A baby for Christmas...and a father too?

When nurse Abbie Cook meets gorgeous Scottish paramedic Callum Baird, there’s an instant attraction. But the timing couldn’t be more wrong...

Abbie’s best friend Emma is about to give birth to a longed-for surrogate baby for her. While Callum has responsibilities at home that mean he can’t commit to Abbie.

As Christmas approaches, Callum and Abbie cannot deny the passion between them. But will the sudden arrival of baby Gracie give them the miracle they long for?

The Ultimate Christmas Gift

Best friends, a surrogate baby, and a chance for love...

Best friends Emma Hayes and Abbie Cook will do anything for each other. So when nurse Abbie asks Emma if she’ll be her surrogate and carry the baby she longs for, of course she doesn’t refuse.

But as Christmas comes, it’s not just the new baby that turns their lives upside down. Because for both women there’s a chance for love...if they’re only brave enough to take it!

Read Abbie and Callum’s story in

The Nurse’s Special Delivery

And discover Emma and Nixon’s story in

Her New Year Baby Surprise

Both available now!

Dear Reader,

When the Medical Romance editors suggested Sue MacKay and I write another duet—our first was The Infamous Maitland Brothers, with The Gift of a Child and How to Resist a Heartbreaker—I was thrilled. Sue and I had a lot of fun the first time around, and I knew we’d have the same on our second duet.

Writing The Nurse’s Special Delivery gave me the chance to share my love of Queenstown on New Zealand’s South Island—one of my very favourite places in the world. It’s a stunningly beautiful place: a town on the edge of a deep blue lake surrounded by snow-capped mountains. The area is a tourist haven and renowned for its sense of fun and adventure. I hope both Sue and I have captured a bit of that in these stories, too.

In this duet we’ve taken a few risks and covered a topic that is not often talked about: surrogacy. Abbie can’t carry her own child, so her best friend Emma offers to do it for her in a completely unselfish act that embodies what their friendship has meant over twenty years.

These two brave, compassionate and feisty women need strong heroes, and we definitely found them in Callum and Nixon! Callum has demons of his own, and is only visiting New Zealand for a short time. He does not need or want to fall in love with a place and a woman, and he definitely cannot imagine himself being a father to someone else’s baby. Meanwhile Abbie is preparing for her first child and has no time or space in her life for a man. So the road to love is a rocky one—with both parties resisting all the way!

I hope you enjoy Callum and Abbie’s story!

Best wishes,

Louisa xx

The Nurse’s Special Delivery

Louisa George

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Having tried a variety of careers in retail, marketing and nursing, LOUISA GEORGE is thrilled that her dream job of writing for Mills & Boon means she gets to go to work in her pyjamas. Louisa lives in Auckland, New Zealand, with her husband, two sons and two male cats. When not writing or reading Louisa loves to spend time with her family, enjoys travelling, and adores eating great food.

Books by Louisa George

Mills & Boon Medical Romance

The Hollywood Hills Clinic

Tempted by Hollywood’s Top Doc

Midwives On-Call at Christmas

Her Doctor’s Christmas Proposal

One Month to Become a Mum

Waking Up with His Runaway Bride

The War Hero’s Locked-Away Heart

The Last Doctor She Should Ever Date

How to Resist a Heartbreaker

200 Harley Street: The Shameless Maverick

A Baby on Her Christmas List

Tempted by Her Italian Surgeon

Visit the Author Profile page at millsandboon.co.uk for more titles.

Praise for Louisa George

‘I recommend this read for all fans of medical romance who love a good and sweet, tender romance with a bit of a feisty streak and crackling tension.’

—Contemporary Romance Reviews on 200 Harley Street: The Shameless Maverick

‘The Last Doctor She Should Ever Date is a sweet, fun, yet deeply moving romance. This book just begs to be read and I would definitely recommend this book and any other ones written by Louisa George to all contemporary romance fans.’

—Harlequin Junkie

‘A moving, uplifting and feel-good romance, this is packed with witty dialogue, intense emotion and sizzling love scenes. Louisa George once again brings an emotional and poignant story of past hurts, dealing with grief and new beginnings which will keep a reader turning pages with its captivating blend of medical drama, family dynamics and romance.’

—Goodreads on How to Resist a Heartbreaker

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Title Page

Booklist

Praise

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

EPILOGUE

Extract

Copyright

PROLOGUE

THE SOUND OF tinkling bells and Christmas carols floated into Abbie Cook’s head. Followed by laughter. Hungry newborns grizzling. The chink of teacups. The smell of coffee that still made her nauseous.

Go away, world.

The babies’ cries felt as if they had a direct line to her heart, tugging and stabbing and shaping it into a raw lump of pain. She kept her eyes tightly closed as she focused on keeping the contents of her stomach precisely where they were.

‘Merry Christmas, Abbie. Wake up, the doctor’s going to do his rounds in a minute. You might be able to go home. You’ll want to be home, dear, on Christmas Day, won’t you?’

Even though her eyes were clamped shut, Abbie felt the slide of the tear down her cheek and she turned away from the nurse’s voice. The last thing she wanted was to go home to that empty house with an empty belly and a completely cried-out heart. Staying asleep, hibernating under the regulation hospital duvet, was just perfect, especially today.

Her third Christmas without Michael. The first had been a blur of condolence messages. The second a pretence of fun with people who didn’t think she should be alone, when all she’d wanted was to be alone. And now this. Another year without decorations, another year gone by, without keeping her promise to her husband.

But it didn’t do to feel sorry for herself on a ward in the hospital she worked in. There’d been enough pity glances from her colleagues these past few weeks. Actually, years. And enough self-pity too. What would Michael think of her? He wouldn’t have wanted her to feel like this, that was for sure. He’d have wanted her to get up and make the most of her life regardless of what befell her. He’d want her to keep on fighting for happiness. He’d have wanted her to decorate the house, to celebrate Christmas and enjoy life.

She heaved herself up the bed and looked at the cup of steaming tea, hoping the well-meaning staff nurse would do a bunk and leave her on her own. ‘Thanks. Yeah. Okay.’

‘Hey, love.’ A hand slid over hers. ‘You’ll be okay. You will—’

‘Abbie! Abbie! Santa Claus been!’

‘Uh-huh. Visitors.’ The nurse’s hand shrugged off as thudding footsteps sliced through the ward’s white noise and a giggling, wriggling four-year-old scrambled onto the bed thrusting a box with sharp edges into Abbie’s hands. ‘Abbie! Look.’

‘Hey, Scratch. Let me see.’ It was hard to be sad around Rosie, who grasped her life with tight little fists and squeezed out every drop of every second. Abbie took the box and peered. ‘What have you got here?’

‘A tablet. For games and writing.’ As the little girl spoke her dark curls bobbed from side to side and the tiny, jaded bit left of Abbie’s heart squeezed.

‘Oh. Lovely.’ Abbie glanced up at Rosie’s mum, Emma, and pigged her eyes. ‘A tablet. Okay. Excellent?’

‘Apparently the best present. In the world. Someone didn’t realise I was holding off until she was older.’ Emma gave a resigned shrug as she perched on the bed—against all hospital policies—but Abbie loved her for it. And she assumed someone referred to one of Emma’s brothers who overcompensated for Rosie’s lack of a father. At least this year he hadn’t bought her another football. ‘How are you doing, hun?’

Abbie dug very deep. It was Christmas Day. She wasn’t going to spoil it for a four-year-old. ‘Fine, thanks.’

‘You look better.’

‘Yeah. I’m okay.’ She lowered her voice a little to prevent little listening ears from hearing. ‘I’ve been thinking. A lot.’

‘Me too!’ There was a light in Emma’s eyes that melded with the ever-present sadness that was there whenever she was around Abbie. She’d seen that sadness before, too, when Emma had been having her own troubles. ‘You first—’

‘You first!’

‘Jinx!’ Abbie laughed for the first time in what felt like forever. That was the thing about best friends—after almost twenty years of living in each other’s pockets they finished sentences and had a strange and comforting telepathy. ‘Okay. If you don’t mind, I’m just going to say something and I want you to be honest. Okay?’

‘Okay.’ As she nodded Emma absent-mindedly stroked her daughter’s curls. A simple action that was feral and instinctive and that Abbie craved to do to a child of her own with every atom in her body.

‘Okay.’ She sat a little straighter. ‘The thing is, I can’t do this any more. God, I want to; I want a baby more than anything in the world, you know that. But Dr Morrison was frank—I can’t carry one to term. Ever. I’ve tried and tried and it’s not going to happen. I can’t put myself through that again so I have to face up to it. I can’t have Michael’s baby. I will never have it.’ Her throat felt raw and her stomach tightened. It was reality and she had to deal with it. ‘So. There it is. I’m not going to try one more time again. No more hormones or injections. No more baby books. Or bootees.’ And now she was just being over-sentimental.

Emma’s lip wobbled a little. ‘Oh, honey, I’m so sorry. I really am.’

‘I haven’t been ready to stop for so long. I just wasn’t ready to let go. I’m not sure if I really am, but I do have to accept that my husband is dead. That I won’t be having his baby, because...because I just can’t.’ Abbie’s chest felt as if it had a thick weight pressing on it. ‘I tried. God knows, I tried.’

Twisting the edge of the duvet in her fingers, she rallied. ‘So, I’m moving on. I’m going to leave NICU because I just can’t face working with those little ones every day. I don’t know what I’m going to do, but I’m determined that this time next year I’m going to be in a new job. At least, maybe my career can be my baby instead? That’s something to look forward to, right? I’ve actually made the decision to let go. It hurts like hell, but...’ Actually, it felt like a betrayal for everything she’d promised Michael, for everything they’d worked towards. She was betraying him and it felt like a knife in her heart. But... ‘Anyway, no more hormones, so that’s a relief. Well, happy Christmas to me. I may even put a tree up next year too. Who knows? Oh, and I got you both a present but they’re at home. Right. What do you think?’

‘Oh, honey, I know what it’s taken for you to say that. I think you need a break and some rest and some time.’ Emma wrapped her in a hug. ‘But it is lovely to see you being positive.’

Abbie blew out a long sigh. ‘Okay, so you don’t think I’m giving up too easily? Good. Thanks. So, what do you have to tell me?’

‘Rosie, love... Let me show you how to do this. Look, you can draw pictures...’ Emma sat her daughter on a chair and gave her the little tablet device. After promising she wouldn’t let technology become a babysitter, maybe she was learning it could be a good distraction tool for a few minutes. ‘Okay, Abbie. I’ve been doing a lot of soul-searching. I...don’t actually know how to say this...’ Emma laughed nervously. ‘I want to do something for you. Nursing a husband through cancer is bad enough, but losing baby after baby was killing you. And I love that you want a new job and everything instead of a baby and that you’re trying to be brave, but I also know that that’s something you’ve always dreamt about since we were little. You’d be a fabulous mum. You of all people deserve to have a baby—yours and Michael’s. So...’ Emma slipped her hand over Abbie’s. ‘I want to have it for you.’

‘You...what?’ Joy swam across Abbie’s chest, swiftly followed by panic and anxiety and...well, guilt and shame that she couldn’t do this herself. But, immense gratitude. And hope. Yes, hope fluttering in her chest—it was strange to feel something like this after so long. ‘You want to have a baby for me? What? How?’

‘I want to be the surrogate, the oven. I’ll cook your baby.’ Emma’s eyes narrowed and she looked a little panicked now too. ‘Is that a really bad idea? It’s okay. I just thought—’

Her baby. Michael’s baby. Carried to term. Their baby. A precious tiny gift. ‘But there’s so much... I don’t know... It’s a surprise. It’s a miracle.’

‘A good one?’

‘Oh, yes! Oh, yes! Thank you. I can’t even... I just don’t know what to say. Wow. How? I don’t know...’

‘Ways and means. Let me do this for you, please. I’ve seen the way you look at Rosie and it breaks my heart that you have so much love to give. You’ve been with me every step of the way through the good and the bad and...’ Emma smiled softly over at her daughter and Abbie knew she was referring to Rosie’s dad ‘...and the very ugly. You’ve been my rock and now I want to be yours. Please say yes.’

Abbie’s heart felt as if it would explode. But there were so many questions running through her head too. How would she feel with her baby inside someone else? What would they tell other people? Rosie? Would she understand? Would their families?

What if you change your mind?

Surrogates did. And battles started. Friendships broke. She shoved that away. That would never happen. Their friendship was tight, and, oh, what a gift. A baby. ‘Yes! Yes. If that’s what you want. Yes. I’d love it. Oh, my God! Imagine! Thank you. Thank you so much. I love you to bits.’

‘Yeah, you’ll do too. Oh, and happy Christmas.’ More tears glistened in Emma’s eyes. Commitment shone through, and love, as she hugged her again for the zillionth time in twenty-odd years. ‘Excellent. Right then, let’s get cooking.’

CHAPTER ONE

Ten and a half months later...

‘ER... I THINK we’re having an alien.’

‘Or a windmill. Look at those arms and legs moving.’

Trying to make out the shapes on the black and white screen was getting easier the further the pregnancy progressed. Today, they could see the baby in its entirety, filling the screen, all the features as clear as day. A stubby nose. Like Michael’s? The bow lips. Mine? The rapid-fire heartbeat filled the room. Wow.

With a mix of sadness and epic excitement Abbie blinked back tears and squeezed her friend’s hand. ‘Oops, it’s pass-the-tissues time. I’m being such a wuss, but I just can’t believe it’s real.’

‘You’ve said that at every scan and every appointment. And a million times every day since the positive test. Not believing it’s real hasn’t stopped you shopping up a storm, though.’ Laughing, Emma patted her swollen belly. ‘Should we find out the gender?’

The sonographer looked up from the scanner screen. ‘You want to know?’

‘No. No.’ It didn’t feel right for some reason. Abbie stared at the screen and convinced herself the images weren’t that clear really. She wasn’t ready to hear she was having a mini-Michael. When she thought about him she wished he were here with her, getting all gooey about their child. He should have been here, holding her hand. Hell, she should have been the pregnant one, not Emma. But life hadn’t granted her all the wishes she’d had and everything was happening out of sync. Suddenly, she felt a little deflated. ‘Let’s leave it as a surprise. Is that okay, Em?’

‘Hey...it’s your baby, after all.’ Emma grinned and Abbie just knew her friend was watching to see the sonographer’s reaction. The story of their baby was pretty unusual; surrogacy wasn’t something they came across every day in little old Queenstown. ‘Anyway, I think I know what sex it is and I bet I’m right. I’m one of those people who knows they’re pregnant before the test shows up positive, and I’m convinced I know the gender because I’m carrying in a particular way. But my lips are sealed.’

‘The main thing,’ Abbie ventured, because this was a question continually on her lips, in her thoughts—and after everything that had happened, who could blame her for having just the odd nugget of panic? ‘Is everything okay?’

‘Absolutely fine.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Here’s a picture for you both so you can see just how perfect baby is.’ The sonographer smiled. ‘I’ll sort you out a DVD too. Yes, Abbie, baby is doing just fine for thirty-four weeks. And Mum...er...sorry, Emma is doing great too.’

Awkward. But it wasn’t the first time and it probably wouldn’t be the last.

Emma wiped the jelly off her belly and sat up. ‘I feel great. And don’t worry, we get that a lot. Okay, missy, you’d better get back to work, right? Busy day?’

Emma was always so chirpy at these appointments—and every day in between—laughing and joking, but she’d been here before when she was pregnant with Rosie. How was she really feeling, though? Did she feel like the mum this time too? Would she be bereft at handing the baby over? Would she want to keep the baby herself?

‘Abbie?’

‘Oh. Sorry.’ Abbie glanced at the wall clock and pushed back the little, silly anxieties she had—of course Emma was going to hand this baby over. ‘Oh, yes. My lunch break has finished. Gotta dash. See you later. Enjoy the rest of your day off.’

‘I have a few hours before I pick Rosie up from school. Do you want me to get any shopping in for you?’

Abbie gave her friend a hug. ‘No. I’m good, thanks—do you want me to sort dinner out? No—let’s have a quick coffee before we pick her up. Meet in the staff canteen? We can talk shopping and dinner then. Listen to us, we’re like an old couple.’

‘No man’s got a chance.’ Emma laughed again, but there was more than a kernel of truth in her words. ‘No complications. Just how I like it.’

Just how they both liked it, really. Between them they’d had a rough ride where relationships were concerned. One husband dead, the other might as well have been, for all the good he was. After all the heartbreak they’d had, who needed another man?

As Abbie walked down the corridor towards the emergency department and the rest of her shift, she thought about how things had changed. Eight years with one man who’d been her life completely, then three years in the wilderness. But she was fine about it. No man would come close to Michael. She would bring this baby up on her own, in his memory... Or as much on her own as her next-door-neighbour-best-friend-for-life would allow.

As she turned the corner into the department she heard voices.

‘Imagine if someone you loved couldn’t have a baby, and you knew you could. Would you do it? For a friend? A sister? Would you have a baby for someone else? It’s a long nine months, though, isn’t it? What if something went wrong? What if they decided they didn’t want it, what then?’

Another voice in a stage whisper that echoed around the quieter than usual emergency department replied, ‘Honestly, I don’t know how a mother could give her baby away. All those months inside her, kicking, hiccups, little feet under your ribs...you have a bond, y’know? You’re not telling me that you don’t develop a bond. It’s living inside you.’ There was a pause where Abbie imagined the gossipers all shaking their heads. Then... ‘Oh. Er... Hello, Abbie. We...er...hello.’

‘Hi.’ She was standing where she’d frozen to the spot the second she’d heard the subject of their conversation, probably looking like a complete idiot with her mouth open and bright red cheeks. Her hand was still clutching the scan picture. Her heart was raging. Raging with all the things she wanted to tell them, but it was none of their business.

How she’d wanted to feel the kicks and the hiccups, but no pregnancy had ever progressed past fifteen weeks. How many times she’d had IVF. How many times she’d failed. Until she hadn’t had the energy to do it any more and keep on failing.

It’s my baby. Not Emma’s.

Made with my eggs and Michael’s frozen sperm. It’s our baby. Just a different incubator.

It wasn’t as if she hadn’t been over and over and over these thoughts every day since the minute a grinning, glowing Emma had shown her the pregnancy stick with the positive blue line. She’d loved her friend in that moment more than she’d loved anyone else ever—possibly even more than Michael—for doing something so precious. And she would love this baby as fiercely, no matter what. Finally, she’d have a family—a family of two. Other single parents managed, Emma did, so she would too. Just the two of them in a tight little unit.

And she’d always known she’d be the subject of gossip. How could she not be? Surrogacy wasn’t common and people needed educating, otherwise the stigma would be with her baby for life. She gave them all a smile. ‘If I could do it for someone else, I honestly would. I just can’t even do it for me, which is why Emma’s helping me out. She says to think of her as being the oven, but the bun is made from my ingredients. Does that make sense?’

There was a moment where they all gaped back at her, as open-mouthed as she’d been, and she hoped her message was getting through.

‘Of course, Abbie, it makes perfect sense. Now, back to work everyone.’ Stephanie, Head Nurse of Queenstown ED, and very well respected for her no-nonsense approach, turned to the group, thankfully distracting Abbie from the conversation topic and the need to defend herself. No one could possibly understand what she and Emma were going through—and that was fine.

With a few words from their boss, the subject of Abbie’s baby’s parentage and unconventional conception was closed. For now.

Thank you.

‘Wait, Abbie. There’s a Code Two call, and I want you to go with the helo. Tramper took a bad fall on Ben Lomond.’

‘A medivac? On the helicopter?’ Excitement bubbled in her stomach and she pushed all her baggage to the back of her mind. Four months in and she still couldn’t get over the adrenalin rush of working at the coalface that was emergency medicine. Every day, every second, was different from the last, with no idea of what she might have to deal with next.

‘We’ve got enough staff to cover, so yes. This is your chance to watch and learn what it’s like out in the field.’

‘Sure thing.’ Abbie controlled the fluttering in her chest. ‘Thanks, Steph.’

‘No problem.’ Her boss smiled and said in a voice that everyone would hear, ‘For the record, how you choose to have your child is no one’s business but yours and I think it’s wonderful. Put me down for babysitting duties. Now, out you go.’

It was the beginning of spring, so theoretically Queenstown should have been warming up from the previous long cold months, but there was still a good dusting of snow on the tops of the mountains and a cruel wind whipped across the helipad, liberating Abbie’s unruly mane from the clips and elastic that were supposed to hold it all in place. Really, longer length was theoretically easier to look after but would she get a mum’s bob when the baby came? Her heart thrilled a little at the thought, and she laughed at the image in her head of her being all mumsy with a short, neat, practical bob, at the thought of being a mumsy mummy after so long trying.

She was trying to fix the wayward hair neatly back under control when a chopper’s chugging split the air. No time for vanity.

What am I supposed to do?

She ran through the protocols in her head and hoped she’d remember them under stress. But the Intensive Care Paramedics and crew knew what they were doing; she’d learnt that much over the last few months. She’d met them all and been impressed with every one so far.

Soon enough the chopper door slid open and a man dressed in bright red paramedic dungarees jumped down. Shane, the town’s senior paramedic and old family friend, wrapped her in a hug, said something she couldn’t hear over the chopper blades and bundled her towards the helicopter.

Through the open door she could see more crew. Oh. A new one. He had a shock of dark hair. Celtic colouring, like her late grandad. Irish heritage, maybe? Perfect skin. Blue eyes. Nice mouth. A smattering of stubble, which made him look rugged and a little dangerous.

Back to his eyes—because she wanted to take a second look—they really were quite the brightest of blues, like the Queenstown sky on a crisp winter morning.

Where the hell had that thought come from?

Mr Nice Eyes raised his eyebrows as he met her gaze. Out of nowhere she felt a strange fluttery feeling in her stomach.

A medivac! Exciting! She was moving up in the world!

Shane coughed, nudging her forward, and she drew her eyes away from the new guy. Now...what the hell was she supposed to do?

* * *

With the touchdown being as choppy as a protein shake in a blender, Intensive Care Paramedic Callum Baird’s stomach had been left somewhere ten metres above Queenstown hospital. He breathed in the rush of cold air blasting through the open door.

November. New Zealand spring, apparently, and it was still freezing; as cold as a Scottish winter and windier than the top of Ben Nevis.

A diminutive girl had appeared in the doorway. Her face was almost covered by earmuffs and a bright red woolly hat with huge pompom, plus a matching scarf pulled up over her mouth. All Cal could see was her eyes. A dark penetrating brown that showed her to be at once apprehensive and excited. A common rookie air ambulance reaction. She pulled down her scarf and grinned. ‘Hi, I’m Abbie. Staff nurse in ED. I was told to hitch a ride, see what you do out in the wild.’

‘Er...hello.’ Cal shifted over in the tiny space, glancing over at his companion, Shane, who was leading this shift.

Shane nodded back and smiled at the girl; clearly he knew her and liked her.

‘Where should I sit?’ Her eyes danced around the cabin, her hands moving as she spoke, a vibrancy he hadn’t seen before in anyone.

Shane lumbered up into the chopper, wheezing as he sat down. Poor bugger was just at the back end of the flu and letting everyone know about it. ‘Shift over, Callum, make some room for our guest.’

It was none of Cal’s business, but there was barely enough room in here as it was. Plus they’d have to fit the patient on the gurney and work on him if necessary. ‘Going to be cosy.’

‘It won’t be for long. We can see Ben Lomond from here.’ Abbie shuffled in next to him and buckled her belt. ‘So, be gentle with me, eh?’

He looked at those dancing eyes and couldn’t help smiling at her. ‘First time?’

‘First medivac. Not first time in a chopper. Don’t you know, it’s the only way to travel in Queenstown?’ She bit her lip and explained, ‘There’s a lot of heli-sport here; heli-skiing, heli-hiking, that kind of thing.’

With a lurch they ascended. Helicopters didn’t usually lurch. ‘It’s blowy, that’s for sure.’

‘Coming off the Remarkables. Along with snow, I reckon. There’s a southern blast coming up from Antarctica.’ She nodded and looked away, gripping her hands together. From this angle he could see the fine shape of her jawline and some tiny wrinkles by her eyes. Not as young as he’d first thought, then. Hair sticking out at all angles from under her hat. Long eyelashes. Geez, it was real cosy in here if he was paying attention to her eyelashes.

Kind of cute, too.

He gave himself a mental telling-off. He had no business thinking any woman was cute. Not when he had responsibilities elsewhere.

Still, a bit of window-shopping never harmed anyone...

‘Great view, isn’t it? I wouldn’t live anywhere else on earth.’ Having raised her voice a notch above the chopper blades’ racket, Abbie pointed to the town below them. The deep blue lake stretched out as far as he could see, fringed on one side by the bustling centre of Queenstown. A string of gondolas swung directly beneath them, slowly scaling one of the mountains that framed the town. A zigzag luge was hundreds of feet below, where kids and adults alike risked life and limb—and had a lot of fun in the process—racing on go-karts down curved tracks to the valley. The girl grinned. ‘You’re not from here, right? Have you been on the luge yet?’

‘Nah. But I’ve scooped a kid up from it and taken him to ED. Nasty grazes and a fractured elbow.’

‘Makes you wary, then, does it? The adrenalin capital of the world?’ Her eyes danced again.

If only she knew. Adrenalin was his best friend, and his worst enemy. Before he could answer, the earth started to come up to meet them and the pilot was saying something about a body at two o’clock. Cal scanned the snow, the steep ridge, the jutting rocks and thought he saw something that looked out of place. A flash of blue. Then, yes... ‘He’s over there. I can see him.’

‘Yes. Yes. Watch out, it’s going to be slippery,’ the pilot shouted back, his words barely audible under the chug, chug, chug of the helicopter rotor blades. He’d made a spectacular landing on the only flat bit of mountainside—it took some skill to do that. ‘Got your crampons?’

‘Och, yes. I’ll be fine, no worries.’ If there was one thing Callum Baird knew it was snow. Every kind. The wet, seeping-through-your-clothes kind. The fluffy make-a-decent-snowball kind. And this, the melted and frozen again ice that meant getting a foot grip was challenging. Especially in the sixty-knot winds and poor visibility at the top of Ben Lomond. That last kind of snow was why he was here in the first place. To learn how to make amends, to try to fix things that probably couldn’t be fixed, but to make things better, at least.

He hoped.

Funny, how he’d travelled halfway around the world and found himself on the top of a mountain bearing the same damned name as the place he’d left. Almost as beautiful, too. If the clouds disappeared, and with a bit of spring sunshine it’d be stunning...but he wasn’t here to admire the view.

Bracing against the wind, he jumped from the helicopter then turned and grabbed his paramedic backpack. The crampons slipped on as easily as the memories. He shook the latter off. He was used to doing that. Some days they did as they were told and slunk away, and he managed to get through twenty-four hours before he was drawn back to that fateful night of cold and wet and ice. Other days they hung around him, a sopping, freezing bone-deep helplessness he couldn’t shake. ‘From what I could see, our guy’s up there, to the right—it’s fairly rocky, so we’ll have to do a bit of scrambling. He told Dispatch he’d heard a snap, so we’d best take the scoop with us, too. Hope you enjoy a bit of ice-skating?’

‘Preferably on the flat.’ Abbie assessed the terrain, shook her head, then passed the scoop down. ‘I’m not sure I’d manage a triple Salchow on this hill.’

‘I’m not sure I’d manage a triple Salchow, full stop.’ So, she had a sense of humour. That worked. Especially in conditions like this.

Due to the deteriorating weather, it had been touch and go whether to bring the chopper up here at all, but a man’s life hung, literally, on the edge, so they’d made a call. A good one, as it turned out. The ride had been bumpy, but the wind seemed to be dying down, for now. Which meant hypothermia would be less of an issue for all of them. Two months living in New Zealand and the only thing he could predict about the weather was that it was unpredictable.

‘You got crampons?’

‘Doesn’t every woman carry a pair in her handbag?’ He watched as she delved into her backpack and pulled out a pair of ice shoes, which she fastened like a pro. ‘Ready.’

Although giving him a reassuring smile, she looked frozen through. A tiny waif, with huge eyes and that mess of dark hair that was tumbling from clips in every direction. The huge hi-vis jacket swamped her, and she looked out of her depth on every level.

But determination shone in her eyes.

‘Right. Let’s get to it.’ It was hard going—one step forward, steadying your grip. Another step. The snow had frozen to sheer ice in some places. In others, tufts of grass poked through. The wind pressed them back, the ice halted their steps, so they made it to their patient as quickly as humanly possible.

He was a crumpled heap in bright blue and black walking gear. Alone. Like many walkers here. Starting out on a pleasant day trip, but at least he seemed suitably dressed for the occasion, unlike some Cal came across. Still, even full walking gear didn’t always prevent disaster from striking. You could be perfectly prepared for a night stranded on the mountain, but not for unexpected and complicated fractures, blizzards, nowhere to hide from the biting wind. Frostbite.

A brother lifeless in your arms and there is nothing, nothing you can do but pray. As they neared, Cal did a primary survey. Breathing. Bleeding from his forehead. Bluish lips. Thank God for cell-phone reception, or who knew when he’d have been found. Phoning for help had saved his life.

That was, if they could get him down quickly enough.

The wind might have died a little, but it was still fresh as all hell up here and their guy was shaking. Cold and shock, or worse. Cal remembered to keep his words slow. Enough people had told him they didn’t understand his Scottish accent already. ‘Hello, there. I’m Cal, your knight in shining hi-vis.’

Abbie rolled her eyes. ‘And I’m Abbie. That guy down there is Shane, and we’re going to help get you off the mountain. Now, can you tell us what happened?’

So, she was all about the process. Okay.

‘I’m... Marty... I think I’ve...’ Dazed and shivering, the patient tried to sit up.

‘Whoa. Hold still, mate. Tell me what happened.’ Secondary survey was underway. There was blood on the ground. Which meant consideration had to be made for internal bleeding too. Blood on the floor and five more. Consider thoracic, intra-abdominal, retroperineal, pelvic, long bones.

‘Slipped. Fell down from the ridge. Hit my head, I think, on a rock. Chest... Leg snapped...’ He reached a hand to his right fibula and grimaced. Long bones.

Plus, a head injury—couldn’t rule out neck damage too. ‘So, first things first, we need to put a neck brace on to protect that neck. Steady as you go. Hold still. Stay still, mate.’ Cal slipped the neck brace into place, watching as Marty clenched his fists to counter the pain. Then bent his undamaged knee. At least he could move all his limbs. Good sign.

Cal had a closer look at the forehead wound. ‘Looks pretty deep, needs a few stitches. Luckily, they’re very good at sewing down at Queenstown General.’ He taped a dressing over the wound, noting other minor cuts and grazes that would need attention, when they had more time, and in the warmth of a hospital ward.

Cal felt Marty’s radial pulse. Nothing. Carotid showed a rapid, thready heartbeat. ‘Guessing the systolic pressure is lower than ninety. No radial pulse. I’ll do a quick check. Needs some fluids.’ Needed surgery, actually. Fluids and stabilisation were the best they could do, especially up here on the steep arc of a mountainside with thick black clouds coming in from the west. Cal’s heart rate sped up a little.

Great. A suspected life-threatening injury and the mother of all storms.

Luckily, fighting the odds was what he was good at.

Shane finally made it up the mountain. Breathless and wheezing, he probably shouldn’t have been up here at all. He should have said his chest wasn’t up to it. But Cal kept that thought to himself.

The two-way radio crackled. It was Brian, the pilot. ‘Weather coming in fast. We need to get off this mountain and quick. Over.’

‘Things turn to custard pretty quick round here.’ One minute it was sunny, the next it was a white-out. But they had to make Marty safe before they left. ‘Okay. Let’s have a look at your leg. I’m going to have to cut your salopettes. Okay? Damned shame, because it’s good kit.’

Keeping the patient talking and conscious gave them a better chance, so Cal went with his usual patter. He nodded at Shane, who was assessing the obviously broken leg. The bone had cut through the skin. Needed a splint at least to stabilise it. Needed surgery.

Needed to get off the mountain, and fast.

Again, Marty pushed to sit up. ‘I can’t breathe... I can’t...’

Cal shot a look at Abbie, who’d turned her attention to Marty’s chest. Could be one of a dozen things. He prayed there wasn’t any surgical emphysema. Dodgy lungs in thin air at the top of a mountain were a nasty prospect. ‘I’m going to put a line in your left arm, mate. Give you some fluids to keep you hydrated and something to make you more comfortable.’

‘Left lung clear, but can’t hear much in the right base. You want to check?’

‘Yep. Let me have a go. To check.’ Not wanting to disbelieve her or undermine her, he listened as carefully as he could to the beat-up chest. Suspected right pneumothorax. Great. The odds were starting to turn against them. It was freezing up here; his hands were starting to ache with the cold.

‘Oxygen in situ. Pain relief administered.’

‘Leg splint inflated and in situ.’ The distant clouds had become very real, thick and dark and heavy. Flakes started to spot their coats, Marty’s hair.

‘Pass me a survival blanket, will you? Right. Thanks. Now, we’ve got to get you onto this scoop.’

The radio crackled. ‘Cal, come in. You have two minutes. Over.’

‘Just getting Marty on the scoop. Over.’

Cal positioned the scoop alongside their patient and somehow they managed to shift him over, keeping his neck as still as possible.

‘Let’s go. You all okay?’ Shane took the lead, carrying the scoop at the feet end. Cal was at the head and Abbie walked at the side, carrying equipment and making sure Marty was stable and as comfortable as possible. It was like a game of slip ’n’ slide getting them all down the hill.

‘You fancy some tobogganing, Marty?’ It was only half a joke. Apart from a few rocks it was a vertical skating rink.

They started to inch gingerly down. The sun had slid behind a cloud and the wind whipped round them, biting through their clothes. They made it a few metres then suddenly the scoop lurched sideways and forwards. Next thing Cal knew, Shane was yelling and tumbling head first over rocks and ice.

Down. Down. Down.

CHAPTER TWO

‘SHANE! SHANE!’

The boss had come to a halt a hundred metres or so down the hill, splayed against the rear of the helicopter. He wasn’t moving.

Cal reassessed, looking from Shane to Marty and then back down the slope again, allowing himself the briefest moment for his heart to thump hard and fast against his chest wall. Damn. Damn. Then he closed off all emotion.

Panic didn’t help. Helplessness didn’t help. Just action. He’d learnt his lesson the hard way. Had been learning for two long years.

Two patients now. One scoop and a fledgling helper.

Their patient took priority. Getting him down the hill now was going to be a challenge.

Somehow Callum had managed to keep a firm grip on Marty’s scoop. ‘You okay, mate?’

‘Holding on,’ he groaned. ‘Just about.’

The scoop listed at a sharp forty-five-degree angle, from where Cal had maintained his hold and height, to where Abbie had been twisted by the sudden lurch sideways and pushed to the floor. She was just about managing to hold the scoop aloft with her arms outstretched underneath Marty, bearing his weight in a desperate attempt to keep their patient still and secure. There was an ooze of blood on her head. ‘Abbie? You okay?’

She grimaced, her body contorting in an effort to hold up the scoop and the man, who must have weighed three times what she did. ‘I’m fine. It’s okay.’

‘You’re bleeding.’

‘It’s nothing. I caught my head on a rock as I fell. It’s just a scratch.’ She shook her head, trying hard to pretend she was okay, but he could see right through it. ‘You should see the other guy.’

‘Sadly, I can see him.’ The boss looked knocked out and flat. Marty was groaning in agony in the tipped-up scoop. And Abbie had a cut head.

It looked worse than just a scratch, but he had to believe her because he just couldn’t do this alone. She seemed orientated and fine. Feisty, actually. He’d have a closer look once they were on safe terrain and out of danger. ‘Right then. I’m going to lower him down so we can right the scoop, then we can wait for Brian to come help.’

‘He’d be better staying down there, don’t you think? To see if Shane’s okay?’

‘I’ll talk to him.’ Cal shouted towards the chopper but couldn’t make himself heard. He flicked on the two-way. ‘Hey. Did you see Shane? He took a bad fall, he’s at the rear. Roger.’

‘I’m on my way. How are you going to manage with the scoop? Slide it down?’

‘Not sure yet. Over.’ There were too many rocks sticking out of the ground to make sliding a feasible option.

‘She’s a little thing. Roger.’

‘We’ll be fine.’ It was Abbie, glowering. She had the affronted air of someone who would not be underestimated. He knew that trait well. Too well. Someone who insisted on overstretching...and then paying the consequences. She’d lowered her side of the scoop now and was brushing the snow and ice from her clothes. As she bent to the left she winced. ‘Just give me a couple of seconds.’

They barely had one. The weather was closing in. This was all falling apart, but he needed to stay in control. ‘Are you hurt? Is it something more than your head? Did the scoop hit you?’

‘Just winded me.’ She shook her head again but he could see the way she flinched as she turned. ‘Let’s do this.’

‘I can call back-up. You won’t be able to manage.’

‘Says who? I could be a champion weightlifter for all you know. I could have won the Queenstown Primary arm wrestling competition in 1997.’ She flexed her arms, but all he could see was the huge coat covering her from neck to knee. With the head wound and her wayward hair and the enormous coat she looked like a bag lady rather than the professional she was proving to be. ‘What do you think, Marty? Am I stronger than I look?’

‘I hope so,’ Marty groaned. ‘Yes.’

She gave Cal an I-told-you-so grin that made her eyes light up and his stomach feel strange, then she shuffled to the end of the scoop and bent in readiness to pick it up. ‘So, let’s do this. What choice do we have?’

‘We could wait for back up. Or Brian.’ But even with the space blanket, Marty was shaking with cold; they had to get this done and quick.

‘He’s with Shane and it looks like he needs help too.’ Too true. Brian was trying to lift Shane up, but the senior paramedic kept buckling forward. She glanced at the swirls of snow falling around them. ‘There isn’t a choice. We have to do this or we’ll all freeze to death.’ Without any further chance at a conversation she bent at the end of the scoop and shouted, ‘Ready? On my call. One. Two. Three.’

They were badly matched size-wise, but if he kept his arms straight and stooped down low they were just about able to maintain a satisfactory balance. But it was slow going. He could see every muscle in her hands tighten and strain as she bore the weight of the hiker.

She doesn’t have gloves on.

Somewhere along the way she’d taken them off—to work the IV and draw up drugs, probably. And hadn’t had the chance to put them back on. Her fingers were white—with strain? With cold?

That was all he needed. Frostbite.

Frostbite. The enemy of the winter hiker. Could do untold damage from the inside out.

The dread swamped him along with the memories. He wasn’t going to let that happen. They were getting off this mountain without any further incident. Stooping low, he gripped harder and tried to take more of the weight. It was impossible without upending the whole thing. Regardless of how strong she thought she was, she was starting to tire—steps becoming slower as she navigated the rocks. She needed to rest without losing face, he got that. ‘Stop. Stop, Abbie. I need a minute.’

‘Oh. Okay.’ Very gently she lowered her end of the scoop then straightened up, twisting slowly left and right to ease out her muscles. Her hands were still in crooked fists and even from this distance he could see red marks on her palms. More blood?

‘Brian! Brian, come here and take over.’ They were about fifty metres from the chopper. Shane was sitting slumped against the landing gear holding his shoulder. ‘You go down and take over from Brian and he can come and help me with this.’

‘I can do this.’

He kept his voice level despite his growing frustration. ‘And I’m telling you not to. Your hands are cut and cold and there’s no need for you to lift anything if we can get Brian to do it. I need you down there to sort out Shane. He’s not looking happy. Brian’s just a pilot—he can’t assess anything. I need your nursing skills and his muscle.’

‘Okay. I’m gone.’

He was impressed with the agility and speed with which she made it to Shane, crossing paths with Brian and stopping for the briefest of handovers.

He watched as she tripped lightly over the rocks, that jacket swamping her tiny frame. She had guts, that was for sure. In another life he might have...

No, he wouldn’t.

No point in wishing. He didn’t have space for a relationship; and definitely not with someone a million miles away from his home. That would never work. No point starting something.

He pressed forwards, forcing all his attention to the here and now, not the murky past or his short-circuited future.

* * *

Finally, they were all settled into the chopper. Two patients. One more than they’d bargained for.

Brian gunned the engine. ‘It’s going to be a bit bumpy, but we’ll be back in no time.’

She looked a little green as they rose into the air and shunted sharply east as a rogue gust caught them. For one second she looked terrified, then she regained her composure and started to chat to Shane, keeping him orientated to time and place. Her voice was like music cutting through the grim roar of the engine and the beeping of the portable ECG machine that monitored Marty’s heart trace.

She was laughing, but it was gentle and lyrical. ‘So, Shane, your crampon front-ended and you did a spectacular cartwheel down the mountain. If you want to train for the gymnastic world championships you could do with finding a more level place to do it.’

‘Er...what’s...happening? Did we have a patient?’

There was a flicker of a frown, then she recovered. ‘Yes. He’s just here, next to you. Marty’s had some ketamine so he’s doing okay. No. No, stay where you are, love. We need you to keep as still as you can.’ All the while she talked, her eyes roved over first one patient then the other, assessing, monitoring, smiling.

Dancing. Moving. Smiling.

There was just something about her that was mesmerising.

Cal shook himself and focused on Marty’s observations. Mesmerising or not, he had promises to fulfil. Three months, he’d been given. Three months to train with the most highly skilled search and rescue team in the world and then he’d be back in Scotland to resume his duties and try to make amends for the mistake that had cost his brother his future.

* * *

By the time they reached the ED it was almost the end of Abbie’s shift. Her head was thumping a little but the bleeding had stopped. And, okay, she’d lied. The scoop had been so heavy, her hands were cut and sore, but none of that mattered until Marty and Shane were sorted out. Having already taken Shane through to her waiting colleagues, she now helped wheel Marty’s gurney into Resus and handed over to the ED staff. Into safe hands.

Theoretically, from this side of the process, she was done, but she hung around, feeling a little sidelined and a lot out of sorts. Actually, she was in pain and a little shocked at how things had progressed in those wintry conditions and how close they’d come to disaster. Cal was standing next to her. He looked up from his notes, those bright eyes catching her by surprise. He was a big man. Tall. Broad. Calm. He glanced at her forehead. ‘You need to get that cut sorted out. I’ll ask someone to take a look.’

‘I’ll sort it. Thanks. They’re all too busy with Marty and Shane and a load of other things.’ She swiped the back of her hand across her forehead. ‘It’s all dried up. I’ll do it later.’

‘Or, I’ll do it for you, now.’ He pointed to an empty cubicle. ‘Grab a seat.’

‘But I want to stay and work on Marty.’

‘Tough luck. Not your job right now.’ A straight talker, then. As he spoke Cal wheeled round and opened a few drawers, finding some gauze and saline.

‘Actually, it is my job. I can’t just abandon my shift.’

‘I’m not asking you to, but you’re my responsibility right now—you hurt yourself on my watch.’

‘It was hardly your fault; we did what we had to do. This is just a bit of fallout. I’ll live.’

‘But I’m duty bound to fix you up. Plus, I can’t let you tend to any patients looking like that—you’ll scare them off.’ His eyes glinted with laughter and she couldn’t help joining in. Next thing she knew he was moving her to a seat and pressing the gauze onto her forehead. He’d been firm but fair up the mountain, having been thrust in charge of three—no, four, including the pilot—lives. Clearly, he was the kind of guy who took responsibility seriously. He hadn’t been flustered or snappy, he’d just calmly told them all what they needed to do. A leader by example. And here he was doing it again.

He was also incredibly close. She couldn’t remember being this close to a man who wasn’t her patient for a long time. A long, long time. He was still being all calm and in control—if not a little bossy. And that made her nervous inside.

And...and he had the most amazing scent. A fresh air kind of smell. Something she wanted to inhale.

Stop it. She could feel her cheeks starting to burn. ‘Look, give me the saline, I’ll just wipe it—’

‘No.’ His voice was level and steady and she got the feeling he wasn’t going to cave in to her refusal. ‘Sit down and let me clean this up. This is going to sting.’

‘Are you, by chance, an older brother?’

‘Yeah. How did you guess?’ There was a grim smile at that comment, his eyes dulling a little.

‘Oh, you know, the take-no-crap bossiness. I bet your sibs love you.’

‘As it happens, he does. One brother. Younger, by two and a half years. He hates me and loves me in equal measure.’ There was a pause where Callum seemed to retreat into his own thoughts, his eyes clouded with pain that seemed to come from nowhere, but permeated his body. ‘No, actually he just hates me.’

‘Boys will be boys, I guess.’

‘Something like that.’ Cal took her hand and started to open the fist she’d made to try to keep the blood circulating, because to straighten out the broken skin hurt. A lot. Instead of thinking about the pain she focused on what he was saying, and what he was leaving out. It wasn’t something like that at all; she could tell. His manner had changed. He’d shut down a little at the mention of his brother. Or maybe she was just imagining it. She couldn’t fathom why she’d even noticed, and why his reticence intrigued her. He touched her fingertips lightly and they began to tingle. ‘Let me see your hands properly.’

‘Oh. Ouch. Remember when I said, be gentle with me? Yeah...that.’

Compared to the rounds and rounds of IVF she’d been through, the head wound was a walk in the park. Her hands, though—they were still frozen and cut and she just knew if he saw them he’d flip out. Because he was that kind of guy. The protective sort. The thought of which made her stomach constrict. She’d had one of them. A wonderful, amazing protective man who’d held her heart so tightly she couldn’t imagine giving it to anyone else. She didn’t need to, or want to. So she had no right to be thinking about Cal’s eyes or manner, let alone getting carried away with smelling his scent. ‘My fingers are starting to thaw out...you know that weird buzzy feeling?’

‘Aha. Only too well.’ He peeled her fingers open and sucked in a breath at the sight of her raw, bleeding skin. ‘You shouldn’t have carried such a heavy weight, or you should have put your gloves on to protect yourself.’

‘Should have, would have, could have. There wasn’t time, remember? None of it is important, anyway. Marty’s safe and Shane’s being looked at. That’s all that matters. Right?’

But he’d zoned out, looking at her wedding ring. He was all matter-of-fact when he spoke. ‘Yes, well, all fixed up now. How are your feet?’

She stamped her boots and wiggled her toes. Luckily she’d put extra-thick socks on today. ‘Feet are just fine. Thank you. I’m good to go.’

‘And I’m in charge of this shift now that Shane’s indisposed, so finally, just one last thing: you need to get a hot drink inside of you and something to eat before you do anything else. We need to debrief before the next call if possible. Definitely time for a break. Paramedic’s orders.’

‘I’m fine.’

‘You usually have blue fingers?’

Looking first at him then back at her hands, she realised there was no point in arguing. He was, in fact, right. She was still freezing and hadn’t had a drink in hours. She’d be no use to anyone like this. But she wasn’t letting him know that. And, if she was absolutely honest, she wanted a couple more minutes with him—it had been a strange day and debriefing was a great idea. With a theatrical sigh she rolled her eyes. ‘Definitely an older sib.’

* * *

Could have done a lot better. Cal looked at the inexpertly applied gauze on her forehead and inwardly cringed. It looked as if it had been stuck on by a kindergarten kid.

It was because he was cold; that was what he was telling himself, anyway. And not because there was anything going on here—like attraction. Given he was heading out of town soon, attraction was a spectacularly bad idea.

Because of her wound, her bobble hat was pushed back, so more tufts of dark, coffee-coloured hair stuck out around her face. She looked as if she’d been...well, as if she’d been on the top of a mountain in a hurricane. It was lucky she’d been there as an extra pair of hands—albeit damaged in the process. She’d coped well, but his heart had only just about started to beat normally again. The SARS training had given him confidence he’d have been able to deal with anything up there, but he hadn’t wanted to test it.

He paid for the flat white and handed it to her, wondering what this urge to chat with her was all about. He didn’t usually buy Shane a cuppa and debrief. Yeah, right...great chat-up line; that’d have them all laughing back at base. The closest they ever got to debriefing for real was a quick chat on the ride to the next emergency, scoffing a lukewarm pie and bad coffee from the petrol station.

They steered through the busy cafeteria and found an empty table. Once they’d settled in, he broke up his bar of chocolate and offered some to her. ‘Eat; you’ll be better with something inside you to bring up the blood sugar.’

She blinked. ‘You really do do a lot of bossing around.’

‘Sorry. Bad habit of mine. You’re not the first person to tell me that. It’s a kind of misguided attempt to look after you.’ Instead of analysing his faults—he was aware he had a few, because Finn made it his personal mission to highlight every single one of his brother’s shortcomings—he went for a change of subject. ‘So, you had a baptism of fire up there. You handled it all very well, though. Not bad for a newbie.’

Underneath the huge jacket, she bristled. ‘I’ve been a nurse for a long time. I’m just new at ED, that’s all. Well, I’ve been here a few months. But it’s a big learning curve, right?’

‘When you’re out in the field, yes. You don’t know what’s going to be thrown at you.’

She took a sip and seemed to settle a little. ‘I haven’t seen you here before, though.’

‘Different shifts probably, and I’ve been out at Wanaka a lot and with the SARS team. I’ve only been in New Zealand a couple of months all up.’ Which reminded him that spending what little time he had left talking to women he could never see again was pretty pointless. Although very nice. Actually, more than nice.

‘And you’re from...Scotland? Is that right?’

‘Aye.’ The familiar tug of responsibility tightened in his gut. He needed to get back there. Wasting another month here felt as if he were killing time. Time he could be using to sort Finn out. But, he’d promised to get as much training as he could and he didn’t want to go back unqualified, or to seem ungrateful to everyone who’d pushed him to come here in the first place. ‘Another month then I’m gone.’

She nodded before blowing on the steaming drink. ‘Of course you are.’

An odd reply. ‘What does that mean?’

‘The majority of people working in Queenstown are just passing through, so I’m not surprised you’ll be going, too. Where next? Aussie? Asia? The big OE we call it. Overseas Experience. A gap year?’

‘At twenty-nine, I’m a bit too old for a gap year. Honestly. No travelling, I’m going straight back home.’

She looked surprised. ‘So you did all your travelling before coming here?’

‘No. I’m not travelling. I came to do specialist search and rescue training. For my job. I have...’ And here was the thing—he was suddenly torn. The minute he’d been needed he’d pledged to spend the rest of his life looking after his brother. This trip had been the first glimpse of how life could have been, but nothing was going to stop him going back. Finn needed him. ‘I have responsibilities back home.’

Was he dreaming or did she look at his hand? For a wedding ring? Laughable. He had enough to do without taking on someone else. ‘Well, they’ll be glad to have you back, I’m sure.’

He smiled. She didn’t know the half of it. ‘I doubt it. But I’m going anyway. What about you? Obviously a Kiwi...?’

She smiled right back. Looked straight into his eyes, and he got a warm sensation swimming through him. ‘I’ve lived in Queenstown my whole life. Been out of the country a few times for holidays, but always came straight back here. It’s where my family is.’

‘You’re not one of those New Zealanders who has the travel bug, then?’

‘No. I need to stay here.’ At his raised eyebrows she continued, ‘Responsibilities too.’

‘Oh—?’ But of course. He’d noticed the wedding ring on her finger before. That was okay. He could do platonic. Yeah, platonic was good. Maybe then he wouldn’t be so mesmerised by her.

Odd, but she quickly drained her coffee and looked at something behind him, her eyes darting and dancing, kind of nervous, kind of sad. ‘Oh-oh, caught in the act. My boss is heading over. I’ve got to go.’

‘Hey, Cal.’ It was Steph from ED. ‘Abbie, sorry to disturb you. I heard you did well today. Awesome job.’

‘Thanks. It was...’ She caught Cal’s eye and smiled. A shared day, shared joke, shared rescue. There was always a bit of a connection after that. ‘Interesting.’

‘You left this on the desk, I thought you might want to keep it safe.’ Steph handed her an ultrasound picture. He was no expert, but it looked like an antenatal one. Yep—even from here he could make out the shape of a baby.

She’s having a baby.

‘Thank you. Yes. Oh, goodness. My scan.’ Abbie’s eyes were filled with pride that gave Cal a strange jolt in his gut.

Steph ambled on chatting as white noise filled his head. ‘Thought of any names yet? Did you ask about the gender?’

‘No. We’re going to wait. It’s exciting, though. I can’t believe that by Christmas there’s going to be a baby here.

She’s having a baby.

A bairn.

His overprotective gene fired into action. Finn would have laughed as usual and told him to back right off, but Cal couldn’t help it. This was serious. He waited until Steph had gone, then, ‘You didn’t tell me you were pregnant. Up there. In the snow. You fell over. I let you carry a heavy weight. Why did you let me think you were okay?’

‘I am okay. I’m fine, actually. Honestly.’ She didn’t even look a little contrite. What a dangerous game she’d been playing. And he shouldn’t care, not at all, but for some reason he was firing on all protection cylinders today.

Maybe he was missing Finn. Missing the opportunity to care and be useful. To fuss and smother, as Finn would say.

‘You carried that scoop, which would have put a strain on your whole body, and you hurt your side. You were wincing and it’s obvious you still have some pain.’

She shook her head. ‘It’s nothing, just a pulled muscle. Really, I’m fine.’

Yeah, he’d heard that before. When his brother wanted him to believe everything was okay. It hadn’t been. It had been far from okay. He wasn’t buying it. He stood up. ‘I want you to get looked over. I’m not listening to any excuses...you need to be checked out. An ultrasound or something.’

‘Who are you? My mother?’ But she was smiling. Smiling and moving and dancing. Really? He knew she was committed to someone else. Married, for God’s sake. He needed his head looking at.

‘I’m just concerned, Abbie. You could have hurt—’

‘My baby?’ she cut in, laughing. ‘Don’t worry, Callum. My baby is...’ she nodded towards a pregnant woman walking towards them ‘...over there.’

What?

He did the maths, joined the dots, put all the jigsaw pieces into place.

Ah.

How could he have got it so wrong? His gay radar wasn’t working today. ‘Oh. I see. Your partner’s having your baby... Your wife?’

She rubbed her fingers over her wedding ring and laughed. ‘You really have got it so wrong, I can’t begin to tell you. But I’ve got to go. I’ve a very important coffee date. Thanks for warming me up.’ Then she paused, blushed, her eyes meeting his in a very heterosexual kind of way. He could see something there that was just for him—a softening, a little bit of playfulness, a very timid flirt. Or was there? Was he going mad? There was definitely a connection here he just did not understand. She shook her head, dragging her gaze from his. ‘I mean... Well...thanks.’

CHAPTER THREE

COULD I HAVE been any more tongue-tied? Eurgh.

It had been three days since she’d had that strange afternoon with Callum, and every time Abbie thought about it she cringed and blushed. Even when she was on her own.

She should have been upfront with him but she’d been cold and tired and excited about the baby and...flustered.

The man made her flustered.

Which was why she’d decided to go for a run—to purge those feelings, all of them, from her system. God knew she had enough on her mind without trying to work out why a man was making her lost for words.

It was the shoulder season, but in Queenstown that still meant a lot of visitors filling the buzzing town centre. A coach pulled up lakeside, spilling passengers for the TSS Earnslaw steamship cruise. The tourists, all rugged up in matching waterproofs and chattering excitedly, weren’t looking where they were going, so Abbie had to zigzag round them.

‘On your left,’ she called out, hoping they’d move for a slightly uncoordinated runner. She could hardly blame them for being excited, though; the sun was out in the cloudless sky and it finally felt like spring. Although, that could easily change.

Not accidentally photo-bombing or running into the crowds was difficult and Abbie craved some quiet thinking time, so she headed along past the gardens and out onto the lakeside bike trail.

For a few kilometres or so she shared the track with cyclists and other runners, but eventually she was on her own, breathing hard and trying not to trip over wayward tree roots and little rocks sticking up at irregular intervals as she navigated through bush.

Eventually, she found her rhythm, blissfully unaware of anything else but her feet hitting the ground, the rustle of the trees, birdsong. Then, the bit she liked best of all—the trail opening up from bush to a wide track, and the view of the lake, which, as always, took her breath away.

Up ahead there was a figure sitting on a bench. Great place to smell the roses, if you had the time. Sitting didn’t do a lot for Abbie. Ever since Michael died she’d been running, exercising, anything to get rid of the excess energy that seemed to spiral through her. Anxiety didn’t hang around when her lungs were pumping nineteen to the dozen. Endorphins worked too. Happy hormones—she needed them. Especially now.

As she closed in she heard talking. Bench Man was on the phone.

‘What d’ya mean, you’ve been out on The Cairnwell? For God’s sake, Finn, will you listen to me—? I don’t care if it’s the easiest one. You will not go there again, d’you hear me?’

Cal?

Just when she’d thought her heart couldn’t beat any faster it sped up even more. She slowed right down. Even though she was feeling guilty about playing him along, now clearly wasn’t the right time to fix things. He had no clue he was being watched and she felt a worm of discomfort twist in her tummy. If she entered the clearing he’d see her; right now she was camouflaged by the trees. But it felt as if she was eavesdropping on a very private conversation.

‘Aye, well, I’m sorry about that. Did you take your meds?’

He was facing away from her, his back rigid. Shoulder muscles she hadn’t seen the other day due to his hi-vis were well defined...taut. He was wearing sports gear too—a loose-fitting singlet and shorts. Running?

‘Why the hell not? Well, you’d better start. Things are going to change when I get back. And how.’

He flicked his phone into his pocket and stood, staring out across the water, every sinew tense.

Now she didn’t know what to do. Run? Walk? Say something? Nothing? Turn around and go home? Was he going to come towards her, or race off in front?

But he bent for a moment, lifting his foot onto the bench and checking his laces. If he turned his head even the tiniest fraction he’d see her. She’d be caught watching him. So not a good idea.

He looked the other way, along the path.

Now was her chance. She ducked out from behind the trees and sped along the trail.

‘Race you!’ she called as she overtook him.

What the hell...? Where had that come from? Her mouth had a mind of its own—and it was a little out of control. Damned endorphins must have kicked in early today.

‘What?’ He jumped at her voice, did a double take. ‘Do I know—?’

‘Come on.’ Then, for some reason she didn’t understand, she turned around and jogged backwards, slowly, until he caught her up. She threw him a gauntlet. ‘Going to the bridge? I can give you a head start if you need it?’

‘Abbie?’ His gaze skimmed her body—for the first time ever she felt unbearably underdressed in full-length running tights and a razor-back top. And suddenly very hot. But then, she had been running. His amazing eyes met hers and he grinned. Not the faintest hint of breathlessness anywhere in him. ‘Well, wow. Unexpected. Hello.’

‘I can hang back, let you go ahead if you need to.’

The irritation she’d seen in him while on the phone disappeared and he laughed. ‘Not necessary. Challenge accepted.’

‘To the bridge?’

‘Seriously?’

There was a moment when she almost felt sorry for him. ‘You underestimate me at your peril.’

Then there was no more talking.

They were evenly matched...at least, at first. She met him stride for stride and only when the path narrowed did she fall behind a little. All the better to get another view of those amazing muscles. He was either a climber, or he worked out. No one had that kind of upper-body strength just by lifting gurneys.

But when he sensed her close behind him he pulled sharply to the right to let her join him again. The bridge was in sight. She let him think she was going to let the friendly camaraderie continue, then, with fifty metres to go, she sprinted out. Hard. Fast.

He got there at the same time. Laughing, reaching for the stone wall to tag. ‘Well, you’re fast, that’s for sure.’

She decided not to tell him her reasons for running these days. Some things should be kept private. Besides, she could barely manage words. She hauled gulp after gulp of air as she bent over, hands on knees. ‘Ran for...Otago. Back...in...the day. School...cross-country champion.’

‘What? Like, last year?’

‘Over ten years ago.’ She pulled up, hands on hips. ‘I know, I know, everyone always says I look young...but I’m as old as Methuselah really. Twenty-nine. Believe me... I’ve lived a little.’

‘Ach, the wild child of Queenstown?’

Hardly. She’d been married at twenty-three. Felt ancient at twenty-five when she’d unexpectedly hit most of the ageing milestones far too soon—a married woman and then a widow. Sadly, the family bit had passed her by. ‘Not quite. Let’s just say, it’s been an interesting ride.’

Without discussing where they were headed they started to walk back towards Queenstown centre. Yes, she could easily have run, but she didn’t want to tire the poor thing out. ‘And you? A wild child of...?’

‘Duncraggen.’ He tipped his head back and laughed. ‘The only thing that’s wild up there is the weather. Oh, and the sheep.’

‘Where’s that? Dun...crabbing?’

‘The very tip of Loch Lomond, a tiny wee village near Inverarnan. Not a lot about it, really.’

‘So Queenstown must be the big scary metropolis, then?’

‘I did live in Edinburgh for a while. And I have travelled a fair bit...in my youth.’ He made a creaking sound. ‘But now, young whippersnapper, I’m over the hill.’

‘Oh, don’t be too hard on yourself.’ Where was this coming from? It felt natural to joke with him. ‘You don’t look a day over seventy.’

‘Cheeky.’ He threw her a sideways look and she could see laughter in his eyes. It was so nice to see that. A man who didn’t take himself too seriously.

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