A Mother for Matilda
Amy Andrews

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Table of Contents

Cover Page

Title Page

Dedication

Dear Reader

About the author

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Preview

Copyright

Dear Reader

After eighteen books this is my first ‘friends become lovers’ story. I’m not sure why I’ve never tackled this one before, because as far as storylines go I’m a bona fide fan! The angst and the yearning in these plots are so tangible you can feel them seething around you as you read.

Poor Lawson and Victoria are no different. Not only have they known each other for twenty years, having formed a dynamic and vital paramedic partnership on their small island community that neither want to jeopardise, Vic is counting down the days until she leaves the island for foreign shores. And then there’s Matilda—Lawson’s eight-year-old daughter. Victoria has spent the last seventeen years raising her twin brothers after their mother’s tragic death—she yearns for a freedom that she’s never known. She certainly has no plans to be a mother—ever.

But sometimes fate has other things in store, and Victoria and Lawson are about to discover that some things just can’t be denied. It’s a bumpy ride, but one that will be well worth the bruises.

I hope you enjoy.

Love

Amy

Amy Andrews has always loved writing, and still can’t quite believe that she gets to do it for a living. Creating wonderful heroines and gorgeous heroes and telling their stories is an amazing way to pass the day. Sometimes they don’t always act as she’d like them to—but then neither do her kids, so she’s kind of used to it. Amy lives in the very beautiful Samford Valley, with her husband and aforementioned children, along with six brown chooks and two black dogs. She loves to hear from her readers. Drop her a line at www.amyandrews.com.au

I dedicate this book to one of the most talented writers I know, and the woman who knows me better than any other—my amazing sister, Roslyn. I carry her heart in my heart. As she does mine.

Chapter One

AN EARLY morning sea breeze caught the sleeve of Lawson Dunlop’s paramedic overalls as he sat on the wooden picnic table devouring a bacon and egg roll from the nearby twenty-four-hour cafe. His booted feet were evenly spread and braced on the seat. His elbows propped on his powerful quads. His lean torso angled forward.

The first rays of sunlight reached across the ocean to illuminate the island and in the half-light the water in the passage was a deep velvety blue. The surface was still, millpond still, yet to be fractured by the activities of the day.

Already a steady stream of workers in their cars trundled over the bridge heading to the mainland and Brisbane, one hour’s commute away. A few eager fishermen, their lines hanging over the side, paid no heed to the daily island exodus as the cars rumbled past them.

A gull wheeled and cried overhead as Lawson’s gaze tracked the path of a nearby pelican waddling up the narrow strip of sand ceded by the tide. The breeze blew a faint tang of salt towards him and he inhaled deeply, enjoying the serenity of island life and the respite from a long and busy night duty.

A rustle beside him disturbed the peace and he turned to look down at his partner of five years sitting next to him in much the same fashion, their thighs almost touching. She was also making short work of her breakfast, which at least meant he could enjoy the scenery in silence. Eating was about the only time Victoria Dunleavy was ever quiet.

Vic inhaled, also admiring the view. ‘Don’t guess I’m going to get this in London,’ she said around a mouthful of burger.

Lawson shook his head. ‘Nope.’

‘Did I mention it’s ninety days?’

‘Yep.’ Once or twice.

‘Nine. Zero. Then I’m out of here. Gone-ski. Vamoosed.’ She ignored the way her gut clenched at the thought of being so far away from her beloved Brindabella Island. It was way past time for her to fly the nest.

‘Uh-huh.’

Lawson took another bite. He’d miss his partner. In a strictly professional way, of course. Good partnerships were rare and, in their line of work, vital. He wasn’t looking forward to having to build a rapport with someone else. He’d miss the synergy that flowed effortlessly between the two of them.

‘I’ll miss the twins. And Dad, of course.’ The thought of leaving her family struck like an ice pick to her heart as she sat and absorbed the scenery already embedded in her DNA. She was twenty-six, for crying out loud. It was time!

Lawson could hear the wistfulness in her tone and immediately felt selfish for thinking of himself and the impact her leaving would have on his workload. Victoria deserved this. She’d sacrificed a lot for her family and now the twins were grown she was free to get out and explore the world. As he’d done.

‘The twins will be at uni when you leave and probably too busy chasing girls to notice,’ he hastened to assure her. ‘Bob will be fine. Go and see the world. Sow your wild oats.’

Lawson was surprised at the catch in his chest as the old-fashioned saying pinged a nerve ending or two—the thought of her with the opposite sex not sitting well.

Vic nodded. He was right. Of course he was. Still, every now and then, the decision to leave her family, leave the island and everything she’d ever known and loved, had the power to stop her in her tracks.

It was the right decision, the only decision, she just hadn’t realised how hard it was going to be. A year ago when she’d booked the ticket it had been a long way off but with ninety days to go it was suddenly looming. And it was disheartening to think her departure might barely be noticed.

They finished their breakfast in companionable silence. Lawson checked his watch as he screwed up his paper bag. Six-thirty. Another hour and a half before they knocked off. He should just make it home in time to see Matilda before she left for the day.

Victoria was quiet beside him, unusual to say the least but he knew it wouldn’t last long. He’d known her since she was a skinny six-year-old and he’d been fortunate enough to be partnered with her father as a rookie paramedic. She’d been a chatty kid and nothing much had changed over the years.

‘I’ll be missed too, right?’

He glanced at her pensive face as she stared out over the water, attuned to the slight trace of doubt he heard in her voice. ‘Of course.’

Very few people got to see this side of his partner. To the outside world she was capable Victoria Dunleavy—dedicated daughter, big sister/surrogate mother and ultra-professional paramedic. But having known her for ever and having sat in a vehicle with her four out of seven days a week for the last five years, he’d been privy to the other Victoria Dunleavy. The one nobody got to see. The one who’d had way too much responsibility thrust on her long before she should have and wasn’t always certain of herself.

‘Ryan and Josh and your dad will miss you desperately,’ he assured her. ‘And everyone at the station. I know for a fact that Matilda will miss you like crazy.’

Vic chewed her last mouthful very carefully. So, her brothers would miss her, her father would miss her, her colleagues would miss her, even his eight-year-old daughter would miss her. But what about him? Would he miss her?

The fact that he hadn’t included himself was a little depressing. Vic had had a crush on her partner for as long as she could remember. Given that he’d known her for ever and there was a twelve-year age difference, she’d never expected it to be reciprocated. After all, it was just a harmless crush on an older man who’d been a family friend for ever and her mentor for the last five years.

Things like that happened all the time. It wasn’t as if she was in love with the guy. But surely, surely, he’d miss her too? She scrunched up her packet and turned to him. ‘What about you, Lawson? Will you miss me?’

Lawson gave her a startled look. Her steady whiskey gaze held him captive and he was struck again by that look he sometimes saw in it. He wasn’t sure what it was but it was frank and seemed to reach right inside him.

He nodded and looked back out to sea. ‘Of course. I’ve spent five years training you to do things my way. Your father will probably stick me with a newbie straight out of the academy.’ Bob Dunleavy, his old mentor and her father, was Officer-In-Charge of Brindabella Station. ‘Now I’ll have to start all over again with someone else.’

Vic realised she was holding her breath and she let it ease out slowly. Of course. He would miss her as a colleague. Her skills, their teamwork, their synergy. Why had she expected anything else? He’d never been anything other than one hundred per cent professional with her.

Which only proved further how badly she needed to get away from the island. She needed to broaden her horizons, both personal and professional. She needed to experience a variety of working environments, be exposed to different ideas, meet new people. Including men.

Every boyfriend she’d dated had suffered in comparison to Lawson. It wasn’t that she meant to compare or even realised she was doing it half the time. It just happened. Somehow, they’d all been a little lacking. Perhaps if he was out of her life, the silly crush would be forgotten and another man might just stand a chance.

Quite why she felt the way she did was a mystery. It wasn’t as if Lawson had ever given her any encourag ment. Or ever treated her as anything other than Bob’s daughter. Just another paramedic at the station.

It wasn’t even as if he were the best-looking man she’d ever known. On the contrary—she’d been out with some exceedingly good-looking men. Lance Coulter in particular had been so sexy she’d been the envy of the entire island. Everyone from teenagers to grannies had swooned over the locum island doctor.

But there was something about Lawson Dunlop that was compelling. He certainly wasn’t classically goodlooking. In fact the features of his face taken individually could best be described as interesting. A freakishly square jaw line, crooked nose and deep furrows lining his brow and around his eyes and mouth.

His eyes were grey. Nothing special. Except they could look warm like the soft folds of a cashmere jumper when he was calming a frightened patient or ominous like a storm-ravaged sea when stupidity caused needless carnage. His hair was dark brown and worn severely curtailed in a closely cropped fashion—not stylish or fussy. Just functional. No nonsense.

And then there was his scar. The one he never talked about. A thin white blemish that slashed from just beneath his nose down through both lips and ploughed a furrow in the stubble covering his chin.

She’d heard mountains being described as craggy and it was the best adjective she could come up with that suited his face. His height also leant to this appearance. He was well over six feet, his broad shoulders seeming to occupy all the space around him.

He certainly loomed above her, making her feel strangely fragile. Which was utterly ridiculous. She might have been petite but she was no dainty flower. She was strong, a requirement of her job, and most definitely robust.

An insistent beeping noise interrupted her thoughts, for which she was most thankful. They simultaneously reached for their pagers. Lawson pulled his off his belt first.

‘Forty-four-year-old female. Chest pain. Borilla Avenue.’

Vic nodded, her brain already switching from her personal life to work mode. ‘Let’s go.’ She vaulted off the table, landing cat-like on her feet, eager to banish the doubt demons and throw herself into what would hopefully be their last job before they clocked off. She headed for the nearby ambulance, not bothering to look back.

Lawson followed her, his gaze drawn to the bob of her auburn ponytail and the way her neat little frame fitted snugly into her navy paramedic overalls. He’d been doing that more and more lately. Noticing how her uniform clung to the contours of her bottom and how the functional government-issued belt she wore at her waist cinched her in, emphasising her curves.

Curves? Up until about a year ago he hadn’t even noticed she owned curves.

What the hell was the matter with him? He’d known her since she was a six-year-old in pigtails. He had no business noticing how much of a woman she’d become. How her wide-set eyes were balanced by the fullness of her lips. Or how those cute cherubic cheeks and dimples she’d had as a kid were just plain sexy twenty years later. It was just…wrong.

He banished them from his head and put his mind firmly to the job.

A few hours later Vic was in the depths of a sleep so deep that it took several insistent bangs on her bedroom door to drag her back into consciousness. She surfaced from the pillow she had jammed over her head and yelled, ‘What?’ in the general direction of the door.

Her brothers were in their senior year at high school and were currently in their exam block, which meant unless they had a test they didn’t have to be at school. This afternoon they had a biology paper and were supposed to be using the morning to cram for it.

‘Ryan’s cut his finger.’

Vic’s heavy lids battled to stay open. She’d worked her tail off last night and she was dog-tired. ‘Stick a Band-Aid on it,’ she grouched, placing the pillow back over her head.

‘I think it needs more than that.’

Vic sighed and threw the pillow away as the hesitation in Josh’s voice nagged at her gut. It had to be reasonably bad—both brothers knew a fate worse than death awaited them for trivial interruptions to her post-night-duty coma.

She looked at the clock. She’d been asleep for two hours. No wonder she felt like hell—those first few hours were always the deepest.

She opened the door and a blast of heat pushed into her air-conditioned bedroom. She looked up at her brother towering over her. She was barely five one; everyone towered over her. He was as blond as she was olive, the twins taking after their mother, whereas she had inherited the darker Dunleavy colouring.

‘There’d better be blood.’

Josh swallowed. ‘Oh, there is.’

Vic followed feeling weary to her bones but not overly concerned. She knew non-medical people often misjudged blood loss and that a small amount of the red stuff could often look like a massacre.

Her eyes felt gritty as she entered the kitchen unprepared for the sight that greeted her. For a brief moment she wondered if Ryan had been shot. Blood was splattered on the bench and congealed on the floor tiles. Her brother was standing at the sink, his wrapped hand hovering above the stainless steel.

‘Bloody hell, Ryan.’ Vic, suddenly very awake, flew across the kitchen. A metallic aroma wafted around her as she disturbed the warm air currents and she half slipped in a patch of smeared blood. ‘What on earth did you do?’

‘I told you not to wake her,’ Ryan said, turning accusing eyes on his brother. ‘I said to get some Steri-Strips.’

Vic unwrapped the wound carefully. The blood-soaked tea towel dripped into the sink. She somehow didn’t think Steri-Strips were going to do the job. ‘What happened?’ she asked, her heart slamming in her chest as her suddenly razor-sharp thought processes calculated his estimated blood loss.

Ryan didn’t look at her and a moment passed before Josh spoke. ‘The knife slipped when he was cutting through his shoe.’

Vic glared at Ryan, always the more daring of the twins. ‘Your shoe?’ she demanded.

He shrugged and winced as her unwrapping became a little rough. ‘They were an old pair.’ When Vic glared at him he hastily added, ‘The ad said you could do it with those knives.’

Vic shook her head, not sure how Ryan had ever made it to almost eighteen alive. This had to go down as the winner in the annals of dumb Dunleavy males. ‘I bet it also said not to try it at home.’

She finally uncovered the wound. Ryan’s middle finger appeared deeply lacerated, holding on by not much more than a thread. ‘A Steri-Strip?’ she said incredulously. Ryan shrugged. ‘How long ago did this happen?’ she asked.

‘About twenty minutes ago,’ Josh answered, his voice small.

Twenty minutes ago? No wonder it looked as if a massacre had taken place in the kitchen. Vic valiantly tried to recall her anatomy lessons and picture the blood supply to the hand.

What the hell they thought they were going to accomplish with a thin, weak, sticky strip she had no idea. Were they going to lasso the finger back in place and go back to watching television while Ryan slowly exsanguinated? Would she have woken to find him near death?

She shuddered at the thought. Losing her mother at the tender age of eight had been devastating. Losing one of the twins would be a blow neither she nor her father would ever recover from.

‘It’s practically severed. It’s going to need more than a bloody Steri-Strip. It’s going to need surgery.’

She shook her head at her brother. ‘Joshua,’ she said urgently, twisting Ryan’s bloodied hand upright, encircling his wrist with her thumb and forefinger to form a tourniquet. ‘Get me some clean tea towels and bring me the phone.’

Josh delved in the nearby drawer, pulling out the requested cloths and shoving them at his sister. He stalked from the kitchen and returned shortly after with the phone. Vic was re-covering the wound. He thrust it at her.

She rolled her eyes as she deftly wound the makeshift bandage in place. ‘Ring the station for me.’

Josh paled as he punched in the numbers. ‘You want me to tell Dad?’

‘No. I’ll tell him.’ She finished with the wound and tied a clean dishcloth firmly around Ryan’s wrist to stem the flow of blood to the wound.

Josh held out the phone to her. ‘Dad’s not there. It’s Lawson.’

Vic frowned. What the hell was Lawson still doing at the station? They’d knocked off over three hours ago. Vic reached for the phone. ‘Hold on a sec,’ she said into the receiver.

She directed Ryan to a nearby chair and pushed him into it. ‘You,’ she said to Josh. ‘Hold his arm up above his head like this.’ She supported her brother’s arm in the air and Josh took over.

‘Lawson?’

‘Victoria.’

Apart from her mother, Lawson was the only person who’d ever called her by her full name and, as much as she grouched about it, secretly she adored it. As a six-year-old it had made her feel very grown up and today, with her brother’s blood drying on her hands, it gave her an added dash of courage.

‘Why are you still there? Where’s Dad?’ she said, staying close to her brothers.

‘He had some meeting in Brisbane to attend. I’m covering for him until he gets back. What’s wrong?’

‘Ryan’s practically severed his left middle digit. I could drive him to the hospital myself but I really think he needs a medical professional with him while I drive. Is there an ambulance free?’

Lawson, well used to Ryan’s litany of injuries, didn’t even bat an eyelid. ‘How’d he do that?’

Vic sighed. ‘Trust me, you don’t want to know.’

Lawson grinned. ‘Is it haemorrhaging much?’

‘It has been. I’ve controlled the bleeding now though.’

‘Nine sixty’s available. I’ll call it in to Coms and be at your place in a few minutes.’

Vic hung up the phone. ‘Lawson will be here in three.’

‘I’m sorry, Vic, I—’

She slashed her hand through the air, bringing Ryan’s apology to an abrupt halt. ‘Don’t talk to me. Just be quiet.’

‘But—’

‘Don’t,’ she snapped.

Now the emergency was under control and she was away from sickening amounts of her brother’s blood other feelings flowed. Disbelief, anger, relief. She allowed herself to be a sister for a moment.

‘I can’t believe I raised you. How bloody stupid,’ she said to Ryan. ‘How am I supposed to go off to the other side of the world when you two are still acting like children? Hell, even little kids know not to play with knives. You’re nearly eighteen, for crying out loud. You’re supposed to be mature. Responsible. You’re supposed to be studying for your biology exam.’

‘Vic—’

‘I said don’t talk,’ she snapped again. Ryan was looking pale and she guessed from his blood loss he was a little shocked. The what-ifs were starting to circle.

‘I’ve worked all night, for Pete’s sake. All you had to do was let me sleep and be uninjured until I woke up. Is that too much to ask?’

Ryan and Josh looked at their feet and shook their heads. ‘Dad’s gonna have a fit,’ she continued. ‘Do you think his blood pressure can take this?’ Their father was borderline overweight and on medication for his hypertension. They both shook their heads again. ‘I swear you two are going to be the death of him.’

Moments passed in silence while she took stock. Ryan’s face was twisted into a permanent wince and she felt a momentary streak of sympathy. ‘Does it hurt?’

‘Yeah.’ Ryan grimaced.

The streak fizzled as quickly as it had arrived. ‘Good.’

She pushed some hair off her face and realised her hand was shaking. The sound of a distant siren reached them and Vic had never heard a sweeter noise. Not that she thought Ryan was about to expire from blood loss, but he had lost a good amount of the red stuff and would definitely be anaemic. She wouldn’t be surprised if he required a transfusion.

And had Lawson been much longer she might well have succumbed to the urge to do something drastic to prevent him from doing anything else so overwhelmingly stupid again.

She put her hand under Ryan’s elbow and urged him up. ‘Come on. Walk. We’ll meet Lawson out the front. Keep your arm above your head.’

‘ Jeez, Vic, is your bedside manner always this good?’ Ryan grouched as he stumbled beside her.

‘No. I reserve this treatment for too-stupid-to-live teenagers.’

Lawson pulled up at the Dunleavy residence, a place he’d been to hundreds of times since he’d taken up residence on the island. He killed the siren at the same time the trio reached the driveway and jumped down from the cab. Striding around the back, he opened the doors as Victoria and her brothers appeared at the rear.

He took one look at a worried Joshua, an obviously chastised Ryan and a thunder-faced Victoria and made an executive decision. ‘Why don’t I look after Ryan in the back and you go and get cleaned up, put on your uniform and drive us in?’

Vic was about to argue when she noticed Lawson’s eyes taking in her attire. Amidst the crisis she’d forgotten that she was in her pyjamas. Not that there was anything indecent about them—they certainly covered more than a lot of clothes did these days.

Brief silky boxers with high scooped-up side seams and a shoestring-strapped grey singlet that didn’t quite meet the waistband of her shorts. But it was perhaps the blood that was most off putting.

She gave Ryan one last big-sister glare. ‘Fine. I’ll be ten minutes.’

Lawson tried really hard not to look as she walked away. She was his partner, for crying out loud. He’d seen her out of uniform hundreds of times. Hell—he’d seen her in a bikini! But he’d already noticed the way her bed-rumpled hair hung loosely around her face and the slight chest bounce as her unfettered breasts had jiggled against the taut fabric of her shirt. The desire to look a bit more was strangely compelling.

So he failed miserably at the not looking and allowed himself a second or two to indulge in her unselfconscious swagger. The words bite me printed across the backside of her boxers swayed hypnotically in front of his eyes and for a second he imagined just that.

‘Er, hello, Lawson? Bleeding here.’

Lawson startled and dragged his gaze away, horrified at where his mind had been. This was crazy. It was the abstinence. It had to be. Being a sole parent and a shift worker to boot wasn’t exactly conducive to dating.

He forced himself to focus on the Dunleavy twins, noting the beginnings of red seepage on Ryan’s outer dressing. He helped Ryan into the back of the ambulance and laid him on the gurney using two pillows across the teenager’s chest to elevate the injured hand above heart level.

He pulled the BP cuff from its receptacle on the wall and wrapped it around Ryan’s uninjured arm. Eighty on fifty. A little on the lowish side. ‘I might pop a drip in while we wait for Victoria.’

Ryan lifted his head off the pillow and screwed up his face. ‘What? No way. I hate needles.’

Lawson chuckled. How many times over the years had he tended to Victoria’s brother in the back of an ambulance? ‘Ryan, you just almost hacked off your finger. Do you think one little tiny needle can compare to that?’

Ryan held his head up for a few more seconds, then let it drop back in surrender. ‘I guess not.’

Lawson grinned. He reached into the nearby IV drawer and pulled out the things he was going to need. He glanced at Josh sitting in the back passenger seat looking pale, his knee bouncing, his fingers drumming against his thigh. ‘It’s okay, mate. He’ll be all right. Really.’

Josh looked at Lawson intently and then nodded, his shoulders sagging, and the fidgeting stopped.

‘So, do I want to know how you managed to nearly amputate your finger?’ he asked as he swabbed the crook of Ryan’s elbow with alcohol. There was silence from both the boys and Lawson pressed his lips together to suppress the smile. ‘Hmm,’ he said, uncapping the needle and lining it up with the bulging vein staring at him. ‘That stupid, huh?’

‘Ow!’

Lawson ignored Ryan’s protest as he slid the cannula straight into the vein and got an instant flashback. He taped it, flushed it and set up a drip to replace some of the volume Ryan had lost.

‘Vic’s pretty ticked,’ Ryan muttered.

Lawson looked up at anxious Josh, then back at the more robust Ryan. ‘You probably scared the hell out of her.’

‘Will it really need surgery?’ Josh asked.

‘I haven’t seen it but if it’s as bad as Victoria says, and she does know her severed body parts, then yes.’

As if she could hear her name, Vic appeared at the back doors. ‘Righto. Are we ready?’

Lawson, pleased to see her in something neck to toe, her hair pulled back in its regulation ponytail, nodded. ‘You going to be okay to drive?’

‘Sure.’ She flicked a glance at Josh. ‘Buckle up,’ she said as she slammed first one door then the other.

Lawson whistled. ‘She is really ticked.’ And smiled as both boys squirmed in their seats.

Vic didn’t bother with the siren. She knew Ryan’s blood loss was controlled and being replaced and that, under Lawson’s care, Ryan was in the best of hands. She trusted her partner implicitly. Hell, the man was an Intensive Care Paramedic; she’d trust Lawson with her life. So there was no point driving like a crazy thing, endangering all their lives for something that wasn’t life-threatening.

The trip took fifteen minutes and Ryan was seen immediately. Two hours later he was on a ward, prepped and ready to go to Theatre, when Bob strode into the room.

‘Ryan Dunleavy,’ he boomed. ‘What the hell were you thinking?’

Vic, her hand entwined with her brother’s and her head on the bed, catching some shut eye, was immediately alert. Ryan, slightly woozy from morphine and looking like little-boy-lost in his white hospital gown, opened heavy lids. ‘Sorry, Dad.’

His voice cracked and Vic felt it reach right inside her gut and twist. She squeezed his hand. It obviously had the same effect on her father, who strode across the short distance separating them and enveloped his son in a huge bear hug.

‘Bloody silly kid,’ he said, his gruff voice not fooling anyone.

Bob reached out for Josh and put his arm around his other son’s shoulders. After a few moments he straightened and cleared his throat, placing a hand on her shoulder. Vic knew that her mother dying from a pulmonary embolism a few days after the twins had been born, in this very hospital, had for ever altered her father. As it had her.

Her father’s heavy hand, his comforting squeeze, said it all. Neither needed words to express how confronting it was to have another member of their family lying pale and silent in a bed in this hospital.

Bob placed a kiss on the top of his daughter’s head. ‘Lawson, take her home,’ he instructed.

Vic looked behind her, surprised to see Lawson was still there. ‘It’s okay, Dad,’ she protested, looking up at her father. ‘I’ll stay.’

‘No.’ Bob shook his head. ‘You’re done in, Vic. You both are. I’m here now and HQ is sending a replacement to the island to cover me for the next few days. You’ve just come off three nights—you both need to sleep.’

‘Come on, Victoria.’ Lawson stood. ‘The boss has spoken.’

Vic, weary beyond what she would have thought even possible, knew her father was right. She stood and dropped a light kiss on Ryan’s brow. ‘See you in a few hours,’ she murmured. He didn’t stir.

She gave Josh a hug. ‘He’ll be fine,’ she assured him, knowing that Josh was probably the most worried of them all. She gave her father’s cheek a kiss. ‘I’ll be back later. Ring me if…for anything,’ she quickly amended and then departed with Lawson, too emotional to look back.

They’d nearly reached the lifts when a female voice pulled them up. ‘Lawson? Oh, Lawson?’

Vic turned to see the nurse who’d been looking after Ryan. She was young. Younger than her by a few years. Tall and well endowed too. Vic suddenly felt like a dwarf next to the blonde, oh-so-curvy woman who was fluttering her eyelashes at her partner. She couldn’t help but look down at her own rather lacking chest, petite as the rest of her, and sighed.

The nurse had been flirting with Lawson from the minute Ryan had been admitted. Vic had thought it in rather poor taste, but then she’d been tired and cranky and worried about her brother. Night duty generally brought out her prickly side.

‘Hi. Brianna, isn’t it?’

Vic watched as the poor woman almost nodded her head right off her shoulders, obviously reading way too much into Lawson remembering her name. Lawson remembered names—it was an occupational necessity.

‘You were telling me about that great traumatic amputation website,’ Brianna said. ‘Here’s my email address.’ She handed Lawson a piece of paper. ‘Could you email me the link?’

Vic, pushing the lift-call button several times, just stopped from rolling her eyes.

‘Oh, I can write it down for you,’ Lawson offered.

Vic watched as the nurse’s confidence faltered slightly. ‘Oh, no, it’s okay. You’re off now. Just email me.’

The lift dinged but not before Vic was privy to the look of frank sexual interest infusing the nurse’s smile.

‘Sure.’ Lawson smiled, slipping the paper into his breast pocket before following Victoria into the lift.

They rode down in silence. Lawson could feel the tension radiating off Victoria, filling the confines of the lift. He watched her surreptitiously as it descended. He knew she was worried about her brother. She had, after all, helped raise the twins from babies. Biologically she might be their sister, but in every other way she’d been their mother.

‘He is going to be fine,’ Lawson said as the lift touched down and the doors opened.

Vic, still annoyed at the nurse, frowned. ‘I know that,’ she grouched.

She strode out of the lift tired and cranky. At the whole world. What the hell was wrong with her? Females had been making goggle eyes at Lawson the entire time they’d been partnered—why was it bothering her so much now?

Why?

Chapter Two

VIC steamed ahead. She needed to sleep. She wanted her bed. In fact she was already on sandman autopilot just putting one foot in front of the other, counting down the minutes until her head could hit the pillow. The day had been emotionally draining and right now she felt as if she could sleep for a week.

It took a few moments for her brain to register the fact that the couple a few paces in front of her had stopped to have a passionate kiss. She was almost upon them before the signals from her eyes penetrated her foggy brain.

‘Oh, God, I’m terribly sorry,’ she apologised as she pulled herself up just short of careening into them.

The couple broke off and the woman gave her a dreamy smile. ‘That’s okay.’

Vic was about to launch into a whole explanation when she realised the man was familiar. A prickle straightened her spine and cleared the fog. ‘Lance?’

She hadn’t seen her ex since he’d been caught with his pants down and they’d split four years before. Thankfully he’d moved to a hospital on the Gold Coast shortly after their break-up. He was still dazzlingly good-looking and yet somehow he just didn’t do it for her.

God! She must be tired!

Lance stared at Vic but recovered quickly. ‘Vic. How lovely to see you again.’ He gave her a decidedly uncomfortable half-smile. ‘Darling, this is Vic Dunleavy.’

Vic appraised the other woman, a young willowy blonde with an impressively perky chest.

Good grief—they were everywhere she looked today.

‘Pleased to meet you,’ she said politely. Even though she couldn’t have cared less. In truth, she was too tired to care about much of anything.

Lawson joined them and she immediately felt his hand at her elbow. The comfort of his touch, his superior height and bulk were the perfect emotional anchor and she leaned into him a little. ‘You remember Lawson?’ she offered.

Lance nodded stiffly. ‘Of course. Lawson.’

Lawson nodded back not giving a damn whether the jerk remembered him or not. He’d always found Lance a little too pretty for his own good and he guessed it was inevitable that a young, naive Victoria would fall for him. But he hadn’t been surprised when it had ended in Lance’s infidelity.

There was a moment of awkward silence finally broken by the woman. ‘Hi.’ She held out her hand. ‘I’m Kathy.’

‘Oh, sorry,’ Lance apologised. ‘This is Kathy. My…’

Another pregnant pause and then Kathy added, ‘Fiance. I just called in to bring him lunch. Doctors work such awful hours, don’t they?’

Vic shook Kathy’s hand automatically, noticing the big fat solitaire sparkling in the sun filtering through the atrium skylight. The smile on Kathy’s face was a mile wide and Vic suddenly felt very lonely.

Every relationship she’d been in had suffered because of her family commitments and she’d learnt early that her situation wasn’t conducive to falling in love. She just didn’t have the time. And then there’d been the inevitable comparisons to Lawson. Maybe in London she’d finally be free to connect with someone…

‘Mmm,’ Lawson muttered.

They made polite conversation for a few more moments and then Lawson intimated they were late for a job, for which Vic could have kissed him. By the expression on Lance’s face, he could have too. No doubt he didn’t want an ex-girlfriend blowing the whistle on his inability to keep his pants on.

‘You okay?’ Lawson asked as they headed for the ambulance bay.

‘Fine.’

It wasn’t until they passed a vending machine that Vic realised she wasn’t feeling at all fine. She was light-headed and a little nauseous. ‘You got some change?’ she asked Lawson.

Lawson fished in his pocket and handed it over without comment. He’d known women long enough to know that some situations required a shoulder, others a hefty dose of alcohol, and the really bad ones chocolate wrapped in some pretty foil packaging.

Vic retrieved the bar from the machine and a few minutes later they were buckled in the van and leaving the hospital. She opened the wrapper and devoured the chocolate bar in a minute.

‘Better?’

‘Marginally.’

‘You want to talk about it?’

‘What?’

‘Lance. Or Ryan.’

‘Thanks, but no.’ She turned away and looked out of the window.

Lawson took the hint and let it be, even though it irritated him to think four years down the track her jerk ex still had the power to upset her. Why it irritated him so much, he wasn’t quite sure.

Vic watched the world whizz by for a few moments, her thoughts tumbling around in her head. Lance the Unfaithful was settling down. ‘I can’t believe he’s getting married,’ she said after a while.

Lawson looked at her sharply. ‘I thought you were over him?’

Vic snorted. ‘I am.’

‘Really?’

She turned to him and rolled her eyes. ‘It was years ago. The man is an adulterous lech.’

‘Yeah. I remember.’ She’d cried on his shoulder for three months. ‘So—’ he shrugged ‘—who cares that he’s getting married?’

Vic watched as the lines on his forehead and around his eyes converged into a frown. How could he possibly understand? Lawson, who had travelled the world without a care until Matilda had come along. It seemed everybody else’s life had begun while she’d been treading water. Hell, even Ryan and Josh were heading off into the world, going to uni in Canberra in a few months’ time.

Seeing Lance today had been unexpected. Add to that lack of sleep and the emotional upheaval of the morning and she was coiled so tight she was ready to burst. It was totally irrational. Ninety days couldn’t come soon enough as far as she was concerned.

‘I don’t.’ Vic faltered. She really, really didn’t. So why the hell was she feeling so churned up? ‘I’m just…tired, I guess.’

Lawson nodded, not overly convinced. But he could most definitely relate. He had to be pretty damn tired himself for this to be bothering him. ‘Why don’t you put your head back and catch some Z’s.’

Vic shut her eyes gratefully. They felt as if they were sticking out of her head on stalks and the relief was instantaneous. She let her head loll back against the padded rest and almost sighed out loud.

When she opened them again fifteen minutes later, Lawson was pulling into her driveway.

‘This is your stop.’

Vic unbuckled. ‘Thanks.’

Lawson nodded. ‘Will you be okay? Want me to stay for a while?’ He thought about her boxer-short pyjama bottoms and prayed like hell she’d reject his chivalrous offer.

‘Nah. You need your sleep too. I’ll be fine. I’ll see you later.’

Lawson nodded. ‘Sleep tight.’

Vic alighted the vehicle and waved her partner off. She walked through the front door that none of them had thought to shut never mind lock as they’d left. It was at times like these she appreciated living in a small community where theft or crime of any nature was practically non-existent.

It took her half an hour to clean up the kitchen, take a shower and ring the hospital to check on Ryan, who wasn’t back from Theatre yet. By the time she was done it was early afternoon and Vic would have crawled on broken glass to get to her bed. Her head hit the pillow and the feel of Lawson’s hand at her elbow guided her into the comforting embrace of sleep.

Lawson was contemplating hitting the sack again at nine that night when there was a rap on his door. He’d been lying on his couch in front of the television pretending interest in some B-grade movie.

He frowned, rising from the lounge and making his way through the darkened house. He didn’t bother with switching lights on, not wanting to wake Matilda, who was a notoriously light sleeper.

He wondered who it was, hoping it wasn’t a neighbour requiring medical assistance who’d decided it was quicker to knock on his door than call an ambulance. Unfortunately in their small community it was a reasonably common occurrence.

Lawson was surprised to find his partner standing there when he opened the door. She was wearing jeans and a red top—a top Lawson couldn’t stop himself from noticing clung temptingly to her petite frame. Her hair was loose around her face, and her lips shimmering with gloss. ‘Shouldn’t you be tucked up in bed asleep?’ he asked.

Vic smiled. Even in the subdued lighting she could see the man filled out blue jeans and a T-shirt better than any guy she’d ever known. ‘Probably.’ She shrugged. ‘I don’t know why I’m here.’ The words tumbled out before she’d given them adequate consideration. But it was true—she’d been in the car coming back from the hospital and suddenly she was here. ‘I’ve just come from seeing Ryan and guess I’m too restless to go home yet.’

Lawson, used to having Victoria in his house, stepped back. ‘You don’t need a reason, Victoria. Come in.’

His partner liked to talk when something was troubling her and, as it was usually about a case they’d done, he was generally the first port of call. At least he didn’t have to stand on any ceremony with Victoria. She was a familiar fixture around the house, being a regular babysitter for Matilda over the years and totally blind to any sloppy housekeeping. Thankfully living with two teenage boys had inoculated her against mess.

‘Is everything okay with Ryan?’

Vic nodded as she made her way into the lounge room. ‘Yep. All good. The operation went well. The surgeon’s happy. His haemoglobin was low though and they transfused two bags of blood.’

Lawson nodded as he flicked on a couple of lamps that threw a warm glow around the room. ‘Hang on a sec.’ He tiptoed into the hallway and quietly shut Matilda’s door. ‘He looked good a couple of hours ago,’ he said, rejoining her. ‘Tilly and I dropped by for a while.’

Vic sat on Lawson’s very comfortable, saggy old leather lounge and felt instantly at home. ‘Dad said you called in.’

Lawson shrugged. ‘Tilly was fretting. Would you like something to drink?’

‘Sure.’ Vic sighed and snuggled into the cushiony folds of the three-seater to the muffled sounds of Lawson in the kitchen. The television was down low and the flicker of light emanating from the screen was hypnotic to weary eyes.

‘Here you go.’ Lawson handed her a glass and placed a bottle of red wine on the coffee table. He sat at the opposite end of the sofa to her and turned three quarters so they were facing.

Vic took a sip of the rich Shiraz and shut her eyes as the heavy bouquet filled her senses. Her eyes fluttered open as Lawson took a swig out of a long-necked beer. ‘Real men only like to drink beer, huh?’

Lawson smiled. She had her glass snuggled against her chest, her legs tucked up and her feet bare. If she knew what he was thinking now about real men and what they liked she’d be shocked.

Despite himself his gaze was drawn to her wide mouth and the way the glow from the lamps glistened in her lip gloss. Watching her mouth was dangerous, but then looking at any part of her tonight was dangerous. Her clingy red top touched all the right places, destroying his concentration.

This sudden awareness of Victoria, of his partner, of Bob’s daughter, was getting out of hand. He wisely chose to change the subject instead. ‘So, what gives?’

Vic shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’ All she knew was she didn’t want to go home. She didn’t want to have to play any roles tonight. To be the dutiful daughter, the caring sister. The ‘parent’. Reassuring her father and Josh, building them up, being there for them. Maybe tonight she just wanted someone to take care of her for a change.

Lawson nodded. ‘Okay.’ It was obvious something was eating her and he knew if he waited she’d tell him.

She dropped her head on the side and inspected him through lashes at halfmast. Just hearing his voice was enough at the moment. It was deep and calming and oozed a confidence that was soothing to the sudden well of conflict that had risen, unbidden and unwanted, inside.

‘ I should have known Ryan would do anything to get out of his biology exam.’

Ah. Here it was. The recriminations. ‘Victoria.’

She ignored the gentle reprimand in his voice, staring into the ruby depths of her glass. ‘I should have stayed up until they’d gone off to school. Like I did when they were kids.’

‘Victoria. They’re not little boys any more. They’re seventeen. You’d just come off three nights. You’re allowed to sleep.’

She looked at him and nodded. ‘What the hell was Ryan thinking? He should have known better than that. I don’t know how often I told those boys not to play with knives.’

‘Of course you did, Victoria. You raised Josh and Ryan with textbook perfection. The twins knew right from wrong from very early. But they’re not little any more and they’re responsible for their own actions. They’re going to be flying the nest in a few months. Maybe its time to let go a bit, huh?’

She looked back into her wine. With the bloodied kitchen floor still playing in her head and the worst-case scenario taunting the edges of her consciousness his praise over her mothering skills was just what she needed right now. As was his unsolicited advice to cut the apron strings.

She was going overseas in ninety more sleeps, for crying out loud. They were all going to have to get along without her. And as much as the thought of leaving them and this place snagged at a place deep inside her like a jagged nail, they were all going to have to get used to it.

She dragged her gaze away from the glass. ‘Tell me about working in London again. I’m sure you have some stories you haven’t told me yet.’

Lawson regarded her for a second. Was she just changing the subject because he’d hit a little too close to home or did she need some kind of assurance that she was doing the right thing? He wasn’t sure what it was about—he’d never seen her quite this melancholy before—but he obliged anyway.

Having kicked around the world for most of his twenties, he always had another story. He’d studied to become a paramedic straight from school but the minute he’d qualified he’d taken off for foreign lands, working and playing wherever the whim took him. Until the bombshell that had been Matilda, anyway.

She had well and truly forced him to reassess his life when her mother, a fling on a brief sojourn home, had literally left him holding the baby. So he understood Victoria’s itchy feet and her desire to do something with her life. To live it.

And if he could help her along by enticing her with his adventures, then he was more than willing. Even if the prospect of losing her to the wild blue yonder was disturbing on levels he didn’t want to admit.

A couple of hours later Vic was nearing the end of her second glass of wine and a lovely buzz had settled in her veins. She felt just brave enough to pry. ‘So have you emailed Brianna yet?’

Lawson, who had finished his beer a long time ago, frowned. ‘Brianna?’

Vic laughed and rolled her eyes. ‘From today. At the hospital? Lawson, oh, Lawson,’ she mimicked.

Lawson chuckled. ‘Not yet. I’ll have to do that tomorrow.’

‘You know she doesn’t give two hoots about the website, right?’

Lawson looked affronted. ‘What are you suggesting?’

Vic slapped her forehead. ‘Good Lord, for an intelligent man you’re thick sometimes.’

Lawson stilled. ‘You think she was flirting with me?’

‘Lawson, she was coming on so heavy I thought Ryan would asphyxiate from an overdose of oestrogen before they got him to Theatre.’

It’d been so long since he’d been in the game Lawson was pretty much ignorant to the subtleties of flirting. His priority had been Matilda and, Lord knew, life as a single father was a constant enough juggle without throwing a relationship into the mix. He shrugged. ‘I didn’t really notice.’

Vic tisked. Sometimes she thought her crush would evaporate if Lawson weren’t so damn available. ‘All work and no play makes Lawson a dull boy.’

‘I play,’ he protested.

‘Lawson, you haven’t been on a date in I don’t know how long. Well over a year. What happened to the love-them-and-leave-them Lawson I knew when I was growing up? What’s the matter with you?’

‘I became a father.’

Vic rolled her eyes. ‘Yeah, sure, but you didn’t die, Lawson. There was a great-looking woman making eyes at you and you were completely oblivious.’

‘I’m out of practice.’

She shook her head.

‘I’m…busy.’ God, he sounded pathetic. ‘I have Matilda to think about, after all.’

Vic rolled her eyes. ‘Oh, please! Your kid is dying to be a flower girl again. You could marry the archetypal wicked stepmother and she couldn’t care less as long as she got to throw rose petals at her feet.’

Lawson laughed. Matilda had been rather transparent in her attempts to marry him off since his sister got married a few months back.

He shrugged. ‘You know how hard it is with kids to form relationships. It takes a really understanding person. Someone selfless. And that’s hardly a fair ask.’

Vic nodded. She did know. None of her boyfriends had understood her commitment to her family. They said they did, paid lip service to it, but when push came to shove, and she had to cancel yet another date because the twins were sick or her father had been called out, they never stuck around.

Hell, Lance had even gone one step further and looked elsewhere when she wasn’t around to service his needs.

So she could certainly sympathise with Lawson. At least he could get some comfort from the fact that he’d had a life first. That was something she couldn’t claim.

She glanced at him. They were closer now than they’d been earlier. He looked all brooding and intense and so all she wanted to do was lay her head on his shoulder and go to sleep. To forget about her responsibilities for a night and have someone look after her for once.

Obviously the wine had gone to her head.

She yawned and sat her empty glass down on the coffee table. She hiccupped and then laughed. ‘Wow, I think I’m a little tipsy.’

Lawson raised an eyebrow. She’d had two glasses of wine in a couple of hours—hardly excessive. ‘I didn’t realise you were such a cheap date.’

Vic nodded, shutting her eyes. ‘I’ll probably have an almighty headache in the morning.’

Lawson’s gaze was drawn to the way her lashes grazed her cheeks. ‘I’ll call you a cab to take you home.’

Her eyes fluttered open. Home? No, she wasn’t ready for that. She didn’t want to leave. Not yet. Here with Lawson she could just be herself. She wasn’t ready to go back to reality. ‘Do you think it would it be okay to crash here?’

Lawson hesitated. He wasn’t sure why—it just didn’t feel…appropriate. Which was ridiculous. It wasn’t the first time she’d bunked down here. Most times she watched Matilda for him she usually slept the night on his couch. Lawson wavered. He knew it should be cut and dried but for some reason it wasn’t. He became aware of their closeness and consciously sat up straighter.

Vic frowned at her partner’s continuing silence, searching for another reason to stay. ‘Please, Lawson. The last thing Dad needs on top of a son who nearly bled to death in the kitchen today is an inebriated daughter.’

‘You’re hardly inebriated, Victoria.’

She dismissed his observation with a wave of her hand. ‘I have two teenage brothers, remember? I have to set a good example for them.’

If anyone knew the extent of Victoria’s sacrifices for her brothers it was Lawson. But even so they occasionally slapped him in the face. Victoria hadn’t had a normal childhood or teenage years. She hadn’t had a chance to rebel or experiment like a lot of teenagers, as he had.

Which was probably why two glasses of wine on top of three night shifts had gone straight to her head.

She’d had her hands full helping her dad bring up two babies and run the house. Even when she’d done her paramedic training in Brisbane she’d commuted every day for three years. No wonder she was counting the days down until her life could begin.

Vic watched as Lawson hesitated. A funny thought drifted through her head and with the alcohol blunting her inhibitions she spoke it without further analysis. ‘I promise not to try and seduce you.’

Lawson almost choked on his tongue, which developed into a coughing fit. He leapt to his feet. ‘Not funny, Victoria,’ he rasped when he’d regained his breath.

Vic laughed. She supposed not. Although the idea was seriously tempting here in the half-light after two glasses of wine. What would happen if she took her crush one step further?

‘You are my partner,’ Lawson continued. ‘I have known your father for twenty years. I have a child. You are leaving in ninety days.’

Vic laughed. ‘Yeah, yeah. Relax, Lawson, I’m only joking.’

Lawson rolled his eyes as his heart rate settled. ‘Bloody hell,’ he muttered, heading for his bedroom. ‘Take my bed. I’ll have the couch.’

‘Oh, no, no, no,’ she protested, following him. ‘It’s okay. I’m smaller. I always sleep on the couch. The couch is fine.’

Lawson stopped just inside his door and turned, not expecting her to be so close. He took a step back, narrowly avoiding a collision. ‘My room has black-out blinds. I have a feeling you may need them in the morning. Plus Tilly will be up at the crack of dawn and I doubt that’s something you want to experience with a thumping head.’

Vic couldn’t fault his thinking. ‘Okay then. You’ve sold me.’

They stood for a moment looking at each other. ‘Well,’ Lawson said, stepping to the left. Victoria moved at the same time in the same direction. She gave a half-laugh and stepped to the right as Lawson also dodged right. He laughed this time and grabbed her by the shoulders, holding her in place as he stepped around her.

‘Goodnight,’ he said on his way out of the door.

Vic turned. ‘Lawson?’

He swung around. ‘Yes?’

‘I don’t suppose you have something I can take to cut the headache off at the pass?’

Lawson chuckled. ‘Sure. I’ll get it.’

Vic watched him leave, slipped out of her jeans and then lifted her top over her head. She pulled his bed covers back and gratefully crawled beneath. Lawson’s bed felt like a feather duvet floating on a cloud. But then anything that allowed her to recline would have felt as soft—even a bed of nails. The alcohol and a mere four hours’ sleep enveloped her and she shut her eyes surrendering to the bliss of being horizontal.

Not even her weird-o-meter, which was blaring loudly, was enough to rouse her. The vague feeling that being in Lawson’s bed was blurring their professional and friendship boundaries nagged at the peripheries of her rapidly dwindling consciousness, just out of her grasp. Hell, she’d never even been in his bedroom before. It was…intimate. Not something friends, colleagues, did. Certainly not something they did.

Lawson entered the darkened room a few minutes later with a glass of water and two headache pills. Some ambient light from the street outside filtered through his curtains and he looked down at her, the covers pulled up to her chin, her hair loose on his pillows.

‘Victoria?’

She stirred as his voice floated towards her. ‘Mmm?’

He sat on the side of the bed. ‘Here.’

Vic prised open an eye and saw the white tablets on the palm of his hand. Sleep clawed at her bones, making them heavy and resistant, but she pushed through it, sitting up. She drew her knees to her chest and downed the pills gratefully along with the entire glass of water.

‘Thanks, Lawson.’ She handed him back the glass. ‘For everything. For coming to my rescue with Ryan. And the company tonight. And the bed. And the tablets.’

Lawson watched as the sheet slipped a little to reveal a red bra strap before she hiked it back up again. He looked away quickly. ‘What are partners for?’

Vic smiled and stroked her cheek against the sheet covering her knees. ‘I like the smell of your sheets,’ she murmured.

He grimaced. ‘Sorry, I should change them.’

‘No, they’re fine,’ she dismissed. The bed was all she needed—sheets were a luxury. ‘They smell like you.’

Lawson’s breath caught in his chest. ‘Oh? And how do I smell?’

Vic sighed, closing her eyes, inhaling his essence again. ‘Like Matilda’s strawberry-shortcake soap I buy her every Christmas and that great aftershave you wear.’

Lawson’s belly clenched. She noticed his aftershave ?

‘And freshly cut grass.’

Lawson laughed as the tension inside him uncoiled a little. ‘Grass?’

‘Yeah, you know. Earthy. Male.’

‘Well, thank you. I think.’ And he laughed again.

Vic lifted her head off her knees. She liked hearing him laugh. He didn’t do it often enough. The light coming in through the window illuminated his face, emphasising his masculinity and highlighting his scar. Curiosity and no doubt the effects of alcohol had her crossing a line she’d never crossed before.

She lifted a hand and touched her finger to it, tracing it from just under his nose across his lips and down his chin. Lawson stopped laughing and pulled away from her as if she’d trekked a burning match across his face.

‘I’m sorry,’ she murmured, dropping her hand. ‘I was just curious. You never talk about it and Dad’s warned me it’s a touchy subject but…I don’t know…blame the Shiraz…’

Lawson made a conscious effort to relax his jaw. ‘No. It’s okay. It happened a long time ago when I was in a different place in my life that I don’t like to dwell on.’

Vic nodded. ‘Of course.’ But she was curiously hurt by his reluctance to share it with her. They were partners and yet sometimes she felt as if she didn’t know him at all. God knew, he knew everything there was to know about her.

Lawson felt a spike of guilt lance him at her downcast face. ‘I was in an accident. When I was sixteen. My home life was…unhappy. We moved around a lot and my father liked to drink. One night some mates were going on a late-night high-speed joyride with some older guy they knew who had this souped-up car and I thought, Why not? The car crashed. The driver died. Everyone was seriously injured. I had facial and chest injuries and had to be cut out of the vehicle. I spent nearly three months in hospital.’

Vic gasped. ‘I’m so sorry.’

Lawson shrugged. ‘I was trapped for two hours. This paramedic stayed with me the entire time. I’ve never forgotten it.’

‘Is that why you became one?’

Lawson nodded. ‘If it hadn’t been for that crash, I don’t know where I would have ended up.’ He’d certainly been heading for a dead-end job and a chip on his shoulder.

Vic felt a rush of incredible tenderness for the man and heartache for the teenager he’d been. She’d always known her partner was a complex human being with a rough childhood, but this put him in a whole new light. She couldn’t bear that he’d been through so much pain.

She touched his scar again and this time, though he flinched, he allowed it. Then, she wasn’t sure why, maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the whole emotional upheaval of the day, she leaned forward and pressed her mouth to it, the desire to kiss it better too powerful to resist. ‘Poor Lawson,’ she whispered.

Lawson sat very still, her lips at his chin. He shut his eyes as the fleeting press of her lips stirred desires he’d long ago forgotten existed. She was so close. Her warm breath wrapped his gut in seductive tendrils.

He only had to shift slightly and he could claim her mouth. He didn’t move as the battle raged within him. He wanted to kiss her so badly he was salivating. Like a starving man being led into a bakery. But she’d been drinking. And she was his partner. His much younger partner whom he’d known since she was in pigtails. And she was leaving.

Vic liked the spikiness of his stubble against her lips and this close to him she got to smell all those aromas she’d told him about but with the added mix of his warm male skin. The room was utterly silent except for their breath and even in her tipsy state she was hyperaware of a very weird vibe settling around them.

Lawson dragged in a breath. This was so screwed up and he wasn’t going to add to it by doing something totally unforgivable. With a mammoth effort he sat back from her.

‘Go to sleep, Victoria. It’s been a long day.’ He stood and reached over to pull the blind down. ‘When you wake up it’ll only be eighty-nine more sleeps.’

Vic smiled at the thought as she slid down into the bed and snuggled into the sheets, sighing as her eyes drifted shut. ‘Night, Lawson. Sweet dreams.’

Lawson watched her for a few seconds before turning on his heel. Sweet dreams? Was she kidding? Something had shifted between them tonight, the boundaries had moved, and with the imprint of her lips still scorching his chin he’d be lucky if he ever slept again.

Chapter Three

LAWSON woke to a finger lifting his eyelid. ‘Daddy, why are you sleeping on the couch?’

Considering he’d not long closed it, Lawson almost groaned out loud. ‘Morning, Tilly.’ It took a superhuman effort but he managed to force the other one open. He glanced at the clock. Three minutes to six. This time he did groan.

Why couldn’t his daughter have been one of those kids that he’d heard mothers talking about at school? The ones that required a crowbar to lever them from their beds?

‘Did you fall asleep watching TV?’

Lawson sat up. His chest was bare and he’d undone the top two buttons of his fly. He rubbed his hands across his face. ‘No, Victoria is sleeping in my bed.’

Matilda’s face lit up like Guy Fawkes Night. ‘Vic’s here?’ She jumped up and down clapping, making little happy noises at the back of her throat.

He winced as her excited reaction bordered on a squeal. ‘Shh.’ He placed his fingers on Matilda’s lips. ’She’s…not well.’

‘Can I go wake her up, Daddy?’

‘No, you may not.’ He ruffled his daughter’s blonde curls, the only thing she’d inherited from her mother. The rest was all him. ‘She had a big day yesterday with Ryan. She needs her sleep.’

Matilda’s enthusiasm waned. ‘Will she be awake before I leave for school?’

Lawson prised himself out of the lounge and stretched his back out as he rose. ‘I doubt it.’ If she was anywhere near as tired as he’d been last night, as he was right now, she’d probably be in his bed all week. His thoughts drifted to her innocent sort-of kiss last night before he could put it firmly from his mind.

‘Phooey.’ Matilda pouted. ‘I wanted to ask her how many more sleeps it is.’

‘Eighty-nine.’ The answer fell from his lips automatically. He’d been privy to the countdown for the past twelve months. It was as if the numbers had been engraved on his soul.

Matilda put her skinny arms around her father’s waist. ‘I’m going to miss her, Daddy.’

Lawson smiled down at his daughter. ‘We all will, Tilly.’ He hugged her for a moment, his mind drifting to that kiss again. That non-kiss kiss. Or whatever the hell it was. ‘Come on, let’s get breakfast.’

For the next couple of hours he and Matilda went about their usual morning routine. Not that there was anything usual about it with Victoria sleeping soundly in his bed the entire time. He’d tried to keep Tilly’s noise to a minimum but sometimes that was like trying to keep a wave on the sand. Especially when his daughter’s motives weren’t exactly pure. Despite Tilly’s best efforts, Victoria kept sleeping.

When it came time to take Matilda to school he picked up his shirt where he’d discarded it last night, right next to Victoria’s shoes, and threw it back on. It was creased but it wasn’t as if he had to get out of the car and it beat the alternative—tiptoeing into his room to retrieve a fresh one.

Tilly chatted non-stop on the drive to school about her teacher and her spelling and the excursion coming up in a few weeks’ time. She reminded him of Victoria, who also seemed to think silences were there to be filled.

‘Have you got the tuck-shop bags I did up for you?’ he asked.

Matilda nodded. ‘And the excursion forms. Don’t forget to ask Vic’s dad for some time off next week to come and see me play my recorder at assembly.’

Lawson nodded. He handed her the library book that had been due back yesterday and he’d turned the house upside down looking for after they’d got back from the hospital, finally locating it in the hammock outside.

‘Can Maddy come over this afternoon? We’re doing our pirate project together and she doesn’t have any Internet at her house.’

Lawson groaned inwardly. He was so tired he could sleep for a week. The last thing he wanted was the presence of giggling Maddy. ‘Sure. I’ll check with her mum before pick-up this afternoon. I think her number’s on the phone tree on the fridge.’

He pulled into the set-down zone in front of the school and Tilly kissed his cheek. ‘You’re the best.’

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