being heavy, and darkened by a shadow of a beard, as if he hadn’t shaved for a day or two. He had fabulous cheekbones, a narrow nose, not too big and not too small, and the fullest lips she’d ever seen on a man, a perfect cupid’s bow. The masculine strength of his facial bone structure saved his nose and mouth from looking almost too perfect. His dark hair was thick and wavy with a cowlick at the front.

He squatted beside Rosie, his shoulders higher than hers, and she guessed he was taller than she was by several inches, no mean feat when she was five feet ten inches. His limbs were long and lean and he looked in good physical shape. She was glad she was the one applying pressure to the wound, leaving her free to soak in his image. Not that she was interested in him, of course. She didn’t even have time to put the washing away, so how would she ever have time to meet another man? But a girl would have to be comatose not to appreciate pure aesthetic male beauty when she was staring right at it.

‘How about your fingers?’ Nick asked the boy.

Matt was clutching his right arm, trying to keep it immobile, but managed to wriggle his fingers.

‘Can you tell me what day it is?’

‘Friday?’

The uncertainty in Matt’s reply told them what they needed to know. There was no need to tell him it was Sunday but he obviously had concussion.

‘Matt, you’ve broken your arm and your leg, I’ll need you to keep lying as still as you can for a little bit longer,’ Nick instructed.

Rosie heard the wail of an ambulance siren in the distance and as she tilted her head to listen to make sure it was coming closer, she saw Marie and Lucy returning. Marie gave her a thumbs-up signal.

Rosie deliberately trained her eyes on Matt as she spoke, not willing to risk losing her breath again if she accidentally sneaked a glance at her temporary colleague. ‘Your mum is on her way and I’ll wait with you until the ambulance gets here. It will take you and your mum to the hospital.’ Rosie kept hold of Matt’s good hand while she kept the pressure on his head wound with her other hand. A single tear rolled down his cheek. ‘It’ll be okay, Matt. You’re being very brave.’

Nick stood up, stretching his legs and distracting Rosie. He was wearing a T-shirt and boardshorts that showed off tanned, muscular calves. Where had he been when the accident happened? Had he just been for a swim? She looked up further. His hair was clean and dry so perhaps he was just on his way to the beach. As she watched, he ran his hand through the front of his hair, pushing it off his face from where it fell from the cowlick. He really was striking.

A siren’s ‘whoop, whoop’ pierced the air as the ambulance manoeuvred the final distance through the traffic. In the next moment Matt’s mother arrived and Rosie went to comfort her and explain the situation while Nick filled the paramedics in.

The paramedics did their checks, popped a cervical brace around Matt’s neck as a precaution, stabilised his arm and splinted his leg before rolling him onto the stretcher. In a few minutes Matt and his mother were being whisked off to hospital.

Just like that, everything was back to normal, the crowd was dispersing, Marie had returned to her shop and the traffic was flowing freely again. The car that had hit Matt had been moved to the side of the road and the driver was giving her statement to a policeman. There was a sense of anticlimax. Only she, Lucy and Nick stood on the edge of the pavement. Despite being a doctor, she’d never been at the scene of an accident before. What happened next? Should she thank Nick for his help or simply say goodbye? As she stood there, pondering the dilemma, Lucy started asking questions, breaking the silence.

She expected Nick to head straight off but he stayed put, seemingly content to listen to her confident, chatty niece, so different from her twin. There didn’t seem to be anybody waiting for him. Maybe he was as uncertain of the etiquette of beachside medical emergencies as she was? She smiled at the idea; uncertainty was not a quality that fitted this man.

‘Thanks for your help, Nick.’ She met his gaze, still smiling. ‘Don’t let us hold you up.’

‘You’re not.’ He returned her smile and his was handsdown the most adorable, warming grin she’d ever been treated to. If he’d been good-looking before, he was drop-dead gorgeous now, his whole face lit up, his blue-grey eyes sparkling. ‘I’ve only got a half-drunk cup of coffee to get back to and it’ll be cold by now. Join me for a fresh cup.’ He spread his hands wide to include them both and Lucy immediately took a step closer to him. His was clearly a charm with crossgenerational power.

She was tempted to accept his invitation, purely so she had an excuse to sit and look at him for a bit longer, but, for a whole host of reasons, she really couldn’t. ‘Thanks, but we really need to get home. We’re late as it is.’ She didn’t have to pretend polite regret, her whole body was thrumming with a desire to go with him. A wave of disappointment slammed over her, leaving her reeling.

He nodded, accepting her decision, cocking his head to the side to indicate he was sorry they couldn’t stay. Then Lucy tugged on his hand and pulled him down to her. He stooped to hear her and as the pair of them chatted, Rosie simply stared at the moment of realisation she’d just had.

If she’d been able to, she’d go with him anywhere, wherever he took her. She wouldn’t even have asked. She, who’d never been spontaneous, would have gone with a perfect stranger, no questions asked. She, who was cast in the perfect mould of a careful, methodical, responsible planner, would have tossed all that aside and simply held out her hand for him to take. But aunts responsible for the well-being of young twins didn’t have the luxury of being spontaneous, even if it had been in her to do so. It wasn’t in the job description of being the perfect guardian.

She looked from the top of Lucy’s blonde head to Nick’s dark one and back again, visually tracing his profile as he laughed at something Lucy was saying. Then he straightened up and met her gaze, catching her out.

‘Th-thanks again for your h-help,’ she stammered, sure he’d see the inconsistency between her words and her desires, temporarily blind-sided by the discovery of a whole new side to herself. A side that, had circumstances been different, would have let him take her hand and take her anywhere, do anything, and have her begging for more. ‘I really did appreciate not dealing with that on my own.’

‘Don’t mention it. Perhaps we’ll bump into each other again under better circumstances.’ He didn’t seem to notice her confusion, her stammer or what she was sure was a wild look in her eyes. He held out his hand and Rosie took it. His grip was warm and firm, not too soft, not too strong. But more than that, there was a connection, just as she’d already known there would be, as though his touch had pushed a button in her palm. A button that went straight to her chest, making her heartbeat faster and her breathing more shallow. The connection travelled further, to the pit of her stomach, as though a thousand butterflies were there, fluttering madly towards an impossible escape.

She stood, her hand in Nick’s, completely unable to move away until Lucy, obviously tired of waiting now she no longer had Nick’s attention, said, ‘Come on, Rosie, we need to drop Matt’s dog off at his house on the way.’

It was only then that Rosie noticed Lucy was still holding the little white bundle of trouble. Somehow the dog had managed to come through the whole drama completely unscathed.

‘Right, of course,’ she said to her niece. ‘Goodbye, Nick.’

‘Bye, Rosie.’

Nick relaxed his grip, letting her hand go, and only then was Rosie able to get her legs working, although she was aware of her muscles fighting every step, protesting her departure. With every instinct screaming at her to stay, she followed Lucy and left Nick standing alone behind her.

Was walking away going to be a whole new source of regret? She knew the answer already. The most incrediblelooking man, who seemed kind and decent to boot, had asked her for a coffee and she didn’t have enough of a life that she could accept?

Balance.

She was missing any sort of balance. She glanced at Lucy, who was swinging on her hand, chirping away about her morning. She loved these two children, she had no qualms or doubts about taking care of them, but she’d scarcely drawn breath these last weeks. That’s all it was, that was all that lay behind her reaction. It made no sense to be overcome by fantasies of disappearing over the horizon with a perfect stranger. It was only because the equilibrium in her life right now was non-existent, otherwise, she’d have noticed Nick was good-looking but not given it another thought.

And yet, even with that perfectly rational explanation ringing in her ears, she had to struggle to leave.

‘We have to go down this street,’ Lucy told her as they reached the corner.

Rosie stopped just short of the corner, which loomed like the point of no return in front of her. If she continued into the side street, would Nick be gone for ever? She hesitated. They didn’t really have to go straight home. They could go back. Lucy liked him, too. Her niece would enjoy a few more minutes with Nick as much as Rosie would, so it wasn’t just her own out-of-character desire to run back to Nick that was causing her to linger on the corner. Right?

If Nick was watching them, she’d go back and have a coffee. If not, she’d keep going.

Turning around, she saw him talking to the policeman, obviously giving his version of events. He was concentrating on the conversation, his face in profile. He wasn’t looking in her direction. No doubt she was already far from his mind and she wouldn’t be given so much as another brief thought.

Rosie turned the corner, her disappointment acute.

Had she let a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity slide through her grasp? Or was it really only a wake-up call to sort her new life out better?

She sighed and ruffled Lucy’s damp hair. He’d asked her for a coffee, nothing more than that.

None of it mattered anyway. She’d done the right thing by the children. She hadn’t followed the heady pull towards Nick. Sure, maybe that had only been by default but she’d stayed true to her commitment. Her focus was the twins. Her priority was solely their welfare and she wouldn’t be distracted.

A cup of coffee with Nick would have provided her with far too many distractions. Distractions she at least had enough common sense left to know she was in no way equipped to deal with.

Nick glanced up from his conversation with the policeman just as Rosie turned the corner. Good-looking women were a dime a dozen in Bondi but there was something about this one…What was it? Her general appearance wasn’t dissimilar to hundreds of other women who frequented Sydney beaches, slim, tall and blonde. It was something else telling him she was different.

She seemed a little misplaced in Bondi, was that it? Even the backpackers blended into the crowd but Rosie seemed almost to stand apart from everyone else.

And what about the little girl with her? Rosie had no rings on her fingers and the girl had called her by her name, not Mum. She was a trained doctor so he guessed she wasn’t the au pair. Maybe Rosie was the partner of the girl’s dad? It seemed the most likely scenario. Pity, he would have liked to have had a coffee with her and he’d been hoping when he looked up she might have changed her mind and been heading back to him.

‘One last thing—’

The policeman had stopped scribbling in his pad and Nick had to turn his attention back to him.

Maybe he and Rosie would bump into each other again if she lived around here.

Then again, he told himself as he finished with the policeman and headed down to the beach for his swim, any involvement with a woman was the last thing on his to-do list right now. She was the first woman he’d met in a long time to really pique his interest and he wasn’t sure a coffee would sufficiently cool that interest.

There were places and times for everything in life. He didn’t doubt there would come a time and a place for a woman in his life again one day.

But right now wasn’t the time. Or the place.

Then how to explain this lingering feeling that a chance encounter on the beach might have shown him the woman?

Madness. He’d taken temporary leave of his senses due to…work stress? That was it. Work stress, life stress. So naturally his body wanted some female distraction, right at the very time he least needed it, when he was so close to finally realising his goals.

He waded into the waves, the cool of the sea hitting his shins before he dived in, striking out for his ritual Sunday swim. The water, slick on his skin, was as stimulating as it always was.

Pushing himself to go harder, faster, he willed the water to wash away the image of a certain woman from his mind.

Any form of temptation was madness. And that’s all this was. Nothing more.

CHAPTER TWO

LUCY raced inside, eager to tell her brother all the morning’s news, while Rosie headed for the kitchen, where her mother was doing the last of the breakfast dishes.

‘What happened? Are you all right?’

Rosie followed her mother’s gaze, looking down at her sundress that had started the day clean and white but was now covered in blood and dirt.

‘I’m fine. It’s not my blood. There was an accident, a pedestrian was hit, a boy from Lucy’s school.’ Rosie pulled out a kitchen stool and collapsed onto it. She should probably take over the dishes from her mum but she didn’t have the energy.

‘Is he okay?’

‘Some broken bones but he’ll be fine. It was a bit crazy.’

‘I’ll put the kettle on, you look like you could use a cup of tea.’

The old ritual of a cup of tea as a cure-all. Funnily enough, it did always seem to help. Maybe because it made you stop and catch your breath? Then again, in the two months since her brother and sister-in-law had died, she’d had so many cups of tea she sometimes felt she was one big tea bag herself.

Half-heartedly, she started sorting through the stack of mail, including her own redirected post, that had been dumped in a teetering pile on the kitchen bench. One more task that seemed to be getting away from her, one more task she started on routinely but never completed. Was that a key part of the definition of parenthood? She was starting to wonder.

Her mum slid a cup of tea over the counter. ‘Ally phoned while you were out, she said something about going out tonight. Do you need me to watch the children?’

‘Thanks, but no. I wasn’t planning on going.’

‘Are you sure? It’d do you good.’

‘What do you mean?’ Rosie put aside the mail.

‘How many times have you been out since you moved back to Sydney? Twice? For coffee with Ally, nothing more at my count.’

She shrugged. ‘I’m often out.’

Her mum pushed a strand of hair out of her face and shook her head. ‘Going to the supermarket and dropping the twins at school doesn’t count. You need to see your friends and it’s not good for you or the children if you spend all your time with them.’

‘I want them to know I’m here for them, that they’re not alone.’

‘They know that, sweetheart.’

‘Do they? I know they worry when I go out in the car without them. The last time they saw their parents was as they were driving off for their weekend away. They haven’t expressed that, but it’s what they’re thinking about, it’s in their eyes,’ Rosie explained.

‘I understand what you’re saying but you can’t let that make you a hermit,’ her mother pointed out.

‘The twins need time, especially Charlie. So far we’ve somehow managed to stop his mutism worsening because at least he’s still talking to our immediate family, but if he starts to doubt he’s safe with me, what then? And I need time, too. For one thing, I’m not sure how, or if, my old life and my new life can coexist. I’m just trying to give myself space to fit the pieces together.’

‘Space is one thing, shutting friends out is another,’ her mother insisted.

‘Mum, I’m not intentionally doing that. To be honest, as pathetic as it sounds, I don’t have the energy to get dressed and make conversation.’ She could have added that she didn’t have anything to make conversation about. No one she knew had children. Right now, that was all she had to talk about. When had she last managed to stay awake to see the end of a TV show? Ditto for reading. She’d been on the same chapter of the same book for over three weeks. Within minutes of settling down, she nodded off. Night after night.

A basket of washing waited on the steps. Sure, it was clean, but there was more waiting in the laundry. Newspapers for recycling were lying by the back door and Lucy’s half-finished school project was scattered over an entire end of the kitchen table. Everywhere Rosie looked there were half-completed tasks, testament to her difficulty in getting on top of things. She couldn’t blame the children’s interruptions for a lot of it, although having Charlie home sick for the past two days with yet another bout of tonsillitis hadn’t helped. What she needed was another pair of hands and, failing that, a better system.

‘Honey, I’ve got to dash but ring me if you change your mind. I can head back in an hour or so after I’ve done my errands,’ her mum said.

She wouldn’t change her mind, she already knew that. Besides, Ally’s idea of an evening out would last into the early hours of the morning. Rosie couldn’t have asked that of her mum even if she’d wanted to.

Besides, who could go out socialising when there was a mountain of washing to do and nothing to talk about? And right now, she decided as she waved goodbye to her mum, if she gave in to demands and let the twins watch their favourite DVD, she had a precious hour to tackle folding the laundry.

Well into the hour, she realised she’d thought about nothing except a certain doctor in boardshorts, her mind leaping from question to assumption to imagery, all focused on him. It was the longest stretch of worry-free time she’d had since moving to Sydney from Canberra.

None of which left her any wiser about what she really wanted to know: would she see him again?

Or had walking away been the biggest mistake made by any single girl in Sydney this weekend?

On Tuesday morning, Rosie dropped Lucy at the school gate with ten minutes to spare and treated herself to a mental Woo-hoo! It felt like a major achievement and gave her a spark of hope that her attempts over the last few days to start developing a better time-management system were paying off. She watched as Lucy waited for a friend then gave one final wave to Rosie before she disappeared through the school gate, chatting happily.

She checked Charlie still had his seat belt on before pulling into the traffic.

‘Do you think we’ll make it in time?’ she asked. Charlie’s specialist appointment was in half an hour and, even though the clinic was in Bondi, Sydney traffic wasn’t the best at this time of the day.

In the mirror she watched as Charlie shrugged his shoulders. ‘Dr Masters will still see me if we’re late, he’ll probably be running behind anyway,’ he told her.

He had a point, but she didn’t want to arrive late, particularly when the specialist was fitting Charlie in as a favour. ‘Have you thought some more about having your tonsils out? Dr Masters might suggest it today.’

‘I don’t want them out.’

Ah, so he hadn’t budged. With Charlie’s history of recurrent tonsillitis, it was only a matter of time before his tonsils had to come out. She was convinced these infections were exacerbating his other speech problems.

‘There’d be no more sore throats, and you wouldn’t have to miss so many Nippers’ trainings.’ Junior surf-lifesaving was one activity Charlie loved. She suppressed a twinge of guilt that she was using it to convince him to have the operation. ‘Remember, I had my tonsils out when I was your age and I can still remember how much better I felt afterwards.’

‘Yeah, but I don’t like jelly.’

‘What do you mean?’ She glanced in the rear-view mirror to see Charlie pull a face.

‘You told me you had jelly and ice cream in hospital. I don’t like jelly.’

Who would have known jelly and ice cream would be a deal-breaker, not a deal-sweetener? ‘They won’t force you to eat jelly. Let’s see what Dr. Masters has to say,’ Rosie said as she pulled into the clinic car park, hoping she’d solved the jelly objection. What would he think of next?

The specialist suites were part of the Bondi Paediatric Medical Centre, a clinic Rosie had heard of but never visited. Charlie had been here before, but that had been with his parents. She pressed the button for the lift and looked around the ultra-modern foyer. There was a café on one side of the lifts and a pharmacy on the other. The building itself looked new, and the foyer and café were both brightly decorated in primary colours. Signs pointing down a corridor indicated directions to Physiotherapy and a hydrotherapy pool. The tenant directory beside the lift listed Speech Therapy, Occupational Therapy, General Practitioners and Psychology. There was a constant stream of families through the door.

Rosie and Charlie squeezed into the lift with a dozen other people and popped out at the third floor in front of the reception desk for the specialist suites. The girl directed them to the waiting room at the eastern end of the building and Rosie wasn’t surprised to find the area had a magnificent view over the famous beach. Charlie immediately made himself comfortable in a bean-bag chair positioned in front of the enormous glass windows and settled down to watch the weekday surfers carving up the water.

Rosie flicked through a pile of magazines, all current issues, but the lure of the morning sunshine bouncing off the water was too enticing and she gave up on the magazines, instead choosing a chair where she could watch the beach too.

Movement to her left caught her attention and she turned to see a family coming through a doorway. The mother and daughter didn’t hold her attention but the man behind them was a different story.

Nick.

The attraction she’d felt on Sunday had been strong, so strong she’d let her imagination run off in all sorts of directions. She’d entertained the possibility he’d be married with children but, still, her disappointment when she saw him with a family of his own surprised her.

From the safety of the anonymity of a crowded waiting room she let her gaze linger. There was no harm in looking. Or, at least, no harm in looking if no one knew.

Nick was dressed far more smartly than the other day but looked just as handsome. His dark grey trousers with a fine pinstripe and a crisp white cotton shirt looked simple but expensive. Quality. Style. The sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and his forearms and face were tanned golden brown. She sighed, daydreams of time with Nick fading into nothingness in view of the woman at his side.

He came to a stop just past the doorway and the woman and child continued on, saying thanks. He looked around the waiting room and at that moment Rosie realised he wasn’t part of the family. This was his workplace. Visions of going with him, wherever he wanted, surged through her mind again. It was madness. Wholesale craziness. She knew that.

But it was a madness that left her tingling in such a delicious way it left her in no doubt that guardian aunt was not the only side of her still alive and kicking. She was still a woman, with desires and wants and needs, even if they had almost no chance of being satisfied in the near future. It was nice, though, very nice, to be reassured she hadn’t totally disappeared, as a woman, during the events of the last months.

As he scanned the room, his gaze locked with hers and he lifted a hand in greeting as he broke into a broad smile, his cupid’s-bow lips opening to reveal a set of perfect white teeth. Her response was automatic, the rush of warmth spreading upwards from deep in her belly until it gave her away with the blush that stole over her cheeks. She smiled through her embarrassment, still looking into blue-grey eyes that sparkled their pleasure at seeing her. All up, the exchange was only seconds. Certainly no one around them had noticed anything odd. People had their heads down in magazines, were murmuring to one another or were distracted by the demands of their children. For Rosie, though, it could have been minutes, hours even, that they’d looked at one another across the waiting room.

And Nick?

Nick had obviously remembered he was there to work and had broken the gaze after one more nod of his head and was scanning the waiting room. ‘Charlie Jefferson?’ Nick spoke softly but his deep voice penetrated through the general noise of a dozen waiting room conversations.

Rosie’s eyes widened in surprise.

Nick wasn’t just any doctor.

He was Dr Masters, Charlie’s specialist.

Charlie appeared from his hiding place in the depths of the bean-bag where Nick hadn’t had a hope of seeing him, and stood up at the sound of his name. Grabbing Rosie’s hand, he tugged her to her feet. The pressure of his grip was enough to snap her into action and she followed Charlie as he crossed the waiting room.

‘Hi, there, Charlie, nice to see you again.’ He greeted Charlie first and the little boy smiled shyly at him, which was something, but, as expected, didn’t speak. ‘Rosie!’ He held out a hand and shook hers briefly, his grip warm and sure, pleasure in his eyes. ‘For a moment I thought you’d come to claim that cup of coffee I offered at the beach.’

Rosie saw Charlie look from her to Nick and back again, a frown creasing his forehead. He was still holding her hand and his fingers tightened on hers. She knew he was wondering how his aunt knew his specialist but his curiosity was not sufficient to get him asking questions.

‘I didn’t realise you were an ENT specialist,’ she blurted out.

‘We didn’t have time for that conversation, it was a busy morning.’ Nick’s tone didn’t change; he obviously didn’t seem nonplussed as he led them along a short corridor, walking just in front since all three of them couldn’t fit abreast and there was no way Charlie was letting go of his aunt. ‘But, for me, things are now starting to fall into place. Lucy is Charlie’s twin and you are their aunt.Yes?’ He glanced back at her and she nodded in confirmation. ‘Charlie’s GP told me what happened.’

At her side, she felt Charlie relax a little, his fingers no longer clenched on her hand. Apparently he was satisfied that his aunt knowing his doctor was above-board. Perhaps he’d thought they’d been discussing him behind his back? Being talked about was something Charlie detested.

So at least there was now one less thing to explain in front of Charlie. He hadn’t seen Dr Masters since before his parents had died and Rosie hadn’t been keen on explaining the situation in front of her nephew.

Nick opened his office door, holding it open for them to enter. Rosie misjudged the width of the doorway and brushed against his arm as she passed him. Purely an accident, but the brief contact made her nerves jump to attention, covering her flesh in goose bumps. She hurriedly took one of the three seats alongside Nick’s desk, leaving a chair for Charlie to sit next to her.

Nick settled himself into the third chair, sitting next to Charlie instead of behind his desk, surprising, but a nice touch.

‘Not feeling too great, Charlie?’ Nick asked. ‘Doc Hawkins told me this is your second bout of tonsillitis since Christmas. Do you ever think of sharing it with your sister?’

Charlie smiled but shook his head.

‘Let me have a look at this throat of yours, then.’ He was natural with Charlie, focused on him, talking to him and not over his head, more adult-to-adult than adult-to-child. He was chalking up more points every second, with her at least, but she wasn’t sure his warm demeanour was penetrating Charlie’s armour.

‘You know the drill.’ Nick picked up his laryngoscope and Charlie dutifully opened his mouth.

‘He’s been on amoxicillin?’ Nick asked Rosie. He glanced at her and another surge of attraction shot through her, so physical it was like a blow to the chest, and she literally had to catch her breath. He didn’t seem at all distracted by her, whereas it was all she could do to concentrate on why they were there or even breathe normally.

‘Yes.’ She shifted her focus to Charlie as Nick had done and steadied her breathing before continuing. ‘It helps but the episodes are so frequent and I’m concerned about Charlie missing so much school.’ She caught Nick’s eye, sending a silent message along with her words.

Nick’s gaze narrowed slightly and he nodded, letting Rosie know he understood her meaning. ‘Charlie, I’m almost out of tongue depressors.’ Nick held up one of the flat wooden sticks he used. ‘If I ring the girls at the front desk and ask for more, I bet you could fetch them for me quicker than I could. What do you think?’ Charlie nodded and Nick dialled the reception desk, making his request and adding a suggestion that Charlie be allowed to choose a handful of sweets from the reception lolly jar, presumably a regular way of buying a few minutes with the child patient out of earshot. He turned back to Charlie. ‘Thanks, mate, see you in a bit. And here’s a tip—my receptionist never notices anyone hiding sweets in their pocket.’ He winked at the little boy, whose eyes had grown wide. ‘I do it all the time.’

The moment Charlie left the room Nick’s focus turned to Rosie. His blue-grey eyes held her gaze and she fought the blush she was sure was sneaking its way up on her. This morning had confirmed her realisation on the beach: falling apart at the seams because of a good-looking guy was a sign she’d been more affected than she’d thought by the sudden change in her life. Too much time immersed in a world of school runs, packed lunches and mounds of washing must do things to a girl’s brain!

‘You’re concerned about the amount of school Charlie’s missing?’

Dismissing thoughts of how her insides were in danger of melting under his scrutiny, Rosie found her voice and got a grip. ‘I’m not worried about it from an academic point of view but Charlie struggles socially at the best of times—’

‘And missing school makes him feel more out of the loop,’ said Nick, finishing off her sentence and her insides at the same time. A man who genuinely listened was one of her major weaknesses. Or so she’d just discovered. He’d turned his head slightly and was looking down at his desk to his left, deep in thought. Rosie was left to marvel that with this new revelation of his character, when added to his warmth, good looks and fabulous build, she hadn’t simply melted into a pool of shiny warm jelly on the floor.

Maybe this vulnerability to a man who genuinely listened was so obvious only by its comparison to her recently ended relationship with Philip. Listening and Philip did not go together. Except for those with money and position. When those twin pillars of Philip’s belief system talked, Philip most definitely listened. Nick, whom she’d probably now spent less than thirty minutes with in total, had probably listened to her more than Philip had in their entire relationship.

‘I take it his selective mutism hasn’t improved?’

Rosie shook her head. ‘No, in fact, since he was diagnosed when he was four, he hasn’t widened the circle of people he’ll talk to. Not that anyone really expects him to at the moment, given the circumstances. But since his parents died there are now two fewer people whom he will talk to.’

‘How many in total will he talk to?’

‘Five. My parents, his twin, me and his best friend from kindy, who is now at school with him.’

‘He makes eye contact with me. Does he do that with other people too?’

Rosie nodded. ‘For the most part, once he’s familiar with someone. But he just won’t, or literally can’t, talk to people. He freezes.’

‘Eye contact is a start but it’s not very encouraging if he’s not making any other progress.’ Nick paused briefly. ‘Do you think these frequent bouts of tonsillitis are genuine? Remember, he’s seen his GP, not me, for some of them. You think he’s happy enough about going to school?’ His head was cocked to one side, waiting for her input.

‘I’ve only been caring for the twins for two months but he’s had two episodes of tonsillitis in that time, three since last December, and, in my opinion, they’ve all been the real deal.’

‘Do you think the death of his parents has contributed at all?’

‘Do I think there’s a psychological aspect to it? Like his selective mutism?’

Nick nodded.

‘There could be, it’s hard to know for sure, although his psychologist thinks he’s coping pretty well.’ Rosie found by pretending she was talking to Charlie’s GP, not Nick, she could talk almost naturally. ‘But that’s another reason I don’t want his routine to change too much. I’m worried his mutism might get worse if he’s regularly away from school because of tonsillitis.’

‘So the tonsillectomy would mean a few more days off school but you think he’d benefit in the long run.’ Again, he’d neatly summarised her thoughts.

‘Yes. His psychologist agrees too, obviously on the basis that you consider it necessary.’

‘Looking at his tonsils today I think it’s reasonable to take them out, both from a medical and social point of view.’

Charlie reappeared, sucking with concentration, a fresh supply of tongue depressors in his right hand and his left hand holding his bulging pants pocket shut.

‘Fantastic. Thanks, Charlie.’ Nick took the handful from Charlie, pointedly ignoring his overflowing pocket. ‘Have a seat, there’s something I need to discuss with you.’ Rosie swallowed a laugh as Charlie slid awkwardly into his seat, clearly not wanting to risk a single lolly spilling out. ‘Your tonsils are pretty inflamed, all red and swollen. Your throat must be pretty sore and I’m guessing it’s pretty hard to talk to Rosie, even without a lolly in your mouth. Is that right?’

Charlie nodded and quickly popped another lolly, red-and-green striped, into his mouth.

‘They’re my favourite, you know. You’ve got good taste,’ Nick added, nodding at Charlie’s mouth before continuing as if he hadn’t changed the subject. Charlie’s eyes grew wide at the comment and he looked pleased with Nick’s attention. Rosie crossed her fingers and hoped that Nick’s rapport with Charlie would get her nephew thinking differently about the operation. ‘If I take your tonsils out, it’ll be sore for a few days, but not much worse than you feel when you have tonsillitis. You might still get a cold now and again but you won’t get the same sore throats any more. Does that sound like a good idea?’

Charlie looked at Rosie and she knew what he was thinking.

‘He won’t have to eat jelly, will he? I had to eat jelly when I had my tonsils out and Charlie doesn’t like it.’

‘Well, when Rosie was little, back in the olden days…’ Nick winked at Charlie ‘…the nurses were very strict and everyone had to eat jelly, but now, if I tell the nurses no jelly, that’s all there is to it.’

Rosie could well imagine. She didn’t think there’d be too many complaints no matter what Nick asked the nursing staff.

‘Do we have a deal?’

Charlie glanced at Rosie then back to Nick, looking at him for a few seconds before nodding solemnly. Nick kept a solemn face, too, holding out a hand, and Charlie took it, shaking on their deal, all the while sucking on the lolly determinedly. Charlie was nothing if not determined. In everything he did, including not talking. It made it all the more amazing that Nick had managed to convince Charlie to have the surgery.

‘I’ll look at my operating schedule and work out when I can fit Charlie in. I’ll ring you and let you know what we can arrange. But whenever it is, there will definitely be no jelly coming anywhere near you, young man, doctor’s orders.’

Charlie beamed at Nick and didn’t pull away when Nick placed a hand on his shoulder as he walked them out. They were in the hallway when Charlie turned and ran back into Nick’s office, leaving Rosie staring blankly after her nephew, his behaviour out of character. ‘Maybe he forgot something?’ They didn’t have time to wonder, though, as Charlie was already tearing back to them, a secret smile dancing around the corners of his mouth.

It was much the same way Rosie felt, too, as she waved goodbye to Nick in the waiting room. Because, whatever else happened, she was at least guaranteed to speak to Nick again soon.

Nick stopped by the receptionist desk to see who his next patient was, suppressing mild irritation when he was told they hadn’t shown up, with no phone call of explanation.

‘It’ll give you a chance to look at these.’ She handed over a thick yellow envelope marked ‘Confidential’.

Nick cocked an eyebrow, asking, ‘The revised partnership agreement?’

She nodded. ‘I’ll hold your calls for half an hour so you can go through it.’ She picked up another bundle of papers and slid it into his hands on top of the first envelope. ‘And if you get time, these referrals and reports need to be done. Sooner. Not later.’

‘You’re a slave-driver, you’re meant to protect me from the world, not be the one who attacks me,’ muttered Nick, but it was good-natured and even managed to bring out a glimmer of a smile to soften his receptionist’s serious features. He tucked the pile of papers under his arm and headed back to his office, free to contemplate the fact that a missed appointment wasn’t what was irritating him, and the partnership papers weren’t what was uppermost in his mind. It was the fact that he could’ve kept talking with Rosie and Charlie if his next appointment hadn’t been looming.

Charlie was intriguing and he was determined to get him to talk at some stage. And his aunt? She fell into the intriguing category, too, a category that had been dismally empty for some considerable time now. Together, they made an interesting pair.

Once at his desk, he slapped the pile of papers down, resolved to comb through the final agreement he’d been impatient to receive. Then his eyes caught a bright colour and his papers lay forgotten.

A boiled lolly, red-and-green striped, shiny and hard, lay where it had been placed carefully in the centre of his notepad. He picked it up, inspected it momentarily and then lifted the pad on which someone had written, ‘They’re my favourite, too.’

‘Bingo,’ muttered Nick as he popped the lolly into his mouth. ‘He’s talking to me.’

Rosie had long since tucked Charlie and Lucy into bed and they were now fast asleep. In the last two months, this had become the time of the day she most needed. It was also the time she most dreaded. She needed the breathing space but being alone left her facing the fact she was also lonely. Dreadfully so.

Tonight, though, there was a certain comfort in being lonely. For a start, it made sense of her reaction to Nick today—and the first time she’d met him, too, if she was honest. If she wasn’t so lonely, if her life hadn’t changed so radically overnight with the unexpected deaths of her brother and sister-in-law, she wouldn’t be acting so out of character. She wouldn’t be knocked sideways by a stranger with a kind smile. All right, a killer smile. She’d noticed him, she was no nun, but she wouldn’t normally be rendered speechless or breathless or experiencing any of the symptoms he induced in her. That was obviously due to the demands of her new life. And her grief.

She and the children had encased themselves in a bubble. Insular was the word for it. She saw her parents but they understood the circumstances all too well since they shared the same loss.

Thanks to Nick, she could now say some feeling had returned and it was good. Noticing a very attractive man was a pleasant way of being enticed back into the land of the living but it didn’t mean anything more than that. She was only really noticing him because of her loneliness. It didn’t mean what she was trying to achieve for the twins was under threat.

Her sole focus was to give her niece and nephew a sense of normality, knowing her own needs could wait. She was the adult. Her reaction to Nick had reminded her she was well and truly alive and although her needs might need to wait, they hadn’t been obliterated. She toyed momentarily with the idea of socialising beyond her immediate family so her old self didn’t disappear totally. The thought didn’t appeal, not yet.

And yet the reality was she was sitting on the couch, alone, at eight o’clock at night, empty hours stretching before her. And that reality didn’t appeal either. In her old life she would have been heading out to watch a movie with a girlfriend or more likely to dinner with Philip and his political cronies. Now she was sitting on the couch contemplating making lunches and folding washing. Deciding she was too tired to do any of that, she flicked through the CD collection, looking for a way to break the silence. But the CDs belonged to her brother, David, and his wife, Anna. She didn’t want that reminder tonight.

Most of her possessions were still in Canberra. She’d jumped on a plane when her parents had called her after the accident and had only been back briefly once. She had meant to have her things sent to her but somehow there was always something else needing to be done first. Now was as good a time as any to let her ex know her plans. Apart from a few clothes, the rest of her things were still in the apartment they’d shared.

She picked up her mobile and hit the automatic dial for Philip’s mobile phone.

‘Rosie!’ He knew it was her before she spoke. There was some comfort in knowing he hadn’t deleted her number from his phone memory. Yet. ‘How are you?’

How should she respond? She knew Philip wouldn’t want to hear the truth. She’d spent the past week looking after one sick child while trying to make sure the other got enough attention too and making sure the wheels didn’t fall off their lives completely. She’d learnt long ago that Philip was one of those people for whom ‘How are you?’ was really a rhetorical question. So she gave her standard response.

‘Good. Have you got a minute? I need to sort out getting some of my things sent up.’

‘I’m on my way out, we’ll talk about it on Saturday when I get to Sydney. For the dinner.’ He paused and she could hear in his voice that he was frowning, displeased. ‘With the New Zealand Prime Minister. You did remember?’

‘Yes,’ Rosie fibbed. He’d been right to doubt her, she’d totally forgotten. Her life was very much lived from one day to the next at the moment and Saturday night was still four days away. She wanted to go to a formal political event even less than she wanted to spend every night at home for the next year, but she’d promised. Had she just forgotten or had she just hoped the function would go away if she ignored it?

‘Are you sure—?’

Philip read her intentions before she’d fully realised herself what she’d been about to say. ‘You promised, Rosie, and yes, it is important you’re seen with me.’

Important she was seen with him, not important that she be with him. There was a difference. And it rankled.

‘I’m flying in at six and the car will come straight from the airport to pick you up. Formal dress.’

What was the point in refusing? He was right, she had promised, and Rosie didn’t break promises or let people down, even if they were ex-boyfriends. There were lots of things Rosie didn’t do. But one thing she said a lot was, ‘Sure.’ Sure, no problem; sure, it’ll put me out but don’t you worry; sure, sure, sure. She sure was sick of saying ‘sure’.

‘We’ll talk then. Bye.’

Typically, Philip had turned the conversation to his needs. He hadn’t even offered to bring any of her things with him. He could easily have thrown some stuff in a suitcase. Members of Parliament didn’t seem to have the same luggage restrictions as mere mortals. All her evening dresses were in Canberra, he could easily have brought something for her to wear. Rosie debated whether to call him back and then decided it would be easier to buy something new. Easier for her—or easier for him?

He’d do it if she asked directly, she had to give him that, but maybe only because it affected him directly? He wouldn’t want to turn up and have her unable to go for lack of something to wear. But for the same reason he couldn’t be counted on to bring the dress and shoes she actually requested. He’d bring what he deemed suitable. It was unlikely to be the same thing.

She tossed the phone on the couch beside her and closed her eyes. Perhaps if she shut everything out for a few moments she’d find the energy to get up and finish the day’s chores.

Seconds after she’d thrown the phone down it rang, startling her. Philip ringing to see what he could bring? She may as well glance out the window and check if the pigs were flying.

‘Hello?’

‘Hi, Rosie? It’s Nick Masters.’

A warm glow spread through her, replacing the low feeling she’d been grappling with even before she had called Philip. ‘Nick, hi.’

‘I’ve just checked my operating schedule for the next fortnight. I know it’s late, but I’m only just out of surgery and I got the feeling you’re an information person like me so you’d rather know sooner than later.’

Rosie managed ‘Thanks’ in reply, stunned he could know that about her in such a short space of time. Or at all. Would any of her past boyfriends have had such an insight into her character?

‘I can fit Charlie in on Monday week. I operate at St Catherine’s that day so it’s close for you.’

‘Monday’s good. St Catherine’s good.’ Some proper sentences would also be good, she muttered mentally. Come on, get it together. The guy doesn’t know you’re a house-bound loony, don’t let the secret out now! She kick-started her brain into gear. ‘Great. And you’re right, I do like to get all the facts, then I can deal with it, plan, work out what I’m going to do.’ So far so good. ‘Things are much less stressful when the information is on the table and you’re not left second-guessing. Not that I was scared about you operating…’ She stumbled to an embarrassed silence.

Nick didn’t miss a beat, simply laughing as if she’d been joking. ‘I’m glad to hear it, although most people are terrified, some not so secretly, at the thought of their child having surgery. I’ll get the forms posted to you but he’ll need to be admitted at seven a.m. Can you manage that?’

It would mean juggling Lucy’s schedule but that wasn’t Nick’s problem. ‘Yes, I’ll sort something out.’

‘What about your work, can you take time off?’

‘I’m on a leave of absence from my job to concentrate on the children.’

There was a brief silence at the other end. Had she scared him off with too much information? ‘Maybe once I get Charlie sorted for you, that will help things settle down.’ She got the feeling it wasn’t what he wanted to say, or ask, but that’s all it was. A feeling. And she didn’t know him well enough to ask.

‘I hope so. It might be a start at least.’

‘Let me know if there’s anything I can do,’ he offered.

‘Thanks, Nick, but I doubt you have time to worry about how your patients are going to organise their lives.’ She settled back against the deep cushions of the couch, conscious she was behaving as if she was readying herself for a nice long chat with a good friend.

‘Not usually. But most of my private patients have a partner or, to be honest, a nanny to help pick up the slack, and in the public hospitals there’s Family and Community Services help if necessary. It’s no difficulty to schedule things to suit you, you just need to say.’

‘I appreciate that, but we’ll be fine, this time at least. We’ll see you on the sixteenth, and thank you.’ She hesitated, unused to the feeling of having help offered, of accepting it, then added, ‘If I get stuck and need an appointment changed, I’ll remember your invitation. It’s very kind of you.’

He said goodbye and she ended the call, wondering what he’d wanted to say or ask when she’d mentioned her work leave. She shrugged, knowing she’d never know and it probably didn’t matter. It was just one more sign of how insular she’d become, that she could sit analysing the things an almost-stranger hadn’t said during a routine phone call.

On another note, a more positive note, the phone call had helped her more than Nick would know. To be asked how she was coping, whether something would suit her, made all the difference. She suspected she wasn’t coping all that well given her growing preoccupation with her nephew’s specialist, a man who’d rung only to schedule surgery. A man unlikely to have any interest in an overwhelmed, grieving aunt. But if she allowed herself to ignore those obvious objections, he’d still managed to make her feel she was cared about. He’d managed to make her feel less alone at precisely the time she’d needed that reassurance, however fleeting it might be.

The contrast between that phone call and the earlier one with Philip was marked. Philip, who should have asked after the children, out of politeness if not out of a sense of concern, hadn’t, yet a virtual stranger had.

Returning to Canberra to live with the children was one of the options she was thinking over. After her phone call with her ex, that option was looking bleaker. What was there for her, for any of them, if her breakup with Philip was going to be permanent?

Or perhaps, she reflected, recalling how her tongue had frozen and her belly had sprung to life at the sight of Nick today, what had there ever been there for her? Even with Philip?

CHAPTER THREE

NICK retied his black bow-tie, struggling to get it sitting properly but unable to give it the concentration it needed. His work schedule and goals were up in lights in his head, distracting him from the immediate task at hand. He had, just yesterday, signed the final partnership papers. He was now a full partner in the medical clinic. He was finally scaling the mountain of goals he’d been working towards. Buying into the practice meant a significant amount of debt but it was debt necessary to building a business, unlike the mound of debt he’d only finally cleared these last months. That had been a noose around his neck, nothing but a dead weight.

Now he’d shrugged it off and had embarked on this new, productive phase of his life. His work was building up, referrals were coming in apace. He felt more confident than he’d felt in years.

He pulled on the ends of his tie one final time, shrugging at his reflection in the mirror. His tie looked like it was supposed to. Close enough, anyway. It was just a tie. He ran his fingers through his hair. He’d long since given up on trying to get it to sit neatly, his cowlick making that impossible. He was only aiming for semi-presentable. Ditto for the bow-tie.

Grabbing his dinner jacket as he headed out the door, he knew he was looking forward to the evening. He’d stopped the downward spiral that had been his life for the past few years. He was a successful medical specialist with a growing practice. Not a man with a failed marriage and a huge, useless debt. His single-minded pursuit of stability was at last paying off.

He slung his jacket in the back of his car and allowed himself a wry grin as he slid behind the wheel of his old Holden wagon, proof positive that he wasn’t completely out of the hole his ex-wife had dug for him. It was a sure-fire bet no one else would be heading for the Opera House tonight in anything as old as this but his finances didn’t stretch to splurging on a new vehicle. This one did the job.

He was used to making do.

Sometimes it seemed that was all he’d done for years.

Make do. Make do while he worked and strove singlemindedly to fulfil the goals he’d been set on since late adolescence. Stability. Security. Respectability.

And, after a string of major setbacks, it was finally all in his sights.

So tonight, to celebrate, he would mingle and dance and enjoy the kudos that came with being a medical specialist, the newest partner in a successful practice.

Rosie opened the door to find Philip himself on the front step, immaculate as always. As usual he looked made for his suit, probably because his suit had been made for him and he wore it as if he deserved it.

He leant forward and Rosie hesitated. Cheek? Lips? Handshake? What was the etiquette the first time you saw your ex after you’d separated? Philip clearly thought lips were in order but she found herself offering her cheek for a kiss. The first time she’d consciously gone against what Philip wanted? Correction. The second. Taking up the guardianship of the twins and leaving Canberra had definitely not been what Philip had wanted.

But was that really because he cared for Rosie enough to spend his life with her? She knew it wasn’t enough for her; if it had been she wouldn’t have called it off because she was moving. For the same reasons, she knew it was the same for him. If he’d cared so much about her, he would’ve tried to make a long-distance relationship work. After all, she was still contemplating a return to Canberra. So she knew his chagrin was more because she had disturbed the convenient, established order of their lives together than because he was heart-broken.

‘Hi. Did you have a good trip?’

He nodded. ‘You look nice, you don’t wear much yellow. It suits you.’ He glanced at the dress again, frowning slightly as he took in the drape of the fabric, which left nothing to the imagination. Yet, except for her shoulders and arms, and a rather revealing cleavage, she was fully covered and the dress wasn’t too tight, just sculpted as if made for her. ‘I grabbed it yesterday from the remnants of the end-of-summer sales.’ She resisted tugging at the low neckline. If she was going to wear it, she may as well act comfortable in it. But she hadn’t been joking when she’d said it was from the remnants—it had been the only decent thing left that both fitted her and had been in her price bracket. ‘Why don’t you come in and say hello to the kids and my mum?’

Philip checked his watch. He was looking for an excuse, she knew, and was waiting for her to let him off the hook. Fair enough, she had to admit she normally would have done so, but tonight a small, unfamiliar feeling of defiance was niggling her. She was already doing him a favour by going to the dinner. For once, he could do something for her. He hadn’t even offered to bring any of her things up from Canberra. She laughed at herself for letting that gripe surface again. ‘I need to grab my bag anyway,’ she said as she stepped back and headed down the hall, not particularly caring whether he followed.

It only took minutes to wish he hadn’t. Lucy, Charlie and Rosie’s mum were in the family room, Rosie’s mum and Philip were making stilted conversation and Lucy was being her normal extroverted self, forcing Philip to pay her some awkward attention. As for Charlie, Philip ignored the little boy who had never spoken to him despite having met him a number of times during Rosie and Philip’s trips up to Sydney. Philip, silver-tongued with statesmen, was as tongue-tied and awkward with Charlie as Charlie was mute with most of the world. Until tonight Rosie had excused her partner but that irritated feeling wasn’t abating. Couldn’t a grown man think of something to say to a little boy that only required a shake or nod of the head in response?

After a couple of minutes Rosie had had enough. Picking up her bag and kissing them all goodnight, she took Philip away, ending everyone’s discomfort. It was more confirmation that she’d been right not to move the children to Canberra.

At least, not right away.

Conversation was one-sided on the drive to the Opera House. The glass screen between the chauffeur and their seats was up and in the privacy of the back Philip delivered his thoughts as to who he would introduce her to, who he wanted her to chat to and for how long. Rosie closed her eyes momentarily and Philip laid a hand on her arm, apparently reading her thoughts, saying, ‘I know these things can be tiresome.’ Which Rosie knew he didn’t think at all so he must mean tiresome for her. ‘But you’ve always handled yourself so well.’

‘Philip, I promised you I’d come tonight and I’ll do the right thing, and I’ll do it all with my most charming smile.’ She meant it too, although it would come at some effort. The couch she’d been lamenting four days ago now seemed much the preferable option.

‘Any more thought about moving home?’

‘I don’t know what I’m going to do, the children can’t be moved right now.’

Philip sighed, drumming his fingers on his lap. ‘Rosie, you don’t look yourself, you look exhausted. And you must be missing work. Besides, you only took a leave of absence, you’re going to have to decide what to do soon.’

She wanted to argue but she gave it up and slumped a little. He was right. About some things. ‘I agree it’s been hard making the adjustment but that doesn’t mean it’s the wrong thing to do. I’m where I need to be and where I want to be. I miss work, true, but I’ll get back to it in time, just not right now. I also agree I’m tired and if I’m not glowing with happiness, it’s because I’m grieving for my brother and his wife. Those are consequences I have to deal with. It doesn’t translate into me wanting to ditch the children.’

‘You seemed to ditch Canberra easily enough.’ Rosie flinched at the hurt in his voice. He’d done his best not to show she’d hurt him before she’d gone, but she’d known it was his pride behind that because she’d left him feeling rejected.

‘I didn’t end things with you easily. Honestly, it makes me sad, but now I’ve had time apart to think, I’m pretty sure we’d run our course. I said it was better to call it off because I didn’t want to be making promises I couldn’t keep. And I think I was right.’ She was distracted for a moment as she saw they’d arrived at the Opera House and had pulled into the queue of chauffeur-driven cars which, one by one, were depositing their passengers at the foot of the red-carpeted stairs up to the white-sailed building. ‘And you were also clear you couldn’t move with me. So there was no other reasonable alternative.’

He didn’t answer her, just gave a sharp nod of the head. It was her turn to lay a hand on his arm, stroking the expensive fabric of his suit jacket lightly. ‘I know you’re hurt that I left, but in the interests of us salvaging our friendship, can you accept this is what I had to do?’

‘I’m no good with children.’ Was he explaining why he hadn’t been able to consider moving with her? Or attempting a long-distance relationship? It sounded like an explanation. Perhaps it was?

‘I’m not asking you to be.’ Not strictly true, she’d deliberately tested him tonight when she’d invited him in and he’d struggled. ‘But that’s what my life is now. Quite frankly, I don’t know what shape things are going to take, but the children will be a central part no matter what.’

The car was pulling up in front of the steps, the door was opened for them and Philip emerged first, waiting to help Rosie out of the car. He might be cross with her, because she’d let him down and hurt him, but with Philip that would be no reason not to keep up appearances. How had he explained her absence so far from any number of functions in Canberra? After being an established couple over the last couple of years, did anyone even know they were separated?

Rosie allowed him to escort her into the function room. Philip kept her close and Rosie knew why. He liked to make an entrance and they made a striking couple: she was five foot ten in bare feet and Philip was several inches taller, so their height alone made people notice them. In politics, being noticed was part of the game if you wanted to climb to the top.

Rosie knew she was an asset in this regard. She’d never minded, it was the way the world worked, but now she questioned that assumption—had she just begun thinking like that because she’d been so fully immersed in that world? Maybe the rest of the world didn’t function so superficially?

She scanned the already crowded room and realised it wasn’t fair, not entirely. There were plenty of familiar faces and among them were some people she’d always enjoyed seeing, it wasn’t all rubbing shoulders for the sake of it. Tonight, though, pleasant people or not, it wasn’t where she wanted to be. She’d promised Philip she’d mingle cheerfully, but for the life of her she couldn’t imagine having anything of interest to contribute. When had she last managed to read the weekend papers when the news wasn’t already three days old?

For now, though, she waited dutifully next to Philip in the line to meet the Australian Prime Minister and his New Zealand counterpart. Rosie towered over the Australian PM but, then, so did most people. He remembered meeting her before, a fact which clearly pleased Philip. Maybe this would give her some bonus points and allow her to sneak off from her ‘official’ duties a bit earlier.

Philip introduced her to the minister for education and his wife before excusing himself. The minister was a rather dull man, his wife even more so, and she knew she’d been delivered to them to pay Philip’s dues without him having to endure them. After a few minutes she made her own excuses and made her way to the minister for health, collecting a glass of white wine along the way. The health minister was also someone Philip wanted her to talk to but at least he was interesting. He’d been a doctor in his pre-government life so they’d be able to find some common ground.

She was here.

Nick had noticed her the moment she’d entered the room. In a room filled wall to wall with ageing men in black suits and women wearing predominantly safe little black dresses, Rosie shone like a star in her canary-yellow dress.

Her shoulder-length sandy-blonde hair had been pinned back from her face and with her summer tan she looked beautiful, but he was sure he could still see the traces of shadows around her eyes, the faint tinge of tiredness he’d seen at the beach and his office. Even so, and even competing with the stunning backdrop of the lights of Sydney Harbour, she had no trouble capturing his attention.

He mingled, all the time aware of where she was. She’d made an entrance on the arm of a similarly noticeable man—taller, younger and better-looking than many of the other men in the room. The guy didn’t fit the picture he realised he’d built up around Rosie, of a young woman on her own, managing a difficult set of circumstances. Had he got her wrong?

Right now Rosie was talking to the minister for health. Nick couldn’t see the guy who had accompanied Rosie into the function but he didn’t waste time trying to find him either. One man’s loss. Was what? His ticket to making this evening the celebration he’d been planning?

The instant attraction he’d felt for her, stirred by her combination of vitality and vulnerability, was showing no signs of lessening tonight. Not a chance of it with her wearing a dress that looked like it was poured over her skin. He’d given himself permission to relax and enjoy the evening. He didn’t have to get involved, he was allowed to have fun and if he could have fun with Rosie—well, that was even better.

He ignored the nagging suspicion in the back of his mind that he was flirting with danger by spending time with her. She didn’t strike him as the type who went for brief dalliances—neither was he, for that matter—but this pull between them was there and the question had to be asked. If Rosie needed a night off from her responsibilities this could work out perfectly for both of them.

He cut across the room as she left the minister’s side, walking swiftly so he could catch her before she began another conversation.

Rosie excused herself from the health minister as another couple approached him, congratulating herself for getting off to a good start. ‘That’s two prime ministers and two ministers down in the first half-hour,’ she muttered as she weaved through the crowded room, ‘and I think I can count the minister for education as two ministers since he was hard enough work. Time for a break before dinner.’ She’d walk the room, nodding and smiling and looking like she had somewhere to go so no one stopped her to chat.

Not more than half a dozen steps later someone said her name behind her. So much for her plan.

‘Rosie Jefferson, what a happy coincidence.’

She turned, her smile immediate when she saw who it was. ‘Nick!’ And just like that, the head-spinning tingles were back, along with the desire to step into his arms and go with him. Madness! With an effort, she said, ‘What on earth are you doing here?’

‘You don’t think a simple doctor is worthy of such highflying company?’ His grin was magic as he gestured to take in the room full of politicians and other movers and shakers. Philip looked good in his dinner suit but on Nick it was elevated to a whole new level of deliciousness. His broad, straight shoulders perfectly suited to jackets, he could have stepped off a catwalk. And she knew in an instant Nick hadn’t spent nearly the same sum on his suit—another end-of-summer remnant?

‘Maybe not a question of being worthy, but is this really your usual Saturday night entertainment?’ She was fishing, shamelessly so, and she didn’t care. She needed to know whatever she could about him. How he cut his toast, where his favourite beach was, whether he had struggled to tie his bow-tie tonight…how he’d react if she reached out now and tugged on it, loosened it…She widened her eyes at the thought and swallowed. Hard. Stuttering, she tried to cover the fact her mind had wandered off into fantasy territory. Again. ‘I wouldn’t have pictured you here.’

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