About the Authors

SUE MACKAY lives with her husband in New Zealand’s beautiful Marlborough Sounds, with the water at her doorstep and the birds and the trees at her back door. It is the perfect setting to indulge her passions of entertaining friends by cooking them sumptuous meals, drinking fabulous wine, going for hill walks or kayaking around the bay—and, of course, writing stories

LOUISA HEATON lives on Hayling Island, Hampshire, with her husband, four children and a small zoo. She has worked in various roles in the health industry—most recently four years as a Community First Responder, answering 999 calls. When not writing, Louisa enjoys other creative pursuits, including reading, quilting and patchwork—usually instead of the things she ought to be doing!

KARIN BAINE lives in Northern Ireland with her husband, two sons, and her out-of-control notebook collection. Her mother and her grandmother’s vast collection of books inspired her love of reading and her dream of becoming a Mills & Boon author. Now she can tell people she has a proper job! You can follow Karin on Twitter, @karinbaine1, or visit her website for the latest news—karinbaine.com

A passion for travel has taken New York Times bestselling author VICKI LEWIS THOMPSON to Europe, Great Britain, the Greek isles, Australia and New Zealand. She’s visited most of North America and has her eye on South America’s rain forests. Africa, India and China beckon. But her first love is her home state of Arizona, with its deserts, mountains, sunsets and—last but not least—cowboys! The wide-open spaces and heroes on horseback influence everything she writes. Connect with her at vickilewisthompson.com, Facebook.com/vickilewisthompson and Twitter.com/vickilthompson

USA TODAY bestselling author ANNA DEPALO is a Harvard graduate and former intellectual property attorney who lives with her husband, son and daughter in her native New York. She writes sexy, humorous books that have been published in more than twenty countries. Her novels have won the RT Book Reviews Reviewers’ Choice Award, the Golden Leaf and the Book Buyer’s Best. You can sign up for her newsletter at www.annadepalo.com

SCARLET WILSON writes for both Mills & Boon Romance and Medical Romance. She lives on the west coast of Scotland with her fiancé and their two sons. She loves to hear from readers and can be reached via her website: scarlet-wilson.com

KATE HEWITT has worked a variety of different jobs, from drama teacher to editorial assistant to youth worker, but writing romance is the best one yet. She also writes women’s fiction and all her stories celebrate the healing and redemptive power of love. Kate lives in a tiny village in the English Cotswolds with her husband, five children, and an overly affectionate golden retriever.

CAT SCHIELD lives in Minnesota with her daughter, their opinionated Burmese cats and a silly doberman puppy. She is the winner of the Romance Writers of America 2010 Golden Heart® for series contemporary romance. When she’s not writing sexy, romantic stories for Mills & Boon Desire, she can be found sailing with friends on the St. Croix River or in more exotic locales like the Caribbean and Europe. You can find out more about her books at www.catschield.net

KIMBERLY LANG is a Southern belle with a trouble-making streak and a great love of strong heroes and even stronger heroines. A former ballet dancer and English teacher, she now does yoga and writes the kind of books she always loved to read. She’s married to her college sweetheart, is mum to the most amazing child on the planet, and shares her office space with a dog named Cupid. Visit her website at www.BooksByKimberly.com

BRENDA HARLEN is a multi-award winning author for Mills & Boon True Love who has written over twenty-five books for the company.

USA Today bestseller MICHELLE CELMER is the author of more than forty books for Mills & Boon. You can usually find her in her office with her laptop loving the fact that she gets to work in her pyjamas.

Michelle loves to hear from her readers! Visit Michelle on Facebook at Michelle Celmer Author, or email at michelle@michellecelmer.com

ELLE JAMES spent twenty years in South Texas, ranching horses, cattle, goats, ostriches and emus. A former IT professional, Elle now writes full-time, penning intrigues and paranormal adventures that keep her readers on the edge of their seats. Now living in northwest Arkansas, she isn’t wrangling cattle, she’s wrangling her malti-poo and yorkie. When she’s not at her computer, she’s snow-skiing, travelling or riding her ATV, dreaming up new stories.

Ever since LISA CHILDS read her first romance novel (a Mills & Boon of course) at age eleven, all she ever wanted to be was a romance writer. Now an award winning, best-selling author of nearly fifty novels for Mills & Boon, Lisa is living the dream. Lisa loves to hear from readers who can contact her on Facebook, through her website www.lisachilds.com or snail mail address PO Box 139, Marne, MI 49435.

USA TODAY bestselling author CASSIE MILES lives in Colorado. After raising two daughters and cooking tons of macaroni and cheese for her family, Cassie is trying to be more adventurous in her culinary efforts. She’s discovered that almost anything tastes better with wine. When she’s not plotting Mills & Boon Intrigue books, Cassie likes to hang out at the Denver Botanical Gardens near her high-rise home.

SUSAN CLIFF is a longtime romance reader, part-time writer and full-time California girl. She loves to daydream about exciting adventures in exotic locales. Her books feature heartfelt romance, gripping suspense, elite Navy SEAL heroes and unique heroines. Get swept away with San Diego’s finest from ‘Team Twelve’!

RACHEL LEE was hooked on writing by the age of twelve, and practiced her craft as she moved from place to place all over the United States. This New York Times bestselling author now resides in Florida and has the joy of writing full-time.

USA Today bestselling author JULIE MILLER writes breathtaking romantic suspense. She has sold millions of copies of her books worldwide, and has earned a National Readers Choice Award, two Daphne du Maurier prizes and an RT BookReviews Career Achievement Award. She is a multiple finalist for the prestigious RITA® Award. For a complete list of her books and more, go to www.juliemiller.org

Tempted by Collection

Tempted by the Single Doc

Sue MacKay, Louisa Heaton and Karin Baine

Tempted by the Movie Star

Vicki Lewis Thompson, Anna DePalo and Scarlet Wilson

Tempted by the Rock Star

Kate Hewitt, Cat Schield and Kimberly Lang

Tempted by the Royal

Brenda Harlen, Michelle Celmer and Scarlet Wilson

Tempted by the Bodyguard

Elle James, Lisa Childs and Cassie Miles

Tempted by the Hero

Susan Cliff, Rachel Lee and Julie Miller

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-0-008-90723-5

TEMPTED BY COLLECTION

Breaking All Their Rules © 2016 Sue MacKay One Life-Changing Night © 2016 Louisa Heaton The Doctor’s Forbidden Fling © 2016 Karin Baine In the Cowboy’s Arms © 2017 Vicki Lewis Thompson Hollywood Baby Affair © 2017 Anna DePalo The Mysterious Italian Houseguest © 2017 Scarlet Wilson In the Heat of the Spotlight © 2013 Kate Hewitt Little Secret, Red Hot Scandal © 2017 Catherine Schield The Downfall of a Good Girl © 2013 Kimberly Kerr The Prince’s Holiday Baby © 2008 Brenda Harlen Christmas with the Prince © 2009 Michelle Celmer The Prince She Never Forgot © 2015 Scarlet Wilson Secret Service Rescue © 2014 Harlequin Books S.A. Bodyguard’s Baby Surprise © 2016 Lisa Childs Mountain Bodyguard © 2016 Kay Bergstrom Stranded with the Navy SEAL © 2017 Jill Sorenson Guardian in Disguise © 2012 Susan Civil Brown Protection Detail © 2017 Julie Miller

Published in Great Britain 2020

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Note to Readers

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Table of Contents

Cover

About the Authors

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Tempted by the Single Doc

Breaking All Their Rules

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

EPILOGUE

One Life-Changing Night

Back Cover Text

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

EPILOGUE

The Doctor’s Forbidden Fling

Back Cover Text

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

EPILOGUE

Tempted by the Movie Star

In the Cowboy’s Arms

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Epilogue

Hollywood Baby Affair

Dedication

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Epilogue

The Mysterious Italian Houseguest

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

EPILOGUE

Tempted by the Rock Star

In the Heat of the Spotlight

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Little Secret, Red Hot Scandal

Back Cover Text

Dedication

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

The Downfall of a Good Girl

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Tempted by the Royal

The Prince’s Holiday Baby

Dedication

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

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Epilogue

Christmas with the Prince

Dedication

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

The Prince She Never Forgot

Dedication

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

EPILOGUE

Tempted by the Bodyguard

Secret Service Rescue

Back Cover Text

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Bodyguard’s Baby Surprise

Back Cover Text

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Epilogue

Mountain Bodyguard

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Tempted by the Hero

Stranded with the Navy SEAL

Back Cover Text

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Guardian in Disguise

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Protection Detail

Back Cover Text

Dedication

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

Epilogue

About the Publisher

Tempted by the Single Doc

Breaking All Their Rules

Sue MacKay

One Life-Changing Night

Louisa Heaton

The Doctor’s Forbidden Fling

Karin Baine

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Breaking All Their Rules

Dear Lyn, I am going to miss your laugh and

those good times we yakked in your sewing room.

Thank you for dragging me out to find my other

passions that I’d forgotten all about until I met you.

You read every book and this one is definitely for you.

CHAPTER ONE

OLIVIA COATES-CLARK STRAIGHTENED up and indicated to a nurse to wipe her forehead in an attempt to get rid of an annoying tickle that had been irritating her for some minutes. ‘Is it me, or is Theatre hotter than usual this morning?’

‘I haven’t noticed,’ Kay, the anaesthetist, answered as she kept an eye on the monitors in front of her. ‘Sure you’re not stressing about tonight, Olivia?’

‘Me? Stress?’ Olivia grimaced behind her mask. She was a control freak; of course she stressed. ‘Okay, let’s get this second implant inserted so we can bring our girl round.’

‘So everything’s good to go for the gala fundraiser?’ Kay persisted.

‘Fingers crossed,’ Olivia muttered, refusing to think about what could go wrong. Her list of requirements and tasks was complete, neat little ticks beside every job and supplier and by the name of every attendee, including the seeing eye dog coming.

‘I bumped into Zac yesterday. He’s looking forward to catching up with everyone.’ Kay’s forced nonchalance didn’t fool her.

‘I’m sure everyone feels the same.’ The anaesthetist had hit on the reason for Olivia feeling unnaturally hot. Zachary Wright. Just knowing he’d be at the function she’d spent weeks organising made her toes curl with unwanted anticipation. Not to mention the alien nervousness. ‘Zac,’ she sighed into her mask. The one man she’d never been able to delete from her mind. And, boy, had she tried.

‘You need more mopping?’ the nurse asked.

‘No, thanks.’ That particular irritation had gone, and she’d ignore the other—Zac—by concentrating on supervising the plastic surgery registrar opposite her as he placed the tissue expander beneath the pocket under Anna Seddon’s pectoralis major muscle on the left side of her chest wall.

The registrar had supported Olivia as she’d done the first insertion of an expander on the right side, watching every move she made, listening to every word she said, as though his life depended on it. Which it did. One mistake and she’d be on him like a ton of bricks. So far he was doing an excellent job of the second breast implant. ‘Remember to make sure this one’s placed exactly the same as the first one. No woman is going to thank you for lopsided breasts.’ This might only be the first stage in a series of surgeries to reconstruct Anna’s breasts but it had to be done well. There was no other way.

The guy didn’t look up as he said, ‘I get it. This is as much about appearances and confidence as preventing cancer.’

‘Making a person feel better about themselves is our job description.’ Her career had evolved along a path of repairing people who’d had misadventures or deforming surgeries. But she didn’t knock those specialists working to make people happier in less traumatic circumstances. Everyone was entitled to feel good about themselves, for whatever reasons; to hide behind a perfect facade if they needed to.

For Olivia, looking her absolute best was imperative: a confident shield that hid the messy, messed-up teenager from the critical world waiting to pounce. Making the most of her appearance hadn’t been about attracting males and friends since she was twelve and the night her father had left home for the last time, taking his clothes and car, and her heart. Leaving her to deal with her mother’s problems alone.

Kay glanced down at the table. ‘This isn’t the first time I’ve seen a perfectly healthy woman deliberately have her breasts removed, but I still can’t get my head round it. I don’t know if I’d have the guts to have the procedure done if I didn’t already have cancer.’

Olivia understood all too well, but … ‘If you’d lost your grandmother and one sister to the disease, and your mother had had breast cancer you might think differently.’ Bad luck came in all forms.

‘I’d do whatever it took to be around to watch my kids grow up,’ one of the nurses said.

‘You’re right, and so would I.’ Kay shivered. ‘Still, it’s a huge decision. You’d want your man on side, for sure.’

‘Anna’s husband’s been brilliant. I’d go so far as to call him a hero. He’s backing her all the way.’ A hero? If she wasn’t in Theatre she’d have to ask herself what she was on. Heroes were found in romance stories, not real life—not often anyhow, and not in her real life. Not that she’d ever let one in if one was on offer.

As Olivia swabbed the incision a clear picture of Zac spilled into her mind, sent a tremor down her arm, had her imagining his scent. Oh, get over yourself. Zac wasn’t her hero. Wasn’t her anything. Hadn’t been since she’d walked away from their affair eighteen months ago. But—she sighed again—what would’ve happened if she’d found the courage to push the affair beyond the sex and into a relationship where they talked and shared and had been there for each other? Eventually Zac would’ve left her. At least by getting in first she’d saved herself from being hurt. Tonight she’d see quite a bit of him, which didn’t sit easily with her. The day his registration for the gala had arrived in her inbox she’d rung him for a donation for the fundraising auction. Since then she hadn’t been able to erase him from her mind. Come on. He’s always been lurking in the back of your head, reminding you how good you were together.

‘So there are good guys out there.’ Kay’s tone was acerbic.

Zac might be one of the good guys. She hadn’t hung round long enough to find out. She’d got too intense about him too quickly and pulling the plug on their fling had been all about staying in control and not setting herself up to be abandoned. Going through that at twelve had been bad enough; to happen again when she was an adult would be ridiculous. So she’d run. Cowardly for sure, but the only way to look out for herself. And now she had an op to finish and a gala to start. ‘Let’s get this tidied up and the saline started.’ She had places to be and hopefully not many things to do.

An hour later she was beginning to wish she’d stayed in Theatre for the rest of the day. The number of texts on her phone gave the first warning that not everything was going to plan at the hotel where the gala evening would be held; that her list was in serious disarray.

As she ran for her car, the deluge that all but drowned her and destroyed her carefully styled hair, which she’d spent the evening before having coloured and tidied, was the second warning. At least her thick woollen coat had saved her silk blouse from ruin. But rain had not been on her schedule, which put her further out of sorts. Everything about tonight had to be perfect.

Slamming the car door, she glared out at the black sky through the wet windscreen. ‘Get a move on. I want you gone before my show starts tonight.’

The third suggestion that things were turning belly up was immediate and infuriating. One turn of the ignition key and the flat clicking sound told a story of its own. The battery was kaput. Because? Olivia slapped the dashboard with her palm. The lights had been left on. There was no one to blame except herself.

Olivia knew the exact moment Zac walked through the entrance of the plush hotel, and it had nothing to do with the sudden change in noise as the doors opened, letting in sounds of rain and car horns. She might’ve been facing the receptionist but she knew. Her skin prickled, her belly tightened, and the air around her snapped. Worse, she forgot whatever it was she’d been talking about to the young woman on the other side of the polished oak counter.

So nothing had changed. He still rattled her chain, made her feel hot and sexy and out of control—and he hadn’t even said a word to her. Probably hadn’t recognised her back view.

‘Hello, Olivia. It’s been a while.’

That particular husky, sexy voice belonged to only one man. ‘Since what, Zac?’ she asked, as she lifted her head and turned to face him, fighting the adrenaline rush threatening to turn her into a blithering wreck. This was why she’d left him. Zac undermined her self-control. How had she found the strength to walk away? Not that there’d been anything more to their relationship than sex. Nothing that should be making her blood fizz and her heart dance a tango just because he stood a few feet from her. No way did she want to jump his bones within seconds of seeing him. She shouldn’t want to at all. But no denying it—she did. Urgently.

Black-coffee-coloured eyes bored into her, jolting her deep inside. ‘Since we last spent the night together, enjoying each other’s company.’

‘Go for the jugular, why don’t you?’ she gasped, knowing how wrong it was to even wish he’d give her a hug and say he’d missed her.

Zac instantly looked contrite. ‘Sorry, Olivia. I didn’t mean to upset you.’

‘You didn’t,’ she lied. Behind her physical reaction her heart was sitting up, like it had something to say. Like what? Not going there. ‘The bedroom scene was the grounds of our relationship.’ That last night she’d got up at three in the morning, said she couldn’t do it any more, and had walked out without explaining why. To tell him her fears would’ve meant exposing herself, and that was something she never did.

‘So? How’s things? Keeping busy?’ Inane, safe, and so not what she really wanted to ask. Got a new woman in your life? Do you ever miss me? Even a teeny, weeny bit? Or are you grateful I pulled the plug when I did? Right now all her muscles felt like they were reaching for him, wanting him touching them, rubbing them, turning her on even more. Had she done the right thing in leaving? Of course she had. Rule number one: stay in control. She’d been losing it back then. Fast.

Zac had the audacity to laugh. ‘What? You haven’t kept tabs on me?’ His grin was lazy, and wide, and cut into her with the sexiness of it. There was no animosity there whatsoever, just a deliberate, self-mocking gleam in his beautiful eyes. He was as good as her at hiding emotions.

Shaking her head at him, Olivia leaned back, her hands pressed against the counter at her sides, the designer-jeans-clad legs Zac had sworn were the best he’d ever had anything to do with posed so that one was in front of the other and bent slightly at the knee, tightening the already tight, annoyingly damp denim over her not-so-well-toned thigh. ‘My turn to apologise. I haven’t kept up with any gossip.’

‘Dull as dishwater, that’s my life.’ Unfortunately that twinkle she’d always melted for was very apparent, belying his statement.

‘Right.’ She rolled her eyes at him, unable to imagine Zac not being involved in and with people, especially feminine, good-looking, sexy people. Was she jealous? Couldn’t be. She’d done the dumping, not him. But Zac with another woman? Pain lodged in the region of her heart.

‘Never could fool you.’ It was inordinately satisfying to see his gaze drop to the line on the front of her thigh where the mulberry three-quarter-length coat cut across her jeans. Even more gratifying when his tongue lapped that grin, which rapidly started fading. And downright exciting to see Zachary blink not once but twice.

She didn’t need exciting in her life right now, and Zac and exciting were one and the same. ‘I keep to myself a lot these days too,’ she muttered, not really sure what she was talking about any more with the distracting package standing right in front of her.

‘Now I’m shocked.’ The grin was back in place, lion-like in its power to knock her off her feet and set her quaking.

‘Why? It’s not as though I’ve ever been a social butterfly.’

‘There’s never been anything butterfly-like about you, Olivia.’

Confidence oozed from Zac that didn’t bode well for the coming evening when they’d be in the same crowd, the same venue. At the same table. Of all the things she’d organised she should’ve been able to arrange that he sat on the opposite side of the room. It had proved impossible as they were the only two people attending the gala who were on their own. All the others were in pairs.

‘You’re saying I’m not a flapper?’ They were toying with each other. Reality slammed into her, made her gasp aloud. They’d teased each other mercilessly the first night they’d gone to bed together, and had never stopped. Well, she was stopping now. Time to put distance between them. She needed to get on with what she was supposed to be doing. ‘I’ve got a lot to do so I’ll see you later. I hope you have a great evening.’

Disappointment flicked through his eyes, quickly followed by something much like hurt but couldn’t be. Not hurt. She hadn’t done anything more than push him aside, though that’d probably spiked his pride. He had a reputation of loving and leaving.

It had taken the death of a small child in Theatre to throw them into each other’s arms for the first time. Desperate to obliterate the anguished parents from her mind, Olivia had found temporary comfort with Zac. She’d also found sex like she’d never known before. How they’d spent years rubbing shoulders at med school and not felt anything for each other until that day was one of life’s mysteries. From then on all it took had been one look and they’d be tearing each other’s clothes off, falling into bed, onto the couch, over the table. They’d done little talking and a lot of action.

Tonight, if they were stuck together for any length of time, she’d talk and keep her hands to herself. That had been the plan, but so far it wasn’t working out. Not that she’d touched Zac yet. Yet? With her mouth watering and her fingers twitching, it would take very little to change that. She had to get serious and focus on what had to be done. ‘I’ll leave you to check in.’ Her voice was pitched high—definitely no control going on there.

‘I’m not checking in.’

She should’ve remembered that. She knew all the names of the people who’d elected to stay the night here instead of driving home afterwards. ‘Do you live nearby?’

‘Over the road.’

‘In that amazing apartment building designed to look like a cruise ship, overlooking the super yachts and high-end restaurants?’ Oh, wow. He had done all right for himself. Of course, he came from a moneyed background, but she recalled him saying he’d paid his own way through med school. She had never told him she also came from money or that her mother had used it to bribe her to keep her onside until she was old enough to work out that hiding bottles of alcohol from her father wasn’t a joke at all.

‘Are you staying here?’ he asked casually, making her wonder if he might have plans to pay her a visit if she was.

‘Yes.’ The house she’d bought last summer was less than twenty minutes away in upmarket Parnell. ‘I’m going to be busy here right up to kick-off, and going home to get ready for the evening would use up time I might not have if things go wrong.’ Which plenty had done already. She looked over at the receptionist, suddenly remembering she’d been in the middle of another conversation before Zac had walked up. ‘Can you let me know when Dr Brookes and his family check in, please?’

The girl nodded. ‘Certainly, Dr Coates-Clark.’

‘I’ll be in the banquet room,’ Olivia told the girl needlessly. The hotel staff had her cell number, but right now she wasn’t doing so well on remembering anything she should. Better get a grip before the evening got under way.

Zac shrugged those impressive shoulders that she’d kissed many times. ‘I’ll give you a hand.’

‘Thanks, but that won’t be necessary. I’m getting everything sorted.’ As much as having someone to help her would be a benefit, Zac would probably get her into a bigger pickle just by being in the same room. Turning on her heel, Olivia headed to the elevator that’d take her up to the room where tonight’s dinner, auction, and dance would be held. The evening was due to get under way in a little over three hours and she wanted to check that everything was in place and see if the flowers had finally arrived. Something about bad weather causing a shortage of flowers at the markets that morning had been the harried florist’s excuse. But bad weather didn’t explain why the place name cards were yet to arrive from the copy centre.

Unbelievable how she’d softened on the inside when she’d first looked at Zac, despite the heat and turmoil he instantly ramped up within her. Like she’d missed him. But she hadn’t known Zac beyond work and bed so not a lot to miss apart from that mind-blowing sex. Odd she felt there was more to him she wanted to learn about when she hadn’t been interested before. Not interested? Of course she had been. That’s what had frightened her into ending the affair.

A large palm pressed the button to summon the elevator. ‘It’s out there on the surgeons’ loop that you need some help with running the auction tonight. I’m stepping up. Starting now.’ Zac looked down his long straight nose at her, his mouth firm, his gaze determined. ‘No argument.’

Why would he want to do that? It meant being in her company for hours. She’d have sworn he would’ve planned on keeping well away from her, and that the last five minutes had been five too many in her company. ‘Thanks, but no thanks, Zac. I’ve got it covered.’ Second lie in minutes. She doubted she could spend too much time with him without dredging up all the reasons why she’d been a fool to drop him—instead of remembering why it had been a very sane move. No one was going to walk away from her ever again.

She made the mistake of looking at Zac and her tongue instantly felt too big for her mouth. Zac was so good looking, his face a work of art, designed to send any female who came near him into a lather. Including her. Olivia closed her eyes briefly, but his face followed her, seared on the insides of her eyelids. Zachary Wright. If ever there was a man she might fall for, it was Zac. That was a big ‘if’. Painful lessons growing up were a harsh reminder that there was only one person who’d look out for her—herself.

But one touch and Zac had always been able to do anything he liked with her. Not that he’d taken advantage in a bad way. He wasn’t that kind of man. See? She did know something about him. Hopefully he hadn’t known how close she’d come to being totally his, as in willing to do absolutely anything to keep him.

‘You all right?’ He touched her upper arm, and despite her layers of clothing the heat she associated with him shot through her, consumed her.

‘F-fine,’ was all Olivia could manage as she stared at him, pushing down hard on the urge to touch him back, to run her hand over his cheek, and to feel that stubble beginning to darken his chin.

Taking her elbow, Zac propelled her forward, into the elevator. ‘Third floor?’

‘Yes,’ she croaked. Go away, leave me alone, take your sexy body and those eyes that were always my undoing, and take a flying leap off a tall building. I don’t need this heat and need crawling along my veins. Go away.

‘I’m not going anywhere for the rest of the day, so get used to the idea, Olivia.’

Ouch. Had she said that out loud? What else had she put out there? One glance at him and she relaxed. He hadn’t heard anything about jumping off a building. But she couldn’t relax fully until tonight was put to bed.

Olivia groaned. ‘Bed’ was so not a safe word when she was around this man. It brought all sorts of images screaming into her head. Images she refused to see or acknowledge. They were her past, not her future. Or her present.

CHAPTER TWO

WHO’S TAKEN ALL the air out of this box? Zac stared around the elevator car, looking for a culprit. His eyes latched onto Olivia. He had his answer. It was her fault he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t keep his heart beating in a normal, steady rhythm. Olivia Coates-Clark. CC for short. CC was short. Delicate looking—not delicate of mind. Tiny, yet big on personality. Filled out in all the right places—as he well knew. Fiery when pushed too far, sweet when everything was going her way. An itch.

An itch he would never scratch again. He absolutely had to ignore it.

She’d dumped him. Hard and fast. Slapped at his pride. He did the leaving, when he was good and ready, not the other way round. He should’ve been grateful, was grateful. Having more than his usual three or four dates with Olivia had got him starting to look out for her. On the rare unguarded moments when something like deep pain had crept into her gaze he’d wanted to protect her; and that was plain dumb. Given his past, that made him a danger to her. He hurt people; did not protect them. He also didn’t feel like having his heart cut and cauterised again when she learned of his inadequacies. No, thanks.

Hang on. Had she found out? Was that why Olivia had pulled the plug on their affair? Because she’d found him to be flawed? No. She still looked at him as she always had—hot and hungry, not disgusted or aloof.

Breathing was impossible. Not only was Olivia using up the oxygen, she was filling the resulting vacuum with the scent of flowers and fruit and everything he remembered about her. Hell, let me out of this thing. Fast. He took a step towards the doors, stopped, glanced at the control panel. They were moving between floors. Get a hold of yourself.

Yeah, sure. This is what Olivia always did to him. Tipped him upside down with a look, sent his brain to the dump with a finger touch, and cranked up his libido so fast and high just by being in the same air as him. Exactly what was happening now. His crotch was tight, achingly tight. As was his gut. Nothing new there. Eighteen months without setting eyes on her, with only once talking on the phone about the auction, and he was back to square one. Back to lusting after her. Unbelievable. How could a grown man with a successful career as an orthopaedic surgeon, presumably an intelligent and sane man dedicated to remaining uninvolved with women, lose all control because of this one?

Olivia Coates-Clark. She was why he felt three sheets to the wind—and he hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol all week. He’d been too busy with scheduled surgeries and two emergencies involving major operations to have any time to enjoy a drink and take in the ever-changing view from his apartment living room. But within minutes of being with CC he felt as though he’d downed a whole bottle of whiskey. This was shaping up to be a big night in a way he didn’t need.

A phone buzzed discreetly. As nothing vibrated on his hip it had to be Olivia’s. He listened with interest as she answered, totally unabashed about eavesdropping.

‘Olivia Coates-Clark speaking.’ Her gaze scanned the ceiling as she listened to her caller. Then, ‘Thank you so much. Your efforts are really appreciated.’ Her finger flicked across the screen and the phone was shoved back into her pocket. ‘One problem sorted.’ She smiled directly at him.

‘Had a few?’ he asked, trying to ignore the jolt of need banging into his groin as his gaze locked on those lush lips.

‘I guess it would be too much to expect arranging something as big as this has become to go off without some hitches. It hasn’t been too bad, though.’ Had she just crossed her fingers?

‘Whose idea was it to raise money for Andy Brookes? Yours?’

Olivia nodded, and her copper-blonde hair brushed her cheek, adding further to his physical discomfort. ‘I’ll put my hand up, but from the moment I started talking to surgeons at Auckland Surgical Hospital it went viral. Everyone wants to be a part of supporting Andy. I imagine tonight’s going to raise a fair whack of dosh. People have been unbelievably generous with offering art, holidays, and other amazing things to auction.’ She smiled again, her mouth curving softly, reminding him of how he used to like lying beside her in his bed, watching her as she dozed after sex. All sweet and cute, and vastly different from the tigress who could sex him into oblivion. ‘Thank you for your generous gift,’ she was saying.

He’d put in a weekend for a family of four on his luxury yacht, with all the bells and whistles, and he’d be at the helm. ‘Andy was the most popular guy in our senior registrar years. He never failed to help someone out when they were down.’

‘You forget the practical jokes.’ Again she smiled, making those full lips impossible to ignore.

So he didn’t; studied them instead. Covered in a deep pink sheen, he could almost feel them on his skin as she kissed his neck just below his ear, or touched his chest, his belly, his … He groaned inwardly and leaned away from her, concentrating on having a polite conversation with his ex-lover. ‘I have vivid memories of some of the things Andy did to various people.’ He sighed as he tried to ease his need. Memories. There were far too many of Olivia stacked up in his mind. He should’ve heeded them and replied no to the invitation to join his colleagues tonight. He could’ve said he was doing the laundry or cleaning his car. But he’d wanted—make that needed—to get her out of his system once and for all, and had thought joining her tonight would be the ticket. Now he’d like nothing more than the gala to be over so he could head across the road to his quiet, cold apartment and forget Olivia.

‘Have you met Andy’s wife?’

‘Kitty was at a conference with Andy that we attended in Christchurch last year.’ The conference you were supposed to speak at and cancelled the day after you walked out of my life.

Olivia must’ve recalled that too because a shadow fell over those big eyes, darkening the hyacinth blue shade to the colour of ashes. Why did he always think of flowers when he was around her?

‘I had an emergency. At home.’ She spoke softly, warily.

‘You lived on your own.’ She didn’t have kids. Not that he knew of. Hell, he didn’t even know if she had siblings.

‘My mother was unwell.’ She straightened her already straight spine and said, ‘Andy was going places back then. Hard to believe he’s now facing the fight of his life to remain alive, instead of continuing his work with paraplegics.’

What had been the problem with her mother? If he asked he doubted she’d tell him, and if she did then he’d know things about her that would make him feel connected with her. The last thing he wanted. Feeling responsible for her was not on his agenda. So, ‘Andy’s got a chance if he has the radical treatment they’re offering him in California.’

‘It must be hard for Kitty too.’

‘Unimaginable.’ Zac took a step closer to CC, ready to hug away that sadness glittering out at him. Sadness for their friend? Or her mother? Something had disturbed her cool facade.

Zac understood confronting situations that threatened to destroy a person. He’d been eighteen when the accident had happened that had left his brother, Mark, a paraplegic. Two years older than Mark, he was supposed to have been the sensible one. Try being sensible with an out-of-control, aggressive younger brother intent on riling him beyond reason. Nearly twenty years later the guilt could still swamp Zac, despite Mark having got on with his life, albeit a different one from what he’d intended before the accident.

The guilt was crippling. Being ostracised by his family because he’d been driving the car when it had slammed over the wall into the sea was as gutting. That’s what put the shields over his heart. If his parents couldn’t love him, who could? If he wasn’t to be trusted to be responsible then he had no right to think any woman would be safe with him. Or any children he might have. So he had to keep from letting anyone near enough to undermine his determination to remain single, even when it went against all he believed in.

Olivia shuffled sideways, putting space between them. ‘Here’s hoping we raise a fortune tonight.’

Zac swallowed his disappointment, tried to find it in himself to be grateful Olivia had the sense to keep their relationship on an impersonal footing. It didn’t come easily. He’d prefer to hug her, which wouldn’t have helped either of them get past this tension that had gripped them from the instant he’d sauntered into the hotel. He wanted her, and suspected—no, he knew—she wanted him just as much. The one thing they’d been very good at had been reading each other’s sexual needs. There hadn’t been much else. Shallow maybe, but that’s how they’d liked it. Their lives had been busy enough with work and study. Their careers had been taking off, leaving little time for much else.

But right now hugging Olivia would be wonderful. Why? He had no idea, but being this close to her he felt alive in a way he hadn’t for months. Eighteen months, to be exact. This feeling wasn’t about sex—though no denying he’d struggle to refuse if it was offered—but more about friendship and closeness. No, not closeness. That would be dangerous. He hauled the armour back in place over his heart. One evening and the itch would be gone.

The elevator doors slid open quietly. Zac straightened from leaning against the wall, held his hand out to indicate to Olivia go first. ‘After you.’

Following her, his gaze was firmly set on the backs of those wonderful legs and the sexy knee-length black boots highlighting them to perfection. Was it wrong to long for what they used to have? Probably not, but needing the closeness with her? That was different from anything he’d experienced, made him vulnerable. Earlier, seeing Olivia standing in Reception, looking like she had everything in hand, he’d felt the biggest lurch of his heart since the day his world had imploded as that car had sunk into the sea and his brother had screamed at him, ‘I hate you.’

‘Zac.’ Olivia stopped, waited for him to come alongside her.

That slim neck he remembered so well was exposed where her coat fell open at her shoulders. ‘CC.’ If he used the nickname he might stop wanting something he couldn’t have. This woman had already shown she could toss him aside as and when it suited her.

He watched as the tightness at the corners of her mouth softened into another heart-wrenching smile. ‘Funny, I haven’t been called CC for a while. I used to like having a nickname. More than anything else it made me feel I belonged to our group.’

‘You never felt you belonged? Olivia, without you we wouldn’t have had so many social excursions or parties. You held our year together.’ She’d worked hard at organising fun times for them, sometimes taking hours away from her studies and having to make up for it with all-night sessions at her desk. But to feel she hadn’t been an integral part of the group? How had he missed that?

Her smile turned wry. ‘I’ve always taken charge. That way I’m not left out, and I get to call the shots. No one’s going to ignore the leader, are they?’

His heart lurched again, this time for the little girl blinking out from those eyes staring at some spot behind him. He certainly didn’t know this Olivia. ‘I guess you’re right.’ With his family he’d learned what it felt like to be on the outside, looking in, but at university he’d made sure no one had seen that guy by working hard at friendships. A lot like Olivia apparently. Everyone at med school had adored her. She could be extroverted and fun, crazy at times, but never out of control. It was like she’d walked a tightrope between letting go completely and keeping a dampener on her feelings.

Except in bed—with him.

Damn, he’d like nothing more than to take Olivia to bed again. But it wouldn’t happen. Too many consequences for both of them. The vulnerability in Olivia’s eyes, her face, told him he could hurt her badly without even trying. That blew him apart. He wanted to protect her, not unravel her. He cared about her.

Trying to get away from Zac and her monumental error, Olivia rushed through the magnificent double doors opening into the banquet room now decorated in blue and white ribbons, table linen, chair covers. Since when did she go about telling people about her insecurities? Not even Zac—especially not Zac—had heard the faintest hint of how she didn’t trust people not to trash her. She did things like this fundraiser so that people thought the best of her. That was the underlying reason she could not fail, would not have tonight be less than perfect. The same reason everything she did was done to her absolute best and then some. She must not be found lacking. Or stupid. Or needy.

Coming to a sudden halt, Olivia stared around the function room, which had been made enormous by sliding back a temporary wall. The sky-blue shade of Andy’s favourite Auckland rugby team dominated. In the corner countless buckets of blue and white irises had finally been delivered and were waiting for the florist to arrange them in the clear glass bowls that were to go in the centre of each table. Everything was coming together as she’d planned it.

She was aware of Zac even before he said, ‘Looking fantastic.’

Zac. Those few minutes in the elevator had been torture. Her nostrils had taken in his spicy aftershave, while her body had leaned towards his without any input from her brain. When he’d looked like he’d been about to hug her she’d at least had the good sense to move away, even when internally she’d been crying out to have those strong arms wound around her. Now she stamped a big smile on her face and acknowledged, ‘It is.’ Too bad if the smile didn’t reach her eyes; hopefully Zac wouldn’t notice.

‘You’re not happy about something.’ He locked that formidable gaze onto her. ‘Give.’

Once again she’d got it wrong when it came to second-guessing him. ‘The florist’s running late, the wineglasses haven’t been set out, the band assured me they’d be set up by four and …’ she glanced at her watch ‘… it’s now three twenty-five.’ And you’re distracting me badly. I want you. In my bed. Making out like we used to. Actually, I’d settle for that hug.

‘We can do this. Tell me what you want done first.’ His eyes lightened with amusement, as if he’d read her mind.

He probably had. How well did she know him? Really? They hadn’t been big on swapping notes on family or growing up or the things they were passionate about. Only the bedroom stuff. Shoving her phone at him, she said, ‘Try the band. Their number’s in there. Eziboys.’

‘You’ve got the Eziboys coming to this shindig?’ Admiration gleamed out at her. ‘What did you have to do? Bribe them with free plastic surgery for the rest of their lives?’

With a light punch to his bicep she allowed, ‘One of them went to school with Andy’s younger brother. They want to help the family.’

‘Not your formidable charm, then?’ He grinned a full-blown Zachary Wright grin, one that was famous for dropping women to their knees in a begging position.

Click, click. Her knees locked and she stayed upright. Just. ‘Phone them, please.’ Begging didn’t count if she remained standing. Anyway, she wanted the band at the moment, not sex with this hunk in front of her looking like he’d stepped off the cover of a surfing magazine. Another lie.

Zac was already scrolling through her contact list. ‘Got a dance card? I want the first one with you. And the second, third, and fourth. Oh, I know, I’ll put those in your diary for tonight.’

Dance card, my butt. How out of date could he get? ‘You’ll be inundated with offers.’ Did he really want to dance with her? She’d never survive. What little control she might exercise on her need would sink without trace if he so much as held her in his arms, let alone danced with her. Anyway, he wasn’t making sense. He’d been peed off when she dumped him, so he wouldn’t want to get close to her on the dance floor. Or did he have other plans? Plans that involved payback? Tease and tempt her, then say bye-bye?

As Zac put the phone to his ear he shook his head. ‘If you didn’t want dancing tonight you should’ve gone to the retirement village to find a group of old guys with their tin whistles to play for us.’

‘I enjoy dancing.’ Just don’t intend doing it with you.

‘I didn’t know that. Looking forward to it. Looks like your florist has arrived.’ He nodded in the direction of the doors, then went back to the phone. ‘Jake, is that you, man? How’re you doing?’

Olivia stared at Zac. He knew Jake Hamblin, the band’s lead guitarist? That could be good for getting the band to actually turn up. Zac was full of surprises. Hadn’t he said something about the florist too? Spinning around, she came face-to-face with a neat and tidy woman dressed in black tailored trousers and an angora jersey under her jacket. Nothing flower-like about her. ‘You’re the florist? I’m Olivia Coates-Clark.’

The woman nodded, sent Zac a grin. ‘That’s me. I see the flowers finally turned up. Show me exactly where you want these arrangements and I’ll get on with it.’

Zac was handing the phone back to Olivia. ‘How’s things, Mrs Flower?’ That really was her name. ‘Your hip still working fine?’

‘You were the surgeon. What do you think?’

Zac’s laughter was loud and deep, and sent pangs of want kicking up a storm in Olivia’s stomach. ‘Good answer,’ he said.

So he knew this woman too. Probably used her for sending beautiful flowers to all his women. Ouch. He’d sent her flowers when she’d dumped him. A stunning, colourful bouquet of peonies, not thorns or black roses, as well he might’ve.

‘Do we have a band?’ she asked in her best let’s-get-on-with-things voice.

‘Filling the service elevator with gear as we speak,’ Zac said. ‘What’s next? Want those buckets of flowers moved somewhere?’

The band was on its way; the flowers were about to be fixed. Olivia shook her head in amazement. Two more ticks on her mental list of outstanding things to get finished. Things just happened around Zac. Somehow it had all got easier with him here. ‘We need two long tables up against that far wall for the auction. The hotel liaison officer went to find them an hour ago.’ She needed to display the gifts that’d been donated.

‘Not a problem.’ Did he have to sound so relaxed?

The clock was ticking. That long soak she’d planned on in the big tub in her room upstairs before putting on her new dress, also from the shop where she’d got her coat, might just be a possibility. ‘Easy for you to say,’ she snapped.

Zac took her arm and led her across to where the florist was already wiring irises into clever bunches that were going to look exquisite. ‘You explain where you want everything and try to relax. We’ll get this baby up and running on time. That’s a promise.’

‘I am relaxed.’

‘About as relaxed as a mouse facing down a cat. A big cat.’ He grinned and strolled away before she could come up with a suitable rejoinder.

Very unlike her. She always had an answer to smartass comments. Watching Zac’s casual saunter, she noted the way those wide shoulders filled his leather jacket to perfection. Her tongue moistened her lips. No wonder she wasn’t thinking clearly—the distractions were huge and all came in one package. Zachary Wright.

CHAPTER THREE

AN HOUR LATER, Zac handed Olivia a champagne flute filled with bubbly heaven. ‘Here, get that into you. It might help you unwind.’

‘I can’t drink now. I’ve got to finish in here, then get myself ready.’ Her taste buds curled up in annoyance at being deprived of their favourite taste. But she had a big night ahead of her so having a drink before it had even begun was not a good idea.

With the proffered glass Zac nudged her hand—which seemed to have a life of its own as it reached towards him. ‘One small drink will relax you, Olivia.’ He wrapped her fingers around the cool stem. ‘Go on.’ There was a dare in his eyes as he raised his own glass to his lips.

Zac knew she never turned down a dare. But she’d have to. Tonight’s success rested on her being one hundred and ten per cent on her game. Her mother had taught her well—go easy on the alcohol or make a fool of herself. Not going to happen tonight when everyone’s eyes would be on her.

Zac’s throat worked as he tasted the champagne. Appreciation lit up his eyes. His tongue licked his bottom lip.

And Olivia melted; deep inside where she’d stored all her Zac memories there was a pool of hot, simmering need. The glass clinked against her teeth as the divine liquid spilled across her tongue. And while her shoulders lightened, tension of a different kind wound into a ball in her tummy and down to her core. ‘Delicious,’ she whispered. Zac or the wine?

He nodded. ‘Yes, Olivia, it is. Now, take that glass upstairs to your room and have a soak in the hot tub before getting all glammed up. I’ll see to anything else that needs to be done here before I go across to change.’

She went from relaxed to controlled in an instant. ‘No. Thank you. I need to check on those flowers and—’

‘All sorted.’ From the table he handed her an iris that been tidied and then tied with a light blue ribbon. ‘Take this up with you.’

Even as she hesitated, her hand was again accepting his gift. What was it with her limbs that they took no notice of her brain? ‘My favourite flower.’

‘That particular shade matches your eyes perfectly.’

‘Wedgwood. That’s the variety’s name.’ She stared at it, seeing things that had absolutely nothing to do with this weekend. Or Zac. All to do with her past.

When she made to hand it back he took her hand and held it between them, his fingers firm. His thumb caressed the inside of her wrist. ‘Who does it remind you of?’ Very perceptive of him.

How had she walked away from this man? She must’ve been incredibly strong that day, or very stupid. ‘My father used to grow irises.’ Before he’d left because he’d been unable to cope with his wife’s drunken antics. And I could? I was only twelve, Dad.

Tugging free from Zac’s hand, she stepped back a pace. ‘Why are you helping me?’ He hadn’t decided to target her for sex, had he? Or was that her ego taking a hit? Zac never had trouble getting a woman; he didn’t need her. Even if what they’d had between them had been off the planet.

Zac’s eyes held something suspiciously like sympathy. She hated that. She didn’t need it, had finally learned how to deal with her mother by controlling her own emotions, not her mother’s antics. The same tactic kept men at a distance. Except for Zac, she’d managed very well. When she’d shocked herself one day by realising she cared about him more than she should she’d immediately called the whole thing off. No one would ever leave her again. No one could ever accuse her of being a slow learner.

‘I’m here because you needed help.’ Zac tapped the back of her hand to get her attention. ‘I’m alone, as in no partner, so doing stuff behind the scenes isn’t going to get anyone’s back up. I figured you’d be pleased, not trying to get rid of me.’

I’ve already done that once.

The words hung in the air between them, as though she’d said them out loud. She hadn’t, but her cheeks heated, as if she was blushing. Not something she was known for. ‘I’m sorry for being an ungrateful cow.’ She sipped from her glass while she gathered her scattered brain cells into one unit. ‘It’s great you’re here. I’d still be trying to persuade that florist into doing things my way if you hadn’t worked your magic on her.’ She’d felt a tad ill at the ease with which he’d managed to convince the florist that her way was right. ‘You also got that kid behind the bar to arrange the glasses in a much more spectacular pyramid than he’d intended.’

‘While you charmed the floor manager into putting a dog basket in the corner for the seeing eye dog. It’s against all the rules apparently.’ Zac’s smile was beautiful when he wasn’t trying to win a favour. Too damned gorgeous for his own good. And hers.

‘A blind person is allowed to take their dog anywhere.’

‘But not necessarily have a bed for the night in the banquet room.’ That smile just got bigger and better, and ripped through her like a storm unleashed.

She needed to get away before she did something as stupid as suggesting he give her a massage before she got dressed for the night. Zac’s hands used to be dynamite when he worked on her muscles. He’d done a massage course sometime during his surgical training and was more than happy to share his ability with anyone needing a muscle or two unknotted. He’d done a lot more than that with her at times, but tonight she’d settle for a regular massage to get the strain and ache out of her shoulders.

Another lie. She gulped her drink, but forgot to savour the taste as the bubbles crossed her tongue. Lying wasn’t something she normally did, not even to herself, as far as she knew.

‘Here.’ Zac held the champagne bottle in front of her, and leaned in to top up her glass. ‘Take that up to your room.’

‘You’re repeating yourself.’

‘Didn’t think you’d got the message the first time.’ Taking her elbow, he began marching her towards the elevators where he pressed the up button, and when the doors whooshed open he nudged her in. ‘See you at pre-dinner drinkies.’

‘I’ll be down well before six.’ As the doors closed quietly Oliva drew in his scent and along with it a whole heap more memories. The night ahead was stretching out ever further. She’d tried again to change the seating arrangement at the tables, but couldn’t without upsetting someone else. She sighed. Have to swallow that one and hope she’d be too busy to sit down.

Olivia tapped the toe of her boot until the elevator eased to a halt on her floor. Surprisingly she had nearly an hour to herself, thanks to Zac’s help. Plenty of time to wrestle into submission the strong emotions she’d never expected to feel for him again. Then she could carry on as planned: friendly yet aloof. So far her approach had been a big fail.

Inside her room she began shedding clothes as she headed for the bathroom and the tub she wanted full, steaming and bubbling.

After turning the taps on full, she poured in a hefty dose of bubble bath and shucked out of the rest of her clothes. Removing her make-up, she saw a goofy smile and happier eyes in the mirror than she’d seen in a very long time.

Hey, be careful.

Why was she excited? She didn’t want another affair with the man. It had been hard enough walking away from the first one; to do that again would kill her. Even though their affair had had little to do with anything other than sex, she’d stumbled through the following weeks trying to get back on track. It had her wondering for the millionth time how her father had walked out on her and her mother without a backward glance. He’d had more to lose, yet every communication from him—not many—had come through a lawyer. No birthday cards, Christmas phone calls. Nothing. Her dad had vanished from her life. And that was that.

Slipping into the warm water and feeling the bubbles tickle her chin eased every last knot of tension from her taut body. Sure, it’d make a comeback, but for the next twenty minutes she’d enjoy the lightness now in her muscles, her tummy, her everywhere. That might help with facing Zac tonight.

Olivia knew she had to be on her best form because their friends wouldn’t be able to refrain from watching her and Zac, looking for any hints of dissension or, worse, any sign they might be interested in each other again. Not a chance, folks.

Lying back, her eyes drifted shut and she watched the movie crossing her mind. Zac looking good enough to devour in one sitting. That well-honed body still moved like a panther’s, wary yet smooth, the same as the expression in his eyes. Unbelievable how much she’d missed that body. Missed everything about Zac. There’d been the odd occasion they’d shared a meal, because when anyone had had as much exercise as they’d had together they’d got hungry and what had gone best with after-match lethargy had been great food. Ordered in from some of Auckland’s best restaurants, of course. The only way to go.

What she’d never seen in his eyes before was that concern that had shown when he’d moved her towards the elevator. Concern for her well-being, and then there had been the flower, the champagne—which had shown he’d remembered she only drank wine, and then usually this nectar. Yes, she pampered herself, but there was no one else to. Except her mother, and she got her fair share of being looked after.

Was it possible Zac had missed her an incy-wincy bit? She’d never ask. That would be like setting a match to petrol. Anyway, he’d never admit it, even if it came close to being true.

Hah, like you’d admit it either.

Zac prowled the small crowd pouring into the banquet room, and for the tenth time glanced at his watch. Six o’clock had been and gone twenty minutes ago and there was no sign of Olivia. So unlike her. If anything, she’d have been back down here, ready to get things cranking up, almost an hour before it was supposed to start.

‘Hey, Zac, good to see you.’ Paul Entwhistle stepped in front of him. ‘How have you been?’

‘Paul.’ Zac shook his old mentor’s hand. ‘I’m doing fine. What about you? Still creating merry hell down there at Waikato?’ The older man had taken over as director of the orthopaedic unit two years ago, citing family reasons for leaving the successful private practice he’d set up here in Auckland.

Paul gave him an easy smile. ‘I’ve semiretired to spend more time with the family. What about you? I couldn’t believe it when I heard you and Olivia had parted. Thought you’d never be able to untangle yourselves long enough to go in different directions.’

Zac swallowed a flare of annoyance. This was only the first of what he had no doubt would be many digs tonight about his past with Olivia. ‘Aren’t we full of surprises, then?’ Instantly he wished his words back. Paul had been a friend to him as well as teaching him complex surgical procedures that he now used regularly. The man certainly didn’t deserve his temper. He tried again. ‘There was so much going on at the time something had to give.’

That was one way of looking at it. He knew from friends that Olivia ran with the crowd these days and never with another man. He didn’t get it. She’d been fun, and always hungry for a good time. But apparently not since them. Did that make him responsible for her change? Had he done something he was completely unaware of to cause her to dump him and become a solo act? He’d always been honest in that he’d had no intention of having anything more than a fling with her. She’d been of the same sentiment. Neither of them had been interested in commitment. Yet it still sucked big time that she’d pulled out. He hadn’t thought he could feel so vulnerable. Why would he? He’d spent his life guarding against that.

‘I get that, but never thought it would be your relationship that would stop.’ Paul unwittingly repeated Zac’s thoughts as he looked around the room. ‘Where is Olivia anyway?’

Twenty-five past six. ‘I have no idea. I’ll give her a call.’ Walking away to find somewhere quieter, he dialled her cell. Yes, he still had her numbers, just never used them. Deleting them should’ve been simple, but he hadn’t been able to, even when he’d been angry with her for walking away.

‘Hey, Zac, I fell asleep.’ So she still had him on caller ID. Interesting. ‘Is everything okay? I’ll be right down.’ Olivia sounded breathless.

He knew the breathless version, had heard it often as they’d made love. ‘Breathe deep and count to ten. Everything’s going according to your plan.’

‘Yes, but I need to be there, welcoming everyone. Oh, damn.’ He heard a clatter in the background. ‘Damn, damn, triple damn.’

‘Olivia, are you all right?’

‘I knocked my glass off the side of the tub. Now there are shards of glass all over the floor.’

‘Call Housekeeping.’

‘Haven’t got time. I’m meant to be down there before everyone arrives, not after, as though I don’t care.’ Panic mixed with anger reached his ear. ‘How could I be so stupid as to fall asleep in the tub?’

‘Listen to me.’ Zac stared up at the high ceiling, trying hard not to visualise that picture. Olivia in a hot tub with soapy bubbles framing her pert chin, covering her full breasts. Aw, shucks.

‘I worked every hour there was to get this gala happening and I’m tired, but I only had to hang on for a few more hours.’ She was on a roll, and Zac knew it would take a bomb to shut her up.

He delivered. ‘I’m coming up to help you get ready.’ Like Olivia would let him in. She hated being out of control over any damned thing and would be wound up tighter than a gnat’s backside.

‘You can’t come up here,’ she spluttered. ‘I’m not dressed.’

So his words had hit the bull’s-eye. She’d heard him. He found himself smiling, and not just externally. Warmth was expanding, turning him all gooey. Bonkers. This was all wrong.

Zac told her, ‘Take your time getting ready, then make a grand entrance. Everyone will be here and you can wow them as you walk to the podium to make the opening announcements.’

There was utter silence at the other end of the phone. No more spluttering. No glasses smashing on the tiled floor. Not even Olivia breathing. Then his smile spread into a grin. He could almost hear her mind working.

‘Love it,’ she said, and hung up on him.

Zac slid his phone back in the pocket of his evening suit trousers. He guessed he’d see her shortly. Heading back into the room, he hesitated as the elevator doors opened. Seeing the pale, thin man who stepped out, he crossed over to shake his hand. ‘Hey, Andy, great to see you.’ The guy looked dreadful. Leukaemia was making short work of his health.

‘Isn’t this something? I couldn’t believe it when Olivia told me how many people were coming and all the amazing things that have been donated for the auction.’ Andy wiped a hand down his face. ‘Enough to make a bloke cry.’

‘Can’t have that, man.’ Zac dredged up a grin for him, feeling a lump rising in his own throat. ‘You’ll have all the females copying you.’

Andy laughed, surprising Zac. ‘Damn right there. What sort of dinner party would that be? They’d be handing round tissues, not champagne.’

‘Guess you’re off the drink at the moment.’ Zac glanced behind, and saw Kitty and their three small boys waiting calmly. ‘Great to see you.’ He wrapped the woman in his arms and when he felt her shivering he knew it was from trepidation about tonight. ‘You’re doing fine,’ he said quietly, so only she heard.

Kitty nodded. ‘Thanks to CC. She’s arranged a table for us and the boys, a babysitter for when it’s time to send the little tykes to our suite, and basically anything we could possibly want.’

‘That’s our CC.’ Damn you, Olivia. A man could fall in love with you—if he hadn’t locked his heart in a cage. You’ve done the most amazing and generous thing, arranging this evening. ‘Come on, I’ll show you to your table.’ Andy looked ready to collapse and they hadn’t started.

It took time to move through the throng of people wishing the family all the best for the auction. Zac knew everyone meant well and most were shocked at Andy’s appearance, but he wanted to snarl at them to back off and give the man time to settle at his table. He held onto his sudden burst of temper, wondering where it had come from in the first place.

As he finally pulled out a chair for Kitty a collective gasp went up around the large room. Olivia had arrived. He hadn’t seen her but he knew. She had that effect on people, on him. Like lightning she zapped the atmosphere, flashed that dazzling smile left, right and centre. Everyone felt her pull; fell under her spell. Which was why they were here, and why many had willingly donated such spectacular gifts for the auction. She was the reason these same people would soon be putting their hands in their pockets and paying the earth for those things. Sure, this was all about Andy, a man everyone liked and respected, but it was Olivia who’d got them all together.

Looking towards the podium, Zac thought he’d died and gone to heaven. Never, ever, in those crazy weeks he and Olivia had been getting down and dirty had he seen her look like she did right this moment. If he had he’d have hauled her back to his bedroom that last night and tied her to the bed so she couldn’t dump him. He’d have taken a punt on her not breaking his heart even when it was obvious she would’ve. Stunning didn’t begin to describe her. And that dress? Had to be illegal. Didn’t it? She shouldn’t be allowed to wear it in public. It appeared painted on, except for where the soft, weightless fabric floated across her thighs. Everywhere her body was highlighted with the gold material shimmering over her luscious curves.

And he’d thought he could handle this evening, being around Olivia. He hadn’t a hope in Hades. Not a one.

CHAPTER FOUR

‘WELCOME, EVERYONE, TO what is going to be a wonderful night.’ Olivia stood behind the podium, the mic in her hand, and let some of the tension slide across her lips on a low breath. She’d done it. Andy and his family were here, the colleagues who’d said they’d come were here, and the noise level already spoke of people having fun. Phew.

Zac’s here. So? She knew that already.

Olivia could see him standing by Andy, staring over at her, his mouth hanging a little loosely. He looked stunned. What had put that expression on his face? Not her, surely? She stepped out from behind the podium, shifted her hips so that her dress shimmied over her thighs, and watched Zac. Forget stunned. Try knocked out. She bet a whole team of cheerleaders could be leaping up and down naked in front of him right now and he wouldn’t notice. His gaze was intense and totally fixed on her. Or, rather, on her thighs.

Despite being like nothing else she’d worn since she’d been a teen, she’d loved this dress from the moment she’d seen it; now she thought it was the best outfit ever created. That sex thing she and Zac had once had going? It was still there, alive and well, already fired up and ready to burn.

Then the silence reached her and she stared around at the gathering of friends and colleagues, the reason she was standing up here finally returning to her bemused brain. She was supposed to be wowing them, not getting slam-dunked by Zac’s comatose expression. Slapping her forehead in front of everyone wasn’t a good idea, but she did it anyway. ‘Sorry, everyone, I forgot where I was for a moment. Thought I was back at med school and about to give you all a demo on how to drink beer while standing on my head.’ Like she’d ever done anything close.

But it got her a laugh and she could relax. As long as she didn’t look in Zac’s direction she should be able to continue with her brief outline of how the evening would unfold.

‘I hope you’ve all got your bank managers’ phone numbers handy because we are going to have the auction of all auctions. It will be loads of fun, but just to get you loosened up there are limitless numbers of champagne flutes filled with the best drop of nectar doing the rounds of the room. Stop any of those handsome young men carrying trays and help yourself.’

She paused, and immediately her eyes sought Zac. He hadn’t moved, still stood watching her, but at least he’d stopped looking like a possum caught in headlights. His eyes were hooded now, hiding whatever had been eating him, and that delicious mouth had tightened a little. Then he winked, slowly with a nod at the room in general.

She got the message. Get on with it. Everyone’s waiting for you.

Again she looked around the room filled with people she knew, admired and in a lot of cases really liked. ‘Just to keep us all well behaved and lasting the distance, there will be platters of canapés arriving over the next hour. We will have the auction before dinner so take a look at all the wonderful gifts set out on the tables over by the entrance. Most importantly, enjoy yourselves, but not until I’ve kept hotel management happy by telling you what to do in case of fire, earthquake, or the need to use a bathroom.’

After giving those details, she wrapped up. ‘Let’s have a darned good time. If there’s anything that you feel you’re missing out on talk to …’ she looked around the room and of course her gaze fell on Zac ‘… Zachary Wright. He’s volunteered to help with any problems and we’d hate to see him sitting around with nothing to do, wouldn’t we?’ She grinned over at the man who’d got her stomach in a riot. Not only her stomach, she conceded, while trying to ignore the smug smile coming back at her. Not easy to do when her heart rate was erratic. The noise levels were rising fast as she stepped away from the podium to go in search of a distraction that didn’t begin with a Z.

Paul Entwhistle stepped in front of her. ‘Olivia, you’re a marvel, girl. There’s as many people here as you’d find at Eden Park watching an international rugby match.’ He wrapped her into a bear hug. ‘Well done.’

‘Still prone to exaggerating, I see.’ She laughed as she extricated herself. ‘Are you going to be bidding at the auction? There are some wonderful prizes—if I can call them that.’

‘I’ve got my eye on one or two.’ There was a cunning glint in Paul’s eyes.

‘What?’

Paul went with a complete change of subject. ‘I see you still like to give Zac a bit of stick. It saddened me when you two broke up. Thought you had what it took.’

Her stomach sucked in against her backbone. Not in this lifetime, we don’t. But even as she thought it her eyes were tracking the crowd for a dark head. Not hard to find when Zac towered above most people, even the tall ones. He was heading in her direction, an amused tilt to his mouth. ‘I beg to differ,’ she told Paul. ‘Neither of us are the settling-down type.’ If only that weren’t true. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me …’

‘I think you’re wrong.’ Paul glanced in the direction she’d seen Zac. The cunning expression had changed to something more whimsical, which didn’t make her feel any more comfortable.

‘I need to circulate.’ Before Zac reaches us. ‘I’m sure Zac will be happy to chat with you.’

‘Thanks a bundle, Olivia,’ Zac breathed into her ear.

Too late. She plastered on a smile and faced him, wondering why just talking to him got her all in a twist. ‘Thought you’d be pleased. You’re flying solo, remember?’

He actually laughed. ‘Touché.’

Paul was watching them with interest. She really needed to stop this; whatever the man was thinking didn’t have a part in the evening’s plans.

‘I have to see the auctioneer about a few details,’ Olivia put out there, and began walking away.

‘Are we going to be holding up the various items as they’re auctioned?’ Zac was right beside her.

She was regretting giving in to his offer of help—if she had actually given in. He hadn’t exactly left it open to negotiation. ‘I’m doing it.’

‘Then we’re doing it.’ His hand on her arm brought her to a stop. When he turned her to face him his eyes were full of genuine concern. For her? Or did he think she was going to make a mess of the evening? ‘I know you’ve done everything so far and by rights this is your show, but I’d like to help. And I’m not the only one. Andy’s been a good mate to a lot of people.’

‘That’s a valid point.’ Didn’t mean she’d hand over the reins, though. When she set out to do something she did the whole thing, from first phone call to seeing the last couple leave at the end of the night. That would give her a deep sense of accomplishment, something she never achieved with trying to keep her mother on the straight and narrow.

Zac’s bowed upper lip curved into a heart-squeezing smile. ‘Let’s grab a drink and go talk to your auctioneer.’

For some reason Zac made her feel desirable on a different level from the hot need she usually found in his gaze. That was there, burning low and deep, but right now she could have curled up on a couch with him and just chatted about things. Not something they’d ever done before. Had never wanted to do. Shaking her head, she gave him a return smile. ‘I’ll stick to water until I’ve packed up this baby.’

Without looking away from her, he raised his hand and suddenly there was a waiter with a tray of full glasses standing beside them. Zac lifted two flutes of sparkling water and handed her one. Tapping his glass against hers, he gave her another of those to-die-for smiles. ‘To making a load of money for our friend.’

‘Lots and lots.’ She sipped the water, and tried not to sneeze when bubbles somehow went up her nose. The bubbles won, and she bent her head to brazen out the sneezes.

Her glass was gently removed from her hand as Zac’s firm, warm hand touched her between her shoulder blades, warm skin on warm skin, softly rubbing until she regained control. Straightening up, she reached for her glass and locked eyes with Zac. ‘Th-thanks,’ she stuttered.

How could she speak clearly with so much laughter and fun beaming out at her from a pair of eyes the shade of her first coffee of the day? Those eyes had always got her attention, had had her melting with one glance. For some strange reason tonight they had her fantasising about other, homier things. Like that couch and talking, or sharing a meal over the table in her kitchen, or going for a stroll along the beach. A bit cosy, Olivia. What happened to forgoing doing things like that with someone special? ‘You ever think of settling down?’ she asked, before she’d thought the question through.

His expression instantly became guarded. ‘Thought about it? Yes. Followed through? No.’

Oh. Disappointment flared, which didn’t make sense when she never intended putting her size five shoes under someone’s bed. Not permanently anyway. ‘That’s sad.’ For Zac. He’d make a wonderful husband and father.

‘Not at all. I’m happy.’ So why the sadness lurking in the back of those dark eyes?

‘You sound very sure.’ Her blood slowed as her heart slipped up on its pumping habit. Strange that here, surrounded by friends and colleagues, Zac was admitting to not wanting happy-ever-after.

‘I am,’ he muttered, as he took her elbow and led them in the direction of the auction table and the man standing behind it. ‘Just as I’m sure I’m enjoying playing catch-up with you.’

Okay. Hadn’t seen that coming. ‘We could’ve done that any time.’ What? Since when? She’d been ruthless in avoiding Zac, turning down invitations to any functions she’d thought he might be attending. The air in her lungs trickled out over her bottom lip. Now he stood beside her she couldn’t keep her eyes off him. He warmed her through and through, touching her deeply, like a close friend. Except friends didn’t do what they’d done, and sex-crazed lovers like they’d been didn’t sit around discussing fashion or trips to the supermarket. But she told him anyway. ‘I’ve sort of settled, bought a nineteen-twenties villa in Parnell that I’m slowly doing up.’ My own house, all mine.

Zac’s eyes widened. ‘Are you working the do-up yourself?’

‘I’ve got a very good builder for most of it, while I do the painting and wallpapering. Seems I’ve got a bit of a flair for home decorating.’ She felt a glow of pride when she thought of her new kitchen and dining alcove.

‘Go, you.’

‘Hi, Olivia.’ The auctioneer, Gary, held out his hand. ‘You’ve got an amazing array of donations. We should be able to pull off a major coup.’

‘That’s the plan.’ Shaking Gary’s hand, she introduced Zac. ‘Anything we can do for you?’

‘You can take a break and leave this to me and my partner over there. He’s come along to help.’ Gary nodded at a man sorting through the donations and placing numbers under each one. ‘Just keep our glasses full and we’ll be happy.’

Zac’s hand was back on her elbow. ‘Come on, let’s mingle.’

She could do that on her own. Yet she went with him as if that was the most important thing she had to do tonight.

Zac groaned inwardly. He should be running for the exit and not looking back. Standing beside Olivia as she charmed everyone within sight was sending him bonkers with need. Every time she moved even a single muscle he’d swear he inhaled her scent. She moved almost nonstop, even when standing in one spot, her face alive, with those lips constantly forming belly-tightening smiles while her eyes sparkled. Her free hand flipped up and down, then out between her and her audience, and back in against her gorgeous body, expressive at every turn.

While one of his hands was shoved deep into his pocket to keep from touching her, the other gripped a glass tight. His feet were glued to the carpet, and his face hopefully impassive. Letting anyone, especially CC, know what he was thinking and feeling would be catastrophic. He’d never hear the end of it from Paul either. The guy stood with them, his gaze flitting between him and Olivia with a crafty glint that made Zac uncomfortable.

A waiter was approaching with a tray laden with glasses. Zac drained his sparkling water and replaced it with champagne. To hell with not drinking. He needed something stronger than H2O, bubbles or not. ‘Thanks.’ He nodded at the waiter, which was a waste of time.

The guy was too busy gaping at Olivia, the tray on his outstretched fingers getting quite a tilt. ‘Ma’am,’ the young man croaked.

Totally understanding the poor guy’s reaction, Zac tapped the tray. ‘Hey, buddy, watch those glasses.’

Olivia swapped her empty glass for a full one, nodded at the waiter, and looked around the room as she gulped a mouthful of water.

Zac saw some of the tension in her neck ease off a notch. Being a perfectionist, CC didn’t do relaxing very well, and tonight she was coiled tighter than a snake about to strike.

‘Time to start the auction,’ Olivia said in a sudden gap of the conversation. ‘I think everyone must be here by now.’

‘Good idea,’ Paul said. ‘Make the most of this amazing atmosphere.’ He nodded at the crowd talking and laughing.

‘Why don’t we hold up the articles being auctioned while Gary’s man deals with the financial side?’ Zac led the way through the throng to the podium.

Olivia nodded, picked up the mic. ‘Okay, everyone, can I have your attention?’

Nope. Not happening. If anything, the noise level seemed to increase. Zac reached for the mic, touching the back of her hand as he did so. Soft, warm, different Olivia. His mouth dried. It wasn’t too late. He could still run away. And then what? Spend the night thinking about Olivia and coming up with a hundred questions about her?

Clearing his throat, he spoke loudly and clearly into the mic. ‘Quiet, please.’ The conversations petered out as everyone turned to face him. He wanted to crack a joke but doubted he could pull it off with this tight band strangling his throat. If only Olivia would move away and let him breathe. Finally he started talking and slowly got his voice back to normal. ‘We are about to start the auction so take a seat. Gary is our auctioneer and we want him to be able see each and every one of you, so even if you scratch your knee he can take it as a bid.’

As the bidding got under way Olivia’s tension climbed back up. ‘Relax,’ he told her. ‘This is going to be amazing, you’ll see.’

She turned worried eyes on him. ‘How can you be so certain? What if we barely raise enough money to get Andy a one-way ticket to the States?’ Her teeth nibbled her bottom lip.

Olivia didn’t do nibbling. Taking her hand in his, he squeezed gently. ‘I believe in you, that’s how.’

Her eyes widened, her chin tipped forward. ‘Truly?’ she squeaked.

‘Truly.’ He did. He realised that through the years they’d been training to become surgeons he mightn’t have noticed how sexy she was but he had known of her determination never to fail. Perhaps he hadn’t learned much more about her during their affair but this was still Olivia, the same woman who’d qualified as an excellent plastic surgeon. Only now he saw how much she cared for their friends. Olivia was a big marshmallow, really, and he liked marshmallows.

‘Thanks.’

‘Olivia? So do all the people in this room. That’s why they’re here.’

He felt a responding squeeze where her hand was wound around his. ‘You say the nicest things,’ she whispered, before pulling free and turning to face the now-quiet room.

She’d been flip in her tone and yet it didn’t bother him. That was Olivia covering her real feelings. He was beginning to see she was an expert at doing that. Come to think about it, she’d always shut him up with a kiss whenever he’d started to talk about anything personal. What was she hiding? Who was Olivia Coates-Clark? The real CC?

As Zac picked up the envelope to be auctioned, which contained a week in a timeshare bure in Fiji, he knew he was getting into trouble. Forget quietening the itch. Now he had to fight the need to get to know all about Olivia, right from when she’d lost her first tooth to what her idea was of a dream holiday.

The bidding was fast and furious, with plenty of people vying to buy the first offering. In the end Paul outbid everyone, paying enough to send a dozen folks to Fiji rather than the two that the deal covered.

‘That’s auctions for you,’ Zac whispered to Olivia as at last she began smiling.

‘It’s not about what they’re bidding for, is it?’

‘Nope. It’s all about the man sitting at that table with his wife and kids, looking like hell and pretending otherwise.’ Andy looked shocked, actually. Probably because of the ridiculous amount Paul had bid.

Olivia nudged him. ‘We’re not a bad bunch, are we?’

‘Apart from opinionated, hardworking, and overly comfortable with our lot, you mean?’ He grinned at her.

‘I’d like to think more along the lines of caring, hardworking, and overly focused on helping others.’ She grinned back.

His stomach clenched. That grin, that mouth … oh, man. I’ve missed her so much. Not just the sex. He’d liked being with her too, even if only while they’d ridden the elevator to the apartment she’d rented then, and before they’d fallen into bed.

‘What are we auctioning next?’ he growled, needing to get back on an even keel.

‘The weekend on your luxury yacht. If you’re at the helm that should attract a lot of female bidders.’ Her grin only grew.

‘The ladies here are all taken.’ Except you. Zac sighed when one of the partners in the surgical practice where he worked bought the weekend excursion. The man wasn’t easy to get along with, and now he’d have to spend two days holed up in a yacht with him and his whole family.

‘You’re being uncharitable,’ Olivia whispered beside his ear.

‘I didn’t say a word.’

‘There was a brief wincing and tightening of your mouth when the hammer hit the podium.’ She laughed. ‘That man paid a small fortune for the pleasure of going sailing with you.’

‘He did, and I’ll make sure he has a fantastic time.’

Gary had the crowd in the palm of his hand now, and the bidding went through the roof for everything from a painting of a seagull hovering over a beach to a meal at a restaurant down at the Viaduct Harbour.

Zac watched Olivia every time the gavel hit the podium. Her eyes were getting brighter and brighter. ‘We’re killing it,’ she whispered at one point.

‘Says the woman who was worried this wouldn’t work,’ he retorted. The more she smiled the more she relaxed, and the more beautiful she was. Zac felt his heart soften even further towards her. So he sucked in his stomach and hardened himself against her. Mentally, that was.

‘That’s me. Control freak with no control over the outcome of the auction. Of course I was going to be concerned.’

Was that why she’d ended their affair? So she could keep control and not wait until he decided to call it quits? Since the morning he’d woken to hear Olivia say she was walking away from their affair he’d felt bruised and let down. He hadn’t known why, except it had reminded him of the day his family had cut him off. But with Olivia he’d had nothing to feel guilty about.

‘That’s it, folks. We’ve sold everything,’ Gary called out.

Olivia crossed to stand behind the podium, a piece of paper in her hand, tears in her eyes. ‘You’re an amazing group of people. This auction went way beyond even my dreams.’ She read out the amount they’d raised and had to wait a long time for the applause to die down. ‘You are all so generous it’s humbling.’

Zac glanced across to Andy’s table, and felt emotion tug at his heart. Kitty was crying and Andy slashed his arm across his face as he slowly stood up. Carefully negotiating his way around tables to reach Olivia, Andy gave her a long hug before gripping Zac’s shoulder.

‘Hey.’ Zac could think of nothing else to say. The success of the auction said everything that needed to be said about the love he felt for this man.

Taking the mic, Andy stumbled to the podium. ‘What can I say? Olivia’s right. You’re awesome.’ His voice cracked. ‘Tonight means so much to Kitty and me, and our boys. You have given us a chance.’ He stopped and looked down. Everyone waited quietly until he raised his head and said, ‘CC, I can’t thank you enough. I know so many people contributed to tonight and I thank each and every one of them, but without you, CC, none of this would’ve happened.’

Zac clapped and instantly everyone leapt to their feet to join him. He reached for Olivia’s hand and raised it high. ‘Our CC.’

Tears were streaming down her cheeks. ‘Stop it,’ she hissed. ‘You’re embarrassing me.’

Zac retrieved the mic from Andy and when the clapping died down said, ‘In case you missed that, CC says we’re embarrassing her. When did that ever happen?’

Laughter and more clapping broke out. Olivia shook her head at him. ‘You’ll keep.’

There was the problem. He shouldn’t want to be kept for Olivia. Or any woman. He wouldn’t be able to deliver what she wanted, needed.

CHAPTER FIVE

‘DID YOU JUST YAWN?’ Zac asked as they danced to the Eziboys’ music.

Olivia shook her head. ‘Just doing mouth stretches.’ Did there have to be a smile in his eyes? It was devastating in its intensity. Made her happy to be with him, when she shouldn’t be. Exhaustion had returned as dessert had come to an end, yet somehow she’d still found the energy to shake her hips to the beat of the music.

Zac’s eyes widened, and the tip of his tongue appeared at the corner of his delectable mouth. ‘Right,’ he drawled.

She mentally slapped her head. Mouth stretches. She used to trail kisses all over his body, starting below his ear and tracking down, down, down. The memories were vivid now, in full technicolour, and heating up her cheeks. Hopefully he wouldn’t notice her heightened colour in the semidarkness of the dance floor.

It would take very little to fall in against that wide chest and let him be her strength for a while. She’d never known what it was like to let someone be strong for her. If she ever loosened up enough to try it, Zac might be her man.

How had she managed to leave him that morning? Fear. Always a powerful motivator. For her it had been fear of losing control, of never knowing which way was up. As an adult she had no intention of reliving the turbulent life she’d known growing up. Not for anyone.

‘Feel like taking a break, having a drink?’ Zac asked.

Definitely. Anything to put some space between them. ‘Good idea.’ She immediately turned for their table.

Waving at a waiter, Zac pulled out a chair. ‘Take the weight off.’

When he sat down beside her his chair was way too close, but she was reluctant to make a show of moving away. Anyway, she didn’t have the strength to resist him at the moment. Glancing at her watch, she sighed. The band was booked for at least another hour. Sneaking off to her room and that huge comfortable-looking bed was not yet an option.

The champagne was cool and delicious. ‘Perfect.’ She settled further into her chair. ‘You keep dancing, if you want. I don’t need babysitting.’

Zac chuckled. ‘Dancing has never been one of my favourite pastimes.’

‘But you’re good at it. You’ve got the moves.’ Ouch. Shouldn’t have said that.

That devastating smile returned briefly. ‘I’d say thanks except you seemed to nearly fall asleep while we were shaking our hips.’

‘I can’t believe how tired I am. Probably won’t go to sleep for hours when I finally make it to my room. My muscles feel like they’re pulled tighter than a tourniquet.’

‘What you need is a few days away somewhere where no one can reach you to talk about work, or fundraising, or anything more stressful than what you’d like for dinner.’ Zac sipped his drink. ‘When did you last take time off?’

She thought about it. Glanced at him. Remembered. ‘It was a while ago.’

‘A little over eighteen months ago maybe?’

‘Maybe.’ Zac had booked three nights at a retreat on Waiheke Island. They’d only managed one night before he’d returned home after his brother had been admitted to hospital with a collapsed lung.

While accepting he had to go, Olivia had been disappointed he’d not returned to the resort later. She sometimes wondered—if they’d had the whole time together would they have got to know each other a little better outside the bedroom?

‘I might as well have stayed with you,’ Zac muttered, as if reading her mind.

Olivia’s stomach flipped. ‘What? Your family needed you.’ So had she, but not as much.

‘No, they didn’t.’

‘But they phoned you.’

He shook his head. ‘My grandfather called to let me know about Mark. Not my parents.’

She wanted to say that made sense if his parents had rushed to be with his brother, but something in his eyes stopped her, told her she was wrong. ‘You don’t get along—’

‘Mind if I join you both for a moment?’ Paul plonked himself down without waiting for an answer.

Relief flicked across Zac’s face. ‘Can I get you a drink, Paul?’

‘No, thanks. I won’t take up much of your time.’ Leaning back in the chair, he studied first Zac then her so thoroughly she began to think she had chocolate mousse on her chin.

The band stopped for a short break and most people were making their way to the tables. And Paul still wasn’t saying anything. She ran her fingers across her chin, came up clean. She glanced at Zac, who shrugged his shoulders.

Finally, Paul pulled an envelope from the inside pocket of his jacket and Olivia instantly recognised it as an item that had been auctioned earlier. A trip somewhere. There’d been a few trips auctioned tonight but she thought Paul’s one had been to Fiji.

As he laid the envelope on the table between her and Zac she felt a flutter of trepidation in her stomach. She couldn’t keep her eyes off that large white envelope or the finger tapping it, as though it was beating out her fate.

‘This is for the two of you. Five nights at Tokoriki Island Resort on the west side of Fiji’s mainland.’

No. No, please, no. Tell me Paul didn’t say that. I can’t go anywhere with Zac, and certainly not somewhere as intimate as a resort in Fiji.

Olivia slowly raised her gaze to Zac and saw him looking as stunned as she felt. ‘It’s kind of you, Paul, but I have to say no.’

‘Zac? What do you think?’ Paul looked a little smug.

It didn’t matter what Zac thought. She wasn’t going.

A few days far away from everything and everyone with only Zac for company held a certain appeal. White beaches, warm sea, palm trees bending in the breeze, and … And Zac.

‘It’s a no from me too. Thank you, though.’

Paul wasn’t easily fobbed off. ‘Think before rejecting my offer out of hand, both of you.’

Olivia shook her head. One evening with Zac had her in a state of longing and wonder. She would never cope with being stuck on a tiny island with him for a week.

‘What’s this about?’ Zac asked in a surprisingly level tone, his eyes fixed on the man issuing the challenge.

‘Look at you. You’re exhausted. I know you haven’t had a break all year. You need a holiday. So does Olivia. Why not someplace exotic? This timeshare bure is on an island catering for approximately twenty couples at any one time. No children allowed. All meals provided, massages as well.’ Paul smiled.

Any other time she’d be drooling at the thought of going. But never with the man sitting beside her, looking as perplexed as she felt.

‘It sounds wonderful, but you’re expecting Zac and me to go together?’ Olivia shook her head. Not going to happen. Looking at Zac, she could see the lines at the edges of his mouth. He was tired. It had taken Paul pointing it out for her to notice.

‘You have two weeks to choose between, both in July, so you’ll need to get your heads together quickly.’

Which part of ‘I’m not going’ doesn’t Paul understand? ‘July’s two weeks away. I can’t just pack my bag and leave my patients in the lurch.’

‘Neither can I,’ Zac growled.

Paul hadn’t finished. ‘I’ll cover for you, Zac, and I’m sure we can find someone to pick up the reins in your department for five days, CC.’

‘You still haven’t said why you’re doing this. Us needing a holiday doesn’t cover such generosity.’ Zac sipped his drink, a thoughtful expression on his handsome face.

An expression that worried Olivia. He’d better not be considering this crazy idea. She snapped, ‘It doesn’t matter why. It’s not going to happen.’ Knowing how ungrateful that sounded, and yet annoyed that Paul thought he could manipulate them, she added, ‘It’s a lovely offer, Paul, but I’m turning you down.’

The moment the words left her mouth she was regretting the lost opportunity. A holiday would be fabulous right now. Keeping up her usual number of patients and working on this gala fundraiser had finally caught up with her. Throw in her mum’s latest crisis, and heading offshore to somewhere she’d be pampered sounded better and better. A sideways glance at Zac and she couldn’t deny that going away with him didn’t have appeal. Her head snapped up. She was not going anywhere with Zac.

Someone coughed. ‘I’ll cover for you, Olivia.’ A colleague at Auckland Surgical Hospital sat on the other side of the table, looking completely relaxed about the whole scenario. ‘You know you’ve been wanting to get away for a while now. The timing couldn’t be better. Leave it another couple of months and I’ll be on maternity leave.’

Thanks a million. You obviously haven’t heard the whole conversation, especially the bit about Zac going too. But as Olivia glared at the woman she felt herself wavering. This might be working out too easily, but did that mean she shouldn’t be considering it? Should she be grabbing that envelope and rushing home to pack, or was it wiser to continue refusing Paul’s kindness?

Zac was watching her with something akin to an annoying challenge in his eyes. ‘What about it, CC? It could be fun.’

‘It could be a nightmare.’ How would she remain aloof when they were sharing accommodation on an island with very few people around for distraction? How would she be able to control herself with that hot bod so close for days on end?

Pulling her gaze from that infuriating taunt in Zac’s eyes, she looked around the now-crowded table and found everyone watching, waiting for her answer, almost as though they were all challenging her.

You never turn down a dare, remember?

She’d never had one quite like this, though. She could not go on holiday with the man she’d had to walk away from once already. Not when he’d got her in a tangle of emotions within minutes of turning up in the hotel earlier that afternoon. She’d never survive with her heart and her brain functioning normally if she spent five days and nights in the same space as Zac.

You’d have a lot of great sex.

Not necessarily. They could avoid that. It wasn’t as though they were going together-together, right?

Tell that to someone who’ll believe you.

The little gremlin that had flattened her car battery and made her fall asleep in the hot tub now had her saying, ‘It would have to be the first week of July.’

Zac shoved his hands deep into his trouser pockets as he strolled along the Viaduct beside Olivia. At one-thirty in the morning, in the middle of winter, they were the only ones crazy enough to be out here, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep. Why the hell had he agreed to go to Fiji? His brain had to be fried from too many hours in Olivia’s company. No other explanation popped up. Accepting he wanted time out with her went against everything he strived for. His hands clenched at his sides. What if he liked Olivia even more by the end of the trip? He liked her too much already. Her beauty, her wit, her sense of fun, and her concern for others. He’d pushed her to go away to a place that was all about romance. Romance. A subject he knew nothing about. And didn’t want to. That would be like rubbing salt into the wound.

Olivia would be regretting her acceptance of Paul’s generous gift. But she would never back down. Not now that others had heard her accept.

Zac sighed unhappily. He was as bad as Olivia. Paul had challenged them both, and he’d fallen for it. Given in to the emotions that had been battering him since he’d arrived at the hotel. To have spent his entire adult life avoiding commitment only to find himself well and truly hooked didn’t bear thinking about.

A gust of rain-laden wind slapped them. Olivia pulled her jacket tight across her breasts and folded her arms under them. Her face looked pinched—from cold or from anger at herself for agreeing, he wasn’t sure.

Taking her elbow, Zac turned them around. She was shivering. ‘Come on. We’ll go to my apartment. The weather’s about to dump a load of wet stuff and getting soaked doesn’t appeal.’

‘I should go back to the hotel.’ She didn’t sound convinced.

‘We need to talk about what we’ve got ourselves into.’ Then he might feel happier. Might. ‘I’ve got wine in the chiller. Or there’s tea, if you’d prefer.’ He also had a huge bed, but doubted he’d get a hug for mentioning that.

‘Why didn’t you tell Paul no?’ she asked when they were in the elevator, heading up to his apartment.

Initially he had. ‘Maybe I want to go.’

‘Do you? Really?’

While I’m standing here breathing in the floral scent that’s you, yes, really. When I see that uncertainty flick through your eyes, yes, I want to spend time with you. When I think about actually scratching my itch, definitely, yes, but if I remember why I have to move on from you, then a resounding no.

The elevator shook to a halt and the doors glided open. He took her elbow again. ‘The idea of going to Fiji, it’s growing on me.’ His parent’s fortieth wedding anniversary was in the first week of July and they were having a party to beat all parties at one of Auckland’s top restaurants. Of course he wanted to celebrate with them. Of course he was not invited. ‘Yep, getting away has appeal.’ He tried to ignore the surprised look on her face and opened the door to his penthouse. ‘After you.’

Olivia slipped past him, and walked through to the lounge with its floor-to-ceiling glass wall that allowed an extensive view of Auckland Harbour, the bridge, and closer in the wharves with a collection of large and small sea craft tied up.

He followed, stood next to her, stared out seeing nothing. Why did Olivia unsettle him when no other woman ever had?

‘I’ve never been to the islands,’ she said, without looking his way. ‘Haven’t been anywhere since I was ten, and then it was to Australia with my parents. Mum hates flying.’

‘Makes for an uncomfortable trip, I imagine. You haven’t inherited that fear?’

Her head moved slowly from side to side. ‘Not at all. In fact, I’d like to learn to fly one day.’

‘What’s holding you back?’ It wouldn’t be lack of brains or money.

‘I have a feeling it would become a passion and what with work and doing up my house there isn’t enough spare time to spend hours in the air.’ Her reflection in the window showed she was nibbling her lip again.

He didn’t like it when she did that. It indicated distress, and he didn’t want her to feel distressed. ‘Ever thought of cutting back a few hours so you can do some of the things you like?’

Olivia finally looked at him. ‘I spent so much time training and working my way to the top that I think I’ve forgotten there’s a whole world out there waiting to be explored, whether through travel or doing things like learning to fly.’

‘You’re right.’ Apart from going sailing whenever he could get a weekend away, he spent most of his time working. ‘You said you’re enjoying doing up your house. I bought this apartment because the idea of renovations and painting and all the things required to turn a house into a home seemed too huge. It’s not a job for one weekend, is it?’

‘No, it’s a project. But, then, most things I’ve ever done have been projects.’ She frowned. ‘That’s how I stay in control. Take the house. Next month is bathroom month. The builder’s going to gut it and then everything I’ve chosen goes in and I get to go shopping for all the little bits and pieces, matching the towels with the tile colour, the fittings with the rest of the house.’

Sounded too organised for him. He liked a little disorder, certainly didn’t have perfectly matched towels or even dinner sets. Not that he’d gone to the second-hand shop for anything, but he hadn’t been hell-bent on getting everything looking like a show home. ‘What was last month?’

‘My bedroom.’ She turned away, and her voice was low as she told him, ‘It’s cream and rose pink. Very girlie, but I wasn’t allowed that when I was growing up so I’m having it now.’

Wow, she’d just mentioned her childhood twice in a short amount of time. Very briefly, sure, but there it was. She hadn’t been allowed to pick the colours for her room. Not a big deal maybe, but it could mean there was nothing she’d been allowed to choose. ‘I’ve never seen you wear pink.’

‘Rose pink.’ Her smile was unexpectedly shy. ‘There’s a difference. And, no, I can’t imagine what patients would think if their surgeon turned up dressed in pink.’

‘They’d probably love it.’ Taking a step back before he walked into that smile filling him with a longing for something special, he brought everything back to reality. ‘Tea or champagne?’

‘Have you got camomile?’ Her smile had widened into that of a cheeky girl.

He told her, ‘Yes, I have,’ and laughed at her surprise. ‘My mother drinks it.’ On the rare times she’s visited.

‘For some reason I didn’t think you were close.’ She followed him to the kitchen, where she perched on a bar stool at the counter. Crossing her legs showed off a length of thigh where that golden creation that was supposedly a dress rode high.

‘We’re not.’ Mum at least tried to accept he was still her son, while Dad … Forget it.

‘You mentioned one brother.’ Was that longing in her voice? Hard to tell from her face.

‘Mark. He’s married with two kids. I only get to see them at Christmas and birthdays.’

Olivia picked at an invisible spot on the counter. ‘That’s incredibly sad.’

‘Yep.’ He made himself busy getting mugs from the cupboard and teabags from the pantry.

She lifted her head and locked her blue eyes on him, suddenly back to being in control. ‘Think I’ll head back to the hotel. I don’t really want tea. Or anything.’ She slipped off the stool and turned towards the doorway. ‘Good night, Zac.’

With little thought he reached for her, caught her wrist and gently tugged her close. With a finger under her chin he tilted her head back so he could gaze down into her eyes. And felt his head spinning with wanting her.

Olivia’s eyes widened and her chin rose further as her mouth opened slightly.

Zac was lost. Any resistance or logical thinking disappeared as he leaned closer to place his mouth over hers. As he tasted her, the heat and need he’d kept tamped down most of the night exploded into a rainbow of hot colours. Olivia. She was in his arms, her mouth on his, her tongue dancing with his. Olivia.

Slim arms wound around his neck, pulling his body closer to hers. He felt her rise onto tiptoe, knew the moment when her hips pressed against his obvious desire. Those breasts he’d been fantasising about all night flattened against his chest, turning him into a molten pool of need. His hands spread around her waist to lift her onto the stool, where she immediately wrapped her legs around his thighs.

This is what I’ve missed so damned much. We are fire on fire. Feeding each other. Consuming the oxygen.

She tasted wonderful, bringing more erotic memories back to him. Making new ones.

Lifting his mouth, he began trailing kisses over her jaw, down her neckline, on towards her deep cleavage. When she whimpered he continued while lifting his gaze to her face, where he recognised the same fiery awakening racing along his veins.

Her fingers kneaded his scalp as she pushed her breasts higher to give him more access with his tongue. She wasn’t wearing a bra. Of course she wasn’t. That dress had clung to every curve and outlined her shape perfectly; including her breasts, those peaks now hard against his mouth and hand.

Zac growled as he licked her, tasted her skin, her nipple. A gentle bite had her arching her back and tipping her head so that her hair fell like a waterfall behind her. And he lost himself, tasting, touching, rubbing.

‘It’s been so long,’ she murmured in a low voice that spelt sex. Her hands fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, finally pushed it open, and then her palms were on his skin, smoothing and teasing as only Olivia could do.

The memories that he’d lived on for all those long months apart rapidly became reality. He hadn’t enhanced any of them. This was how it had been between them. Then his belt was loose, the zip being tugged downward, and … Oh, hell. Her soft hand was wrapped around him, sliding down, up, and down again. Oh, hell. There was nothing quite like making out with this woman. She knew the buttons to push, remembered what he most enjoyed, and if she wasn’t careful would have him coming long before he’d pleasured her.

That wasn’t happening. Zac wrapped his arms around her and carried her quickly down the hall to his bedroom and the super-king-sized bed she had yet to try out. Toeing his shoes off, he knelt on the bed and leaned forward with Olivia still in his arms so that he was covering her before she could move. ‘Your turn.’

‘I’m ready,’ she croaked.

‘I haven’t touched you yet.’ But, then, often he hadn’t had to. All part of that explosiveness that had been them.

‘Don’t, if you want this to last more than the next three seconds.’

Now, there was a challenge. Pushing her dress up over her thighs, Zac slipped down to find her core with his tongue. The moment he tasted her she jolted like she’d been zapped with an electrical current.

Her hands gripped his head, holding him there. Not that he’d been going anywhere else until he had her rocking against him.

‘Zac!’ she cried when he licked her. ‘Zachary …’ As he pushed a finger inside.

Her hips lifted, her fingers pressed into his scalp, and she was crying out his name. Over and over as her body convulsed under him.

Reaching for the top drawer of his bedside table, he grabbed a condom and tore the packet open with his teeth. A small, warm hand whipped the condom from his fingers. ‘Let me.’

Then he was lying on his back, unsure how she’d managed to flip him so effortlessly. She straddled his thighs and, achingly slowly, slid the condom onto his erection.

Placing his hands on her waist, he lifted her over him and lowered her to cover him, took him inside to her moist, hot centre.

‘Zac!’ She screamed his name.

He hadn’t forgotten she was a screamer but it still hit him hard, stirred him and had him pushing further into her.

It was never going to take long, he was that hot for her, had been wanting this from the moment he’d seen her leaning against that counter in the hotel reception. When she put her hand behind to squeeze him he was gone. Over. Finished. One final thrust and Olivia cried out and fell over his chest, gasping for air, her skin slick with sweat and her body trembling against his.

As she lay sprawled across him, he spread his hands across her back, stared up at the barely illuminated ceiling and smiled. Everything was in place in his world. Olivia was in his bed. They’d shared the mind-blowing sex he knew only with her. Everything was perfect. His itch was being appeased.

Or would be when they did it again, just as soon as he got his breath back.

CHAPTER SIX

ZAC HAD NO idea what the time was when he rolled over and reached out for Olivia, only to come up empty-handed. ‘Olivia?’ He sat up and stared around. His heart thumped hard. Not again.

‘I’m here.’ Her voice came from the en suite bathroom.

Phew. He dropped back. Something clattered in the hand basin, and Olivia swore. ‘You okay in there?’ he called.

Silence.

‘Olivia? Are you all right?’ His gut started to tighten.

‘I’m making sure I can walk past the hotel receptionist without looking like I’ve been … urn, doing what I’ve been doing.’

‘You’re heading over the road?’ Now he was on full alert. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he stood. ‘What’s wrong with staying the rest of the night? You and I don’t usually settle for once.’

‘Don’t do this, Zac.’ She stepped into the room, but kept her distance. ‘We’ve got to stop before we get carried away.’

As the cold reality of her words hit him he pulled his head back, glared down at her. ‘Why? We are willing, consenting adults, not two teenagers who have to go home to Mum and Dad looking guilty.’ Hopefully she didn’t hear the anger her rejection made him feel. Again. And the pain because she was right.

‘I’m sorry.’ Her eyes were brimming with tears. ‘I shouldn’t have got so carried away.’

A gut-buster, that statement. ‘We got carried away, sweetheart. We.’ He shoved a hand through his hair, trying to figure out what had happened to cause her to haul on the brakes. He should be grateful. He’d hoped to sooth his need, not crank it wide-open. How wrong could a bloke be?

‘Exactly. We didn’t stop to think about what we were doing. Not for a moment.’ Her back was straight, her shoulders tight, but her chin wobbled as she said, ‘Which is why I can’t go to Fiji with you.’

‘You’re changing your mind?’ Of course she was. For some reason he didn’t feel happy. He’d enjoyed being with her tonight. It had been like finding something precious after a long search. He could barely look at her and not reach for her again. She might’ve put the brakes on but it would take a tank of icy water to cool his ardour and return his out-of-whack heart rate to normal.

In the doorway she hesitated, turned around to look at him, sorrow leaking out of those baby blues. ‘Yes, Zac, I am. Going on holiday together would only exacerbate the situation. I can’t have another affair with you. It’s too casual, and anything more is impossible for me.’

He stood rooted to the floor, unable to ignore the sharp pain her statement caused yet knowing she was stronger than him. The itch had gone beyond scratchy, was now an open wound that needed healing. Olivia was the cure but, as she’d so clearly pointed out, that wasn’t about to happen.

Moments later his main door clicked shut, presumably behind her, and still he stood transfixed. For a moment earlier on, when they’d been sated with sex, he thought he’d found that untouchable thing he’d been looking for in his dreams and pushing away when he was wide-awake. Hell, he’d felt as though he’d connected with Olivia in a way he’d never connected with another human being in his life. Sure, they’d had sex without any preamble, as they’d always done, but there’d been more depth to their liaison. He’d made love to the woman of his dreams. Literally.

Which made Olivia heading back to her hotel room absolutely right. Unlike him, she had a handle on their situation. Where was his gratitude?

Zac’s phone vibrated its way across the bedside table. ‘Hello?’ Had Olivia had a change of heart?

‘It’s North Shore Emergency Unit, Dr Wright. We’ve got a situation.’

Not Olivia. Guess it wasn’t his night. ‘Tell me,’ he sighed.

‘A bus full of rowers returning to Whangarei went off the road an hour out of the city. There are many casualties so we’re ringing round everyone. Can you come in?’

‘On my way.’ It wasn’t as though he’d been sleeping. A certain woman had taken up residence in his skull, refusing to let him drop off to sleep even when his body was craving rest.

‘Kelly Devlin, nineteen-year-old rower, fractured tibia,’ the ED registrar told Zac within moments of him striding into the chaotic department.

Zac studied the X-rays on the light box. ‘She needs a rod insertion,’ he decided, and went to talk to his patient.

Kelly glared at him. ‘I’m a national rowing champion, Doctor. I can’t have a broken leg.’

Zac’s heart went out to her. ‘You have. I’m sorry.’

‘Does that mean the end of my career?’

‘First I’ll explain what I’m going to do to help you.’ He sat on the edge of her bed. ‘I’ve seen the X-rays and your left tibia is fractured in two places. To allow the bone to heal without too much added stress I’m going to put a titanium rod down the centre of the bone. There will be screws to hold it in place while you heal.’ He kept the details scant. He knew from experience that too much information at this stage usually confused the patient and added to their distress.

‘Will I be competitive again?’ the girl demanded.

‘That will take a lot of work on your part, but I don’t see why not.’ When disbelief stared him in the eye, he added, ‘You’re a champion rower so you know what it’s like to work your butt off to get where you want to be. This will be harder. Your muscles will need strengthening and the bone will require time to knit.’ He hoped he wasn’t misleading Kelly. ‘You may have to compensate in some way for the damaged leg, but we won’t know for sure until further down the track.’

Tears slid down her cheeks. ‘You’re honest, but I don’t have to like what you’re telling me. It’s going to be painful for a while, isn’t it?’

‘You’ll have painkillers.’ Bone pain. Not good. ‘A physiotherapist will have you working on that leg when I think you’re ready.’

‘When are you operating?’

‘As soon as I get things sorted a nurse will come and get you ready for Theatre.’ He stood up. ‘I’ll see you in there. Have your family been told about the accident?’

‘Mum and Dad are on their way from Whangarei, but I don’t want to wait. If I’ve had surgery before they arrive it’ll be easier on them.’ She shifted on the bed and cried out as pain jagged her.

‘Take it easy. Try to stay as still as possible. You’ll soon be given a pre-anaesthetic drug that will make you feel drowsy and dull your senses a little.’ Zac nodded at the nurse on the other side of the bed. ‘I’ll talk to the anaesthetist now, get everything under way.’

As he headed out of the ED to arrange everything Zac rubbed the back of his neck. What a night.

‘Morning, everyone. Sorry I’m late. Forgot to set my alarm.’ Olivia slid into the only vacant chair at the table in the hotel dining room where she was having a late brunch with Andy and his family, Maxine and Brent Sutherland, who were Andy’s close friends, and Zac.

‘Have a late night?’ Zac asked.

She scowled at him. ‘Something like that.’

He told her, ‘I’ve been in surgery.’

‘Already? Were you on call?’ He’d have mentioned it, wouldn’t he?

‘A bus went over the bank near Waiwera. The hospital needed orthopaedic surgeons in a hurry.’

‘Why was a bus travelling through the night?’ she asked.

‘Taking rowers home from the nationals down south.’

‘Coffee or tea?’ A waitress hovered with the brunch menu.

‘We’ve all ordered,’ Zac informed her.

‘The kitchen will make sure your meal comes out with the others,’ the waitress said. ‘Drink?’

Yes, yes, yes. Give me a moment. Olivia took the proffered menu. ‘A pot of English Breakfast tea, thank you.’ A quick read of the list of tasty dishes on offer. ‘Pancakes with bacon and banana, and lots of maple syrup.’

When she turned to find Zac watching her with a soft smile on those adorable lips she snapped, ‘What?’

‘Pancakes and syrup? I thought you’d be a muesli and fruit girl.’

She was. Always. But this morning her usually strict control over her diet had gone the same place any control seemed to go when Zac was around—out west somewhere beyond the hills. ‘Thought I’d spoil myself.’ She looked around the table at her friends. Zac’s friends too, don’t forget. ‘Did everyone enjoy last night?’

‘You have to ask?’ Maxine asked with a grin. ‘The band kept playing until one and only stopped because the hotel management asked them to.’

‘The dinner was amazing,’ Brent added.

Olivia looked at the boys sitting quietly opposite her. ‘Did you all have fun too?’

‘Yeah. But Mum made us go to our room early. I liked dancing,’ the oldest said.

‘Your mum’s mean.’ Andy grinned tiredly. Now that the excitement of the night before had worn off he looked as though he had little energy left.

‘It’s part of the job description,’ Zac added.

‘That was a generous gift from Paul,’ Maxine chipped in. ‘I’m assuming you’re both going to take it up. I mean, who wouldn’t go to a luxury island in Fiji, all expenses paid? I know I would.’

‘Does everyone know?’ Olivia shivered. No way would she go after how things had played out last night in Zac’s apartment. Nearly a week sharing a bure with Zac would make a joke of her self-control. Remaining impervious to Zac’s charm would be impossible. As she’d already proved. ‘I don’t think I’ll be going.’ Unfortunately her eyes drifted to the right and locked with Zac’s.

‘If that’s what you want.’

She wasn’t sure about it being what she wanted, but she knew it was how it had to be for her sanity. Amidst exclamations from just about everyone else at the table Olivia told Zac quietly, for his ears only, ‘It’s for the best.’

‘Yours, or mine?’ Why the disappointment? Surely he hadn’t thought they’d be having a five-day sex fest? Though, if she was being truthful with herself, he had good reason to think that, given how quickly they’d leapt into each other’s arms last night.

‘Ours.’ A picture of blue sea and coconut palms crossed her mind. Going to Fiji would be marvellous. That lump at the bottom of her stomach was her disappointment. It was a great opportunity and she was reneging on it.

‘Last night you accepted.’ Zac’s words arrowed to the core of her concern.

‘I did.’ She’d be letting Paul down after he’d done something so generous. She wasn’t used to people doing things like that for her. She had a feeling she’d also let Zac down. Would he want to go alone? Or could he take someone else with him? Jealousy raised its ugly head. She didn’t want Zac going to the tropical island with another woman. If he was going she wanted to be the one at his side. In his arms. Gulp. Make up your mind. What do you want with Zac?

She wanted Zac in her life. But to follow up on that would be dangerous. What if they did get close; moved in together? How long would that last? When her mother acted once too often with the mess Olivia was used to dealing with, would Zac walk? If she had a month like she’d had in February, when she’d had so much work she’d all but lived in the hospital for four weeks, would he begrudge the time he didn’t have with her and leave? There’d only been one man in her life she’d loved unconditionally—her father—and he’d deserted her. She doubted her ability to cope with anyone else doing that to her.

Her tea arrived and she concentrated on pouring, tried hard to ignore the dilemma going on in her head.

But Zac didn’t seem to have any problem continuing the conversation. ‘I take it this is because of what happened in my apartment?’ He leaned closer so only she could hear him.

Unfortunately his movement brought that heady smell that defined him closer to her nostrils. There was no avoiding the scent, or the challenge in his eyes. ‘We wouldn’t be able to go the distance without touching each other.’

‘Is that what you want?’ Disbelief darkened his eyes, deepened his voice. Who could blame him? Last night she hadn’t mucked around about getting into the sack with him. He asked, ‘Seriously?

No, she wanted to spend the whole time in bed with him. That was the problem. ‘It’s what I need.’

Zac sat back, leaning away from her, his gaze fixed on her as though he hoped to see inside her skull and read her mind. ‘I should be glad you’re saying no, but there’s one fabulous holiday going begging. Until Paul pointed it out I hadn’t realised how much I could do with a break. Fiji would be perfect.’

Olivia said, ‘You can still go.’

‘Not much fun alone,’ he said softly.

‘Apply the pressure, why don’t you?’

‘Yep.’

‘Not happening,’ she muttered. Lifting her cup, Olivia tried to concentrate on what the others were talking about. When the meals arrived she joined in the conversation, relieved that the subject of Fiji had been dropped. But all the while that picture of the sea and coconut palms remained at the forefront of her mind, with Zac firmly in the middle.

Her phone rang just as everyone was getting up from the table to go their separate ways.

‘Olivia, it’s Hugo. I’m sorry to disturb your weekend when I said I’d cover for you, but I’m concerned about Anna Seddon.’

Alarm made her voice sharp. ‘What’s up?’ Anna was a healthy woman who shouldn’t be having any post-op complications.

‘Medically she’s fine. Her obs couldn’t be better, she slept well until four this morning. But she’s having a meltdown about the operation. I’ve tried talking to her but I’m a mere male and have no idea what it’s like to have my breasts removed.’ Hugo sighed. ‘She’s right, of course.’

‘Of all the people I’ve done that procedure for I’d never have thought Anna would break up about it. She’s been so pragmatic.’ Olivia echoed Hugo’s sigh. ‘Is her husband with her?’

‘Yes, and looking lost. She keeps yelling at him to go away. He doesn’t know how to help her either.’

And I can? She had to try. She’d told Anna she’d be there for her throughout this difficult time, and she had meant it. ‘I’ll come over now.’ She dropped her phone into her handbag and turned to face everyone. ‘Thanks for the catch-up, guys. I’ve got to go.’

Maxine stepped up to give her a hug. ‘Don’t take so long next time. I want to hear all the details about your trip to Fiji.’

‘There won’t be any. I’m not going.’ She tried to free herself from Maxine’s arms and failed.

‘Go. It would be good for you.’

Maxine dropped her arms to her sides and Olivia stepped back.

‘You might be surprised.’

Olivia couldn’t help herself: she glanced across at the man in question. His familiar face snatched at her heart. Talking animatedly with the others, he appeared relaxed and comfortable in his own skin. Then he looked over at her and winked. Caught. He’d been aware of her scrutiny all along. Like they were in tune with each other, which was nonsense. They’d never been like that. Except when it came to sex. But there was nothing sexual about that wink. It had been more a ‘Hey, girl’ gesture. Friendly and caring, not deep and loving or hot and demanding. But it had been …? Nice? Yes, nice.

Turning back to Maxine, she said, ‘I’d better run. A patient needs me.’

‘You have to be somewhere in a hurry?’ Zac strode alongside her as she raced for the lobby and the elevators, keen to get away before anyone else brought up the subject of that trip away with Zac.

‘The hospital. I did a double mastectomy and implant yesterday morning and apparently my patient is losing it big time this morning.’

‘That’s a biggie for any woman to deal with.’

‘She’s been so brave all the way through discussions about the operation and what size implants she’d like. She’s dealt with her family’s history of breast cancer matter-of-factly, and accepted she didn’t have a lot of choice if she wanted longevity. Guess it had to catch up with her some time.’

‘Has she got good support from her family?’ Zac asked as he pressed the up button for the elevator.

‘Yes, very good.’ Olivia drew a breath. Only yesterday she’d been saying to the Theatre staff how Anna’s husband was a hero in her book. Yep, and she’d had thoughts about the man next to her being a hero too.

‘You want me to get your car out of the basement? Save you some minutes?’

She stared at Zac. ‘I forgot. I need to order a taxi. My car’s in the hospital car park with a flat battery. I didn’t have time to phone a service man yesterday.’ She made to head for the concierge only to be stopped by Zac’s hand on her arm.

‘I’ll be waiting in my car out the front when you’re ready.’ He nudged her forward into the elevator. ‘It’ll only take a couple of minutes to get it.’

But I don’t want to sit in a car with you, breathing your smell, feeling your heat, wishing I could go away with you. ‘A taxi will be fine.’ She was talking to the closing doors, Zac already halfway across the lobby. She’d lost that round. There’d been determination in the set of his shoulders and the length of his quick strides taking him out of the hotel. He’d be ready for her the moment she emerged from the revolving door of the hotel.

Nice.

Leaning back against the wall, Olivia smiled despite her misgivings. She’d have to come up with a better word than ‘nice’. Zac was more than nice, and his gestures were kind and caring. All good, all sounding bland for a man who was anything but. ‘Hot’ used to be her word for him and, yes, he was still that.

But now? Now he was a mixed bag of emotions and characteristics she hadn’t taken the time to notice before. This Zac was intriguing. She wanted to know more about him. Hell, she wanted to know everything.

As the elevator pinged at her floor she knew she had to walk away from him, because the more she learned about Zac the harder it became to remain aloof. Her emotions were getting involved, putting her heart in turmoil, and that was a no-go zone.

CHAPTER SEVEN

‘I AM SO SORRY.’ Anna Seddon sniffed, and snatched up a handful of tissues to blow her nose. ‘I know it’s your weekend off. Hugo shouldn’t have called you.’

Olivia sat on the edge of the bed and shook her head at her patient. ‘It’s not a problem. I’d have been annoyed if he hadn’t. What started this off? What’s distressed you this morning?’

‘I took a look under the gown and saw where my breasts used to be. It’s horrible there. The new ones don’t look right even wrapped in bandages. I know you said to wait, but I had to see.’ Anna slashed at fresh tears spilling down her cheeks. ‘Nothing looks normal. The implants are different, ugly, not me, and the scars are bright red. I shouldn’t have done this. I should’ve taken a chance I wouldn’t get cancer.’

Olivia waited until Anna ran out of steam, then took her hand. ‘You’ve had a shock. No amount of explaining could’ve prepared you.’ Which was why she asked patients to wait until she was there before they looked at the results of their surgery. ‘Remember, I said that your breast implants were going to look and feel strange. They’re not natural, like your real breasts were, and we have yet to bring them up to full size. This will take time as we can’t pump them full of saline instantly. It’s a gradual process, giving your skin time to stretch and accommodate the implants.’

‘You told me that, but I saw them and freaked out,’ Anna whispered. ‘You must think I’m a total head case.’

‘Not at all. You’ve just had your breasts removed when as far as we know there’s nothing wrong with them. You’re not dealing with the fear of knowing you’ve already got cancer. Instead, breast cancer is a real possibility for you, so you’re working ahead of things. Of course it’s a shock and very different from other situations.’

‘I know you went over this more than once. I thought I understood how I’d feel, and that the fact I was doing it to be there for my kids and Duncan would override every other emotion. I was wrong.’ At the mention of her husband tears began pouring down her face again.

‘You’re a woman, first and foremost. Our breasts help define us. When we’re young we can’t wait for them to start growing and then it’s what size will they be? Will they be sexy? They’re also about nurturing our babies. You’ve done something very brave. Don’t ever think you’re not as feminine as you were before yesterday because you are. You’ve got a lovely figure, a pretty face and a heart of gold. Not to mention a family who adores you. Especially that husband of yours.’

A shadow of a smile lightened Anna’s mouth through the deluge of tears. ‘Duncan’s something, isn’t he?’

‘He’s a hero.’ There, she’d said it again. What was it with her that she kept coming up with that word? It wasn’t as though she believed in heroes. But you want to. You want one of your own.

‘You think?’ Anna asked, a twinkle slowly lightening her sad eyes and easing her tears.

‘I know.’ She stood up. ‘In fact, there’s a hero out in the waiting room. I’ll go tell him you’re busting to see him.’

‘What will he say when he sees my false breasts?’ There was a hitch in Anna’s voice and fear in her eyes.

‘I bet he tells you he loves you.’ Lucky woman. What was it like to have a man to love you, to say those precious three words to you? Olivia had never known and wondered if she ever would. It must be the most precious thing—love, unconditional and everlasting. When she walked into the waiting room she found Zac talking rugby to Anna Seddon’s husband as though he’d known him for ever.

Her heart did a funny little jig. Zac. Sexy Zac was doing nothing more than yakking to a stranger who was trying to cope with his wife’s unenviable situation, and yet he looked … like everything she’d thought she might want in a man, in her man. Her hero.

Get out of here. Where had that come from? Yeah, sure, yesterday when she’d called Duncan a hero it had been Zac’s face flitting across her mind, but Zac? Hero? Why would she even think that? What had he done for her to think so?

She’d dumped him and he’d sent her beautiful flowers.

He’d driven her here this morning and taken her keys to get her car battery sorted.

He’d turned up to help yesterday afternoon when everything had been turning to custard.

He’d never once been rude to her, or made fun of her need to keep herself to herself, or told her to stop being so much in control of just about everything she touched.

Did any or all of those things make a man a hero? Didn’t heroes slay dragons? She still had dragons, but Zac didn’t know about them because she’d never shown that weakness to him. It wasn’t as though he could make everything right for her, even if he was aware of her screwed-up family life.

‘CC, you’re daydreaming.’ Zac was smiling at her, his head at an angle that suggested he wanted to know exactly what was on her mind.

Thank goodness she wasn’t the type to blush. The absolute last thing Zac needed to know was what she’d been thinking. ‘I don’t daydream.’

‘Then you’re missing out on a lot of fun.’

‘How’s Anna?’ There was a load of worry in Duncan’s short question.

‘Wanting to see her man.’ Olivia moved closer. ‘She’s got past that little meltdown but, Duncan, you need to be prepared for more episodes. I’m not saying Anna’s going to fall apart on you long term, but she’s facing reality now, whereas before surgery it was still an unknown. It’s scary for her.’ She continued, ‘She’s afraid you won’t be able to cope when you see her breasts. It’s natural to feel that way, but it’s how you handle the situation that’s going to make the difference.’

‘I’ll tell you this for nothing. I don’t care about scars and a change in her shape. I love that woman and think she’s the bravest person I’ve ever met.’ Duncan touched the corner of one eye with a forefinger.

‘I think Anna’s a lucky woman.’ Olivia swallowed the sudden lump in her throat. ‘Go tell her exactly what you just said.’

‘She’s not going to throw her water bottle at me or tell me to go away for ever?’ Duncan was deadly serious.

‘I doubt it, unless it’s because you’ve taken so long to get along to her room since I said I was coming to find you.’ Anna shouldn’t have thrown anything—it would hurt her wounds and might pull some stitches. Something to check up on when she examined her later. She hadn’t wanted to have Anna expose herself for an exam when she’d been so upset, and had figured that as all the obs were fine it didn’t matter if they waited before doing that.

Dropping into the seat Duncan had vacated, she stared at the toes of her boots. And yawned.

Zac chuckled. ‘Want to grab a coffee while we wait for the battery man? He’s about twenty minutes away and we could both do with something to keep us awake.’

‘Hospital coffee will be a comedown after that fabulous brunch.’

‘Nothing like a reality check.’

Reality. Of course. ‘You don’t need to hang around. You’ve got a perfectly good vehicle downstairs. I can visit patients while I wait.’

‘You don’t want to share crap coffee with me?’ His grin set butterflies flapping in her tummy. ‘Anyway, the guy’s got my number, not yours.’

‘I hate it when you gloat.’ She laughed tiredly. ‘Disgusting coffee it is.’ Along with great company. All in all, not a bad way to continue her morning.

Olivia’s bubble burst quickly.

Zac directed her to a corner table as far away as possible from the few staff and visitors using the cafeteria, ordered long blacks for them both, and dropped onto the chair opposite her. ‘I’ve talked to my practice manager so she can arrange for my days off when we go to Fiji. The hospital roster is easy to fix, with Paul offering to cover for me.’

The man didn’t muck about. He must’ve been on the phone the moment she’d clambered out of his four-wheel drive in the hospital garage; ordering a battery, sorting his week off.

She sighed. ‘I thought I said I wasn’t going.’ He had to be deaf as well as organised.

‘You did.’

‘So you are planning on going alone.’

‘Nope.’ Zac leaned back as a girl placed two overfull coffee cups on the table and took away their order number. ‘I want you to come with me.’

So do I. ‘No.’

Those eyes that matched the coffee in colour locked onto her. ‘Are you telling me no? Or yourself, Olivia?’

‘We’d probably end up hating each other.’

‘Somehow I don’t think so.’ Shock widened his eyes. So he hadn’t thought it through. ‘But we won’t know if we don’t try.’

What was this about? Zac had made it clear he’d only been interested in sex last time round. Her hands were back in her lap, her fingers aching with the tightness of her grip. ‘Is this so you can then walk away with no regrets? Did I finish it too soon last time?’

Now his gaze dropped away. He leaned far back and draped one arm over the top of the chair next to him. His eyes cruised the cafeteria before returning to her, a guarded expression covering his face. ‘I’ve learned more about you in the last twenty-four hours than I ever did in those eight weeks last year.’

‘Then you’re probably up to speed and there’s nothing more to find out.’

Zac stared at her. ‘You’re selling yourself short.’

To hell with the coffee. Pushing up from the table, she aimed for a moderate tone. ‘No, I am not. What you see is what you get, and as for Fiji, you get nothing. I’m not going.’ But I want to. Really, really want to.

Of course he followed her. He was persistent if nothing else. Unlike last time. ‘Rethink that, Olivia. We don’t have to live in each other’s pockets while we’re there, but it would be fun to lie in the sun together, to share a meal under the stars.’

The problem was that if she lay on the beach in her bikini beside Zac in his swimming shorts they would end up having sex. Not that doing so didn’t appeal. Of course it did. Her mouth watered, thinking about it. But she’d made up her mind the day she’d walked out on him that they weren’t going anywhere with their relationship because she couldn’t afford to get her heart broken. Neither had she wanted to break his—if it was even up for grabs.

Zac pulled his phone from his pocket and read a message. ‘Your battery’s nearly here.’

‘Good. Thanks for arranging it.’ She didn’t know why she felt small and mean, only knew she was floundering, fighting between going with him on that trip and staying away from temptation. She was looking out for herself, something she’d always done. Her mother had never put her daughter before herself, never would. She gasped. That meant she was the same as her mother. Putting her determination to remain alone before anyone, anything else. But … But I’m doing it for a good reason. Dad left Mum because she’d worn him down, tossed his love back in his face again and again. I’m not doing that to a man I might fall in love with.

A hand on her elbow directed her to the elevator. Seemed that Zac was always taking her to the lift. ‘Five days of sunshine and no patients. Sounds wonderful to me.’

Ain’t that the truth?

At least Olivia hadn’t questioned why he was so adamant they should go to Fiji together. He should be grateful she was refusing to go, but the thought of being alone when he should be celebrating with his family grated. A distraction was needed and Olivia would certainly be that.

But, more than that, it was time to start changing from being reactive to his family’s attitude to becoming proactive in sorting out what he wanted for his future—starting with taking time off from his heavy work schedule to have some fun. Hell. When was the last time he’d done that? Nothing came to mind except the hours he’d snatched to be with Olivia eighteen months ago.

The sound of squealing tyres filled the basement garage as they exited the elevator on the way to the outside car park. The smell of burning rubber filled his nostrils. ‘What the hell?’

A nearly new, upmarket car raced past them. At the end of the lane it spun left, the rear wheels sliding out of control. Just when impact with parked vehicles seemed imminent the driver got the car under control.

Zac pushed Olivia back against the now closed elevator doors, tugged his phone from his pocket to call Security, and cursed. There was no signal down here. ‘The driver looked very young. How’d he get in?’

The garage and car park were reserved for medical personnel and accessed with a swipe card. The car flew past them again as Zac looked around for a wall phone. Spying one by the stairwell door, he changed direction, only to spin around when he heard an almighty thump, followed by a metallic crashing sound. Then ominous silence.

‘He’s hit someone and then slammed into a vehicle!’ Olivia began running in the direction of the crashed car.

Zac raced alongside her. ‘We need someone down here, taking charge of that kid.’ A boy looking about fifteen staggered out of the car, looking shocked and bewildered.

‘Where did she come from?’ he squawked as they reached him.

Zac’s hands clenched as he saw a woman in blue scrubs sprawled across the concrete, a pool of blood already beginning to form by her head. ‘What the hell were you doing?’ Zac shouted at the kid as he dropped down to his knees beside the unmoving woman.

‘Hey, steady.’ Olivia reached across from the other side of the woman to grip his arm. Shaking her head at him, she said, ‘This nurse needs our undivided attention.’

‘You’re right,’ he ground through gritted teeth. ‘Kid, get on that phone by the elevator and get help down here fast.’

Without a word the youth was gone, and Zac could only hope he was running for the phone.

Zac felt for a pulse, and sighed with relief.

Olivia was carefully feeling the nurse’s head. ‘Amelia, can you hear me?’

A low groan was the only answer she got.

‘Amelia, you’ve been in an accident. There are two doctors with you and we’re going to check your injuries.’

‘How much do you think she’s heard?’ Zac wondered aloud.

Olivia shrugged. ‘We can’t be sure anything we say registers.’

‘You know her?’ Zac noted the odd angle of the nurse’s legs and checked for bleeding in case a blood vessel had been torn. ‘No major swelling indicating internal bleeding.’

‘I can read,’ Olivia muttered.

The name badge. Duh. Left his brain behind this morning, had he? With gentle movements he began assessing her hips and thighs for fractures. ‘Broken femur for starters. This knee has taken a thump too.’ His fingers worked over the kneecap. ‘Smashed, I’d say.’

Their patient groaned again and lifted an arm a small way off the ground.

Zac quickly caught her, and gently pressed her arm down by her side. ‘Amelia, try not to move.’

One eye opened, shut again.

‘At least she’s responding,’ he said.

‘Oh, my God. What’s happened?’ A man loomed over them.

Zac told him, ‘An out-of-control car hit her.’

The newcomer said, ‘I’m in Admin, but I can get help if you tell me what you need.’

‘Get us the emergency equipment and a bed. I told the driver to ring upstairs but you’re part of this hospital, you’ll know exactly who to speak to,’ Zac told him. Who knew if the boy had done as he’d said or taken a hike before everyone turned up and started pointing fingers?

Olivia was speaking quietly. ‘We’ve got a soft cranial injury, probably from impacting with the concrete. Left ear’s torn.’

Zac added to the list of injuries. ‘At least her chest appears to have dodged a bullet.’ His fingers were gently working over Amelia’s ribs. ‘The car would’ve hit her in the lower body.’ What had that kid been thinking, doing wheelies in here? He hadn’t looked old enough to know how to drive. Who are you to ask? You were eighteen and still got it wrong.

‘On my way.’ The admin man nodded at the vehicle parked with its nose caught in the side panel of a sedan. ‘That the car? It’s Maxine Sutherland’s.’

Olivia’s head shot up, horror in her eyes, but all she said was, ‘Can you run? This woman needs urgent help.’

With the man gone, Zac said, ‘Maxine must’ve left the car unlocked, unless …’ Had it been Maxine and Brent’s son driving? Shock rocked through Zac. No parent ever wanted to deal with something like this. He knew. He’d done it to his brother and parents, with dire consequences. They’d never forgiven him, blaming him for not looking out for his younger brother. Like they’d ever been there for either of their sons. But every time Zac saw his brother and that blasted wheelchair the guilt crunched his insides. Zac’s remorse would never go away, and was stronger than anything anyone else could lay on him.

‘Zac? You okay?’ A gentle hand touched his cheek.

His chest rose as he dragged in a lungful of air. ‘Yes.’ No. Now wasn’t the time to explain. If ever there was a right time. He tried to straighten Amelia’s right leg. ‘Her knee is also dislocated.’ He had to know. ‘Do you think the kid is Maxine and Brent’s boy?’

Distress blinked out at him from Olivia’s hyacinth eyes. ‘No. Couldn’t be.’ Her bottom lip trembled even as the truth pushed aside her automatic denial. ‘How dreadful for them if he is.’

‘He was in here, and only card holders have access.’

They were interrupted by the sound of people running and an emergency trolley laden with everything they needed being pushed at a fast pace between the cars. Guess the kid had fronted up for help.

As Olivia explained to the ED staff what had happened and her assessment of Amelia’s injuries, the anger Zac had put on the back burner roared to life. ‘That boy really has made a mess of things for her.’ Zac was equally worried for the lad. His life had changed for ever. ‘Where is he, anyway?’

‘Probably safer away from you.’ Olivia came to stand beside him and reached for his hand. ‘Calm down, Zac. You’re not helping an already tricky situation. I know he’s done wrong but let’s leave that to others while we help with the medical side of things.’

The last thing Zac wanted was Olivia telling him what to do. It took a moment for it to register in the red haze of his brain that he had an excuse to put distance between them. ‘The battery guy. I’ll go and wait for him at the gate.’ He needed to get away from what had happened before he blew a gasket. Amelia was getting all the attention she needed from Olivia and the ED doctor, while his attitude wasn’t helping anyone. He stomped off before Olivia could say anything more.

But not before he saw the shock in those beautiful eyes. Yes, he had his secrets, just as he suspected she had hers. Secrets neither of them wanted to share. His definitely held him back from having a complete and fulfilling life. Was it the same with Olivia? Could that be why she’d walked out on their affair? She hadn’t wanted to keep going in case they grew close?

There was nothing for it. They had to take that trip. Time together, talking, relaxing, getting to know each other on a whole new level, was becoming imperative.

Which really meant he should sign up for every orthopaedic surgery coming up at his clinic for the next six months.

CHAPTER EIGHT

OLIVIA POURED BOILING water over the tea leaves. Earl Grey Blue Star. ‘Bliss.’ She sniffed the air.

Every bone in her body ached with weariness. Her head pounded, her muscles drooped, and it felt as if there was grit in her eyes. The long soak in a very hot shower probably hadn’t woken her up at all. Seven o’clock on Saturday night and she couldn’t wait to crawl into bed. How pathetic could she get?

Her stomach was crying out to be fed. She hadn’t eaten since brunch—the incident in the hospital garage and the resulting investigation by the traffic police had taken up a lot of the day. The pizza she’d ordered would arrive at the front door within the hour. She licked her lips in anticipation and tasted tea.

Her sitting room felt cosy, and lounging in pyjamas and a baggy sweatshirt in front of the fire she’d lit earlier felt decadent. A rare treat to be so sloppily dressed, and she’d die if anyone but the pizza delivery girl saw her in this state.

Right now a holiday would be perfect. There’s one on offer. Had she been too hasty turning it down? Not going to think about it.

Picking up the remote, she turned on the TV, volume low, and flicked through the channels. Nothing interested her, not even the spunky guy showing how to swing a golf club. Not that sport of any kind interested her. It required energy she didn’t like expending getting sweaty.

At the moment the most energetic she wanted to be was lying on a beach, getting a tan. Fiji would do that every time. She sighed. Fiji with Zac? What was wrong with her? She should be grabbing those tickets and packing her bag.

The doorbell rang loud in the quiet house. Someone out there must be looking out for her because that pizza was early. She went to get her dinner.

‘Hi, Olivia. I hope you don’t mind me dropping by.’

‘Zac.’ Her stomach growled while her heart lifted.

‘Is that a good “Zac”, or a go away “Zac”?’

‘Take your pick.’ She stepped back, opening the door wide.

Zac walked in quickly, as though afraid she’d change her mind.

She probably would’ve if she’d had the energy to think about the consequences of letting him into her home. ‘Along here.’ She led him into the sitting room.

When his gaze landed on her tea he asked, ‘Got anything stronger? Scotch on the rocks?’ He sank onto the couch and stared into the fire.

‘Sure.’ That was one spirit she did have, kept for her delightful elderly neighbour who liked an occasional tipple when he dropped in after a lonely day at home.

Returning with a glass, ice and whisky, Olivia placed everything on the coffee table she’d spent weeks sanding and varnishing to make it beautiful. Taking her mug to the other end of the couch, she sat with her feet tucked under her bottom and flicked glances at her visitor.

Something was going on. He’d been furious when Amelia had been knocked down by that car. No, as he’d told her angrily, it had been the boy who’d banged the car into Amelia. The car was not at fault. Couldn’t argue with that.

His anger had been more than she’d have expected, but there hadn’t been an opportunity to talk to him about it. When they’d realised it might’ve been their colleagues’ son doing wheelies in the garage Zac had turned pale and charged outside to let the battery guy into the car park. Later she’d seen him standing beside her car, hands on hips, staring up at the rain-laden sky, impervious to everything going on around him. When he’d joined her and the police, he’d gained some control over his emotions but hadn’t been able to look her in the eye. After they’d finished telling the cops what little they’d seen Zac had been quick to drive away, leaving her none the wiser about what had been going on. Now here he was, looking badly in need of some quiet time and a big hug.

She’d give him the quiet time by waiting until he was ready to talk, but she’d hold back on the hug in case she’d read him wrong and he took it as more than she intended.

Zac reached for the bottle, slopped more whisky into the glass, and leaned back, his head on the top of the couch, his eyes closed.

It was far too tempting. Placing her glass on the coffee table, she leaned over, pulled him against her, and wrapped her arms right around him. Zac didn’t resist, instead shuffling closer to lay his head on her breast.

She was starting to get pins and needles in one leg by the time Zac moved to sit up. Broaching the subject she thought was bothering him, she said, ‘Amelia’s going to be a mess for a while.’

‘That boy will be a mess for the rest of his life.’

‘It’s going to take patience and counselling, yes, but his parents will be there for him all the way. He’ll make it. Hopefully he learned a huge lesson today.’ Though what the kid had been thinking, taking the car for a spin in a packed garage, was beyond her.

Zac leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, the glass between his hands turning back and forth. ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about. I do.’

Olivia leaned closer to place her hand on his thigh, her shoulder against his upper arm. ‘Tell me.’

She said it so quietly that at first she didn’t think he’d heard, but as she was about to repeat herself he said, ‘I’ve been there.’

‘Oh, Zac.’ Her heart broke for the sadness and despair in those words.

‘My brother’s in a wheelchair. Because of me.’

She closed her eyes. The pain in Zac’s face was too much. He hurt big-time. The load of guilt he carried must crush him at times. Tonight was one of those times. Today’s event had brought back the memories in full colour. She opened her eyes and tried to eyeball him. ‘Zac, I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t give me any platitudes, CC. I couldn’t stand that.’

‘You’ve heard them all before, huh?’

‘Every last one.’ He stared into his glass, the liquid golden in the light thrown by the fire. ‘I prefer honesty and you’ve never given me anything else so please don’t change tonight. No “Mark’s doing fine, it’s okay”. No “You’re forgiven so get on with your life as though it didn’t happen”.’ The warning was issued softly, which made it all the more real.

What the heck was she supposed to say if he didn’t want to talk about it? Or did he want to say what had happened to cause his brother’s injuries but couldn’t get the words out? Had he changed his mind about telling her anything more? Her mind was a jumble of questions and emotions. She wanted to help him, but Zac wasn’t one to ask for help. Or was that what he’d done by turning up on her doorstep?

The doorbell ringing was a welcome interruption while she tried to work out where to go with this. Grabbing the money she’d put out earlier, she went to get dinner.

Zac stood up as she returned to the sitting room. ‘I’ll head away and leave you in peace.’

‘You’re welcome to share this. I never eat more than half.’ Though tonight she might’ve, considering the state her stomach was in. ‘Sit down, Zac. I’ll get some napkins and plates.’

‘You want anything stronger than tea to drink?’

Was that a Yes, I’ll stay? ‘No, thanks.’

‘You’re cautious with your drinks, aren’t you?’ Zac smiled half-heartedly. ‘Afraid of making an idiot of yourself?’

‘Absolutely.’ Rejoining him on the couch, she sighed. ‘Life when I was younger was chaotic and messy. I learned to be rigid in my dealings with my mum, school, everything. Too controlled maybe, but that’s how I manage.’

Taking her hand, Zac locked eyes with hers. ‘Yet you’re completely off the radar when it comes to sex.’

She spluttered over the mouthful she’d just bitten off her pizza.

Zac wiped her mouth with his napkin. ‘I wasn’t complaining.’ The smile he gave her was tender, turning her inside out.

‘Maybe sex is my one outlet,’ she managed, holding back from explaining it hadn’t been like that with the few other men she’d slept with.

He was very quiet for a few minutes, then blew her away with, ‘Would you come to Fiji with me if we agreed to no sex for the whole trip?’

‘What?’ she asked.

‘Think you—we—can do that?’

Talk about a challenge she couldn’t resist. Especially as she was struggling to keep refusing to go in the first place. And now that she’d heard more about what made Zac tick she wanted to spend more time with him.

Zac grimaced. The need to go away with Olivia just got stronger and stronger, no matter how often he told himself he was making a mistake. When he’d told her about Mark he’d very nearly continued with the whole sordid story of how his life had changed for ever but a modicum of common sense had prevailed. Fear of seeing disgust in her eyes had locked his tongue to the roof of his mouth.

But if only she’d agree to go to that resort island with him. Go and have some good, honest fun. Even if she agreed to the bizarre suggestion he’d just put out there, he’d be happy. He wouldn’t mind someone to talk to, to relax with.

He saw Olivia open her mouth, heard her say as though in slow motion, ‘I’ll go. I won’t change my mind again. I’m sorry I’ve been vacillating.’

Excitement zipped through him, temporarily drowning out the horrors of that morning’s disaster. They were going to spend time together without the pressures of work; with time to talk, to be themselves, and maybe learn more about each other. ‘Good.’

‘That’s it?’ She laughed, a tinkling sound that lightened his mood.

‘Yes.’ Relief softened him. ‘You know what? I think it’ll be great. Just the two of us.’

Olivia smiled.

It was a big, soft smile that caused him to take a risk. ‘I was driving Dad’s car.’ Swallowing hard, he continued. ‘It was late. We’d been out all day at the rugby, and stopped at a friend’s on the way home.’ His gut churned. ‘Mark was being a pain in the arse, winding me up as only he knew how, and when we drove away from that house he said one thing too many and I lost it. Slammed my foot on the accelerator. The car spun into the stone wall along the waterfront and flipped into the water. Mark’s back was broken.’ That was all there was to it.

Her expression showed no condemnation. ‘How awful for your family. Especially you. You’ve taken the blame ever since, right?’

Air huffed out of his lungs. ‘Of course. I was at fault. I lost my temper.’ Damn, but it still hurt so badly. If he never made another mistake in his life it wouldn’t be good enough.

‘You haven’t forgiven yourself. Does your brother blame you?’ When he nodded once, she continued. ‘What about your parents? Surely they don’t?’

He went for broke. ‘My parents put me in charge of my brother from very early on. They were both busy with their careers as CEOs of big businesses. We were the children to be trotted out at functions or for family photos, and they were proud of us as long as we didn’t stuff up. Which I did—monumentally.’ At least now she’d understand why he wasn’t looking for a woman to love and settle down with, that he’d always fly solo. One holiday in Fiji being the exception. ‘Of course they haven’t forgiven me. I was in charge of Mark that night.’

Olivia wanted to cry for him. How could parents do that? Then again, her father had left her with Mum, hadn’t he? Zac shouldn’t, mustn’t take all the blame, but he’d obviously made a lifelong habit of shouldering it. ‘So you and Mark don’t get along even now?’

‘Hardly.’ His mouth flattened. ‘He’s a successful architect, which is something to be grateful for.’

‘More than something. It says he’s moved on, hasn’t let his spinal injury hold him back.’ If only she could remove Zac’s pain. But there was only one person who could do that. Zac.

‘My parents pretty much disowned me after the accident.’ Zac’s face was bleak. ‘I continued living with them for the rest of that year but it was as though I was a stranger. Come the last day of school I was gone. I got a job in a supermarket and went to live with my grandfather. Dad gave me a generous allowance but I turned him down and paid my university fees myself. I never went back home.’

And she’d thought her life had been bad. No wonder she and Zac both balked at commitment. ‘That’s harsh.’ Actually, it was lousy. How could any parent do that? Did Zac think if he moved on, let himself stop feeling guilt, then he’d be setting himself up for another fall? Zac was a very responsible person. That had been abundantly clear when they’d been training to become surgeons. Had that come from this accident? Or had he always been a responsible person who’d made one mistake? Now she understood his outburst over the boy who’d knocked down Amelia that morning. ‘I’m glad you have your grandfather.’

He cocked an eyebrow at her. ‘So am I. Except he died last Christmas.’ That sadness had returned to his eyes, tightened his face, more deeply, more strongly than ever.

Olivia wanted to banish it—if only for a few hours. And she only knew one way. They weren’t in Fiji yet. Standing up, she put her hand out to him. ‘Come with me.’

His hand was warm and firm as his fingers laced through hers. He didn’t say a word as she led him down the hall to her bedroom. Or when she began unbuttoning his shirt.

Running her hands over that wide expanse of muscular chest, her blood began to thrum along her veins. Her lips surrounded his nipple, her tongue caressed slowly. Then Zac’s hands were lifting her head so he could kiss her.

A long, slow kiss that had none of the urgent fire of any of their previous kisses and all the quietness of giving and sharing. It was heady stuff.

‘Olivia,’ Zac groaned against her mouth.

Without breaking the kiss, she pushed his shirt off his shoulders and down his arms, then found the stud and zip of his jeans. When Zac moved to lift her top she took his hands and placed them at his sides, and continued removing his jeans.

When she had him naked she gently shoved him backwards to sprawl across her bed. Her tummy quivered at the beautiful sight. His well-honed muscles accentuated his masculinity. Slowly she raised her top, exposing her bra-covered breasts. Next she slid her hands under the waistband of her shapeless trackies and began pushing them, oh, so slowly down to her hips, her thighs, her knees.

Zac’s gaze followed her actions, his eyes kissing her skin. Shivers of excitement touched all the exposed places of her body. Standing in her panties and bra, she suddenly felt uncomfortable. What was she doing? Then Zac’s tongue lapped his bottom lip and she relaxed. It wasn’t as though he hadn’t seen her naked, and while she mightn’t be a strip dancer she could undress seductively.

Zac put his hands behind his head and kept watching her.

Placing one foot on the bed, she undid her bra and let it fall into her hands to be twirled across the room.

Zac’s eyes widened and his tongue did another lick of his lips.

With one forefinger she began lowering her panties, never taking her eyes off his. She saw when they widened, when his chest began rising and falling faster, when his erection strained tight. Swinging a leg over his body, she hovered above him, moving so that her centre barely touched the tip of his shaft.

‘Oh, sweetheart, let me touch you.’ Those firm hands she craved on her skin covered her breasts, lifting them, caressing and gently squeezing them. His thumbs teased her nipples into hard, tight peaks.

Heat spread throughout her body like a slow burn, sending lazy flames of desire to every corner, warming her skin, drying her mouth. She began to lower herself over him, taking him deep inside.

Zac moved his hands to her buttocks, and he held her still. ‘Not yet.’

Suddenly Olivia was on her back with Zac above her, kissing every inch of her heated skin, drowning her in need and longing. Taking his time to work down her body. They’d never made love like this.

This felt like lovemaking; not hot, frantic sex.

And when Zac moved over her, claimed her, they moved in unison, a slow rhythm that built and built till finally they reached a crescendo that stole the breath out of her lungs and sent her spinning out of control.

Olivia woke slowly. A heavy weight lay over her waist. Zac’s arm. His breaths were soft on the back of her neck. His knees tucked in behind hers, and his stomach pushed against her lower back. Wow. This was amazing. Comfortable and cosy, warm and sexy. But mostly wonderful. Something she’d never experienced before. She snuggled nearer, closing her eyes to absorb every sensation moving through her. Warmth from that splayed hand on her stomach, from those thigh muscles behind her.

‘Morning, beautiful,’ Zac whispered against her neck.

‘Wow,’ she said. Hard to believe what she’d been missing out on. A small laugh escaped her. Slipping her fingers through Zac’s on her stomach, she admitted, ‘I’ve never had a man stay the night.’

Warm lips laid a soft kiss on her shoulder. ‘Glad I’m the chosen one.’ Another kiss. ‘It’s not something I normally do either.’

It was as though her whole body smiled. She and Zac had slept together, as in ‘closed their eyes and gone to sleep’ slept. She’d heard women talk about how good it was to sleep, spooned with their partner, and had thought they were exaggerating. Now she got it.

Careful. This was starting to feel like a relationship, as in not just about sex. Olivia tensed. Really? Damn. Just when she was beginning to enjoy things reality raised its annoying head to remind her she knew nothing about a good, solid, loving relationship between a man and a woman. Neither did Zac.

‘Hey, relax. I’m not going to bite.’ Zac’s voice sounded sleep-laden.

No, but was he going to hurt her? Not today, or next month maybe, but eventually would he realise he didn’t want to spend time with her, and walk? She had to protect herself. Wriggling free, she sat up. ‘I’m going to take a shower.’

Zac reached for her, pulled her down. ‘Come here. Let’s stay tucked up for a little longer.’

‘But …’

‘Do you have to be somewhere in a hurry?’ he asked reasonably.

‘No.’ Neither could she deny that lying in Zac’s strong arms gave her a sense of belonging. Something that had been missing most of her life. Tension began tripping up her spine. Not good. Belonging went hand in hand with a serious relationship. Squeezing her eyes shut tight, she worked at banishing the negative feeling. She’d make the most of this moment; give herself something to remember later.

‘I can’t believe that in less than two weeks we’ll be lying under palm trees.’ Excitement warmed Olivia as she talked to Zac on the phone the following Thursday night. ‘I’m going on holiday.’

‘Says the woman who went out of her way to avoid it.’ Zac’s laughter rolled down the phone.

‘Yeah, well, I’m glad I came to my senses. A holiday is definitely what I need. How are you getting on with sorting your surgical list?’

‘Not too bad. Because Paul’s taking over my private list I haven’t had to change too many appointments. Most patients I’ve talked to have been understanding about the change.’

Olivia grimaced. ‘I wish mine were as accepting. There’ve been a few tears and tantrums, but I think I’ve got it sorted. I’ll be working some long days leading up to our departure and will be busier than rush hour on the motorway.’

‘Wonderful,’ he groaned. ‘Are you going to sleep the whole time we’re away?’

‘Absolutely not.’ Somehow she doubted she’d sleep much at all, knowing Zac was in the same room and out of bounds. Why had he suggested that? Getting to know each other was one thing, but seriously? No sex? This would be a very interesting holiday. ‘I’m going shopping for bikinis at the weekend.’

‘Can I come?’

‘I don’t think so.’ She grinned. That so wasn’t happening.

‘What if I waited outside the shop and took you to lunch afterwards?’

‘What sort of lunch?’

‘You’d have to wait and see.’ Zac laughed again.

‘Sorry, not happening.’

‘So where do you go shopping for beach gear in the middle of winter?’

‘My favourite fashion shop has an accessories section all year round. Apparently bikinis are holiday accessories. Who’d have thought it? But, then, I haven’t owned a bikini in more years than I care to count.’ Or gone on a holiday.

‘Don’t you go to the beach?’ Zac asked.

‘Going to the beach is a family thing, or a teen group party.’ Which had been the last time she’d gone with a crowd.

‘I think it’s time you started getting out there and living, CC. All work and no play is not healthy.’

‘Didn’t you tell me how little you do outside work?’ They were a right messed-up pair. ‘We’ll make up for it in Fiji.’

‘Can’t wait.’ A sigh filtered down the line. ‘I mean that. You have no idea how much I’m looking forward to this now that it’s real.’

‘Oh, but I do. After at first refusing to accept the trip, I now find I’m often daydreaming about being on the beach or swimming with the fishes. I don’t remember being this excited about anything since … Well, I don’t remember.’

‘We are going to have a blast.’ Now he was sounding like an excited schoolboy.

‘Sure are.’

Another voice interrupted the moment. ‘Olivia, sweetheart, where’s the tonic water?’ Her mother’s wheedling voice grated more than usual.

‘Zac, I’ve got to go. Talk to you again.’

‘Something up? Your tone changed. Is your mother there?’ He missed nothing, damn him.

‘Yes, she is.’ Sometimes her mother could be demanding and unrelenting in her quest for whatever today’s greatest need was, and other times she’d be all sweetness and light. ‘I’ve got to go.’

‘Hey, I’m here for you.’ The excitement had gone, replaced with concern. ‘We can still have that lunch.’

‘I’m good, Zac. Truly.’

‘Olivia, tonic water. Where have you hidden it?’ Mum stood in front of her, her eyes bloodshot and her tomato-red lipstick smudged on her upper lip.

‘Talk to me, CC.’ Zac was in her ear.

‘It’s complicated.’ And ugly.

‘Try me,’ he persisted.

‘Not now, Zac.’ Her mother was in her face. ‘Talk later. Bye.’ Olivia pressed the off button, dug deep for patience. No surprise. She was all out of it. ‘There’s no tonic in this house.’ There hadn’t been any gin either until her mother had arrived with a bottle an hour ago.

‘Darling, that’s no way to treat your mother.’

Air hissed over Olivia’s lips. ‘Keeping an endless supply of gin and tonic isn’t either.’ She rubbed her thumbs over her eyes. ‘You said there was something you wanted to talk about.’

‘I think I should sell the house. It’s time to move on with my life. But you’re going to say no to anything I suggest.’ Petulant as well.

Being one of the trustees for her mother’s property and banking details came with its own set of difficulties. But if left to her own resources her mother would’ve gone broke long ago. ‘Mum, we’ve discussed this so often I can’t believe you’d bring the subject up again.’

‘You are so unfair. About everything.’

Yep, a right old cold fish with a bank account tighter than a fish’s backside. That’s me. ‘Where would you live if you sold? Another house? Or an apartment somewhere?’

‘I could move in with you. There’re more rooms here than you know what to do with.’

That was never going to happen.

Never say never.

Olivia shuddered. She did love her mother, but for sanity’s sake preferred to keep her at a distance. To share the same house day in, day out would send her climbing the harbour bridge and leaping off.

CHAPTER NINE

‘TOKORIKI.’ THE HELICOPTER pilot pointed to an island ahead of them.

Olivia gasped. ‘Oh, wow, it’s tiny.’

Zac grinned. ‘Perfect. You won’t be able to get away from me.’

She elbowed him. ‘Want to spend the night outside in a hammock? Alone?’

Zac just laughed. Damn it. ‘A night in a hammock would be a novelty. I wonder if there’s room for two.’

She did an exaggerated eye roll. ‘Not to mention mosquitoes.’

Zac stared down at the bright blue sea as the pilot brought the helicopter around to line up with the landing pad on the resort’s lawn. ‘Isn’t it stunning?’

Olivia leaned over Zac to get a good look at the island. ‘Pretty as a picture.’

‘Yes.’ Zac’s head was right beside hers, his scent tickling her nostrils.

Pulling sideways so that she no longer touched him, she tried to ignore the buzz of excitement fizzing along her veins. Not easy in the confined space with the smell of aftershave and hot-blooded male teasing her. How was she going to remain immune to him when they’d be sharing a bure? The photos on the internet had been a reality check, like a dousing under cold water. The one large room containing an enormous bed towards the back and lounge furniture at the front looked so romantic and had set her heart racing—and that had been back at home. Couples didn’t come here to sleep in separate beds. Not unless they were Zac and her.

The helicopter touched down with a bump and Olivia snapped open the clasp on her safety belt. A big, strapping Fijian man opened the door and held out his hand to help her out. Feet firmly on the ground, she looked around and was greeted by two young girls.

‘Bula,’ they said in unison, before placing leis made of pink and yellow hibiscus flowers around her and Zac’s necks.

‘Bula,’ she replied.

Zac took her hand. ‘Welcome to paradise.’

The bure was gorgeous, made from dark wood and covered with thatch. Wide doors and large open windows let the sea breeze through. An overhead fan spun slowly. A perfect spot for a couple to enjoy themselves and each other. Even with the sex ban? A second shower stall, outside and without a roof, made her smile. ‘All the better to stargaze.’

‘Come here.’ Zac still held her hand and now he tugged her over the lawn to stand on the beach twenty metres from what was to be their home for five nights.

‘It’s going to be dark shortly,’ she sighed. The day had sped by getting here.

‘Let’s pop the cork on that bottle of champagne I saw in an ice bucket on the coffee table. We can sit out on our front porch and pretend we do this every night after a hard day at work.’

Olivia started walking backwards so she could watch Zac. ‘You’re as excited as a kid on his first holiday, aren’t you?’ His eyes shone, his mouth the most relaxed she could ever remember it.

‘I reckon. This is like my first holiday, only way better.’

‘We’ve barely started.’ She stopped so that his next step brought him right up close. Close enough to lean in and kiss that happy mouth, which she did. But when his hands spanned her waist she reluctantly pulled back. ‘Sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.’

‘Did the rule state no kissing?’ He was shaking his head at her, his smile only increasing. Was nothing going to mar his enjoyment? ‘I must’ve missed that.’

‘Maybe you didn’t put it in.’ She hoped not. Kissing Zac was too much fun not to be able to do it whenever she wanted. But then there’d be consequences. Looking around for something else to talk about, she spied two hammocks slung between nearby trees. ‘There’s your bed. You even get a choice.’

‘I am not spending my nights slapping at the mozzies, thank you very much.’ Zac caught her hand, laced his fingers through hers, then swung their joined hands up to his lips and kissed her knuckles.

Careful. That might start a fire I can’t put out. And we have rules. She slipped her hand out of Zac’s. ‘Where’s that champagne?’

He tried not to look disappointed, but she saw it and felt a heel. He’d only been having fun, and she had instigated the kiss.

Inside, Zac picked up the card leaning against the bucket in which the ice was rapidly turning to liquid. ‘Compliments of Andy and Kitty. They say thanks for the gala night and hope we have a wonderful time.’

‘That’s lovely. It’s not as though they haven’t got enough to think about at the moment.’

Minutes later they sat in front of their bure and watched the sun turning the sky red and yellow. ‘That’s an abrupt change from day to night,’ Zac commented.

‘Guess that’s the tropics for you. Hard to believe we left winter behind.’ The warm, heavy air made her clothes stick to her skin. She wouldn’t be wearing much for the next few days.

‘What’s your favourite season?’ Zac asked.

‘Summer, followed by summer. I hate being cold.’

‘Yet you bought an old villa that must be freezing in winter. Though, come to think of it, I didn’t notice a chill when I was there.’

‘First thing I did was improve the insulation in the roof and some of the walls. Then I had that firebox installed to replace the open fire. There’s also a heat pump in the hall.’

Zac chuckled. ‘I bought a very modern apartment and you went for the opposite.’

‘I love old villas. There’s something magical about them. Yes, they come with loads of problems, but get them sorted and there’s an amazing home waiting to be loved.’ She sipped her champagne. ‘There’s history in the boards. When I bought the place the vendors passed on to me a book written about the family who originally built it. The man had been an excise officer and his wife a nurse in the First World War.’

‘So you’re a history buff.’

‘Only when it comes to my property, but it’s neat knowing about the original owners.’ She laughed softly. ‘It was also a surprise finding I enjoy working on the redecorating. In spring I’m going to start putting in a garden to grow a few salad vegetables.’

‘I saw your pot plants in your hallway. Just go to the markets. That way you won’t starve.’

‘Thanks, pal.’ He was right. She always forgot to water the plants until they were drooping over the edges of their pots.

‘You grew up in Auckland, right?’

She nodded. ‘Remuera.’ One of Auckland’s most sought-after areas, where many of the city’s wealthy lived. On a street where fences were metres high, hiding a multitude of sins. ‘I went to a private school for girls, played the cello and joined the debating team.’ That was after the in-crowd had worked their number on her because her mother had followed her around dressed in identical outfits to hers, trying to look way younger than she was.

‘Was your childhood home another old house?’

She blinked, got back on track. Her mother wasn’t welcome on this holiday. ‘Yes. A massive, six-bedroom edifice with half an acre of gardens, a tennis court and a swimming pool.’

‘You played tennis?’ He didn’t hide his astonishment.

‘Me run around chasing a ball to bang it back over a net? Not likely.’

They were getting close to things she didn’t want to talk about when she was sitting in paradise. ‘I can’t wait to go snorkelling amongst the fishes.’

Zac went with her change as easily as butter melted on warm toast. ‘We should take a boat trip to Treasure Island and the marine reserve where the best array of fish is supposed to be.’

Zac had done some research before they’d left Auckland. She hadn’t had the time. ‘Five days might not be enough.’

How was he going to cope with not getting up close and naked? Zac grimaced. This magical setting was working mischief on his libido. What had he been thinking when he’d come up with that brainwave? Hadn’t been thinking, that was the trouble. Now his body was screaming out for Olivia’s, and he had no one to blame but himself.

‘Want a top-up?’ was the only lame excuse he could come up with in a hurry for getting out of the cane chair and putting some air between them for a moment.

‘Of course.’ When she handed him her glass she seemed to take desperate measures to prevent her fingers touching his.

Phew. Damn. Hell. He dragged his hand down over his hair. Less than an hour and he was a cot case. Certifiable. Had he been so desperate to come here with Olivia he’d have bargained with the devil if it had meant she’d agree? Seems like it. Didn’t make any sense, though.

Back on the porch he passed over a full glass. ‘Drink up. That ice bucket is now a water receptacle and the fridge is warmer than my toaster on full.’

‘Do we get dinner brought over? I’m kind of relaxed and comfortable now.’

And I’m in need of space and people around to break the grip you have on me. I am so not ready to spend all evening alone with you when I can’t touch you. ‘I’m thinking dining on the restaurant deck with candles under those palm trees would be special.’

‘I guess you’re right.’ When Olivia yawned there was nothing ladylike about her.

He grinned. ‘That’s it? No argument?’ Then she must be very tired.

‘If I stay here I’ll be asleep by seven, and probably awake again by midnight.’ Her throat worked as she swallowed.

‘CC? You all right?’

Olivia stood up and took a step to the edge of the porch. ‘Yeah,’ she huffed out over the lawn. ‘Good and dandy.’ Her voice sounded anything but.

Moving quietly, Zac stepped up beside her, rubbed his shoulder lightly against hers. Gave her a moment to regroup her thoughts. But his brain wasn’t quiet as it tossed up questions about this sudden mood swing. Was Olivia regretting the trip already? His stomach plummeted. Please, not that. No matter what happened after they left the island, he wanted this time with Olivia. Wanted them to have fun and be relaxed, to enjoy each other’s company. He felt rather than heard her soft sigh. A gentle lifting of her shoulder against his.

‘I’m afraid.’

Or that’s what he thought she’d whispered. Olivia afraid? Of what? Him? The urge rose to rant at her, to tell her he’d never hurt her. But reason caught him in time. If she’d ever believed he’d hurt her she wouldn’t have come near him, certainly wouldn’t be on this island with him. ‘Want to talk about it?’

‘No.’ She spoke to the dark space in front of them. Then after a minute, in a stronger tone, ‘Let’s go eat.’ Back in control of her emotions.

Which bugged the hell out of Zac. How was he supposed to get behind the walls she put up when she kept doing this? He wanted to shake her, shake out her story, then begin to help her move past whatever locked her up so tight. But one look at that jutting chin said that now wasn’t the moment. Though when would be the right time was a mystery to him. Olivia had made self-control an art form.

The only place he’d seen her enjoy herself completely, without thought for anything else, was in the sack. Light-bulb moment. Because when she’d finished she could, and did, put on her corporate-style clothes again and the control they represented.

For which he should be glad, but wasn’t.

A vision of Olivia in track pants and a sweatshirt. That night she’d started making love to him and it had been as different from any other time as north was to south. Slow and tender, giving and sharing.

For him it had been a game changer. Waking up in her bed in the morning had been a first. Lying tucked up against her back, his arm over her waist, holding her close, had been another first, and absolutely wonderful, like nothing he’d experienced before. So wonderful he’d settle for cuddling Olivia all night to wake up like that again.

Okay, he’d try, but it wouldn’t be easy. But he’d try really hard. Hard is the wrong word, buddy.

‘You plan on daydreaming all night?’ the woman causing these thoughts called from the door.

‘Why is it called daydreaming when I’m doing it at night?’

As they strolled along the lantern-lit path Zac found himself wondering for the first time ever if he was wrong to stick to his guns and deliberately deny himself a future that involved a beautiful, loving woman and maybe equally beautiful and loving children.

No, he couldn’t be wrong. How else did he justify keeping Olivia at arm’s length?

Later, Olivia slid beneath the bedcovers and tucked the sheet under her neck like a prissy girl from the convent.

Zac laughed. Long and loud. His eyes twinkled and his gorgeous mouth looked good enough to devour.

‘It’s not that funny.’ She tried not to laugh too, and only succeeded in making hysterical squawking noises instead.

‘Yeah, it is, when you think what we’ve got up to in beds before.’

That dampened down her mirth. ‘You want to change the rules.’

‘Damn right I do. I’d be lying if I said otherwise.’ He came and sat on the edge of the bed, on his side; no sign of laughter in his face now. ‘But I’m enjoying our time together. It’s like nothing we’ve ever done before and it’s …’ He waved his hand in the air between them. ‘Does fun sound boring?’

‘Fun is good.’

‘I want to get to learn more about you, what makes you tick, the things that you’d choose to do first if time was running out. Hell, I want to know everything about you. Before the gala night I didn’t know anything about you despite having spent many hours in your company.’

Wow. Really? Of course, he didn’t know what he was asking for. ‘We trained together. You can’t do that without learning some things.’ But she was ducking for cover, and that wasn’t fair. ‘Doctor things, I guess. Like how much you care about your patients, how intelligent you are, oh, and how pig-headed you can be.’

‘Thanks a bunch.’ Zac smiled. ‘Okay, random question. Do you still play the cello?’ He leaned back against the headboard and stretched his legs all the way down the bed.

She laughed. ‘No way. I sold my cello to buy an amazing pair of leather boots that were the envy of every girl at school.’ Which was why she’d wanted them. Now she bought the most amazing pairs of boots any time because she could, and loved them without needing any acknowledgement from others.

‘I bet you were good at music.’

‘Try very average on a good day. I think the music teacher only persisted with my lessons because he needed a cello in the school orchestra and no one else wanted to be hauling such a large instrument on and off the bus.’

‘Why are you doing that?’

‘What?’

‘Putting yourself down again. You’re a highly skilled surgeon, yet right now you’re sounding like you don’t believe in yourself.’

‘I’m not perfect, can’t excel at everything I do. For example, the pot plants in my house. But I am honest.’ Most of the time.

Zac reached for her hand and held it between both of his. ‘I know.’

Warm fuzzies uncurled inside her. It would be all too easy to lean her head against his chest and pretend they were a couple, a real couple with a history and a future that involved more than bedroom antics. The couple that woke up in the morning in each other’s arms.

Pulling her hand free, she shuffled further down the bed. ‘Time to get some sleep. Sunrise is early around these parts.’ As if she’d fall asleep with Zac barely inches away from her. Those pillows she’d stuffed down the middle as a barrier were a joke, and would take two seconds to get shot of. She could only hope his mental barrier was stronger. Hers was weakening.

‘Good night, Olivia.’ Zac leaned over and dropped the softest, sweetest kiss of her life on her forehead. ‘I’ll sit out on the porch for a while.’

If he was cross at her abrupt withdrawal he wasn’t showing it. But, then, he was good at hiding his feelings behind a smile or laughter. This time the smile was stretched a little too tight, and his eyes held a tinge of sadness.

‘Zac,’ she called as he reached the door leading outside. ‘Thanks.’

His eyebrow rose in query. ‘For?’

‘Being you, caring and understanding.’

Understanding? Zac growled under his breath. Newsflash, CC, I don’t understand a thing. Whatever’s going on between us is a complete mystery. What I want is no longer clear. I feel like I’m walking in deep mud and every now and then stepping onto a dry patch. A brief moment of hope before sliding back into the mire.

His right foot pushed against the ground to set the hammock swinging. Stretched full length, he linked his hands together behind his head. The dark sky twinkled with so many stars it was as though a kid had lit up a whole pack of sparklers. The hammock was unbelievably comfortable. So far the mosquitoes hadn’t found him. Hopefully when they did, he’d put enough insect repellent on what little skin was exposed to deter them.

His heart was back in the bure, lying next to Olivia. His mind was seeing the despair and fear that sometimes altered her expression and briefly filled those eyes that usually reminded him of flowers. Whatever had caused her grief, she wasn’t prepared to talk about it. Yet.

Come on. Why should she choose to bare her soul to him?

Because they were connected. They mightn’t have known it before but the threads were becoming more obvious by the day. They both had issues holding them back from getting into a serious relationship. What Olivia’s troubles were he had no idea, but they were there. He recognised his own stock standard coping mechanisms in her now that he’d started looking for them.

He wanted to hold her, protect her for ever.

Kind of strange for a guy who had no plans to commit to settling down. Yet all the reasons for why he shouldn’t were slipping away, one by one dropping off the edge, leaving him exposed and cautious yet strangely ready to try for the rainbow.

Was Olivia the pot of gold at the end of his rainbow?

No. There wasn’t any rainbow. The hardest lesson of his life had been that night of the accident when he’d learned his parents didn’t love him unconditionally. Didn’t love him enough to support and help him through the trauma of what he’d done. Sometimes he wondered if they’d loved him and Mark at all; as in deep, for ever, parent kind of love. Their careers had been their priority, taking all their time and concentration, with nothing left over for their sons. Why did they have children? They clearly hadn’t wanted to be with their sons. Zac had asked his grandfather about it on numerous occasions but Grampy hadn’t been able to come up with a satisfactory answer. Not one he was prepared to tell his grandson anyway.

Zac swallowed the usual bile that came from thinking about his parents. Coming from a dysfunctional family, the odds were he’d be bad at parenting too. Another reason not to settle down with a wonderful woman and contemplate the picket-fence scenario.

Zac’s sigh was long and slow. Around him everything had gone quiet, and lights were being turned off. With nothing to do after dinner most people would be settled in their bures. He pushed with his foot again, swinging the hammock high, sighing as the movement slowed and the arc became less and less. Beyond the edge of the lawn the waves rolled up the sand, then pulled away, rolled in, pulled away.

‘Zac, come inside.’

Someone was shaking his arm gently.

‘Come on. Wake up. You’re getting wet from the dew.’

Hauling his eyelids up, he saw her leaning over him, her long hair framing her face. ‘Olivia.’ His Olivia.

‘The one and only.’ She tugged at him. ‘You can’t spend the whole night out here.’

Swinging his legs over the side, he awkwardly pushed out of the hammock. ‘What time is it?’

‘One o’clock.’ She took his hand and led him inside to that damned bed with its row of pillows down the middle.

Zac shucked out of his shirt and trousers, jerked the bedcover back and threw the pillows on the floor. Dropping into bed, he reached for Olivia where she now lay on her side, facing him. ‘Roll over,’ he whispered. ‘I want to hold you all night.’

If only it were that easy.

CHAPTER TEN

AT THE END of the next day Zac stretched his legs out and laced his fingers behind his head. He would not think about night number two and lying beside Olivia again. Nope, he’d have a drink and watch the sunset. ‘Come on, woman, bring me that beer you promised.’

‘Sack the last slave, did you?’

‘Hell, no. She’s good for bed gymnastics.’ So much for not thinking about bed.

‘For that you’re going to have to wait. Or, novel idea, get your own drink.’ Olivia laughed. ‘I’m changing out of my bikini.’

Phew. Those two narrow strips of red fabric had kept his head in a spin all day. Had had him swimming in the sea four times, and in the pool once. Then there’d been the cold shower half an hour ago. He’d even taken a kayak out to paddle around the island. Anything to keep busy and the need strumming through his veins under control. Huh. As if. One look at Olivia and his blood was boiling and his crotch tightening. This sex ban would be his undoing. Who knew what state he’d be in by the time he got back to Auckland? Ruined for ever, probably.

‘Here.’

An icy bottle appeared before his eyes. ‘Thank you, and whoever’s responsible for these things.’ Then he made the mistake of looking at Olivia and pressed the bottom of the bottle over his manhood. The bikini would’ve been preferable.

‘You’re staring.’ She sank onto the deckchair beside him. ‘You don’t like my dress?’

While the skimpy piece of floral material did cover more of that exquisite body than the bikini had, the way the fabric draped was plain punishing. Mouth-watering, muscle-tightening, hormone-fizzing, blood-heating cruel. ‘You call that a dress?’ he hissed over dry lips.

She laughed, low and sexy. ‘Well, it’s not a T-shirt.’

How in hell was he to sit here drinking beer and not choke? Then he had to take her to dinner where every male on the island was going to gag, and their women would beat them around the head. ‘You’re a danger to mankind.’

‘I’ll change before dinner. Put a T-shirt on.’

‘Does that come with trousers?’ The beer was cold in his over-hot mouth; cool as it slid past the lump in his throat. One bottle wasn’t enough. Holding out his empty one, he growled in a mock bossy tone, ‘Another one, as soon as possible.’ His eyes were fixed on the horizon, glazed over for all he could see. His imagination was so busy dealing with pictures of Olivia’s hot bod and that handkerchief that was apparently a dress, nothing else about him seemed to be in good working order. Except the one muscle he wasn’t allowed to use.

‘Here you go, sir.’ A bottle held around the neck by slim fingers waved in front of his face.

He was going insane. Had to be. Grabbing the bottle, he raised it to his lips and gulped. Do something. Talk about anything, just get your brain working. Glancing around, he came up with, ‘So you’re not into spiders.’

Olivia shuddered. ‘Not at all, but until today I thought one the size of my thumbnail was a problem. But those things hanging over the path in webs wider than our bed?’ Another shudder. ‘Ugh. You were my hero, clearing those monsters out of the way.’

Our bed? This wasn’t helping. He tried again. ‘The outlook from the top of the hill showed how small the island is.’ Not exactly scintillating conversation. ‘It’s hard to imagine living on such a tiny spot in the ocean. I’d go stir-crazy if this was home for me.’

‘I guess if you’re born here it’s what you’re used to.’

‘Have you ever thought how lucky we are just because of where we were born?’ Deep, Zac, boy. And diverting. ‘Imagine how different our lives would be if we’d been born in the Sahara, or on the Indian continent.’

‘I’d have five kids and look ready to retire, except that wouldn’t be an option.’ Olivia grinned. ‘You’re right. It does come down to luck.’

‘I’m going to give that fishing a crack tomorrow. Donny—he’s the gardener—is lending me a hand line.’

The guy had strolled up to him as he’d watched the local men work the sudden rush of fish churning up the water at the shoreline and told him, ‘Trevally chase the Pacific sardines into the beach in a feeding frenzy. It happens about twice a day at this time of year.’

‘Do the men catch many?’ Zac had asked.

‘Good days and bad days. No one relies on trevallies as a regular supply of food for the family.’

‘I’ve never seen anyone use a hand line and no rod. The skin on those men’s hands must be tough.’ Zac had introduced himself and before he’d known it he’d had a fishing date for tomorrow. ‘I haven’t fished since I was a kid and Grampy took me out.’

Olivia was chuckling. ‘This I have to see. The immaculate surgeon getting his hands stinky from fish.’

‘I’m taking that as a positive sign. You obviously think I’ll catch one.’

‘And if you do? What will you do with it?’

He hadn’t thought that far ahead. ‘Ask the chef to cook it for us? Other people must’ve caught fish and taken them to the kitchen.’

‘Talking of kitchens, shall we stroll across to the outdoor lounge for a cocktail before dinner? I’ve never had one but this seems the place to give it a try.’

‘Good idea.’ Hopefully there’d be some diversions from that dress. ‘You’ll get one of those tacky little umbrellas to keep as a souvenir.’ He grinned.

‘Thought I’d start with a mimosa.’ She returned his grin.

‘Start? Are we in for a session?’

She shook her head, that shiny mane sliding over her shoulders. ‘You want me off my face and losing my mind?’

If it meant forgetting their promise—then, yes. But if he was being a gentleman—then, no.

‘I’ve caught one,’ Zac shouted triumphantly early the next morning as he wound the hand line in as fast as possible.

‘What? A sardine?’ Olivia teased. She’d strolled down the beach to join him, after opting for a leisurely start to the day by reading in bed after Donny had knocked on the door to tell Zac the fish were running.

‘A damned big trevally,’ Zac scowled. ‘This nylon’s hard on the hands.’

‘Toughen up. You don’t see the locals complaining.’ Looking along the beach, she could see two Fijian men also winding in taut lines. ‘You’ve got to get in the water and use your foot to scoop the fish up onto the sand.’

‘Glad I’ve got an expert telling me what to do.’ He started walking backwards up the beach, hauling his catch out of the water. ‘Look at that beauty.’

Trying not to laugh, she bent down to admire Zac’s fish. ‘Should keep a toddler from starving.’

‘Any time you want to go read your book again feel free. This is man stuff. Where’s Donny?’

‘Donny,’ Olivia called to the man standing further up the beach. ‘Zac’s caught something.’

As he wandered close Donny nodded. ‘Not bad for a first time.’

‘I guess that means I’m going to release it back into the water.’ Zac sighed, and carefully removed the hook.

‘Wait, photo opportunity.’ Olivia snapped a quick shot as Zac ignored the camera.

‘Wait till I get a proper fish.’ He held the fish in the water until it swam away, then threw the line as far beyond the churning water as possible so he could draw the hook through the seething trevally.

Olivia sat down, her elbows on her knees, and watched him. Never had she seen him so relaxed. He was concentrating so much he didn’t notice her snap a couple more photos. This holiday was showing her a different Zac. She particularly liked the one who’d tossed those pillows aside to hold her against him while they’d tried to go to sleep.

The climate had done a line on them, spoiling that hug, though probably saving her from having to haul the brakes on the raw need that had begun filling her. The humidity had made her skin slick and her body uncomfortably hot in a way that had had nothing to do with sex. They’d rolled apart after twenty minutes. Unbelievably, she’d fallen into a deep sleep not long after. Had to be because she’d felt so secure with this Zac who could take a night off the passion. She’d never spent a night just sleeping with a man. That spoke of intimacies too close for comfort, yet now she craved it with Zac more than anything.

A shudder ripped through her, disturbing in its intensity. Was she seriously in danger of falling for him? Unlikely. She only had to think of her parents’ marriage to knock those ideas into place.

Zac tossed a fist in the air. ‘Got another one.’

Olivia jumped up and went to stand beside him, eager to enjoy the moment and drop the past for a while. If only it was that easy to dump for ever.

Zac was focused intently on getting his catch on shore. ‘Want fish for breakfast?’

‘Breakfast of any kind would be good.’

Zac wound furiously. ‘This one’s definitely bigger than the last baby.’

‘That’s a good trevally,’ Donny agreed minutes later.

‘Will the chef cook it for me?’ Zac asked.

‘Yes, or my wife could use it to make you a traditional Fijian meal to have at our house tonight.’

‘Really? Your family would join us?’ When Donny nodded, he continued, ‘That would be fantastic.’

Olivia asked, ‘What do we bring?’

‘Nothing. We eat at five thirty because our grandson goes to bed early.’

‘You have a grandchild living with you? Bet you love that.’

‘His mother’s our daughter. She does the massages in the spa.’

Olivia smiled. ‘Then I’ll meet her this afternoon. I’m booked in for a full body massage at two o’clock.’

Zac laughed. ‘Think she’ll be better than me?’

She looked away to hide the sudden flush creeping up her cheeks. ‘No comment.’

Donny and his wife, Lauan, greeted Olivia and Zac warmly, welcoming them into the small thatch bungalow crowded with relatives. It felt as if half the island’s population was there. The fish hadn’t been that big, Olivia thought as she sat down on the woven flax mat in front of a larger one with plates stacked at one end.

Zac was soon chatting with the men and Olivia tried to look around without appearing nosey. Apart from her, all the other females were seated behind the circle enclosing that mat. ‘Lauan,’ she said quietly. ‘I can sit with you.’

Lauan shook her head. ‘You’re a visitor.’

Yes, but I’d love to be with the women. Unfortunately it would be rude to protest. ‘I’ve been looking forward to coming here all day. How do you cook the fish?’

‘I wrap it in banana leaves to steam over the open fire. There is coconut milk added, and potatoes. Thank your husband for the fish.’

Husband? To the locals they probably did appear to be a married couple. ‘I will.’

Lauan squatted beside her. ‘I’ve also made a chicken stew with carrots, potatoes, and broccoli.’ She rolled her eyes softly. ‘Too many people for one fish. But they all wanted to meet you.’

Thinking of the scrawny chickens she’d seen pecking around the base of the trees behind the resort, Olivia wondered if one chook would go any further than the fish. All part of the adventure. ‘I’m happy to meet you all.’ She nodded to the women.

Two of them disappeared into another room and soon large plates of steaming food were being placed on the mat.

‘That smells delicious,’ Olivia said.

‘Doesn’t it,’ Zac agreed. Leaning closer, he asked, ‘You okay?’

‘Absolutely. I’m glad you caught that sucker, or we might never have had this opportunity.’ She took the plate of food handed to her and looked for cutlery, feeling silly when there wasn’t any. When in Fiji do as the Fijians do. But as she placed a piece of fish in her mouth a fork appeared in front of her.

‘For you.’

Zac got one too. ‘Thanks, but I’ll use my fingers.’

The food was simple and tasty, the vegetables so fresh they must’ve been picked only hours ago. ‘Sometimes I think we forget the pleasure of plain food.’ Olivia noticed a child peeking around at her from behind Donny.

‘Hello. What’s your name?’

The child ducked back.

Remembering Donny’s earlier conversation on the beach, she asked Lauan, ‘Your grandson?’

‘Yes. Josaia. He’s shy.’

‘I hope he comes over to say hello while we’re here.’

‘After dinner.’

But it seemed Josaia couldn’t wait to take another peek, and Olivia winked at him.

When he winked back she felt she’d won a prize. Her mouth widened into a smile and she was rewarded with one in return. When dinner was finished she did get to see the boy properly when he came close to pick up the empty plates at his grandmother’s bidding. Olivia’s heart rolled. One of his arms was stiff and awkward, and his left cheek marred by terrible scarring.

Josaia knew she’d seen and his smile vanished as he twisted his head away from her. When he reached out for her plate she picked it up and placed it in his hand. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘Where do you go to school?’

Donny was watching her guardedly. ‘The kids go to the mainland for school.’

That didn’t answer her specific question but she knew when to mind her own business.

Josaia disappeared with his load of plates, and she suspected she wouldn’t be seeing him again tonight.

Donny tugged his shoulders back. ‘He doesn’t go to school because other children tease him. I try to teach him, but he’s missing out on so much.’

What had happened to cause that disfiguring scar? She felt sure he hadn’t seen a plastic surgeon. That wound had been too crudely sutured. Maybe she could help in some way. But was it her place to ask? It might be better coming from Zac. Man-to-man stuff. Leaning sideways, she gave him a wee nudge and got the slightest of nods.

He asked, ‘Did Josaia have an accident here on the island?’

The older man nodded, his eyes so sad Olivia felt her heart slow. He’s broken-hearted for his grandson. ‘Last year Josaia was swimming with a group of his mates when a tourist joined them, asking about the fish and where he should go to try out his spear gun.’

Zac asked softly, ‘Josaia was shot with a spear gun?’

Olivia stifled a gasp. Josaia is lucky to be alive. She slipped her hand between Zac’s arm and his side, wrapped her fingers around his elbow.

Zac continued in the same low, calm voice. ‘Where was Josaia treated?’

‘On the mainland. In the hospital. It’s a good hospital, but no one knew what to do for my grandson. I begged the doctors send him to Australia or New Zealand. They said it wasn’t possible, and Josaia would be all right once they stitched him up and set his broken bones.’ Tears streamed down the proud man’s face. ‘I begged them to rethink. He’s only seven.’

‘There’s nothing wrong with him.’ Lauan’s voice was sharp and angry. ‘But you’d think he was a leper from the way boys who used to be his friends laugh at him now.’

‘That’s so hard for anyone, but especially a child.’

‘He was always so popular until the accident.’ Donny stared at a spot on the dining mat. ‘His mother works hard to raise money to take him away for help. His father works in Australia to make money.’

‘When was the last time Josaia saw his dad?’ Olivia asked, her heart thudding.

‘Christmas.’

Seven months ago. What sort of life was that for a young boy? Not to have his dad there had to be hard. Olivia knew about that. She wanted to slap the floor and say she’d see that Josaia got whatever he needed and as soon as possible, but despite the urgent need to help this boy she held her tongue. She’d talk this through with Zac first.

Zac knew Olivia was barely holding herself together for the remainder of their time with Donny’s family. He could see the sadness in her face, feel the need for her to do something to rectify what had happened with Josaia. But most of all he understood how much she was struggling to hold it all in so that she didn’t make rash promises she mightn’t be able keep and thereby hurt the family further.

The meal was over early by their standards. As they walked away from their hosts Zac draped an arm over Olivia’s shoulders. ‘I’d like a drink.’

‘I could go a cup of tea.’

‘We can discuss what you’re desperate to do for Josaia.’

‘That poor kid. I bet the worst part of the whole deal is the way his old friends are now treating him. Children are cruel.’ She shuddered.

‘Insecurities, jealousy, wanting to be popular with the in-crowd. Anything and everything. Even plain old nastiness.’ The sudden tension in her fingers suggested she’d had her share of being on the outside. But of course. She’d said she’d worked hard to be liked and be a part of the group at med school. ‘This is why you want to help Josaia? Apart from the medical point of view?’

They’d reached the outdoor lounge at the main building by the time she answered. ‘That boy is surrounded by people who love him, but they’re all adults. There don’t appear to be any children in his life. At first I thought that was because it was the end of the day and everyone would be at home, except when we walked to Donny’s house there were kids playing behind the huts.’

‘Then we saw his face and heard the despair in his grandparents’ voices.’

‘You’re onto it.’

Zac pulled out a chair for Olivia at an outside table. ‘What are you having?’

A wicked twinkle lit up her eyes, banishing that sadness for a boy she’d barely met. ‘You know what? Forget tea. Make that a cocktail.’ She looked around. ‘Where’s a menu?’

‘What about PS I …’ His voice trailed off at the realisation of what he’d been about to say. It was only the name of a drink, but the import of the words he hadn’t finished were slowly sinking in, one by one, adding up to a frightening whole.

‘Zac? What’s up? Are you all right?’

The concern in her tone wound around him, added to his confusion. Had he really been going to say ‘PS I love you’? Shaking his head, he sank onto a chair, putting a gap between them. But her eyes followed, as did that floral scent she wore. Or was that the smell of the frangipani growing a metre away?

‘Zac.’ Her eyes widened. ‘You’re worrying me.’

‘I’m fine.’ Really? This palpitating heart thing is fine? The knot in your gut is A-okay? The sweat on your palms due to the humidity? ‘Sorry. There’s a cocktail made with amaretto, Kahlúa, and Irish cream that’s perfect for after dinner. Very creamy and sweet, like a dessert, which you’ve missed out on tonight.’ Blah, blah, blah. Shoving up onto his feet, he asked, ‘Will that do?’ Ordering drinks would give him the space he needed right now.

‘Sounds good.’ Olivia nodded, looking perplexed. As well she should. Did she know she was with a lunatic?

Moving through the tables full of happy diners, Zac tried to ignore the questions battering his brain. He’d been enjoying getting to know Olivia better, happy being with her, wanted more time together. So why the hell hadn’t he ever considered he might be falling for her?

Because love spelt commitment. Commitment isn’t the problem. No. It wasn’t. It’s the responsibility. That went with any relationship, whether the other person was his best friend, his lover, or his brother. He loved Mark, had done from the day his tiny, wriggly body had been placed in his arms. Yet he’d still managed to screw up in a very big way, changing Mark’s life for ever.

‘Yes, sir. What would you like?’

Zac shook his head and stared across the bar at the woman waiting patiently for him to tell her what drinks he wanted. ‘A whisky on the rocks. Make it a double. And do you know a cocktail called PS I Love You?’

She frowned. ‘Not sure, but we’ve got a book describing most cocktails.’

When Zac told her the ingredients she smiled. ‘We call it Love on the Wind. I’ll bring the drinks across to you.’

He wasn’t ready to return to Olivia. ‘I’ll have that whisky now.’ And ordered a second to take with him.

Olivia watched him placing her glass on the table, returning to his seat. He waited for her to ask why he’d taken so long, and was grateful when she didn’t.

‘Where do we start with Josaia’s case? Talk to his family, or go to the mainland to check out the hospital and see if I can do a surgery there?’

‘Why not take him back to Auckland for the operation? If there’s going to be one. You’ve only seen that horrendous scar from across the room in dim light. There might be nothing you can do.’

She sipped her Love on the Wind—he would not think of it as PS I Love You—and smiled. Her tongue did a lap of her lips. ‘That’s amazing.’

So was the way his heart squeezed and his insides softened. Of course his libido sat up to attention. That was a given around this woman. What was extraordinary was that she didn’t know about this new effect she was having on him. He’d have sworn there were signs written all over his face. ‘Glad you like it. About Josaia and what to do first.’ He had to talk, about anything except them, and talk lots.

Olivia said, ‘Operating back home might be preferable so we get the best people on side for Josaia. It’s going to involve huge expense for the family, though. Hospital costs, accommodation, flights, and other incidentals I can’t think of right now.’

‘I doubt there’s a lot of spare money in that household.’ He locked his eyes on hers. ‘You’re going to throw in your time for free.’

‘Of course.’

‘I want to look at that shoulder. There might be something I can do there.’ See, he could move on from those other thoughts that had swamped his brain. ‘First we’ll talk to Donny. If he’s willing to take this further, we’ll decide how to go about it.’

Olivia’s hand covered his, and her fingers curled around his. ‘We have a plan.’

‘You like plans, don’t you?’

‘They keep me centred.’

So what was her plan for the rest of the night? It wouldn’t be what he hoped for. She’d be keeping to the other plan. Zac drained his glass, trying not to bemoan the fact he’d set the rule in the first place.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

THE ARRAY OF fish in every colour imaginable stole Olivia’s breath away when she sank beneath the sea’s surface off Treasure Island. She automatically reached out for Zac’s hand and tugged him down beside her. ‘Unbelievable,’ she spluttered in her mouthpiece, even though he couldn’t hear her.

When Zac looked her way she saw the same amazement in his face. When he started stroking through the water, heading further out from the shore, she followed. She’d never seen anything like this. When Zac paused she swam up beside him to lean in against his body. Skin to skin underwater. Delicious and exciting. And then there were the fish. One big, fat, enjoyable picture.

Olivia kicked her flippers slowly so as not to disturb the dainty creatures too much and followed a group of yellow and blue fish. Then a larger orange one swam through the middle, scattering the others. Yellow and blue fish. Orange fish. She grinned. Very technicolour. Down here it was like a moving painting: sharp colours, delicate manoeuvres, majestic shapes—and innocence. As though these creatures had no enemies. Which was probably far from the truth, though at least they were safe from mankind. This was a sanctuary, and the results were stunning. The numbers and varieties of fish were unbelievable.

‘That’s magic down there.’ Zac echoed her thoughts when they finally crawled out of the water and flopped onto the sand.

‘I’ve been missing out on so much by not travelling.’ She lay on her back, arms and legs spread in the sun. ‘It’s one of those things on my to-do-one-day list. Think it’s time to make that a do-it-now list.’

‘Shame your mother hated flying.’

‘Didn’t matter.’ Olivia sat up and started brushing off the sand, which was scratchy on her skin. ‘Dad left when I was twelve.’

‘That’s tough.’

She swallowed hard. ‘Mum was—is—an alcoholic.’ Swallow. She couldn’t look at Zac. ‘As in often totally crazy, uncontrollable, off-the-rails alcoholic. Dad ran out of patience.’

‘How the hell did you cope?’ Zac’s hand covered hers.

‘Not sure I did, really.’ Spill the rest. ‘I tried becoming a part of the school in-crowd so that I could forget what went on at home. Failed big-time because of Mum. Everyone knew what she was.’

‘Where did the cello fit in?’ Zac was giving her breathing space.

‘When I didn’t make it as an in-person I went for the nerd brigade.’ She huffed out a tight laugh. ‘That probably saved me, considering where some of the girls I’d desperately wanted to befriend ended up while I was at med school.’

‘Why medicine?’

She shrugged. ‘No idea. It was just something I wanted to do. As a little girl my dolls were always covered in plasters and bandages.’

‘At least you’d have been sure of your choice, then.’

‘You weren’t?’

Zac grimaced. ‘I started university intending to become an engineer.’

‘What changed your mind?’

‘Seeing my brother going through rehab and getting no end of help from doctors along the way made me think I’d be happier doing medicine.’

‘Your parents didn’t sway you?’

‘Put it this way, Dad’s an engineer at the top of his game, being the CEO for one of the country’s largest steelworks.’

‘You wanted to follow him into the business?’

‘No, I wanted to gain acknowledgement that I was his son.’

Reaching for his hand, Olivia said, ‘That’s the wrong reason to choose a career.’

‘I was desperate.’

She shuddered. ‘I understand.’ Seemed she wasn’t the only one with difficult parents. ‘Being an only child, I was never really treated as a kid even before Dad left.’ Not wanting to spoil a wonderful day with talk of her childhood, she said, ‘Let’s go eat lunch by the pool. All that fish-gazing has made me hungry.’

Zac scrambled to his feet and held out his hand, hauling her upright with one easy, fluid movement. ‘I could murder a beer. Think I’ve swallowed a litre of salt water.’

‘Yuk.’ Around at the front of the resort Olivia dived into the pool, eager to get rid of the salt and sand on her skin. When she hauled herself up over the side Zac was sitting at a nearby table, beer in hand, and his gaze fixed on her. Suddenly her bikini felt nonexistent. A pool attendant handed her a towel and she quickly dried off before pulling on a sleeveless shirt and shorts and joining Zac under the coconut palms. ‘Food and water, I think.’

Zac pushed a bottle and glass towards her. ‘Sparkling water, as requested.’

Turning her hand over, she slipped her fingers between his and enjoyed the moment. This was something she hadn’t known before. She had never spent time just holding a man’s hand without sex being the ultimate goal. Unbelievable how wonderful it felt. Full of promise without any expectations.

A group of children was leaping into the deep end of the pool, splashing half the contents over the side while shrieking their heads off.

‘They’re fun but I’m glad glad we’re not staying here on Treasure Island when Tokoriki is a no-go zone for kids,’ Zac commented. ‘I don’t mean anything nasty by that, but as a childless adult I don’t really want to share my rare break with other people’s offspring.’

‘I get it.’ She took a risk. ‘You think you’ll ever have children? Once you find a life partner, I mean.’

Zac’s eyes widened, and his mouth alternated between a smile and a grimace. ‘Now, there’s a loaded question. Or two.’

‘It wasn’t meant as such.’ Wasn’t it? ‘Just wondering if you were planning on having a family and a house in the burbs.’ Geez, what would she answer if he turned the question back at her?

The level in his beer glass dropped as he drank and stared at the kids in the pool. ‘You know what? I’d love to have children of my own.’ The surprise in his voice told her plenty.

‘Isn’t that a natural thing for most people to want?’

‘Yeah, but after Mark’s accident I decided I wasn’t having a family. Too easy to hurt them.’ Again he raised his glass to his lips and sipped the beer thoughtfully. ‘I think I’ve been wrong. I do want children.’ His head jerked backwards as though he couldn’t quite get his mind around this revelation.

Little Zacs. Olivia let the breath that had stalled in her lungs dribble over her lips, and tried to ignore the band of longing winding around her heart. Pick me for their mother. She spluttered and almost spat water down her shirt. Where had that little gem come from? Having children meant getting married and that would never happen. ‘Where’s that waitress? I want to order lunch.’

Zac shook his head and looked around. He must’ve spotted someone who could help because he raised a hand and waved, before doing what she’d hoped he wouldn’t. ‘What about you? Obviously you’d want more than one child if you felt you’d missed out not having a sibling.’

She went for her standard reply, not prepared to reveal her deep but well-hidden longing that she barely acknowledged to herself. ‘I’ve worked too hard to get where I am with my career to be taking time out for babies. Women I’ve talked to say that has set them back on the career pathway, and I’m not prepared to do that.’

Zac watched her, while behind those eyes she knew his brain would be working overtime. ‘I don’t buy it. That’s the press-release version. What’s the real story behind answering the same question you threw at me?’

He had a valid point. She hadn’t minded asking him where he was headed on the subject of family, so she should be able to take it in return. Except she couldn’t. They’d moved beyond the couple that used to have crazy sex all the time with no stopping for conversations. Now there was more between them they were learning about each other and she definitely liked the man she was getting to know. More than liked. But to reveal everything about her sorry upbringing was going too far. From years of learning to shut up those memories, they were now firmly locked away and she doubted the words were there. ‘I—’

‘Excuse me.’ The waitress chose to arrive right then.

Phew. Not a reprieve but a few minutes to consider how to get around this without upsetting Zac and the easy way that had grown between them. Because that was important. She did not want to lose any ground they’d gained.

‘Another water?’ Zac asked.

‘Yes, and I’ll have the red snapper with salad.’

The waitress hadn’t even turned away before Zac was saying, ‘There’s a question on the table, CC.’

Might as well get this over. ‘I got Mum’s undivided attention. She put all her love onto me. Except it was conditional and ugly.’ Her sigh was bitter and very out of place in such a wonderful setting. ‘Parenting takes special people and I’m not one of them.’

‘Am I allowed to argue that point with you?’ His voice was soft, gentle, almost a caress that said, I’m here for you.

‘Afraid not. It’s pointless.’

His mouth tightened. She’d hurt him.

Reaching for his hand, she said, ‘I need to drop this, Zac. Seriously. I’m sorry if you think I don’t trust you enough to talk about it. It’s me I don’t trust. My judgement about everything that happened in my family is warped and I’m just not ready to dissect it. I probably never will be, okay?’

His chin dipped in acknowledgement, though his eyes said he was still there for her if she changed her mind.

Squeezing those strong fingers that were curled around her hand, Olivia asked, ‘Can we relax and make the most of sitting next to a sparkling pool on a tropical island? Leave the other stuff out of the picture?’ She’d get down on her knees if that would help.

Zac leaned forward and placed his lips on her mouth. ‘Yes,’ he breathed as he kissed her.

As far as kisses went this one was tame, but it wound through her like a silky ribbon, touching, comforting, telling her that she wasn’t alone with those deep fears any more. Had this Zac always been there? Should she have scratched the surface of him right back at the beginning, on that very first night they’d fallen into his bed, exhausted after making out in his lounge and still eager for more? No, she didn’t think so. They would never have revealed anything about themselves back then. Talking hadn’t fit the mix of what had made their affair so exciting. ‘Thank you,’ she murmured into his kiss.

They were interrupted with cutlery being placed on the table and the waitress asking if she could get them anything else while they waited for their meals.

‘No, thanks.’ Zac sat back, a smile tipping that gorgeous mouth upwards. His eyes locked on Olivia’s. ‘We’ve got everything we need.’

‘The trevally are here,’ Olivia called from the edge of the lawn in front of their bure an hour after they returned to Tokoriki.

Zac grabbed the fishing line and raced down to the beach, calling at Olivia as he passed her, ‘Watch this. I’m going to catch dinner.’

‘You sure you weren’t a caveman in a previous life?’ She laughed.

‘Weren’t we all?’ He unravelled the line and threw it as far as possible.

‘I don’t know. This whole “me man, me like hunting-gathering thing”—it’s like men are born that way. I prefer going to a supermarket.’

Winding the line in as Donny had taught him, he grinned. ‘The urge lurks below the skin, waiting for opportunities to show our women what wonderful providers and protectors we are.’

‘So when women fish or hunt, what are they proving?’

‘You’ve just flipped the argument. If I said that women are trying to prove they’re as good as us I’d get my head knocked off, right?’

‘I’ll go and get my club.’

‘Before you do, I admit that there are females who love all that outdoor activity as much as their menfolk, and some of them are very good at shooting deer or pig and catching a fish.’

A soft punch was delivered to his bicep. Olivia nodded along the beach. ‘The score so far is locals three, visitor none.’

Zac tapped his chest with his fist. ‘She wounds so easily.’ He loved it when she was being cheeky and not considering every word before uttering it.

‘If you can feel anything on the end of your line it’s probably a pebble. There’s your hook.’ She peered at the water’s edge, her grin wicked, making his toes curl with longing.

‘This time.’ He hurled the line out once more and began winding it back in.

‘I don’t think so,’ Olivia said beside him.

‘How do you know?’

Throw it out, bring it in. There was a timeless rhythm to this and, yes, he was enjoying fishing with the men.

‘You’ve got another pebble.’

It took a second but he finally remembered where he was and what he was doing. ‘This time,’ he assured the disbelieving woman.

‘Hey, Donny,’ Olivia called. ‘Zac’s last fish must’ve been beginner’s luck.’

Glancing over his shoulder, Zac nodded to the Fijian. ‘Donny, don’t listen to a word she says. I’ve got this.’

He was relieved the man had shown up. He and Olivia had agreed this might be the best place to talk to Donny about Josaia. Olivia had also suggested that he do the talking at first, man to man, so to speak.

Zac heard Olivia say, ‘Hello, Josaia,’ and his disappointment rose. They could not talk about surgery in front of the boy. Damn.

But Olivia had her ways. ‘Josaia, can you help me find a shell to take home? One of those small conches would be good.’ She waited for Josaia’s reply, looking at him as she would any other child.

‘I know where the best shells are.’ He spoke hesitantly, as though expecting Olivia to withdraw from him any second.

‘Cool. Let’s go. Hopefully, by the time we get back Zac will have finally caught a fish.’

‘Granddad catches them all the time.’ Josaia bounced along beside Olivia, looking up at her so often he tripped over his own feet.

Donny watched them walk away. ‘She’s kind.’

‘She is. She’s also genuine.’

‘I can see that. So can Josaia. He wouldn’t have gone with her otherwise. He’s learned to be wary of people’s empty gestures.’ Sadness lined Donny’s statement.

Flicking the line out again, Zac said without preamble, ‘You know we’re doctors?’

‘I wondered. Neither of you flinched when you saw Josaia, like you’re used to seeing disfiguring scars.’

Zac was relieved. He’d thought he might’ve shown his feelings for the kid’s predicament far too much. ‘Olivia’s a plastic surgeon.’

Donny turned to stare after his grandson again. ‘What about you? Do you work in the same field?’

‘I’m an orthopaedic surgeon.’

The man spun around to stare at him. ‘Are you pulling my leg? Because if you are and my grandson learns …’ He spluttered to a stop, unable to voice his anger.

Placing a hand on Donny’s arm, Zac said, ‘I am speaking the truth. We want to help Josaia.’

Donny gasped a few deep breaths, rubbed his forearm across his face. ‘We don’t have enough money. That’s why our son-in-law works in Australia. He’s trying to save for an operation for Josaia but …’ Donny shook his head.

The line was getting into a tangle since Zac had stopped winding. Concentrating on sorting it out, he told the proud man, ‘Let’s start at the beginning and work from there. If it’s okay with you, we’d like to look at Josaia’s injuries and request copies of his medical records.’

His statement was met with silence. Could he have approached Donny differently? Might as well lay it all out. If he’d got it wrong then he had nothing to lose. ‘We think it’s probably best if Josaia has surgery in Auckland, where both of us practise.’

‘You make it sound so easy.’

‘I do know a thing or two about the New Zealand health system.’

Donny gripped Zac’s hand. ‘Thank you. I am glad you caught that trevally. It has brought my family much good luck.’

Zac grinned. ‘Maybe that’s why I haven’t caught one today. There’s only so much luck out there and we’ve used up our share for a while.’

Once Donny had talked with his wife and daughter, and explained everything to Josaia, he brought the lad to the bure.

‘At the time of the accident we were told by a visiting doctor that plastic surgery would make the scar less visible and the lumps could be removed.’

‘Has Josaia seen anyone else about this?’

‘There aren’t any plastic surgeons in Fiji. But, please, you can look today. Josaia likes you, he won’t be a problem.’

‘He found me a shell to take home.’ She’d treasure it, as long as she could take it through quarantine at Auckland Airport. ‘Hey, Josaia, can I touch your cheek?’

The boy nodded solemnly.

The muscle was tight and knobbly under her fingers. ‘Open your mouth wide,’ she instructed Josaia. Inside there was further scarring. ‘I can do something to improve this.’ She stepped back to allow Zac space.

‘Josaia, show me how far you can move your arm,’ Zac instructed.

Donny talked as his grandson moved his arm back and forth. ‘It’s tight. He can’t move it far. Tendons were severed by the arrow of the gun and sewn back together shorter than before.’

‘Will you make me better?’ Josaia asked them, his eyes wide with hope.

Olivia answered, ‘Would you like us to try?’

He nodded. ‘Yes, please.’

‘You would have to go to hospital again.’

‘Will it hurt?’

Zac nodded. ‘Yes, I’m sorry, but we’ll give you something to stop most of the pain.’

Donny spoke quietly. ‘I would like to accept your help, but how do we pay for this?’

Olivia wanted to wrap him in her arms and say Don’t worry, everything will be all right, except she didn’t want to trample on this family’s pride. So she dodged some of the question. ‘If we go ahead, would it be all right with you if we did the operations as a gift to Josaia?’

Donny blinked, ran a hand over his face. ‘Why would you do that?’

‘Part of what I like about being a doctor is helping people, giving them second chances, and Josaia deserves one.’ Goodness, she’d be crying next.

Zac must’ve sensed her problem because he leaned closer so that his arm touched hers, and told Donny, ‘Children shouldn’t be disadvantaged because of someone else’s mistake.’

‘What can I say?’ Donny asked in such a strangled voice Olivia smiled.

‘You gave us a beautiful meal in your home. You might think there’s no comparison but being welcomed into your house, meeting all your family, sharing that dinner with you was an experience we’ll both remember for ever.’ Now a tear did leak from the corner of Olivia’s eye and trek down her face.

Donny reached for her hands, gripped them tight. ‘Thank you so much. It’s been hard, you know, watching my Josaia turn into a quiet, withdrawn version of himself. I will ring his father and tell him the good news. He’ll be so happy.’

No pressure.

CHAPTER TWELVE

‘THERE’S A BAND playing tonight,’ Zac called from the outdoor shower box, where he was towelling himself dry.

‘What sort of band?’ Olivia asked from the bathroom, where she was apparently putting on her face.

Why she did that when her skin was clear and her face naturally beautiful he did not understand. But he knew not to say a word. ‘It’s a surprise.’

‘Which means you have no idea.’ She chuckled.

That sound, relaxed and happy, did things to him. Made him wish for more with Olivia: for a future, to be able to wake up every morning with her lying beside him, if not tangled around him. To know she’d be there for him, day in day out, and that he’d have her back all the time would be amazing. Right. Not that he didn’t have her back already, but sometimes he didn’t know what he was protecting her from.

‘Something like that,’ he agreed, as he wrapped the towel around his waist and headed into the main room. ‘Anything from locals to visiting rock stars. I heard a whisper about two guys and their guitars.’

Olivia leaned around the corner, her hair swinging over her arm, her face lit up with a big smile. ‘That narrows the options.’

‘Better than bongo drums at any rate.’

She just laughed and disappeared back into the bathroom.

If only they weren’t going to dinner but staying here, checking out that enormous bed for what it was intended. He was done playing Mr Nice Guy on the far side. While wonderful, the spooning hadn’t been enough, more a teaser of what could have been. Pulling on a shirt, he sighed. One more night. Tomorrow they would fly out of here in a float plane, headed for the airport. This had been a fabulous few days. Continuing to get to know each other seemed the way forward.

‘I heard that there’s going to be lobster on the menu tonight.’ Olivia bounced into the room, her hands busy slipping earrings into her lobes.

His hands faltered, stopped, buttons ignored. ‘You look stunning.’

The red dress she’d somehow squeezed into accentuated all those lovely curves to perfection.

‘You think?’ She spun around on her tiptoes. ‘Not my usual style.’

Her cleavage had never been so—so … His mouth dried. The back of the dress—there wasn’t any. Nothing worth mentioning anyway. Was it really a dress when there was hardly any more fabric than in the blue and lime-green bikini she’d lounged around in all day? The hemline barely made it onto her thighs. ‘So not you.’

Her smile dipped. ‘Should I change?’

Zac’s heart stopped. He stepped across the gap between them, caught her hands in his, and tugged her close. Not so close that they were touching. Then they’d never go to dinner. But close enough that he could breathe in her scent. ‘I have never seen you look so, so beautiful. Ravishing. And before you go thinking you’re not beautiful all the time, you absolutely are. I’m going to order you more dresses like that.’

‘You say the nicest things.’ Her smile was back. ‘I’ve always wanted to go all out and wear something like this but don’t often have the courage. That creation I wore on the night of the gala was the first in a long time. You make me feel it’s okay, so for a moment there I got a bit worried.’

‘I’m a bloke. Clear and concise speech isn’t one of my strong points.’ He dropped her hands. He needed to finish dressing if they were ever going to head to the restaurant.

But one button done up and Olivia was laughing at him. ‘Let me.’ She undid the button, realigned his shirt front and started over. Her fingers were light as they worked down his shirt. Over his chest. Down to his abs—which were sucking in on themselves and just about touching his spine.

Zac gritted his teeth, and his hands clenched at his sides. She was killing him. Cell by damned cell.

‘Relax,’ she said in a low, throaty growl.

Oh, right. Sure. Easy as. He took an unsteady step back and snatched up his trousers from the bed, and muttered, ‘Relax, she says.’

Olivia did wicked without even trying. Her mouth curved into a sumptuous smile, her eyes widened with promise as she slapped her hands on those slim hips. ‘How soon can you get me those new dresses? I never knew wearing something so simple could have this effect on a man.’ Her eyes widened even further, her smile grew bigger. ‘Not just any man either.’

‘There is nothing simple about you or your damned dress.’

‘Damned dress, huh?’ Her gaze cruised down his body, pausing at his obvious reaction to that piece of fabric that was in danger of being torn off her. ‘This is our last night.’

Squeezing his eyes shut, he counted to ten, slowly. Nothing changed. He continued to twenty. His blood still pulsed throughout his body, heating every cell it touched. Finally he drew a shaky breath and locked eyes with her before growling, ‘Last night, last cocktail and final dinner under the palms, last of everything to do with our holiday.’

Last of that stupid ban on sex. Whoa, did that mean they could get up close and personal tomorrow? As soon as they landed back in Auckland could they go straight to his apartment? Or her house? He didn’t care which as long as he could scratch this itch.

Olivia just laughed and picked up a pair of red shoes with heels that would be lethal if flung at a guy. ‘Let’s go enjoy ourselves.’

At least she had the sense not to hold his hand or slip her arm through his as they walked along the path to the restaurant. If she had Zac doubted his ability not to swing her up into his arms and run back to their bure. Last evening or not.

‘We’ve been given the best table.’ Olivia glanced around the outdoor dining area as she sank onto the chair being held out for her by their waiter. The table was set well back from everyone else with hibiscus growing on three sides, soft light from lanterns making it feel as though they were in a bubble. A very cosy bubble.

Zac blinked. Was he still trying to get his libido under control? ‘Maybe it’s our turn.’

Every other night honeymooners had sat here. She and Zac didn’t have that qualification. ‘I feel special.’

‘What can I get you to drink?’ the waiter asked.

Zac didn’t ask her what she preferred, instead rattled off the name of the best champagne on the wine list. ‘We’re celebrating,’ he told her when the young man had gone.

‘Celebrating?’

‘Anything and everything.’ He leaned forward, those dark eyes suddenly serious. ‘I haven’t had such a wonderful holiday, ever. Thank you.’

Her eyes filled with unexpected tears. ‘I didn’t do anything.’ Except tease the hell out of you back in the bure.

‘Exactly. You were just you, and I’d never met that you before.’

A tear escaped. Then another. She quickly lifted her glass of water to her lips. What was with this crying stuff? She was usually stronger than that.

‘You’re supposed to reciprocate, tell me how you’ve discovered a superman.’

Then the champagne arrived. ‘Compliments of management,’ the waitress told them.

‘This isn’t anything to do with Josaia?’ Zac asked.

A huge smile split the woman’s face. ‘Enjoy your evening.’

When Olivia had a glass in her hand she raised it to Zac. ‘To us and our fabulous holiday.’ This experience had loosened a lot of permanent knots inside her. She and Zac had gelled so well she was even wondering if it might be possible to have a life together in some way. She wanted to ask if they might continue seeing each other back in Auckland, but the old warning bells rattled in her skull, putting a dampener on that. Just enjoy tonight and wait for tomorrow to unfold. But she didn’t do waiting to see what happened. That meant no control.

Zac tapped his glass on hers. ‘We haven’t finished yet. Our plane doesn’t leave until ten in the morning.’

‘Okay, to the rest of our stay in paradise.’ Excitement shimmied down her spine. One more night. Dinner under the stars, maybe some dancing if the band of two turned out to be halfway decent, a stroll on the beach after ditching her heels, and then … Then she planned on seducing Zac into using that enormous bed for something other than spooning.

Those picks Olivia called shoes swung from one of her hands while she held onto him firmly with the other. ‘There’s something about walking on sand at night.’ Her voice was a murmur, drifting on the warm, still air, encasing Zac in tenderness.

The need he’d barely been holding onto spilled through him, hissed out between them. It would not be contained any more. After days of bikinis and figure-hugging dresses, laughter and fun, he had to have Olivia—in his arms, under his body. He ached to fill her, to kiss her senseless. But there was that damned rule. He would not be the one to break it. He’d given his word. Never again was he going to make a promise. About anything. Tugging his hand free, Zac went for flippant. Only way to go. ‘Who wouldn’t love damp sand between their toes, scratchy and irritating? Wonderful stuff.’

Olivia’s laughter was so carefree it tugged at his heart. She glanced down at their bare feet and dropped her shoes. ‘Come on, then. Let’s wash the sand off.’ And in a flash her dress was being flung onto the sand beside those red picks. ‘Coming?’

‘You’re such a tease, Olivia Coates-Clark,’ Zac growled, even as he tore his shirt over his head. Talk about upping the ante. His failing self-control would never cope, and yet he followed her towards the sea, nearly falling flat on his face as he ran down the beach while trying to step out of his trousers at the same time.

Plunging into the warm water, he swam towards Olivia, who seemed to be treading water too far out. ‘Hey,’ he growled. ‘Stop right there.’

‘Or what?’ She laughed and began swimming away.

Zac poured on the speed and quickly caught her, catching her around the waist and pulling her to him. ‘Or I’ll have to kiss you senseless.’ She felt good. That compact, smooth body slip-sliding against his. Cranking up his lust. As if that was hard to do.

Salty lips covered his, and her tongue exploded into his mouth. Her hands gripped his head, holding him to her. This was no soft, sweet kiss. This was CC giving her all. This was what he needed. His hands were on her butt, lifting her higher up his body, across his reaction to her. Without breaking the kiss, she wound her legs around his waist and hovered over his throbbing need.

Twisting his mouth away from those lips, he croaked, ‘No sex, babe.’

‘Stupid rule. I’m breaking it.’ Low and sexy laughter highlighted her intent.

Relief nearly dumped him underwater. Words dried in his mouth. So he went back to kissing while trying to hold Olivia and shove his boxers down his thighs all at once.

Suddenly a small hand pressed between them, her fingers splayed on his chest. ‘Wait.’

‘Wait?’ His voice was hoarse with longing. If she’d changed her mind he’d lose his permanently.

‘That massive bed. The bure. The Fijian experience. I want that.’

This time relief had Zac sinking into the water, taking Olivia with him, so that she sat over his point of desire. ‘Since when have we been one-act-per-night types?’

Her answer was to slide over him, taking him deep within her, her head tipped back, her body quivering as she came fast. Four nights of restraining himself exploded in one deep thrust into her heat.

Dragging themselves up the beach, they scooped up their clothes and, holding hands, raced to the bure. Except I’m not running. Olivia grinned. I’m skipping. I am over the moon with happiness. ‘What a goddamned waste. Four nights and we didn’t do it. Are we idiots or what?’

Zac swung their hands high. ‘There are plenty of words out there we could use, but I’d rather concentrate on getting you to beg me to make love to you in that bed we’ve been pretending we haven’t shared.’

‘Good answer.’ Her shoes and dress slipped out of her hand at the doors leading inside. ‘Let’s hit the shower first. I don’t usually season my sex with salt.’

‘The outside shower.’

‘Is there any other?’ A quick sluice off and she dried Zac as he fumbled with a towel to do the same with her. Impatient, she tossed the towels aside and grabbed his hand, pulled him into the main room and leapt into the bed, taking him with her so that they tumbled into a heap of arms and legs. Not that Zac had needed any persuasion. He was already showing interest in her, in the way only men could.

Goddamn. She grinned and shook herself. This had to be the most wonderful, magical, fabulous way to end their stay on the island. Maybe waiting those long, tension-filled nights had been the way to go, had added to the tension and wound up the orgasmic relief. ‘Zac,’ she whispered. ‘Long and slow.’ As she trailed kisses over his chest she continued, ‘We’ve got all night.’

‘Yeah, babe, not leaving until ten tomorrow.’

Some time after four in the morning, as the sun began to lighten the bure around the edges, Olivia snuggled her exhausted body against Zac’s and traced a line across his chest with a fingertip.

‘This is unlike other times for us.’

‘Yeah, you’re talking too much, for one thing.’

‘I feel different. I guess lying in bed together afterwards has something to do with that.’ In fact, she was shocked at how much she was enjoying lying here with Zac, knowing neither of them would shortly leap out of bed and head home, or to work, or anywhere. ‘This is taking it to a whole new level.’ As if there was a depth to making out with Zac she’d never known before. She should be scared. She wasn’t. Not right this moment, with Zac’s body wrapped around hers and her muscles feeling deliciously sated.

The hands that had been working their magic on her back stopped moving. ‘Regret not zapping that rule earlier?’

Locking gazes with him, her heart pounded at a ridiculous rate. He didn’t look unhappy about what she’d said, more cautious. ‘Not at all.’ Having fun doing other things together had added more to their relationship. ‘I have had the most amazing holiday with you.’ I want to have more of them.

‘Aw, shucks.’ He pulled the sheet up to their necks. ‘You say the nicest things. In case you’re wondering, I’ve had a wonderful time doing some great things with you too. Now let’s fall asleep in each other’s arms for the last few hours of our holiday.’

Yep, soon reality would return in the form of Auckland, work and her mother. And in thinking where to go with this new relationship with Zac. Her eyelids drooped shut. She would not think about that now. Not when his strong arms held her as though she was delicate. Not when she could breathe in the scent of their lovemaking and Zac’s aftershave. Not when … She drifted into a dream-laden sleep filled with images of the man sharing the bed.

Josaia and all his family were standing on the beach when Zac and Olivia turned up to board their float plane.

Olivia hugged Lauan. ‘I’m so glad we met you and your family.’

Lauan was crying openly and shaking her head. ‘No, it is us who are glad.’

‘We’ll be in touch very soon, I promise.’ Leaving these wonderful people wasn’t as easy as she’d expected. Zac nudged her out of the way to have his turn hugging Lauan. ‘We’ll schedule Josaia’s surgeries as soon as possible.’ He was repeating what they’d all discussed yesterday afternoon.

Donny stepped up and said, ‘Josaia has something for you both.’

‘Dr Zac, this is for you.’ The boy handed over a bright blue sulu with all the gravity of a ceremony for royalty.

Zac took the carefully folded cotton cloth that Fijian men traditionally wore tied around their waists at special times.

Josaia stepped in front of Olivia. ‘This is yours.’

She dropped to her knees and wrapped her arms around Josaia, a yellow sulu that could be wrapped around her body like a strapless dress in her hand. ‘Thank you so much. I’ll look after it, I promise.’

Once inside the plane Olivia leaned forward to wave goodbye. Suddenly the plane was racing and bumping across the sea and finally lifting into the sky.

She’d had the most amazing five days, and now she didn’t know what was ahead. Hope rose, hope for a future they could share. The hope backed off. She couldn’t make a full commitment to Zac. Her mother made sure of that. There just wasn’t enough of herself to go round. She wasn’t going to try to spread herself too thin. That’s how people got hurt.

Zac lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles. ‘Stop overthinking things.’

Did he know what was going on in her mind? Of course not. He didn’t know the half of what went on in her life.

She gripped his hand and turned to stare outside, absorbing every last moment of Fiji.

Olivia shivered as she clambered out of the taxi outside her house. ‘Why does the weather have to be wet and cold tonight of all nights?’ she grumbled.

Zac only laughed. ‘Bringing us back to earth with a thump, isn’t it?’

Grabbing her case, she ran for the shelter of her covered veranda. That’s when she noticed lights on inside. Then the steady beat of music reached her. And her stomach dived. No. Not tonight. Not when I’m so happy.

‘You going to open that door?’ Zac asked.

Not while you’re here. She waved frantically at the taxi driver. He had to take Zac away. Now. Not after that coffee she’d suggested when they’d turned into her street. ‘Wait,’ she yelled.

‘Too late,’ Zac muttered. ‘You don’t want me coming in after all?’

‘I’ve got a headache.’

Zac dropped his case and reached for her. ‘That sudden? I’m picking it’s because there’s someone inside you don’t want me to meet.’ His hands were gentle on her upper arms, his thumbs rubbing back and forth in a coaxing manner. ‘I thought we were better than that, had moved on from the quick visits to something more real.’

So did I, until reality slapped me around the ears. She’d been an idiot to think there was a way around the problem on the other side of her front door. ‘I’m sorry.’ She didn’t want his sympathy—or worse, was afraid of seeing a look of horror in his eyes when he saw how far gone her mother would be.

The sound of her front door being unlocked sent a wave of panic through her. ‘You have to go. Now.’

‘Olivia, darling, there you are. I’ve been wondering where you’d got to and when you’d be back. They wouldn’t tell me anything at the hospital.’

Olivia was a dab hand at interpreting the alcohol-laden slur. One glance at Zac and she knew he was also right up to speed on the situation. Anger—at her mother, at Zac for learning her truth—rolled up and spilled out. ‘Mum, what are you doing here? You know I don’t like you in my house when I’m away.’

A firm hand on her arm stopped her diatribe. ‘Olivia, it’s okay.’

‘No, it’s not. You don’t get it. This is my mother, Cindy Coates-Clark. Mum, meet Zachary Wright, a friend—’ No, damn it. ‘Zac and I have been in Fiji together. We have had a wonderful time and now we’d like to wind down from our flight home. Alone.’

‘Pleased to meet you, Zachary. Call me Cindy.’ A wave of alcohol fumes wafted between them all.

Her mother stepped back and held the door wide, as though it was her place to do so. ‘Do come in.’

‘Thank you, Cindy.’ Zac picked up the cases and nodded Olivia through in front of him. ‘I’ll leave mine just inside the door while we have that coffee.’

‘You still want it?’ When she locked her eyes with his, he nodded.

‘Yes.’ Like there was nothing out of the ordinary, being greeted by a scantily clad woman who was obviously plastered.

Heavy black smudges of mascara covered Cindy’s cheeks, and bright red lipstick had run into the lines around her mouth. Her low-cut top revealed way too much cleavage, and her skirt …

Olivia gulped as anger and disappointment again boiled over. ‘Mum, that was a new suit. I haven’t even worn it.’ And never would now that three-quarters of the skirt had been hacked off. She’d been thrilled when she’d found the emerald-coloured outfit at her favourite shop.

‘It’s far sexier now. You can be so old-fashioned with your clothes, darling.’

‘I wonder why.’ From the day she’d turned thirteen her mother had spent a fortune on buying her clothes that had made her feel uncomfortable even around the cat, let alone the kids she’d hung out with. Humiliating didn’t begin to describe it.

Now Zac was seeing things she never wanted him to know about. ‘Zac, about that coffee …’

‘I’ll make it, shall I?’ He hid his disgust very well. ‘Would you like a coffee, Cindy?’

‘Coffee? I don’t think so. Why don’t you two join me with a gin? Zac, I know you’d like one. You’re a real man. Not like—’

‘Mum, stop it. Now. We are not having gin.’ She stepped into the kitchen and crumpled. Welcome home, Olivia. Welcome back to life as you really know it. Empty bottles lay everywhere. Half-full takeout food containers covered the bench, dirty cutlery and glasses filled the spaces. ‘How long have you been here?’

‘I don’t know. Days?’ Mum sounded confused all of a sudden.

Strong arms wound around Olivia, held her from dropping in a heap. ‘Hey, we’ll get it sorted.’ Zac’s low voice was full of compassion and wove around her like the comfort blanket she’d taken everywhere with her as a toddler. ‘You’re not alone, okay?’

Yes, she was. Her mother was her problem. This had nothing to do with Zac, and never would. Despite the warmth that stole through her at his words. She stayed in the circle of his arms—just for one more minute. Her chin rested on his chest. One minute, then she’d toughen up and face the consequences of having gone away without telling her mother where she was.

Finally she stepped away, put space between her and Zac. ‘You have to go.’

Frustration deepened his voice. ‘No, Olivia, I don’t. I’m with you, at your side, looking out for you.’

On her phone she found the taxi company number and stabbed the button. Forcing a toughness she didn’t feel on her face, she snapped, ‘I’m not asking, I’m telling you to go.’ Someone from the taxi company answered and she rattled off directions, ended the call. ‘They’ll be five minutes.’

He gave no further argument, just kissed her softly. ‘Good night, sweetheart. Talk to you in the morning.’

‘No, Zac. Don’t. It’s over. We’re done. Permanently.’ It was the only way forward for her.

But when the front door had closed behind him Olivia leaned against the hall wall and felt her heart crack into pieces. It had taken this for her to realise her hope for the future with Zac was actually love for Zac. She wanted to be with him, to give him so much, to share a life. To openly show him her love. To try to be the woman she hadn’t thought she could be. But that mess in her kitchen told her otherwise. Dreams were fairytales.

Sliding down the wall, she wrapped her arms around her legs, dropped her head on her knees, and let the tears come. She hadn’t cried over her mother for so long but there was no stopping the torrent. For a brief time she’d let hope into her heart, had wanted more with Zac. How dumb could she get? This had always been going to happen. Therefore, the sooner the better. Now she could move on, without Zac, and do what she’d always done—survive and look out for her mother.

Zac stared at Olivia’s house until the taxi turned the corner at the end of the street. His throat was dry, his heartbeat slow and his gut knotted tight. What a difference twenty-four hours made. From sexy and fun in that red dress to heartbroken at home, it was like Olivia had flipped from one person to another.

Now he understood so much. The control she constantly maintained over herself and everything around her was a coping mechanism.

There’d be no controlling her mother.

Olivia didn’t want to be like her mother.

The glimpse of worry when he’d said that dress was so different from what he was used to seeing her in now made sense.

‘Well, hello, you’re nothing like your mum.’ Despite having spent only a few minutes with Cindy and not knowing anything about her, he knew Olivia was the polar opposite from her mother.

But you didn’t have to kick me out like I mean nothing to you.

When Olivia had mentioned her mother was an alcoholic he’d had no idea what that meant in real terms. Drunk and disorderly didn’t cover it. Cindy whined like a spoilt brat, created chaos. She’d helped herself to her daughter’s clothes, ruining them in the process. Helped herself to the house, the contents of the kitchen, and trashed it as only belligerent teenagers did. What had that woman done to Olivia’s life? Her sense of belonging, her future?

The resignation in CC’s eyes had hit him hard. She was responsible for that woman, and he knew all about responsibility. He’d learned it the hard way. Hopefully Olivia hadn’t, but deep down he knew this situation went a long way to explaining why she ran solo.

You don’t have to be alone any more.

Olivia wasn’t made for that. She was loving, caring, sharing, and a whole load more.

The taxi pulled up in Quay Street. His apartment building loomed above, dark and unwelcoming. He’d rather be back at Olivia’s house, no matter the mess inside. He wasn’t thinking about the state of the kitchen.

But you sent me away, Olivia. Again.

As Zac rode the elevator to his floor a slow burn began in his belly. He’d been shoved out of Olivia’s life for a second time. She hadn’t given him a chance to stay, to talk about it, to do any damned thing except get out of her life. What had their holiday been about if not learning more about each other and getting closer?

Learning that I love you, Olivia. Do you know that? Do you know I’ve broken all my rules for you? That for the first time ever I’m seeing a future that’s got people in it—you and our children.

The doors slid apart but Zac didn’t move. The itch had gone.

The doors began closing. Sticking his foot in the gap so they opened again, Zac hoisted his bag and dragged his feet towards his apartment. He’d pour a whisky and try to fathom where to go from here.

How damned typical that when he’d finally fallen in love he wasn’t wanted.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

‘DON’T HANG UP, OLIVIA.’ Zac didn’t give her time to say hello. ‘This is about Josaia.’

‘I’m listening.’ Olivia could listen to him all day, but of course she’d spent the last ten days doing her damnedest to push him away, out of her head, her heart. She missed him so much it was unbelievable. It was like her heart and mind were stuck in Fiji mode with Zac, talking and laughing, while her real life was grinding along without any joy.

‘Theatre’s booked at the private hospital for Saturday morning. I’ve managed to inveigle a free bed for four nights so we’re set to go.’ Zac sounded upbeat and pleased with himself. As he should be. He’d been hassling everyone he knew to get Josaia’s surgery organised. All the staff assisting were doing it gratis. No surprise there. When Zac wanted to he could charm the grumpiest of old men into putting his hand in his pocket and handing over his life savings.

‘You should start a charity organisation for kids like Josaia,’ Olivia acknowledged.

‘I should? You’re the one who knows how to pull at people’s heartstrings. Look at how successful Andy’s gala night turned out to be.’

Had she pulled Zac’s heartstrings? Ever? Even a teeny-weeny bit? Why was she wondering when a yes only added to her grief? Staying away from him was hard enough already. She only talked to him about Josaia’s upcoming surgery, cutting him off the moment he started on about anything personal. ‘I’ll see you at the motel at five.’ They’d decided between themselves to pay for a motel unit for the family close to the hospital. Zac was picking up Josaia and his family from the airport later in the day. Tomorrow they had a free day, and then it would be D-day.

‘You could come with me.’

‘I’ve got a clinic starting at two.’

Zac sighed, his upbeat mood gone. ‘Promise me you’ll be at the motel. It’s important for Josaia.’

She didn’t make promises. Her word was usually enough. ‘I promise.’ I do?

‘Are you sure you’re not a secret needleworker?’ Zac asked from the other side of the operating table on Saturday. ‘You’re so patient, creating delicate stitches even where the outcome won’t be visible to anyone.’

Olivia glanced up at him, her heart stuttering when his dark eyes locked on hers. ‘I could’ve taken up knitting.’

‘That’d be messy.’ He grinned. She mightn’t be able to see his mouth behind that mask but his eyes were light and sparkling.

Olivia concentrated on her patient. She’d reopened the wound that ran down the side of Josaia’s face and removed tissue causing lumps where the previous stitches had been pulled too tight. Now she was painstakingly suturing layer after layer, careful with each and every stitch. While it was what everyone saw on the outside that upset Josaia, she could make it so much better by preparing the underneath muscle properly.

‘You want to close the shoulder wound once I’ve worked on Josaia’s shoulder?’ Zac asked. ‘We might as well go for broke and have everything looking as close to new as possible.’

‘Make those kids want their friend back.’

Kay looked up from her monitors. ‘I hope Josaia tells them where to go.’

‘I suspect he might after this,’ Zac told the anaesthetist. ‘He’s been different ever since we said we could operate. Hopeful, expectant. Which puts the pressure on us.’

Olivia clipped the end of her last suture and straightened her back. ‘There you go, young man. As good as new.’

Zac swapped places with Olivia. It was his turn to set things right for Josaia. ‘Let’s hope I can do the same. At least no one gets to see what I do.’ He picked up a scalpel.

‘They will on the outside. It will be great to see Josaia with his confidence back, swimming and diving with the best of them.’

‘I hope he finds some new friends. He doesn’t need the old ones.’ Olivia swabbed as Zac made incisions. ‘But I guess Josaia doesn’t have a lot of choice on the island.’

‘It must be hell for his family, seeing how he’s treated. No parent would want their child to suffer like that.’ Zac exposed the collarbone, where it had been broken. ‘Re-breaking this is kind of awful. The kid’s going to be in pain for a while.’

‘Think about how those pins you’re going to put in will help him. One day he’ll appreciate it.’ The sooner the better if the boy was to make a full recovery with friends and school.

‘Right, let’s get this done.’ He reached for the first pin.

As soon as the surgeries were completed and Josaia was wheeled away to Recovery, Olivia and Zac went to put the family at ease.

Then they headed for the car park and Zac suggested lunch downtown. ‘We could go to the Viaduct.’

‘Sorry, Zac, but I’m not hungry.’ She’d eaten very little over the last couple of days, food making her feel nauseous.

‘What’s going on, Olivia? Don’t give me the “nothing” reply. I won’t believe you.’

The steel in his tone overwhelmed her. She could feel her body being pulled towards him. It would be so easy to lean in and let go of her problem for a while. The thing with that was that her mother wasn’t going to go away; would be there causing havoc when she finally took up the reins again. Tightening her spine, she told him, ‘I have an appointment in an hour, and before that I need to hit the supermarket.’ Though why when she wasn’t eating she had no idea. That had just dropped into her head when she was trying to sound convincing to Zac.

‘An appointment with who?’ Of course he went for the important part of her statement.

‘A lawyer, a psychologist, and a cop,’ she blurted, close to unravelling. Had to be why she’d answered with the truth. She needed to get away from Zac fast, before she became a blithering idiot and spilled her guts all over his classy leather jacket.

Where was her car key? Scrabbling around in the bottom of her bag didn’t produce it. Tipping the contents onto the bonnet of her car, she couldn’t believe it wasn’t there. Great. Just great.

‘This what you’re looking for?’ Zac swung a key from his finger.

Snatching it from him, she began throwing everything back in her bag. ‘Where did you find it?’

‘Where are you meeting these people?’

‘At home.’ She bent to pick up her wallet from where it had slipped onto the tarmac.

‘I’ll drive you. Come on.’ He took her elbow.

She tugged free. ‘I can drive myself. Anyway, I can’t leave my car here.’

Zac’s hand was back on her arm. ‘You can and you will. I’m taking you home, Olivia.’

That got her. Slap bang in her heart. She didn’t pull away. She couldn’t. She needed Zac, and, as frightening as that was, she went with the desperate longing to have someone at her side. ‘Next you’ll be telling me you’re coming to the meeting.’ Geez, had she just said that with hope in her voice?

‘I’ll make the coffee.’

He did more than that. Even when she nodded at the door for him to leave he stayed and listened as the horrible facts about her mother were aired and discussion began on what to do about Cindy. The truth was that there wasn’t a lot that could be done unless her mother committed to a programme and went into care. Her latest hideous deed, arrested for driving while drunk on Thursday, made Olivia’s stomach churn, and when she lifted her eyes to Zac’s she fully expected to see total disgust all over his face. But no. His hand engulfed her shaking ones, his thumb rubbed back and forth over her fingers, and his eyes were full of understanding.

Olivia needed to leap up and drag Zac to her front door, push him out, and lock it behind him. She wanted him here with her, holding her hand as he was. Split right down the middle, her emotions were raw and out of control. She aimed to do what she always did when this happened and focus on her mother’s current situation. But it wasn’t working. The words were going in but they weren’t registering as clearly as they should.

By the time the meeting was over she was as aware as ever that her mother was a ticking time bomb and unwilling to take charge of herself. It had been suggested Olivia walk away, make her mother face up to her situation, but she didn’t think she could do that. It would go against everything she believed in. Even now, when she was fighting Zac’s pull, fighting this deep, paralysing need to let him into her life, she had to hold on to the only way she knew how to cope with her mother—by standing strong, alone.

Shutting the front door behind the lawyer, she leaned back against it, closing her eyes. Did she even have the energy to make it to the kitchen where Zac was waiting? She had to tell him to leave. It was getting to be a habit.

‘Hey,’ Zac said from somewhere in front of her. ‘You need to go to bed and get some shut-eye.’

‘I have to check Josaia’s doing okay.’

‘I’m going to head in there shortly so I can let you know if there’s anything you need to deal with. I spoke to the ward sister while you were showing that lot out and she says he’s doing fine. The family are with him.’ Zac draped an arm over her shoulders and led her down the hallway in the direction of her bedroom. ‘When did you last sleep properly?’

‘I have no idea.’

‘Get into bed and I’ll make you a hot chocolate.’

Olivia sank onto the edge of her bed. ‘Hot chocolate? I haven’t had one of those in years.’ Since I had measles and Dad looked after me. Huh? Dad had done that? Yeah, he had, just as he’d once spent lots of time with her. Before he’d got jaded and bitter about Mum, and had made another life.

Zac pulled her to her feet again. ‘No, you don’t. Let’s get you into your PJs first.’ He began unbuttoning her shirt and it was nothing like last time when he’d made her body hot with need. This loving gesture filled her heart with gladness and relief.

‘I’ll manage.’ Her fingers worked the zip on her trousers. When Zac reached her door she called, ‘Hey, you. Thank you for … everything.’

He came back and kissed her on each cheek. ‘Told you I was here for you.’

Scary. ‘Zac, I don’t do being looked after.’ Deep, deep breath. ‘You have to go. You have to stay gone this time. Please.’ Her voice cracked over the lump of tears clogging her throat.

Zac shrugged. ‘Here’s the thing. I don’t do walking away from someone I care about either.’

Had Zac just said he cared about her? No, he couldn’t have. She must be asleep already, having a dream. At least it wasn’t a nightmare.

Zac let himself out of Olivia’s house and made sure the door locked behind him. With a bit of luck Olivia would sleep right through until tomorrow. One thing for certain was that she needed to.

It was about the only thing he was sure of, he thought as he climbed into his vehicle and slammed the door against the light rain. That, and the fact she wouldn’t be letting him back into her house tomorrow morning.

Looking up the path to her house, he recalled some of the comments made by the lawyer, and wondered just what sort of childhood Olivia must’ve had with a mother so far off the rails. What woman wanted to dress up as her daughter’s lookalike? Wanted to hang out with a bunch of giggly teens? One eyebrow rose. Olivia a giggly teen? Hard to imagine.

Slowly pulling away, he kept going over everything he’d heard about Cindy Coates-Clark. How cruel of Olivia’s father to leave her to deal with her alcoholic mother, especially when she’d been so young.

Toot, toot. A quick glance in the rear-view mirror showed a truck up his boot. He waved. ‘Sorry, mate.’ And planted his foot, roaring away from the corner.

He’d go see Josaia, then head home for the night. Tomorrow morning he’d take breakfast to Olivia’s house.

Think that’s going to win you entrance to her lair, do you?

No, not a sod’s chance, but he had to try, if only to show her he wasn’t repelled by anything he’d heard today. If anything, he was more determined to be a part of her life. At the moment he’d take the crumbs, but he fully intended to win her over completely so they’d have a future together.

His hand clenched, banged the steering wheel. Damn—families could be such screw-ups. He and Olivia had got the pick of them. What was Mark like as a father? Did he show his boys he loved them? Would he blame them for everything or walk out of their lives when the going got tough? And if he did, who would be there for them?

I would. But he didn’t know the boys. Not really. Only one way to rectify that. But he and Mark didn’t get along. So go fix that. Start at the beginning and get to know your brother again, learn to put the angst behind you and love him as you always did, always have.

Olivia rolled over onto her back and stared up at the ceiling. The sunlit ceiling.

‘What time is it?’

Eight thirty-five, according to the screen on her phone.

She’d missed a load of texts while in the land of nod, starting last night.

Josaia says hi to Dr Olivia. He’s doing fine and can’t wait to be up and running around, despite the pain. Hope you’re sleeping and don’t get this till the morning. Hugs, Zac.

Thinking of you, and wishing we were back on Tokoriki enjoying dinner under the palm trees. More hugs, Zac.

Hitting the sack now. See you in the morning.

No, you won’t. I’ve got a mother to sort out, and wounds to lick.

Outside your door with breakfast.

Had Zac knocking on the door been what had woken her? Olivia leapt out of bed and headed down the hall.

Wait up. You’re going to let Zac in? Think about this. Is it wise when you’re going to walk away from him again? It’s not fair on him to be running hot and cold all the time. Either let him into your life or cut all ties—now.

Her feet dragged as she turned for the kitchen and the kettle. Strong coffee was needed. Her heart was so slow it was in danger of stopping. She didn’t want Zac gone but what else could she do? She had nothing to offer him.

She loved Zac. She knew it bone deep. He was the one for her. Sniff. But she wasn’t right for him. Never would be.

With two coffees on board and a hot shower having washed away the sleep sludge on her skin, Olivia headed out her front door to see Josaia, and tripped over a paper bag with a takeout logo on it. Breakfast. Gluggy cold pancakes, bacon, and maple syrup filled the container she opened. ‘Oh, Zac, you’re making this so hard for me.’

She dropped the bag into her rubbish bin and headed for her garage, only remembering when the door rolled open that her car was still in the hospital’s car park. Back inside the house she changed her shoes. Walking to the hospital would help clear her head.

Maybe.

Josaia was arguing with Donny about getting out of bed when Olivia arrived at his room. ‘I don’t like staying in bed.’

‘You have to wait until Dr Olivia’s checked you over,’ his grandfather growled.

‘If Josaia’s that keen to get up then there’s no reason why he shouldn’t,’ Olivia told them.

Josaia grinned. ‘See?’ But when he moved pain filled his face and he stopped.

‘Take it slowly.’ Olivia spoke firmly. ‘I need to look at your face first. Then you’d better be careful what you do until Dr Zac sees you.’ She needed to get out of there before he turned up and started asking why she hadn’t returned any of his messages.

‘He came when I was asleep.’ Josaia slowly sat up, his damaged cheek turned up to her. ‘My face is better, isn’t it?’

If he could think that with a line of stitches running down his cheek then he was well on the way to recovery. ‘Lots better.’

‘My friends are going to like me again.’

Thud. Olivia’s heart sank. ‘Josaia, you are still going to have a scar, just not as obvious and no more lumps and bumps.’

‘My arm’s going to work properly.’

‘Soon, yes. You have to do a lot of work first, exercises that Dr Zac will show you.’ But those friends? ‘Let’s take everything slowly, eh?’ She sat down beside him and turned his head so that the overhead light shone on the wound. No redness or puffiness, just a neat line that would heal into a thin, flat scar that over time would fade to a pale mark on his skin. ‘That’s looking good.’ Pride filled her. Hopefully she’d made this boy’s life a little easier.

If only her mother was as easily pleased when she visited later.

‘I am not going into one of those rehab places. They’re full of pious do-gooders who think having a drink is a crime.’

Clocked driving at eighty-five Ks per hour in a residential area while drunk was a crime. ‘You’re lucky Judge Walters has given you another chance to fix your life. He’s ordered you to go into a clinic. If you don’t you’ll appear before him again and this time he’ll throw the book at you. You already have one drunk-driving conviction.’ She drew in a breath. ‘I’ve made you an appointment for tomorrow at the clinic in Remuera. I’ll come with you.’

‘Bet that man you went away with wouldn’t do anything naughty, like having a drink too many.’

Olivia sighed at her mother’s classic tactic of changing the subject. ‘Leave Zac out of this.’

‘Why? You got the hots for him?’

I don’t want him sullied by you. ‘We’re friends, nothing more.’ Nothing less either. If only …

‘He’s cocky, thinks he’s every woman’s gift.’ Her mother looked smug as she raised her coffee to her lips, then put it down without a sip.

‘No, Mum, he does not.’ Confident, comfortable in his own skin, but not cocky.

‘You watch. He’ll get what he wants from you and walk away. He’s not the settling-down type.’

Mum always aimed for the bull’s-eye. Never missed either. ‘You know an awful lot about Zac for having spent very little time with him.’

‘He’s going to hurt you, darling. Trust me, I know men and how they operate. You are fair game with this one.’

She snapped, ‘Zac is not like you think. You’re insulting him with your accusations.’

‘Watch this space,’ her mother drawled, before changing tactics again. ‘Darling, I’m only thinking of you. I don’t want to see you get hurt. I know what that’s like, believe me.’

‘Why are you doing this? You want to destroy everything I hold dear.’

‘Ha, you care about him. Knew it. I worry about what happens to you. I’m your mother, I want you to be happy.’ Her hands shook so badly coffee slopped onto the table.

Mum’s frightened. Of what? She’s been going on about Zac. Aha. Got it. She’s afraid she’ll have to share me. She’s always done this. She drove Dad away, pushed friends out of my life, and I’ve gone along with it, believing I can’t love two people at once, can’t be there for anyone but her.

‘Goddamn,’ she said under her breath. Have I been wrong? ‘Mum, I’ve got to go. I’ll pick you up at ten tomorrow.’

‘Come back, Olivia. I need to talk to you.’

‘No, Mum, I’m done talking.’

She ran out to her car, leapt in, jerked the gearstick into drive, and sped away.

Cornwall Park was busy with families and their dogs, with joggers, walkers, and tourists heading up to the top of One Tree Hill. Olivia strode out under the massive trees, her hands stuffed in her jacket pockets, her chin down. And let it all in. Everything that had shaped her. Dad abandoning her. Her mother. Zac. Her life.

The answers for the future were elusive. But I want to try. I love Zac. No denying it. So now what? Race around to his apartment and tell him the good news? Leap into his arms and hang on for dear life?

Even as she spun around to return to her car and do just that, common sense prevailed.

Am I absolutely sure?

Hurting Zac was not on the agenda. There were a lot of things to think through, and she’d take her time, spend the next few days getting her head around the fact that she could be about to change her life for ever by giving her heart to Zac. By letting go of some of the control that had kept her on track most of her life.

Scary. Downright terrifying.

The days dragged. Sleep was elusive and work tedious. Her head was full of arguments for and against getting involved with Zac. More involved.

I love you, Zachary Wright. But I can’t have a life with you, her old self told her. I’ll hurt you.

Every day she got texts.

Hey, isn’t Josaia doing well? He’s like a new kid. Hugs, Zac.

Yep, their young patient had turned into a bright and bubbly boy desperate to get out and play.

CC, you want to have dinner at that new Italian place? Zac.

Absolutely, yes. But she didn’t.

You okay? I’m here for you. Hugs, Zac.

No, I’m not okay. I’m missing you. So much it’s like there’s a hole where my heart used to be. She thought of those shoulders she liked to lean against, that strong body that made her feel safe and warm. And missed him even more.

Did your mother go into the clinic this week? More hugs, Zac.

Yes, surprisingly, Mum had.

Olivia didn’t answer any of the texts. When she found a huge bunch of irises in gold and purple paper on her doorstep on Thursday night with a note saying, ‘Love, Zac,’ she wanted to cry. Oh, all right, she did cry. But she didn’t ring to thank him. Or to acknowledge what his message might mean.

Friday night he sent photos of his nephews. ‘Check these guys out. I’m mending bridges.’ The cutest little boys hung off Uncle Zac’s arms, beaming directly at the camera. Zac looked happy but wary. It wasn’t hard to see him with his own kids hanging off him like that. Her heart rolled. She wanted that—with Zac. Children. She had no idea how to raise kids but with Zac at her side she’d learn.

Saturday morning her phone rang. She sighed when she saw the number. ‘Hello, Mum.’

‘Darling, come and get me. I hate it here. They treat me like a child. I can’t have anything I want.’

‘Where are you ringing from?’ Patients weren’t allowed any contact with family for the first few weeks.

‘I’m at a coffee shop around the corner from the clinic. The coffee’s terrible but the owner let me use the phone. Hurry, Olivia. I can’t stand the place.’

‘Mum, listen to me.’ It hurt to breathe. ‘I am not coming to get you. You have to go back and start getting better.’

‘It’s him, isn’t it? He’s told you to do this.’

‘Don’t blame Zac.’ I am finally opening my eyes and seeing that to be kind to you I have to be strong and hard. ‘I want you to stop drinking.’

‘Come and get me so we can talk about it,’ her mother wheedled.

‘Sorry, but I’ve got someone to see.’ Why had she left it so long? Zac was her man.

‘What about me?’

‘Mum, I love you, but I am about to put me first.’ Me and Zac. ‘Don’t bother coming around to my house. I won’t be here. Please go back to the clinic. Do this for yourself.’ She cut their conversation, then turned the phone off and put it in a drawer. She was on a mission and didn’t want any interruptions.

In her bedroom she gazed into the wardrobe, trying to decide what to wear. That red dress stood out amongst the dark winter clothes. Reaching for it, she hesitated. Zac had lost his mind when she’d worn it in Fiji but this was early afternoon and it was very cold outside. The many trousers and blouses were too work-like. The green skirt she pulled out didn’t excite her either. In the end she slipped into the designer skin-tight jeans and silk blouse she’d worn on the day of the gala when they’d caught up again at the hotel. Zipping up the knee-high boots, she did a twirl in front of her mirror. ‘Not bad.’ For the first time in days she could feel some control coming back, could feel her body tightening up. The thigh-length coat from that day completed the look, and made her smile briefly.

A quick check of her make-up and a swipe of her hair with the brush and she was on her way, not giving herself time to think about what she was doing. Laying her life on the line was what this was about.

Stop thinking, just concentrate on driving through the downtown traffic.

What if—?

No what-ifs, she told herself as she pressed the buzzer for Zac’s apartment. This is do or don’t. And don’t is no longer an option.

‘Hello?’

It’s not too late to run. ‘Zac, it’s me.’

A soft buzzing and she was stepping into the elevator. She didn’t hesitate but pressed the button for the penthouse floor and held herself ramrod straight, ready for anything, refusing to acknowledge the flapping sensations in her stomach.

Zac was standing outside the elevator door as it opened. His smile was friendly but cautious. ‘Olivia.’

‘Zac.’ Suddenly the full import of what she’d come to say slammed into her like an avalanche. Her hand went out to the wall to steady herself.

He took her elbow. ‘Come into the apartment.’

Through the thick layers of coat and silk blouse she felt heat spreading out from where his fingers touched her, filling her with courage. Reaching behind her, he said, ‘Let me take your coat.’

As she shrugged out of the sleeves she breathed deeply, boosted her courage. Then she turned to face him. ‘I’m sorry I haven’t been returning your texts or thanking you for the flowers.’

‘That’s okay.’

‘But it isn’t. I was rude, and there is no excuse for that. Zac, I came to tell you I love you.’ There. She’d done it.

That smile didn’t change; didn’t fade, neither did it widen or soften. ‘I was hoping you might.’

‘I think I always have, but I’ve been so busy trying to deny it that I’ve made a lot of mistakes.’ This was hard, yet relief was catching at her. ‘Is there a future for us?’

‘What do you want, Olivia? Marriage? Children and a dog?

Too much too soon. She took a step back. ‘Could we try living together first? See how that goes? I didn’t have good role models growing up and I’d hate to make the mistakes my parents did.’

Zac closed the gap, standing directly in front of her. He ran a finger down her cheek and over her chin. ‘No, sweetheart. It’s all or nothing. I love you and I want the whole picture.’

He loved her. To hear those words did funny things to her heart. Wow. To hear Zac tell her he loved her was the most wonderful thing. She smiled at him, sure her face was all goofy-looking.

Then the rest of what he’d said hit her, and she shook her head. ‘I know nothing about happy families. I don’t even know if I can love you and kids and my mother. I’ve kept myself shut off from all that, only ever loved one person.’

His mouth softened and the kiss he placed on the corner of her mouth felt lighter than a butterfly landing. ‘I’ll help you. But I don’t want a practice run. Let’s get married, jump in boots and all, a full commitment to each other and our lives. I believe in you, Olivia. If you falter we’ll work it out. Just as I expect you to do for me. My family history isn’t any more encouraging than yours and yet I want to make it work with you.’

Hope began to unfurl at the bottom of her stomach. ‘Really? You want all that with me?’

Now he gave her the full-blown grin she enjoyed so much. ‘That’s only the beginning, girl. There’re the hot nights in bed, the lazy days lying in front of your fire and eating takeout food, the days when we’re both working so hard the only contact we have is by text, but we’ll always know we’re there for each other.’

‘What about the days my mother does her thing?’ He’d seen what she could do.

‘We support her and try to turn her back on track. We do not split up over her. We will be together, in love, war, and everything in between.’ Those arms she’d been hankering for wound around her waist and drew her close so his eyes looked directly into hers. ‘I love you, Olivia, more than life itself. Please, say you’ll marry me.’ His mouth hovered close to hers, waiting.

‘Okay. Yes, please. I will. Let’s get married. Sooner rather than later.’ Talk about jumping in at the deep end. But somehow she didn’t think she was going to drown, not with Zac holding her. ‘Did I mention I love you?’

‘Not often enough for me to be absolutely sure,’ he said just before claiming her mouth with his.

Minutes later Zac lifted his head. ‘Now I know why I had the impulse to buy a bottle of your favourite bubbles. Come on, let’s celebrate.’

‘Just one glass.’

‘CC, relax. You are not an alcoholic.’

‘No, but I want to take you to bed and have my wicked way with your body, and too many glasses of champagne might spoil the fun.’

‘Can’t argue with that.’ Zac grinned and hooked his arm through hers. ‘Come on, we’ve got a cork to pop. And you can tell me why it took you so long to drop by.’

‘Not tonight. Tonight’s for us. But I’ll fill you in soon enough. Promise.’

EPILOGUE

Fourteen months later

‘HAPPY WEDDING ANNIVERSARY.’ Zac sank onto the edge of their bed and placed a tray with breakfast on her knees. In the corner beside the small bowl of maple syrup for the pancakes and bacon was a tiny box.

Picking it up, she locked her eyes on the man she adored and who had been everything he’d promised and more since that night she’d told him she loved him. ‘What’s this?’

‘Only one way to find out.’

When she flipped the lid a set of exquisite emerald earrings and a matching bracelet sparkled out at her. ‘They’re beautiful,’ she squeaked.

‘For a beautiful woman. Here.’ He slid the bracelet over her hand. ‘Perfect.’

She put the earrings in and then reached for the top drawer of her bedside table. ‘Happy anniversary to you.’ She placed a small, thin box in his outstretched hand and sat back to watch his reaction.

‘What’s this?’ He gaped at the plastic stick he held up. ‘Are we—?’

‘Yes, we’re pregnant. And I can hardly wait.’ This past year had been wonderful, and not once had she faltered. Not even when Mum had run away from the clinic twice. With Zac there she could face anything. ‘We’re going to be parents, great parents.’

‘Yeah, sweetheart, we are.’ His kiss was made in heaven and had consequences that kept them busy for most of the morning and left the pancakes to go cold and gluggy on the plate.

Her hero for sure.

One Life-Changing Night

Louisa Heaton

A kiss to mean forever?

For ER nurse Naomi Bloom, a handsome man only spells bad news. So when she’s forced to move in with her gorgeous new boss, Dr. Tom Williams, she is certain he’s strictly off-limits!

Tom swore he’d never love again after losing his wife. But Naomi’s presence is a breath of fresh air, and Tom finds his long-held vow challenged. Will he be ready to embrace the risk when one kiss leads to a night these two will never forget?

For Sukidoo, the best friend I’ve never met. xx

CHAPTER ONE

SHE HADN’T EXPECTED to fall into the arms of a stunningly handsome man on her first day at work. Or to have climbed up a wobbly ladder in Welbeck Memorial’s A&E department. But it was nearly the end of January and the Christmas decorations were still up.

Naomi had offered to take them down at the end of her shift, which had been a long twelve hours, and her head was buzzing with information and protocols and procedures. But she had nothing waiting for her at home—not even a cat—and, quite frankly, putting off going back to her little bedsit with its dingy second-hand furniture had seemed like a good option. Starting a new life was one thing, but starting it in a derelict, ought-to-be-bulldozed ground-floor flat with a growing mould problem was another.

When she’d offered to take the decorations down, the sister in charge had been very sweet. ‘Oh, you don’t have to do that! We’ll get one of the porters to do it. It’s your first day.’

But she’d insisted. ‘Honestly, it’s fine. Besides, it’s bad luck to keep them up this long. Bringing the old year into the new.’

‘Well, just be careful. There’s a stepladder in my office you can use, but make sure you get someone to steady it for you, or you’ll have Health and Safety on my back.’

Naomi smiled to herself, remembering the health and safety lecture she’d sat through that morning. She would be sensible and follow the rules. Just as she’d always done. She located the boxes for the Christmas decorations piled high in the sister’s office and spent the first hour removing baubles and tinsel from the lower branches.

The old, artificial tree was almost bald in parts and she could see it was decades old, dragged out from its box year after year to try and brighten the place up. Her nose wrinkled as she leant too far into one of the branches and breathed in dust and the smell of Christmases past.

As she pulled her face free of the tree, another stench—this one of alcohol and body odour—mixed into the fray, sweeping over her like a wave. A scruffy-looking man with stained clothes staggered towards her. She turned to steady him as he passed by, hoping to steer him back in the direction of the waiting room, but the drunk angrily turned on her instead. ‘Leave me alone! Shouldn’t you be working instead of playing with that tree? I’ve been waiting to be seen for ages and you’re out here messing around!’

They often saw people who were drunk in Accident and Emergency and Naomi knew they were mostly unthreatening. All she had to do was be non-confrontational and pleasant and they would be satisfied.

She smiled and led him back into the waiting room. ‘You’ll be seen soon, sir, don’t worry.’

‘Bloomin’ patronising me! You should be working!’ he slurred.

She saw no point in telling him she’d already worked a twelve-hour shift and that she ought to have been at home by now. He didn’t want to hear that. He wanted to hear that he would be treated. ‘I’m sure it won’t be long now.’

Once he was settled back into his chair, she went back to the tree. To get the decorations down from the top she needed to go up the ladder. And that meant she needed someone to help steady it.

She headed back into the unit, looking for someone who was free, but everyone was so busy. And she didn’t know anyone well enough yet to interrupt their work and ask them to help her. Because what was more important? Patient care, or an old tree?

Naomi looked down the long corridor at the stepladder. It wasn’t that high. Just three steps. What harm would it do, if she was quick? Surely Matron wouldn’t like her taking away a member of staff to hold a ladder when they could be treating someone.

Hmm. I’ll be careful. These health and safety measures are always too cautious anyway.

She positioned the ladder where she needed it, noticing that it was a little uneven, and gave a quick look around to make sure no one was about to pounce and tell her off, and climbed up. She picked off the first few baubles and strings of tinsel and dropped them into the cardboard boxes beneath, hearing them plop into the decorations below. She worked quickly, steadying herself when she felt the ladder wobble a bit beneath her feet. The star on the top of the tree was just a tiny bit out of her reach and so she leant for it, stretching. The ladder wobbled even more so and she felt it start to move beneath her. ‘Oh!’

She felt herself fall and braced herself for the impact and the hard, unforgiving floor. But instead, her fall was broken by a solid, reassuring pair of arms.

Stunned, she looked up to say thank you, but her voice somehow got stuck in her throat.

This man was nothing like the drunk that had accosted her a moment ago. This man had captivating eyes of cerulean blue, a strong jawline and he smelt just...heavenly! Masculine and invigorating.

‘Whoa! Are you mad?’ That voice. The most perfect accent she’d ever heard. Refined. Educated. Even if it was currently scolding her.

She blushed madly as she stared up into his eyes, her breath catching in her throat. She was embarrassed at having fallen. Ashamed at having been caught up the ladder when she’d been told to get someone to help her and desperately doing her level best to appear normal and not swoon like a heroine in a romance novel. She’d been determined to move to London and start life as a strong, confident, independent woman and yet here she was: it was only her first day at work and she was lying in a man’s arms.

A very handsome man’s arms! Her cheeks flamed with heat as he easily stood her upright, making sure she was steady before he let her go. When he did, she almost felt disappointed to be out of those arms, but...oh!

He was tall, almost a head taller than her, well past six foot, and he had the most startling blue eyes she’d ever seen. He was looking her over, assessing her, his gaze questioning.

She managed to find some words. ‘Thank you, I...shouldn’t have been up there.’ She blushed again, brushing her hands down her clothes as if she were covered in dust and dirt. She wasn’t. She just didn’t know what else to do and she had to do something! Naomi had never been held in a man’s arms like that. Cradled. Protected. Vincent had never held her that way. Not that that was his fault.

This man was probably used to women blushing in front of him. Women fawning at his feet, unable to string a sentence together.

He was dressed smartly in what had to be a tailored bespoke suit that fitted his finely toned body to perfection. This man knew how to dress and he dressed well, his clothes accentuating his best features. A red scarf slung casually around his neck highlighted the auburn tones in his hair.

Still, she wasn’t going to let herself be blown away by a gorgeous man. She knew men like this usually came with health warnings.

Get involved at your own risk.

Look at what had happened to her mother, for instance.

She wasn’t even sure who he was. She looked for the badge that all hospital employees wore, but couldn’t see it.

‘You must be new here?’ She saw him glance at her name badge.

‘Naomi.’ She reached out her hand to shake his. ‘Bloom. A&E nurse. First day.’

He looked at her hand briefly as if she were offering him a handful of sputum. Then he ignored it. ‘Tom Williams. Clinical Lead and doctor. Almost your doctor for that stunt you just pulled.’

She faltered, her hand dropping away from him. This was her boss? She looked away, trying to think quickly, before returning her gaze to his. ‘I’m sorry, I—’

‘You had your induction this morning?’ If this had been any other situation, she could have listened to his voice all day. It was rich and warm, classy. It was the sort of voice you heard from an English villain in an American movie.

Focus.

‘I did, but—’

He smiled at her but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. ‘The health and safety briefing was covered?’

She nodded, feeling like a naughty child who was standing in front of a headmaster. ‘Yes, but I didn’t want to pull anyone away from their work, as they were all so busy, so I thought I’d do it myself.’ The words burbled out of her quickly, showing her horror at having been caught so badly in the wrong.

She’d assumed she had been doing the right thing. Naomi had learnt the value of being able to do something for yourself. It was a pleasure denied to many people. A normality that they craved. To be able to do simple things like opening their own cupboard to reach for a mug, or taking themselves to the toilet. On their own. Without someone to help them.

He glanced at the tree. ‘Well, luckily I managed to save you from a sprained ankle. Or something worse.’ He shrugged his shoulders. ‘A sprained neck wouldn’t have gone down well on your first day. Nor would me having to fill in a three-page incident-report form after I’ve just spent twenty hours on non-stop duty.’

‘I’m sorry, Dr Williams.’

Tom frowned, seeming concerned as he looked around them and over towards the waiting area. ‘Who asked you to do this?’

She shrugged. ‘I volunteered.’

‘You volunteered?’ He let out a short, impatient sigh. ‘Well, if you’re going to insist on doing this, I’d better stay and make sure you’re safe.’

‘Oh, you don’t have to—’

‘You might head back up that ladder. Besides, I was only on my way home.’ He placed his folded coat down on top of his briefcase, removed his scarf and rolled up his sleeves.

He had beautiful forearms... Smooth. Strong.

If he hadn’t just given her a dressing-down, she might have been tempted to appreciate them a bit more. ‘Right. Erm...thanks.’

He looked the tree up and down. ‘This old tree ought to have been passed through a chipper years ago.’

‘I don’t think they do that to fake trees.’

‘No. Probably not.’

He started to take off some more of the decorations that he could reach just by standing there, which Naomi hadn’t had a chance in hell of reaching, and then he passed them to her, so she could put them in their boxes a little more carefully than she’d been doing earlier. She hated feeling like a chastised child and wanted to get back on a more even keel, so she ventured some basic conversation. ‘So you’ve worked here for a while, then?’

He glanced at her. ‘Yes. What made you come to Welbeck?’

He didn’t need to know her history. He probably didn’t even want to know. He was just being polite. Or, at least, as polite as he could be.

She’d already vowed not to mention her past to anyone here. She didn’t want pity or sympathy. She just wanted to get on with her life. If she told people she’d come out of a marriage where she’d been more of a carer than a wife, they tended to look at her with pity.

‘I used to live in the East Midlands, originally, but I fancied a change of pace, so I got myself a cheap bedsit down here and hoped for the best.’ This was better conversation, she thought. Much better than being told off.

‘I thought I heard an accent.’

She smiled, never having thought of herself as someone with an accent. ‘Really?’

‘Yes. Bit of a northern twang. I’ll go up the ladder and get the rest of them.’

‘Be my guest.’ She held it steady as he went up and together they made a quick, efficient team. The tree was soon naked of ornaments, broken down into its segments and boxed away for next year. Naomi quickly swept up the debris. It hadn’t taken them more than fifteen minutes to get it sorted. ‘Thanks for the help. It was really kind of you.’

‘No problem.’ He seemed to look at her for a moment longer than was comfortable, then suddenly shook his head at whatever thought he’d had and picked up his coat and briefcase. ‘Let’s try not to get hurt tomorrow, Nurse Bloom, hmm?’

‘Course not.’ She watched him walk away and let out a breath that she hadn’t been aware she’d been holding.

Wow. What a bear!

And he was her boss! That was embarrassing. Her first day and she had already been caught breaking a rule, although thankfully not breaking anything else.

She determined to try and stay out of Dr Williams’s way as much as possible. She would only let him notice her when she was being brilliant, providing outstanding nursing care.

She headed in the other direction and went to fetch her coat.

The weather was doing its best to let the people of London know that it was winter. There’d been snow a few days ago and, though there’d been nothing since, it was still on the ground, due to the freezing temperatures. The surrounding buildings looked grey, damp and cold and as Naomi came out of the hospital to head for home—a place she really didn’t want to go, knowing it would be just as awful inside as it was out—she wrapped her knitted green scarf around her tightly and pulled on her gloves.

There were people standing outside the entrance to A&E puffing away on cigarettes, their hands cupped around them, as if somehow gaining a small measure of warmth. One of them was the drunk that had confronted Naomi earlier and he looked up, catching her gaze with vehemence. He came staggering back over to her, the overwhelming stench of body odour and stale alcohol almost overpowering. With one grimy finger he pushed her in the chest. ‘You lot kept me waiting.’

Naomi felt disconcerted. And a little afraid. She could handle this sort of aggression when she was at work. In the hospital. Then she had her uniform on and was surrounded by people who she knew would come to her aid. Violence against hospital staff wasn’t tolerated and they had security guards, too. But out here, outside work, in her normal clothes, she felt more vulnerable.

‘Look, sir—’

‘You lot...kept me waiting!’ He gave her another shove and she stumbled backwards, caught off balance, her heart pounding. What a first day she was having. She’d wound up her new boss and now she was being accosted by a member of the public. She held up her hands as if in surrender and backed away, afraid of what might happen, when suddenly a tall figure stepped between them.

It was Tom. He had stepped in, towering over the drunk like a menacing gladiator.

‘Step away.’ He dropped his briefcase to the floor without taking his eyes off the belligerent man and then slowly walked towards him.

Naomi watched, open-mouthed in shock. It had to be him! Rescuing her again!

What must he think of me?

‘What you gonna do? Huh? I know my rights!’ A small piece of spittle flew from the man’s mouth, but his swagger and bravado soon dissipated as Tom continued to step towards him.

‘If you ever touch a member of my staff again, you’ll find yourself in a police cell quicker than you could ever imagine.’

The man staggered backwards, blinking. ‘All right! All right! I’m going!’ He looked most put out that his bullying tactics hadn’t worked and he’d been knocked back by a better, stronger man. ‘You lot are all the same!’ He shuffled off, muttering, his cigarette smoke surrounding him like a dirty cloud.

Tom watched him go, his coat collar turned up around his neck. Only when he was convinced that the drunk was far enough away did he turn around to look at Naomi, his gaze checking her for any injury, concern in his eyes. ‘Are you all right?’ His voice held a note of the same concern.

She nodded quickly. Briefly. She was unable to believe how quickly the situation had escalated.

‘Mick’s a frequent flyer here. Often presents drunk. He’s lonely, I think.’ His voice had an odd tone, but whatever he’d been thinking disappeared from his face when he turned again to make sure Mick had truly gone.

‘But still he has a go at the people trying to help him.’

He smiled, disarming her. ‘It happens.’

‘You can say that again.’ She watched Mick from afar, glad that Tom had intervened. Although she felt she would have handled it, if she’d had to. She’d taken kick-boxing classes once, years ago. She had needed something intensely physical to do, seeing as it wasn’t required in her marriage. At home, she’d had to be careful in everything she did, walking on eggshells, making sure she made no dramatic movements so as not to cause inadvertent injury. Being extra careful all of the time had just seemed to emphasise her natural clumsiness. By the end, her marriage had been a physical prison.

‘Thanks again. It seems you’ve rescued me twice in one day.’ She tried to break the tension she was feeling by making a joke. ‘You really ought to be wearing shining armour and riding a white horse, or something.’

He just stared at her, his face impassive.

Not a lover of jokes either. Okay.

‘Anyway. Thank you.’

‘Will you get home all right?’

She nodded and pulled up the collar of her own coat. ‘It’s not far. Just around the corner, to be honest. St Bartholomew’s Road.’

‘Then I’ll walk you home. Mick could still be a bother. I know him and he doesn’t always do what’s wise.’

She couldn’t let him do that. He’d done enough for her today and, besides, she didn’t need him witnessing the dump she was living in. That would be too embarrassing. By his expensive clothes, she could tell this was a man that probably lived in a penthouse apartment. He’d take one look at her bedsit and then what would he think of her? He probably already thought of her as incompetent and she didn’t want him thinking of her as some sort of Cinderella figure.

‘You don’t have to.’

‘I do.’ He smiled. ‘You’ve almost fallen once today. If you fell on the ice now, it would undo all of my previous hard work.’

Naomi smiled back, her grin almost freezing into place in the bitter wind.

Right. I just won’t invite him in. Then he won’t understand how bad it is. I can do this. He’s not a complete ogre.

‘Okay.’

They walked along at a pleasant pace. There was a large park by the hospital and, this late in the day, it was filled with people walking their dogs, or couples strolling hand in hand. Naomi always noticed people doing that. It had been something denied to her and Vincent. She’d always been pushing his wheelchair.

But today, instead, she caught herself sneaking looks at Tom and even though she tried to stop herself—sure that he would notice—she kept doing it.

He was so good-looking; tall and broad, yet slim. He frightened her. Not just because he was her boss and probably thought she was an incompetent nincompoop, but because he was without a doubt the most handsome man she had ever met. Handsome men, in her experience, caused trouble. They had certainly caused enough for her mother, who had brought back endless strings of attractive men. Fast-car driving, exquisitely clothed, silver-tongued individuals, so slick you’d have trouble distinguishing them from a vat of oil. Each man had caused their own problems. Borrowing money, never calling, one even taking his hand to her mother. Each and every one had been heartache and pain in a well-dressed suit. Each of them had broken her mother’s easily led heart.

That was why Naomi had fallen so easily in love with Vincent. Why she had married him. He’d been none of those things. He’d been average-looking, physically disabled. She’d always known where she was with him. She’d always known the expectations. It had been simple. And there’d been no worry or risk of him running off, having an affair and breaking her heart.

‘So how was your first day at Welbeck? Scintillating health and safety briefing aside?’

Naomi looked back at the road, busy with cars. ‘It was good. Exhausting, but good. I’ll be glad to get a decent night’s sleep. You? Did you have a busy day?’

See? I can do this. Pretend this is normal. There’s nothing more to it than one colleague walking another home, to ensure her safety. Having a normal conversation.

‘Yes.’

‘Why did you choose A&E as a discipline?’

‘It’s busy.’

She waited, assuming that he’d say more, but when he didn’t, she didn’t push him. They were both still strangers to each other. Perhaps he had personal reasons for his career that he didn’t feel like sharing with someone he’d only just met. After all, she was keeping secrets, too. Holding things back. He was entitled to do the same.

Naomi adjusted her scarf. ‘You know, it’s not far now. You’re probably coming out of your way to walk me home, so you can go, if you want to. I don’t think I’m going to get mugged in the next fifty metres.’

He turned to her. ‘You don’t like people helping you, do you?’

She blew out a breath. ‘I stand on my own two feet. I’ve got used to looking after myself and I like it. The independence. The freedom.’ She couldn’t tell him how much that meant to her. Being out in the world and doing her own thing without having to think of anyone else. She hadn’t been able to do that for a very long time.

They continued to walk, turning into her road, and she felt twisting snakes of nervousness swirl around in her stomach the closer they got.

She knew what he would think. He would see the small front yard, littered with an old settee and someone’s old fridge. The detritus and litter from what seemed like a million previous tenants—empty glass milk bottles, old cans, raggedy bits of clothing, dirtied by the weather and constant stream of car exhaust fumes. And if he got past her front door? Well, she’d tried her best to pretty the place up. She had done what she could, but it never seemed enough. The truth was, she couldn’t afford anywhere better and it would have to do until she’d gathered some more savings for a small deposit elsewhere.

Naomi estimated she had another six months of being here, before she could try and rent somewhere else. ‘I hope you don’t think I’m rude.’

He laughed to himself. ‘I can cope with rude.’

‘Well, I don’t mean to be.’ As they came to a halt outside her front garden she hesitated, sucking in a breath, her back turned to the property. ‘Well, this is me. Unfortunately.’

Tom smiled and looked past her. The smile dropped from his glorious face in an instant. ‘Did you leave your front door open?’

‘Er...no. Why?’ Naomi turned around and instantly saw the splintering down the door frame where someone had pried it open. She gasped and went to take a step forward, but Tom gripped her arm, holding her back.

‘Stay here. Call the police.’

‘You’re not going in?’ Whoever had broken in could still be in there! He had no idea what he would be walking into. There was splintered wood all over the place and goodness knew what they’d done to all her things inside. He could trip on anything, hurt himself. The burglars could be waiting with weapons. It was dangerous, and...

He’s not Vincent. Tom can handle himself.

He’d certainly shown himself to be capable when he’d sent Mick away outside the hospital. He’d had no hesitation about stepping into the fray there.

‘Just stay here.’ He laid a comforting hand upon her arm and then he was gone, darting through the doorway like an avenger, keen to surprise whoever might still be inside.

Naomi pulled her phone from her coat pocket and stabbed at the buttons, dialling for the police. Once she’d reported the break-in, she stepped towards her flat, her legs trembling, her knees weak.

She’d heard no sounds from within. No sudden clashing of Titans, no battle, no fight for survival. Whoever had broken in must be long gone. Feeling sick, she peered through the doorway. ‘Dr Williams?’

‘It’s okay. You can come in, there’s no one here!’

She stepped forward, into the small hall and then through the doorway to her lounge-kitchen.

It was as if a typhoon had swept through it. Sofa cushions had been tossed around, her coffee table knocked over and broken, her books strewn all over the floor. The few pictures she’d found at a market—nothing special, just bright prints—were on the floor, their frames smashed, the glass cracked and broken.

All of her precious belongings had been tossed around, as if they were nothing but rubbish at a dump. The sense of loss and devastation was overwhelming. With her hand over her face, she began to feel a tremble overtake her body, until she was shuddering and shaking, sobs gasping from her body as if every intake of breath were a desperate struggle for survival.

Tom frowned from his place in the kitchen and stood awkwardly as she cried.

She had no idea how long she stood there like that, just crying. For the loss of her things, for the loss of her privacy, for the uncaring way in which her things had been used and tossed aside. She’d never claimed to be rich, or to have expensive objects that she treasured, but this had been her very first venture out into the world to stand on her own two feet alone. The items she’d gathered in that home might have been from car boot sales or markets or pound shops, but they’d been hers. They’d each been treasured and valued as they’d arrived in her home to take their place and make the hole that she was living in a beautiful, homely place to be. Or at least, an attempt at one.

That someone had forced their way in, breaking and trashing everything...well, it broke her heart. So she cried. And she cried. Until suddenly she realised she wasn’t crying any more and Tom had started trying to sort through her belongings. He’d been picking up books and ornaments, trying to straighten them, trying to return them to their rightful place.

She couldn’t look him in the eye. Had she not embarrassed herself enough in front of this man, today? Falling from a ladder. Being rescued from a drunk. Being heard as she cried like a baby? That last had been the most horrifying. It was embarrassing. Crying always made other people feel incredibly awkward and she didn’t need to look at him to know how much he wanted to leave, but was staying because he now felt obligated.

What am I putting this man through, today? The impression I’m making is terrible!

‘It’s okay, you can go. I’ll wait here for the police. I’ll deal with it. You must have things to do.’

‘I’ll stay.’

She found an old tissue in her pocket and she pulled it out to wipe her nose and then dab at her eyes. She must look a sight! Her eyes would be all puffy and her face all red...

‘No, really, you don’t have to...’

‘I’ll stay until you’re done with the police. Then, you’ll need someplace to go. I won’t feel safe with you sleeping here on your own tonight. It won’t be secure.’

‘The police will fix the door.’

‘With a sheet of plyboard. Hardly Fort Knox. I won’t leave you here with that as your sole defence against the world in this neighbourhood.’

A short brief smile found its way onto her ravaged features. She was appreciative of his kindness. He clearly wasn’t all gruffness. ‘Thank you.’

‘Now you ought to check to see if anything’s missing.’

She nodded. He was right. There were only a few things that really meant anything to her. Her photos of her and Vincent. Her old wedding ring in her bedside table that she never wore to work, as jewellery wasn’t allowed.

Alone in the bedroom, she made the grim discovery that the ring was gone, stolen. Along with some cheaper bits of jewellery that she’d bought and an old watch.

She felt strangely empty as she recounted what was missing to the police when they arrived.

Throughout it all, Tom was kind and attentive. He just sat there and listened to her ramble, making them both a cup of tea and heaping hers with sugar for the shock.

Although it had been caused by a terrible situation, Naomi found herself enjoying their conversation. Just sitting and talking to someone. Something she hadn’t truly experienced since Vincent had passed. She missed him greatly, but she knew he was in a better place. No longer in pain. No longer a prisoner in his own body. No longer feeling guilty for what he’d done to her life.

So it was nice just to sit and talk. Even if it was only happening because she’d been burgled!

Her first day at work had gone fine. It was only the things that had happened after her shift that had been so awful! Now, after being berated by her boss and saved by him from physical assault, she was being comforted by him. He might not be the most smiley individual in the world, but he was being kind.

‘You need to pack some clothes for an overnight stay.’

‘Right.’ He was right. Being practical would also help to take her mind off what had happened. She couldn’t stay here. The place felt violated. Dirty. She didn’t want to have to stay there a moment longer than she had to. ‘You’re right...’

‘What is it?’

She bit her lip. ‘I have nowhere to go.’

‘You must have family?’

‘They’re all up north. A four-hour drive away.’

He frowned. ‘Friends?’

‘I’ve just moved here. I don’t know anyone.’

‘Of course not.’ He let out a heavy sigh, his hands on his hips. ‘A hotel?’

She winced at having to admit it. ‘I couldn’t afford it.’

‘Right. I suppose you’ll have to come to mine, then. For the night. I can take you to work in the morning, too.’

Naomi tried hard not to show how horrified she was by the thought of having to share a living space with the one man whom she’d humiliated herself in front of so much today.

She couldn’t stay at his. They’d only just met and, yes, he was her boss, but he was also a prickly individual, standoffish and cool. He already clearly thought of her as incompetent and now he was offering to share his home with her...

Seriously...she couldn’t accept his offer.

‘That’s very gracious of you, but—’

‘Then it’s settled. Pack your things and let’s get going.’

Her mouth dropped open for a moment and when she became aware that she probably looked like a landed goldfish, she closed it again and headed to her bedroom.

I can’t believe I’m doing this.

CHAPTER TWO

NAOMI WAS IN her bedroom, packing her clothes into a suitcase, as Tom sat on the torn-up sofa and stared into space.

Nurse Naomi Bloom.

What had happened?

He’d been his usual work-focused self. He’d been on call all night in the hospital and then he’d worked a full twelve-hour shift in A&E on top of that. He always did what was needed. Worked hard. He treated patients and kept his mind on work.

It was what worked for him. The work was a salve. A sticking plaster over the savage gash that was his heart. If he worked, if he took care of patients, if he investigated their ills, then he didn’t have to focus on his own. His own pain. His own grief. Work kept the hurt firmly in its box where he never had to pay it any attention.

He’d been on his way home. Heading back for a shower, a change of clothes, maybe a quick four-hour nap. Then he’d planned on coming back to work.

But then he’d seen this woman climbing up a wobbly ladder, a ladder she should never have been up in the first place, on her own. He’d seen her reaching out for things that she hadn’t got a chance in hell of reaching.

He’d seen how badly it had wobbled and he’d dropped his own briefcase and caught her, feeling the weight of her fall into his arms. He’d looked into her eyes up close, those pools of liquid brown, flecked with gold and green, and had felt a smack of something hard in his gut.

He’d intended to give her a dressing-down there and then. To yell at her for being so stupid and complacent, but in the fall her long hazelnut hair had come loose of its clip and lain over his arm, soft and silken, and it had taken a moment for him to realise that he’d been staring at her for much too long and that he really ought to let her go. The way you let go of a dangerous animal before it could bite or sting you.

She’d been unthinking in her actions. She’d assumed she would be okay, that somehow the rules didn’t apply to her, and she’d been wrong.

Her beauty had thrown him briefly. There had been a second, maybe two, in which he’d momentarily been stunned by those chocolate eyes of hers, but then he’d cast those distracting thoughts to one side.

So she was attractive. So what? Beauty counted for nothing in his department. He needed solid workers. Excellent nurses. Team players. People who played by the rules. Not lone rangers who thought the whole world ought to revolve around them.

She’d blushed, looked embarrassed and had glanced down and away from him. His insides had twisted at her sweetness, flipping and tumbling like an acrobat in the Cirque du Soleil and the sensation had so startled him that he’d almost been unable to speak.

Offering to help her with the tree had seemed logical. Gentlemanly. A way for him to gather his thoughts and reactions. To make sure she stayed safe. And give him time to put his own walls back up.

But it had been more than that. Exactly what, he couldn’t say. It had been a long time since a woman had disturbed him like that.

Not since Meredith...

He looked at the rest of Naomi’s things dashed across the floor and started to pick them up again, trying to find places for them, trying to find order in the chaos.

He hadn’t thought about Meredith for ages.

But that was a good thing surely. It meant he was moving on, didn’t it? For too long, it had been a painful, persistent memory. When he’d thought of his wife, it had been about the days following the accident—sitting at her bedside in hospital, holding her hand, praying that she would wake, praying that she would recover. Holding out hope for her.

As the years had passed, the better memories of his time with Meredith had come to the fore. He was able to remember the good times they’d shared. Their happiness on their wedding day. Their love. The pain and grief was still inside would still torment him when he allowed it to, but it had taken on a different form recently.

His vow to never get involved with another woman, never to open his heart up to another, had held strong. He could never love another the way he’d loved his wife; it just wasn’t possible.

Until now, he’d never had to doubt himself, or feel that that vow was threatened in any way.

Yet something about Naomi Bloom needled him. In the short time he’d known her, she’d practically demanded his attention, his protection, his help. He’d been forced to get involved. No decent man would have left her to fend for herself with Mick. No gentleman would have walked away from her after the burglary. When he’d found out she had nowhere to go, there’d been no other sensible option but to ask her to stay.

It would be difficult having her in his home. But he could stay out of her way. It would be all above board. She could have Meredith’s old craft room that he’d turned into a spare bedroom during one mad weekend of decorating before he’d thought of what to do with his time and his life to cope with his grief.

One night to allow Naomi to get proper locks for her doors, better security. It was just about one colleague helping another. It was about being a decent human being.

One night only.

She opened her bedroom door and came out, lugging a heavy suitcase with her. He got up to take it from her and lifted it easily. ‘A lot of clothes for one night!’

‘I’d rather not leave anything here to be stolen. Just in case.’

‘Is there anything else you want to take?’

‘There was some paperwork, but I’ve packed that away. I’m ready to go.’

He nodded. ‘I guess we’d better get going, then. Are you hungry? Would you like me to pick us up something to eat on the way home?’

‘Oh! Well, only if you’re eating, too. I don’t want to get in your way or disrupt your routine any more than I already have.’

‘You haven’t disrupted me at all,’ he said, picking up her case and heading for the front door, hoping she couldn’t see the lie in his eyes.

They walked back to the hospital car park in silence. He put her suitcase in the boot of his car and then opened the passenger door for her. She looked surprised, smiled a thank you and then slid into the seat. He closed her door and walked round to his side, his mind going a mile a minute.

The only woman to have set foot in his home had been Meredith and that was, of course, because she had lived there. Now he would be bringing home a stranger, a very attractive stranger, one who he hoped he could keep his distance from until she moved out. It ought to be easy, he thought. His penthouse flat was pretty large, and it was just one night.

If all else fails, I’ll just put on my headphones and wear a blindfold.

Dr Williams’s home was amazing. She’d never seen anything like it. She felt like Cinderella—going from her poor, ragamuffin lifestyle to this rich, sumptuous, stunning elegance that all seemed too much to take in.

His flat was on the top floor, not the bottom, like hers. The square footage must have been in the thousands and the space was open-plan, all glass windows, wooden floors and soft leather sofas. It had a minimalist element to it but looked nothing like what she’d expected from a single man. There were even fresh flowers on top of a grand piano in the corner of the living room.

He saw her notice them. ‘My cleaner brings them in.’

She nodded, touching the long green stems. ‘That’s kind of her.’

‘She insists. Tells me it brightens up the place. Makes it welcoming.’ He didn’t sound convinced.

‘She’s right.’ Her fingers slid over the smooth black sheen of the piano. ‘You play?’

He nodded. ‘A little. You?’

She blew out a little puff of air. ‘I could probably manage chopsticks if you reminded me how to do it.’

He smiled grimly, a darkness to his eyes. Was there pain there? Something... As if a part of him was missing. Or as if there was a part he was hiding, or at least trying to.

‘You have a lovely home, Dr Williams.’

‘Tom.’

She looked at him and smiled, feeling strange using his first name like that. ‘Tom, okay.’

He looked about him as if seeing the flat for the first time. ‘Let me show you to your room. Then you can settle, or I could make us something to eat. You must be hungry—it’s been a long night.’

‘You cook?’

‘Yes.’

‘From scratch?’

‘Is there any other way?’ He pulled up the handle on her suitcase and wheeled it across the floor behind him.

Naomi followed him down a corridor and through a door and suddenly she found herself standing in a bedroom that was as big as her whole flat. ‘Wow. It’s beautiful.’

‘There’s closet space...plenty of hangers. The bathroom is back through here; it’s the door to your right.’

She followed him through the doorway into the bathroom and the light came on all by itself, controlled by a sensor. She smiled and glanced at her reflection in the mirror. She looked a mess! Her face was pale, yet blotchy and her hair all over the place, whereas Tom stood beside her, coolly detached, perfectly groomed.

Stepping out of the bathroom, she ran a hand through her hair in an effort to control it. ‘I’ll probably have a bath, if that’s okay?’

‘Sure.’

‘Thank you, Tom. For everything. You’ve gone above and beyond today.’ Her voice began to wobble as she spoke and she swallowed hard, forcing back the tears of gratitude. She hated crying when she didn’t mean to, but sometimes it seemed like her body was just so overwhelmed by certain stressful situations that she couldn’t stop herself.

But she would not cry in front of him again!

He simply smiled and backed away, most likely pleased to be escaping her tumultuous existence.

Naomi went back to the spare room and sank onto the bed, looking around her. What curious twist of fate had intervened in her life today? A new job. A burglary. And a soft place to fall. At least for tonight.

Sighing, she pulled off her coat and hung it up on the back of the door. She’d run herself a bath, maybe have a bite to eat and then hopefully she’d get a good night’s sleep.

She didn’t expect she would. It had been one heck of a day! And now she was suddenly living in her boss’s home. That felt...odd. She didn’t know him and the understanding he must have of her at this point was tenuous. He obviously didn’t let people get too close. Everything about the man screamed ‘keep away!’ but he’d been generous and offered her a bed for the night when she’d had no other choice. That was good of him, right?

She was going to have to think of a way to thank him for this.

A huge thank you indeed.

Tom stood in his kitchen furiously whisking eggs for some omelettes. It felt strange knowing that he wasn’t alone. That there was someone else in his home. A woman. A beautiful woman. And a work colleague, no less.

That would get the hospital grapevine going, no doubt. Especially if they arrived for work tomorrow together in his car. Perhaps he could let her get out at an earlier point?

He shook his head. Was he really that rude? Or worried about his reputation? Of course not. Everyone knew him at work. He was dedicated, honest, hard-working. No lad-about-town, causing outrageous rumours.

Besides, they might be lucky. No one might notice.

Naomi was in Merry’s room. The room she had used as a craft room, making cards, decoupage and that other thing she’d done...quilling? Or something like that. She’d been so talented at it. Sometimes he’d gone into that room to see what she was working on and had been amazed at this beautifully constructed hummingbird or peacock or mythical creature, all made out of coloured curls of paper. He remembered her smiling face looking up at him and saying, ‘What do you think?’

And now Naomi was in there. Did she know? Could she sense it? He’d barely been able to stay in there and it had taken all his strength to redecorate it. To change it from what it had been. To take away the pain of the once pale blue walls.

They were a peach colour now. He’d not been in there since he’d painted it, except to change the bedding.

All the crafting stuff was gone, packed away. Some of it he’d given away. Instead, he’d installed a big wrought-iron bed in there along with bespoke beech furniture. It was all very plain. Simple. For guests. Not that he’d been expecting any guests. But if he gave the room a purpose, rather than it just lying empty, he could forget about his dreams for that room and what he’d once hoped it would turn out to be.

A nursery. Because one day, he and Merry would have tried to start a family. They’d talked about it anyway...

It would never be that now. And now it was Naomi’s room. For one night anyway.

He tried to focus on the eggs, on grating cheese, on slicing courgettes and mushrooms, but his brain kept on torturing him with the image of her eyes, the way she’d looked up at him when he’d caught her falling from that ladder.

This was crazy! Why should it bother him what her eyes had looked like? Or that her skin had been smooth like porcelain, that her lips had looked full and soft? They were just work colleagues. Just associates. He was helping her out.

He whisked the eggs harder, trying not to think about her. He tried to focus on all the work he needed to get through tomorrow, but he could only envision her face and the way she’d felt in his arms...

Cursing, he put down the bowl of eggs and just stood still for a moment. Perhaps what he needed was a breather. A moment of mindfulness, to get himself back on track. He thought of the patients he’d seen that day. Their cases. The injuries. The treatments. The protocols.

Yes. That was working.

The door to the guest room opened and out walked Naomi in a thigh-length robe, with her hair all scooped up in a towel.

He quickly picked up the eggs and whisked them some more. ‘Are you hungry?’

‘I’m starving.’

‘Good.’ He tried not to breathe in all the aromas that she’d somehow brought out with her. There was a hint of lavender and something else sweet, warm and clean. She perched herself on a stool at his breakfast bar and he saw long, toned legs and dainty feet with pink-painted toenails. ‘I’ll make a start, then.’

‘Can’t wait.’

He swallowed hard and turned his back.

CHAPTER THREE

SHE WOKE WITH a start, a bad dream about smelly men in balaclavas still in her consciousness as she blinked quickly and looked about the strange room. Then she remembered.

Tom’s.

She glanced at the clock on the bedside table. Five-forty-two a.m. It was early. But she had to be at work at seven, ready for the shift handover at seven-fifteen, so there didn’t seem much point in trying to go back to sleep. She’d be getting up in twenty minutes anyway. Throwing off the covers, she got up and quickly made her bed, before getting dressed.

She moved quietly, hoping not to disturb Tom. She’d already put him out enough yesterday, especially last night when her presence had meant he couldn’t even relax in his own home. The last thing she wanted was to wake him early and disturb his sleep pattern.

He was a good man, she thought. Despite the prickly exterior. He’d opened his home to a complete stranger, giving her the space she’d needed to just settle and breathe and get over her stressful day.

After their omelettes last night—which, due to something magical he’d done with Tabasco sauce and tomatoes, had been the most incredible she had ever tasted—he had wished her goodnight and disappeared to his room. She had watched him go, silent and strong, his long, lean figure moving gracefully like a cat into the shadows.

She’d taken the opportunity to look around his living space and discovered that Dr Tom Williams seemed very much a solitary man. There was no room for sentiment here. Each piece of furniture or decor had been chosen for its aesthetic appeal, rather than being some old family heirloom. There were no pictures on the walls of family or loved ones, no photo albums. Every surface was clean and uncluttered and only his bookshelves showed some hint to his character—clearly work focused, as all his books had been medical texts.

Was work all he thought about? She saw no sign of any other interest. There were no knick-knacks lying around like those she’d had all over the place. No personal touches. There was just the piano and, even then, she wondered if that was for him to play, or just another element of style. The only homely touch—the flowers—had been brought in by his cleaner.

But Naomi was thankful that he was focused on his work. Because apart from that small chat they’d had whilst he’d been preparing food in the kitchen, he had left her alone. He’d given her space, stayed out of her way.

It was his home and he was hiding in it. Perhaps he wasn’t that thrilled to have her here after all? Perhaps he had felt compelled to suggest that she stay with him because he thought it was the gentlemanly thing to do. Tom certainly seemed like a gentleman, from the little she knew of him.

Still, she felt safe getting up this early and having a few minutes to herself before he surfaced. Perhaps she could make him a coffee and some toast, or cereal. She had no idea if he would be a cereal type of man. A quick look in his kitchen would tell her what she wanted to know. But it would be good to do something nice for him to show her appreciation. After all, later today she would be out of his hair.

She opened her bedroom door and was surprised to find all the lights on and Tom already up and about in his kitchen. He looked over at her. ‘Good morning. Sleep well?’

She wasn’t used to being greeted like that in the mornings, even when she’d been married. Back then, she’d fall sleep, exhausted, after a long, physical day and when she woke and went into her husband’s room, the first words out of his mouth would usually be to tell her what sort of a night he’d had. Whether he’d got any sleep at all. There had been no hellos. No good mornings.

‘I slept very well, thank you. You?’

‘Seven hours. Can I get you anything? Coffee? Breakfast?’

She stood on the opposite side of the breakfast bar. ‘I was going to make you breakfast. I didn’t think you’d be up yet.’ She saw he must have been up for quite a while—his hair was still slightly damp from the shower, the auburn a deeper red whilst it was wet, and his jawline was freshly shaved.

‘What would you like?’

‘Just toast for me.’

‘Anything on it? Jam? Honey? Marmalade?’

‘You have all of those?’ She smiled.

‘I do.’

She liked watching him in the kitchen. He seemed at home in it. ‘Marmalade will be lovely.’

He cut two fresh slices from a large bloomer and popped the bread in the toaster, then poured her a coffee from a cafetière and passed her the milk and sugar.

‘You’re very domesticated, Dr Williams.’

He paused briefly to consider her words. ‘Because I can make toast and pour coffee?’

‘Because you know how to make someone feel welcome. I can appreciate it must be hard to have a stranger in your home, but you’ve made me feel like it’s okay to be here, so...thank you.’

His ocean-blue eyes met her mocha brown just for a brief second. He gave a quick glance of gratitude, of appreciation and then looked away again, busying himself with the breakfast. ‘Any idea of what you’re going to do about your flat?’

He was changing the subject. She wondered if she’d made him uncomfortable. ‘I don’t know. I’ve got work first, so I guess I’ll have to sort it out later.’

‘Everywhere will be closed later. Why don’t you take the day off?’

‘On my second day? No chance. No, I’ll just have to hope for the best. Find someone to fix the door somewhere...’

He looked torn, as if he had something to say, but couldn’t say it.

The toast popped up and he handed it over on a plate, piping hot, along with a choice of marmalades, one with bits and one without.

‘Oh...er...thank you.’

‘It’s no problem.’

She hoped he was telling the truth.

‘Josephine McDonald?’

Her first patient of the day had already been seen by the triage nurse, who had noted on her card that earlier that day Josephine had misused her father’s nail gun and had a six-inch nail shot through the end of her index finger.

Naomi looked out across the waiting room and watched as a young woman stood up, grimaced and then walked over to her, clutching at her left hand that was wrapped up in a tea towel.

It was an impressive-looking nail.

‘Let’s take a look at that, shall we?’ Naomi walked Josephine back to a cubicle and sat her down, pulling the curtain closed. ‘So, how did this happen?’ She took hold of her patient’s hand, slowly turning it this way and that, to see what damage had been caused.

‘I was helping my dad out with a job. He’s a carpenter and he was letting me use the nail gun. I got...distracted...and somehow my finger ended up getting pierced.’

Naomi could understand. She was the accidental type, too. ‘What distracted you?’

Josephine blushed. ‘A guy.’

Naomi smiled at her patient. ‘Oh. I see. Was he worth it?’

Josephine nodded enthusiastically. ‘Oh, yes! Definitely!’ She sighed dramatically. ‘What can I say? A girl gets her head turned by a handsome man and always gets hurt.’

Naomi smiled again and checked for capillary refill on the girl’s nail, which was fine, and stroked her finger. ‘Can you feel this? And this?’

‘Yes.’

‘Good. I don’t think there’s any nerve damage. Can you bend the finger?’

‘Yes. But I can feel it pulling on the nail.’

‘We’ll need an X-ray to make sure it’s not gone through the bone and if you get the all-clear we can pull it out. Have you had a tetanus shot recently?’

Josephine blanched. ‘I think so. Just a year or two ago. Pull it out? Won’t that hurt?’

‘We’ll do a nerve block beforehand and you can suck on some gas and air if you need it. Is your father with you? Someone to hold your hand?’

‘Dad’s in the waiting area.’

‘Didn’t you bring the hot guy with you?’

‘Er...no. Apparently he doesn’t do well with blood.’

‘Right.’ She smiled.

‘What can you do? You see a hot guy, you have to give him the old “come hither” look. I just wasn’t coordinated enough to be alluring and shoot a nail.’

Naomi smiled, trying to picture herself giving anyone a ‘come hither’ look. But then she stopped herself. Why would she do that? She wasn’t looking for a relationship. She was happy being single and independent for a while. This was her first foray into the world alone, without her mother sticking her oar in, or without having to consider her husband’s needs. She was finally free to do as she pleased.

‘It’s not bleeding, so let’s get you round to X-ray.’ She turned in her chair, reaching for the X-ray referral card, and filled in the details. ‘Take this—’ she handed it over and reopened the cubicle curtain ‘—and head straight down, follow the red line on the floor, round to the right and past the second set of chairs. Put the card in the slot and they’ll call you through when they’re ready.’

‘Thanks.’

She watched the patient walk away and then started to clean down the cubicle. They hadn’t really used it, but she stripped the bed of its paper sheet, wiped it down with clinical cleansing wipes and redid the sheet. As she did so the cubicle curtain next to hers was whipped open. ‘Dr Williams!’

Was her heart beating just a little faster than normal? It definitely felt that way. She took a steadying breath to calm herself and inwardly gave herself a dressing-down. There was no need to get nervous with the man. He was her boss, yes, but that was all he was. She’d be moving out of his flat later.

‘Nurse Bloom.’

He dismissed his patient, who hobbled away on newly acquired crutches, and then he turned back to smile at her. He looked very dashing today in his dark navy trousers and matching waistcoat against a crisp white shirt. She had to admit she did like a man that dressed well. Vincent had always worn quite loose-fitting clothes like tracksuit bottoms and T-shirts. They had been the easiest things to dress him in and he’d liked to feel comfortable whilst in his wheelchair. So to see a man who knew how to dress well, who took pride in his appearance, without being vain, was a nice thing to see and enjoy.

‘The department looks decidedly less Christmassy today.’

She laughed good-naturedly. ‘Yes. There should be hearts going up soon, in readiness for Valentine’s.’ She blushed slightly at the inference she’d made that it was time for hearts and romance. Her mind scrabbled to redirect their conversation. ‘Or perhaps eggs for Easter? I’m sure the shops have them already.’

‘You like to celebrate all the holidays?’

Naomi shrugged as she walked alongside him back to the central desk where a lot of the staff filled in paperwork or checked information on the computer. ‘Well, I like the chocolate aspect. Is that wrong?’

‘Absolutely not. In fact, I think it’s almost law.’ He sat down at the desk, opened his file and started writing his notes.

She noted his hands. He had fine hands, with long fingers, like a pianist’s. So, perhaps he did play that beautiful instrument in his home. He wore a simple band on his middle finger, which might have been tungsten, or platinum. It looked as if it could be a wedding band, but it was on the wrong digit.

It’s none of my business.

Irritated with her own response to that thought, Naomi picked up the next card from triage and glanced at it. It was a child with a head wound. As she went to leave she heard Tom’s voice call her name.

‘Nurse Bloom?’

Turning, she looked at him, admiring the strong line of his jaw, the flicker of muscle as he clenched and unclenched it, as if he were debating with himself. ‘Yes?’

‘When you have a moment...when you have a break, would you come and find me? There’s something I’d like to run past you.’

Run past me?

‘Have I done something wrong?’ She frowned, not knowing what it could be and worried that she might be in trouble again already. Now her heart really was pounding in her chest.

‘No. Just...something personal. That’s all.’

‘Oh. Okay.’

Something personal.

That’s all.

She wondered what it could be. Maybe she’d done something she shouldn’t have done back at his flat. Had she left something out of place? Not put the lid back on the toothpaste, or something? He might be picky about things like that. It had certainly been neat. Everything in its place...

Worried, she headed back to the waiting room and called her next patient.

After she’d seen the child with the head injury, Naomi dealt with an elderly lady with a bad chest infection, then a sprained wrist and after that a young man with a build-up of blood behind his fingernail that needed releasing. Whilst she treated them all, she worried about what it was that Tom was going to ask her.

Something personal.

If it had nothing to do with work, then what could it be? He knew nothing about her, really. She’d made her bed in the flat. She’d cleaned up after herself, and been the perfect guest, hopefully. As her break time arrived she let the sister know she was going and then she began to look for Tom, her stomach in knots, her mouth dry.

She did not need complications. She’d had enough of those to last a lifetime. This was the start of her new life. She’d moved away from her old one and had come here to London, to the city, to prove to herself that she was independent and strong and could live her own life, with her own rules. This was her chance to be free of routine and stress. To only have to worry about herself.

Maybe he was going to ask her to make sure she moved out by the end of the day. She hoped not. After a full day shift until four p.m., she’d be lucky to have time to get back to her flat on St Bartholomew’s Road and then find someone to fix her door, or a locksmith to add locks. She also wondered how much it would all cost. She didn’t have bags of money and the small amount of savings she did have was meant to go towards a deposit on a better place. It wasn’t supposed to pay for repairs to an old flat she didn’t even like!

Tom was at the doctors’ desk when she finally found him.

‘Tom. I’m on my break now.’ She fidgeted with the pens in her top pocket and straightened her fob watch.

‘Let’s grab a coffee and a bite to eat.’

He walked her up to the cafeteria and bought both of them a cappuccino. He ordered a grilled breakfast for himself and when he asked her what she wanted she just shook her head. ‘You’ve got to have something.’ He placed a yoghurt and a banana onto his tray and, once he’d paid for it, they settled down at a table.

‘You’re probably wondering what this is about?’

She smiled and watched him tuck into his food with gusto. It did smell delicious and she tried to ignore the gorgeous scent of bacon and what smelt like pork and leek sausage as she opened her peach yoghurt. ‘You’ve got me curious.’

‘I want to help you.’

She sat in the seat opposite, staring at him, waiting for the axe to fall. ‘Okay.’

‘In the interests of my wanting the department to run smoothly, I’d like you to feel you could stay at my place. For an extra day or two whilst you get your flat sorted.’

‘Stay? I thought—’

‘It’s not ideal, I know, but I’ve been thinking about your situation and I would feel remiss if you felt that you had to leave when your circumstances aren’t exactly sorted.’

She blushed. Wow. She had not been expecting that. ‘That’s very generous of you, Tom. Thank you.’

He sipped his coffee. ‘Not generous. I’m just being practical.’

Practical. Right.

Tom saw her face change. The uncertainty and nervousness that had been there a moment before dissipated and surprise and relief manifested themselves instead.

He’d almost been as surprised about the offer himself. If someone had asked him yesterday whether he’d have taken in a waif or stray, he would have said no. If someone had asked him if he would then have offered that beautiful young woman the chance to stay in his own home for a few more days he would have said they were crazy.

Last night he’d felt uncomfortable with her being there. He’d made as little interaction as he could get away with without being rude. But he’d looked out for her, cooked for her, talked to her a little and had found himself intrigued. He was interested by this woman whom he’d suddenly acquired in his department and in his life.

Not that he was interested in her in that way. There was no point in pursuing that. There was only ever one true love, one true soulmate for a person, and he’d already met his, even if she had been taken from him too soon. Meredith had been killed in a tragic accident that had taken her from him before they’d even had their first full year of marriage. His heart had truly belonged to her and now he kept it locked away, safe and protected from the outside world where cruel things happened and people in love were tormented. No, there were going to be no more women for Tom Williams.

They were off-limits. Even if last night he’d been plagued with thoughts of Naomi in the next room. He’d lied to her about getting that good night’s sleep. He should have had seven hours. But instead, he’d lain in his bed, thinking about her, seeing those long legs that had emerged after her bath, gazing into those eyes of hers that he couldn’t bear to look at for longer than a second in case she saw the interest in his own eyes. Oh, and the way that she laughed. The way her whole face lit up with genuine joy when she did.

So he couldn’t allow himself to think about Naomi. She was everything that went against his self-imposed rules. But he could help her with her living situation.

‘This is so unexpected.’

He nodded. ‘Yes. But expecting you to get your place sorted in one night seems both impossible and impractical. St Bartholomew’s Road? It’s not a nice place. I’m sorry. I’m not normally judgemental, but you seem to deserve...better.’

‘And I can stay at yours for the next few days?’

‘Yes.’

‘I can’t believe it! That’s so sweet of you. Are you sure? Don’t you want to know more about me? I mean, I could be a crazy axe murderer, or something.’

‘I know enough. And if you handled an axe on a regular basis, I’m sure you’d be missing a limb or something by now, from what I’ve seen so far. My place is big enough for us both to be able to do our own thing. We won’t get in each other’s way. And then, with a few days’ grace, you can find a better flat. Something more suitable.’

‘Less rough, you mean?’

‘Less...challenging.’ He smiled at her quickly, then looked away. He’d been thinking hard about this all morning. Did he really want to do this? Could he really open up his home to a stranger? It had already been odd having her there in Meredith’s old room. It had been strange knowing she was there doing whatever it was that women did when they spent ages in the bathroom, but...he could arrange it for them so they had different shift patterns so that they wouldn’t be running into each other all the time.

Naomi sat forward and this time sipped her drink, thinking carefully. ‘Why do you want to help me?’

Because I can’t get you out of my head and the idea of you living in that dump terrifies me.

‘Because I think anyone would deserve better.’ He couldn’t tell her it was because he’d actually quite liked seeing her there this morning. He’d liked having someone to talk to, even if it was only briefly, over breakfast. Normally, once he was dressed, he’d head straight out to work, not talking to another soul until he arrived.

This morning had been different and he’d found he liked it. It had been like it had when Meredith was around.

Meredith.

Was he doing something wrong? No. No, he wasn’t. But why then did he suddenly feel so guilty, when he was only trying to be kind?

The sooner the next few days were over, the better.

Living in Tom’s flat was beyond her wildest dreams. She never would have imagined herself in a place such as this and yet here she was.

Naomi stroked her fingers along the kitchen surfaces, smiling in appreciation at the clean, smooth lines of the beech woodwork and the frosted etched glass in some of the cupboard doors. It was a dream home and she was living in it! If only for a little while.

Her suitcase, which she’d only partially unpacked the night before, was now empty, and all her things were hanging in the wardrobe.

Tom had given her a lift home and he was getting changed, whilst she’d offered to cook for them both. Not that she was a great cook. Or any cook at all, truth be told. Most things she cooked came out of tins or packets. ‘Add an egg’ recipes were the most adventurous she usually got. She looked through his cupboards to see what she could use.

In the fridge there was a large steak. She could cut that into two and maybe make some mashed potatoes and he had fine beans and broccoli. She started peeling and chopping and soon had a couple of pans on the boil, as Tom came out into the living area. ‘You’re cooking?’

‘I am. Steak.’

‘Sounds good.’

He looked good. He’d changed into some black jeans and a soft white fitted T-shirt, which showed off his beautifully toned arms to perfection. Who knew a chiselled god existed under the suit he normally wore at work?

‘How do you like it?’

‘Medium, please.’

She nodded. ‘Good.’ Now she was stuck. ‘Er...how will I know when it’s medium?’

Tom’s face cracked into a near smile. ‘Hold out your hand.’

Her hand? What did he want with her hand? She held it out and then watched as he modelled, using his index finger to touch the fleshy pad beneath his thumb. ‘The way the pad of flesh under your thumb feels? That would be what a raw steak feels like. Put your index and thumb together. Feel it now? That’s well done.’

She watched him and focused, replicating his actions with her own, marvelling at how the different parts felt.

‘Now press your ring finger and thumb together. That pad is now medium.’

Naomi did them all again. ‘That’s brilliant!’

‘I’m glad you like it. Now you’ll know.’

‘Now I’ll know,’ she repeated, picking up the broccoli and rinsing it under the tap. ‘There is something I don’t know.’

‘What’s that?’

‘How well you actually play that piano over there.’ She nodded in the direction of the piano and watched his face.

A strange mix of emotions passed over it and his eyes clouded slightly. If she had blinked, she’d have missed it, but she saw it happen. Something about playing the piano had caused a bad memory.

‘I haven’t played for a long time.’

‘No? Why not?’ She knew she shouldn’t press him, but she was curious. Surely anyone who had such a beautiful instrument would play it as often as they could?

‘Because I only ever played it for my wife.’ Naomi watched as regret and grief filled his face and then he swept away from her and disappeared back to his room.

She stood in the kitchen, her hands pausing in their actions, her mouth slightly open. She hadn’t known he was married.

But then...she remembered the ring on his finger. The wedding band.

I did know. I did! And now I’ve upset him.

She felt so foolish. It was only their second night together and she’d already ruined it. She’d upset her host, reminding him of a past he quite clearly didn’t want to remember. Putting down the knife, she wiped her hands on a cloth and walked to his room, her knuckles raised ready to rap on the wood.

Only she paused.

Did she know him well enough to have an in-depth chat? Was it her place to pry into events he clearly didn’t want to share? If he had wanted to talk to her about it, he wouldn’t have gone to his room.

Clearly she shouldn’t knock. Her hand lowered. Feeling redundant, she went back to the kitchen, her footsteps slow and heavy. Maybe he didn’t want to discuss his wife and whatever might have happened there, but she could cook him an amazing steak and mash.

Well, I’ll have a go anyway. Surely I can’t get this wrong?

She turned on the small kitchen television and dropped the steaks into the sizzling oil.

Tom paced in his room. What the hell was he doing? Why had he reacted like that? What was he, twelve?

And what’s that smell?

Feeling ridiculous, he yanked open the bedroom door, ready to apologise for his behaviour to Naomi, only to notice the kitchen area was filled with smoke and the smell of burning, his fire alarm suddenly squawking into life.

‘What the...?’ He rushed forward to see Naomi, gasping, flicking a towel at a burning pair of steaks, screaming every time she fanned the flames to even greater heights. ‘Stop!’ He pushed past her, turning off the gas, grabbed the tea towel and lowered it slowly over the flames, so that they were dowsed in an instant.

Naomi was coughing and spluttering. ‘I’m so sorry! I don’t know what happened.’

Tom grabbed another towel and began wafting it beneath the fire alarm, until he’d cleared away enough smoke for it to stop. Once silence reigned again and the alarm could only be heard as some sort of ghostly sound in their ears, he turned to her and raised his eyebrows in question.

‘I’m so sorry, Tom. There was a cooking show on and they poured alcohol into the pan and tipped it somehow to...’

‘Flambé?’

‘Yes and it kind of worked.’

‘Too well. How much alcohol did you put in there?’

‘A splash.’

‘Hmm.’

‘I’m so sorry. I’ve never done it before and I so wanted to impress you with a good steak, after I upset you earlier...’

His face clouded over. ‘It’s okay. No one got hurt. Except the steaks.’ He peered at the blackened bits of meat, so totally beyond rescue. To Naomi’s surprise and disbelief pretty soon he was smiling, then laughing. She couldn’t help but laugh, too, thrilled and delighted at how the expression lit up his entire face. It was as if he hadn’t laughed properly in a long time.

When she got her breath back, she slumped onto one of the kitchen stools. ‘You must think I’m a disaster area.’

He slid onto one of the stools beside her. ‘A little. How on earth have you survived all these years?’

Her cheeks flamed. ‘I became best friends with a microwave and meals where you only had to pierce lids before cooking.’

He smiled and shook his head. ‘Has no one ever taught you to cook?’

She shook her head. ‘My mother wasn’t the best at passing on her skills. She didn’t really have any, except for falling in love with the most unsuitable men she could find.’

He stared at her for a moment longer than was comfortable. Despite her hazardous skills in the kitchen and her total inability to not fall off ladders, he liked her. She was innocent and sweet and funny.

Don’t.

Images of Meredith instantly flooded his mind and he felt guilty. Admiring another woman was wrong. He needed to think of something else. He shouldn’t be thinking that it should be Merry standing with him in this kitchen, instead of Naomi. He pushed the guilty thoughts away. ‘I’ll teach you how to cook.’

‘What?’

‘I’ll teach you.’

‘But you’ve already saved me. Rehomed me. You don’t have to turn me into a Michelin-starred chef, too.’

He picked up the pan with the charred remains and tipped it into the bin. ‘Yes. I do. If we’re going to survive this week.’

She sighed and smiled her thanks. ‘Right. So...veg and mash?’

‘There might be some fish fingers in the freezer.’

‘I can manage those.’

He nodded in approval. ‘Excellent. I’ll await your culinary delights, forthwith.’

He laid the table and she brought over their steaming hot plates, laying one down in front of him.

It felt good to be serving someone a meal again. To sit down and just share that moment. They were simple pleasures. Even though she’d been looking forward to being free of all of that, to spending time alone, she suddenly found herself craving the company. ‘I haven’t done this in a long time.’

He looked up. ‘Eaten fish fingers?’

She smiled. ‘Shared a meal. It’s good. You forget what that’s like.’

He looked pensive, then he smiled back. ‘Yeah.’

She pushed her broccoli around her plate, then patted the mash, sculpting it with her fork. She wanted to make him feel better, after she’d annoyed him earlier with that comment about his piano. Perhaps if he knew that she’d been through marriage and a loss, too, it would help. ‘I was married, too, not so long ago.’

Tom took a drink of his water and met her gaze across the table.

‘His name was Vincent and we were married for eight years.’

‘Long time.’

‘It was. Some days it seemed longer than that. Only afterwards, did I realise how short it actually was.’

Tom speared a piece of his broccoli. ‘You don’t have to tell me what happened, if you don’t want to.’

But she did want to share it with him. If they were going to be sharing a flat, she saw no reason not to share with him part of her past. Besides, she thought he might be interested—in a medical sense. ‘Fibrodysplasia ossificans progressiva happened.’

His fork stopped halfway to his mouth. ‘Stone Man Syndrome? That’s rare. Only about one person in every two million gets it.’

‘Have you ever seen a case?’

‘No.’

‘Vincent had issues from a young age. It was noted when he was a baby that he had these deformed toes, but no one made the connection until later. At first it was bone growths in his neck and shoulders. When I met him, he was already in a wheelchair, confined to a sitting position, and he was in and out of hospital with pneumonia and lung infections.’

‘It must have been difficult for you both.’

‘It’s hard to see someone you love become imprisoned within their own body, their own skeleton turning on them. The slightest injury caused another bone growth.’

Tom put down his knife and fork, totally focused on her story.

‘I left work to become his full-time carer.’

‘I’m sure he was an amazing man.’

She nodded. ‘He was. Upbeat. Positive. As much as he could be until the end. He had his dark days, though.’

‘Don’t we all?’ He looked down at the tablecloth. ‘I’m sorry for your loss.’

She smiled and pushed away her plate. ‘I managed not to burn the house down anyway. That was a bonus!’ She picked up their plates and took them away into the kitchen, scraping the remains of the meal into the bin. It hadn’t been the best thing she’d ever cooked, but it would do.

Tom came into the room and poured them both a glass of wine. ‘And what did you do to relax? When you weren’t looking after your husband?’

She clinked her glass to his. ‘Reading. Researching his disease. Looking for treatments, looking for medical trials. Anything that could help him.’

‘And what did you do for you?’

‘Me?’ she asked, surprised by the question. ‘I can’t remember.’

He stared at her. Then he sipped his wine, thoughtfully.

CHAPTER FOUR

TOM FOUND THE next week difficult. It was harder than he’d imagined. He’d thought it would be a simple task of scheduling Naomi to work days and putting himself on late shifts or nights, so that he wouldn’t be always in her space, or she in his, but somehow wherever he went, there were reminders—her perfume, her toothbrush in the bathroom, her little make-up bag sitting on the counter. And the times when they did find themselves at home or at work at the same time were even harder.

Once he came back to a darkened flat in the middle of the night, expecting her to be asleep. She had been. Only she’d fallen asleep on the sofa, with the television still playing, and he’d stood over her for a minute, just watching her sleep, her face so relaxed and peaceful. Then he’d felt guilty for watching her, aware she could have woken and found him standing there. So he’d hurried to his room and closed the door, lying on his bed and praying for sleep.

When he’d first met her, he’d been determined not to like her. But then he’d seen at work what a great nurse she was, what fabulous rapport she could achieve with even the most difficult of patients and at home...at home, she would make sandwiches for him and leave him notes pinned to the fridge, so he knew where to find them. She’d even attempted to bake some cookies one night and thankfully hadn’t burned the place down in doing so. They’d been a little tough on the teeth, but he’d eaten them anyway, because she’d tried so hard.

She’d even made progress with getting her flat sorted. A few of their work colleagues knew people who knew other people and the plyboard door had been replaced with an old interior one. Her locks had been changed and she’d even had time to go over there and straighten the place up a bit.

Now, Tom had one more day with her before the ‘few days’ they’d talked about were up and he didn’t know how he felt about that. For some reason he was a bit short-tempered with everyone. Irritable.

Tom and Naomi were both working in Resus, when an ambulance arrived with their first patient of the shift. She was an elderly woman, who was thin and frail with liver-spotted hands and patchy grey hair. Her pale pink nighty, edged with a thin line of lace, looked much too large for her tiny body.

The paramedic wheeled the patient into position. ‘This is Una Barrow, eighty-nine years of age and a resident of Tall Oaks Care Home.’ Tall Oaks was a residential home for patients with Alzheimer’s. ‘The care staff there grew concerned when she stopped eating and drinking yesterday and today she’s got a temperature of thirty-eight point two, sats of ninety-three per cent and a blood pressure of ninety over sixty, which is usual for her. She wouldn’t allow us to do a blood-sugar reading, she became combative and, due to her friable skin and past history of osteopenia, we didn’t think it was worth the risk of injuring her. Hope that’s okay, doc?’

Tom nodded. That was fine. They could get a blood-sugar reading for her here easily enough. ‘Sure. Any other medical history?’

‘Nothing of significance.’

‘Family?’

‘She has a daughter, but she lives over a hundred miles away. We got Tall Oaks to give her a ring and I believe she’s on her way.’

Right. So it was best to try and get Una settled and sorted before the daughter arrived and then, hopefully, he would have good news to pass on.

‘Okay, everyone, let’s have a full top-to-toe assessment, please.’

He stood back, watching, listening, assessing, as his team, including Naomi, read out test results and observations. All obvious signs pointed to a urinary tract infection, but he’d need a urine sample to confirm the diagnosis.

Naomi was trying to get the blood sugar when suddenly Una clutched Naomi’s hand.

‘Rosie?’ the elderly woman asked in a tremulous voice, staring off into the void.

‘No, Una. I’m Naomi. A nurse. I’m here to look after you.’ She gave the patient’s hand a gentle squeeze, but Una tightened her grip and wouldn’t let her go.

‘Don’t leave me, Rosie! They’re trying to kill me!’

Tom watched as Naomi glanced back at him, signalling resignedly that she couldn’t help with the assessments whilst the patient had a good firm hold of her hand.

He stepped forward. ‘Una? I’m a doctor here and you’re not in Tall Oaks any more. You’re in hospital.’

Una blinked and focused on Tom’s voice, her glazed eyes sliding from Naomi’s face to his. ‘Hospital?’

‘That’s right. You’re safe. No one here will harm you, but you’re not very well, Una. You’ve got a temperature and so we’re going to make you feel better.’

She looked back to Naomi. ‘Don’t leave me here, Rosie.’

Tom glanced at Naomi and they shared a look. Alzheimer’s was such a cruel disease, deftly taking away each and every day another small part of who someone was, often leaving them confused or frightened or, even worse, lucid, so that they had moments of knowing exactly what was happening to them. It was just as Naomi had faced with Vincent, those years and years of slowly losing someone.

Tom had also sat and watched Meredith slip away day by day. Luckily, she hadn’t known what was happening to her.

But he had. He’d sat at the side of her bed, holding her lifeless hand, begging and praying that she would come back to him, and each day the doctors had reported a drop in her condition until those final, painful reports had indicated that she was to all intents and purposes brain-dead. By the end she’d only been kept alive by the ventilator. He and Meredith’s parents had decided to turn off the machine keeping her alive, but it had been a horrible time, a horrible decision. Something he wouldn’t wish on anyone. Just as he wouldn’t wish Alzheimer’s on anyone.

Tom caught Naomi’s gaze, then spoke quietly. ‘Let her think you’re Rosie until the daughter gets here. It might make her feel better. Safer. We can get her blood sugar and urine sample from her if she’s calm and relaxed.’

Naomi nodded, understanding. ‘Okay. I’m here. It’s all right.’

‘Oh, my Rosie!’ Una held Naomi’s hand close to her chest and closed her eyes, seemingly more calm.

Naomi reached out to pull a plastic chair towards the side of the bed. Sinking into it, she smiled at Tom. ‘She’s got me held tight. I won’t be escaping soon, I don’t think.’

‘That’s okay. Hopefully the real Rosie will get here soon. Can you keep an eye on her? And note down her obs half-hourly?’

‘Only because my writing hand is still free.’ She grabbed the patient’s file, opening it and filling in what she could.

As Una’s breathing deepened and she drifted off to sleep a male nurse, Stefan, came into Resus. ‘Oh, Naomi...if only you’d hold my hand so intently!’ Stefan was a dreadful flirt who, Tom knew, tried it on with most of the women in the hospital.

His skin prickled at the way he flirted so openly with Naomi.

Why should I let it bother me?

He stood over by the desk filling in his report at the computer station, keeping a subtle eye on them both.

Naomi simply smiled. ‘I don’t think it’s your hand you want me to hold, Stefan,’ she replied calmly, staring down at Una, keeping her voice regulated and not doing anything to disturb the sleeping patient.

Stefan laughed, collected the sterile pack he’d come in for and then headed back to the double doors. ‘Ah, you know me too well, sweet girl. But I guess I can’t compete with Dr Williams here. My pigeon chest can’t outdo his six pack, can it? Must be nice seeing that in the morning, eh?’

As Stefan pushed through the doors, leaving them swinging back and forth, Tom looked to Naomi in shock.

Were they the subject of gossip already? How on earth had that happened? Naomi had been staying at his place for less than a week and he hadn’t told anyone. He wondered if she had. Maybe they had simply been spotted leaving and arriving together on the few days they’d worked the same hours.

A surge of irritability flooded through him and he almost snapped his pen in half. He hated gossip. It distorted everything. The grapevine probably had blown the whole innocent affair out of proportion. God only knew what they were saying!

But what he really didn’t like was the idea that his reputation was being run through the mud. Or Naomi’s for that matter. They were just flatmates. Plain and simple. And it was only a temporary arrangement, which should be ending soon. Her old flat was practically sorted anyway and she would be able to start looking for a new place in earnest.

‘Naomi...have you told anyone about our arrangement?’

She shook her head, looking just as shocked as he felt. ‘No.’

‘Two plus two is going to equal five unless we put a lid on this.’

‘It’s just gossip. They’ll soon get bored.’

‘Will they? I think you’re more optimistic than I am.’

Tom looked at Naomi, her hand still in the patient’s tight grasp. She had a simple beauty, an elegant face with regal features. Tom wondered if she knew she could probably be a model if she wanted to be. She didn’t seem to be aware of her looks. Her long brown hair was always loosely gathered up into a clip and it never looked as if she’d spent hours styling it, but still it always looked amazing, soft and silken, deftly pulled this way and that, held in place by a pin or two. She wore no jewellery that he’d noticed, but she didn’t need it. There was enough sparkle and colour in her eyes alone. Those deep chocolate pools captured him every time she looked at him. She had a very small beauty mark on her right cheek and soft, full pink lips. When she smiled, the effect it had on his insides was, simply put, devastating. He hated to admit it to himself but he was being pulled in by her lure.

Stefan and any of the other gossipmongers would have a field day with their idle rumours. It just wouldn’t occur to them that the relationship he had with Naomi was completely innocent and above board. Surely anyone would take one look at Naomi’s gorgeous good looks and assume that he would be trying to seduce her. They wouldn’t assume anything else.

And I don’t want to enforce their rumours.

He needed to try and create some space away from her and stop the rumour mill in its tracks. Asking her to stay had been a terrible decision.

‘Any luck with flat-hunting?’ He knew it was an abrupt change of subject and in direct contradiction of what he’d said to her the other day. Maybe he’d made a mistake. Maybe he shouldn’t have encouraged her to get comfy and put her feet beneath his table. He really ought to be helping her to find a place to live. Then he could have his sanctuary back. His private place. His home. A place only for him and his memories.

‘Um...no, nothing suitable yet.’ She looked a little stunned by his change of topic and, although he felt guilty for making her feel that maybe she wasn’t as welcome as she’d previously thought, he reminded himself that this was about self-preservation.

He didn’t need complications in his life. Work was where he came to forget. It was the place where he thrived, where he felt safe, and if he couldn’t feel that in the hospital, if it became yet another place where he felt uncomfortable, then he had no idea how he would survive.

‘You might be needed in Majors, Nurse Bloom. Release yourself from the patient and go and check with them next door, please.’ He knew he was being abrupt and he hated himself for it.

She looked up at him as if puzzled, but then she nodded and turned back to Una to see if she could slip her hand away, unnoticed.

She finally managed it. Stepping away, she quietly slid Una’s file into the space at the bottom of her bed. ‘Who’ll do her obs?’

‘I will.’

‘Okay. If you’re sure.’ When she disappeared through the doors, leaving him alone in Resus, he ran his fingers through his hair in exasperation and let out a heavy sigh.

What on earth was going on inside his head?

Majors had enough staff, but just as she was about to go back to Resus, Naomi saw a middle-aged woman walking through the department, looking lost and confused.

‘Can I help you?’ she asked.

The woman suddenly looked relieved to be able to share her burden. ‘Yes! Please. I got called by my mother’s care home to say she’d been brought here. Una Barrow? I asked at Reception and they sent me in here, but I think I’ve got a little lost.’

‘It’s a big department. It happens all the time. But follow me—I know where your mum is.’

‘How is she?’

‘Stable at the moment. We think she may have a urinary tract infection.’

‘Oh, not again! But she’s all right?’

‘She’s sleeping at the moment.’ Naomi led the way into Resus, catching Tom’s shocked expression at her returning so soon, but then his face registered relief when he saw she was with someone else. ‘Tom? This is Una’s daughter.’

‘Rosie?’ He came over to shake the woman’s hand.

‘Yes. Rosemary Sanders.’

‘She’s been asking for you.’ He walked with her over to the patient and watched as she took her mother’s hand. ‘Your mother was brought into us with a high temperature, which we’re slowly getting down. We’ve given her a paracetamol IV as well as a standard drip to keep her hydrated and to give the trimethoprim.’

‘What’s that?’

‘It’s an antibiotic. It works in about eighty per cent of these sorts of cases.’

‘And what if that doesn’t work?’

‘We’ll try a cephalosporin treatment.’

‘Well, you sound like you know what you’re doing.’ She smiled at her mother. Una stirred and opened her eyes, spotting her daughter. ‘Rosie...’

‘Hello, Mum.’

Naomi stepped away to stand with Tom. ‘Are you okay?’

He looked down, pulling a pen from his pocket and scribbling something on a scrap piece of paper. ‘I’m fine. Why do you ask?’

She shrugged. ‘You seem...upset.’ She held his gaze and though he wished to tear his eyes away, he found, yet again, that he couldn’t. ‘If it’s because I’m still at yours, it’s just because I haven’t found anywhere I can afford yet, and—’

‘Would you check the stocks in the trolleys, please?’ He could feel his heart pounding heavily in his chest and so he sat down to catch his breath. He suddenly wished she would move away from him, so he could think straight. He cursed himself for being horrible once again, but he didn’t know what else he could do.

‘Certainly. But only if you’re all right.’

He laughed—a cynical, forced laugh. ‘Why wouldn’t I be all right?’

‘I don’t know.’

She looked at him, her face a mask of concern, and it was all he could do to ignore it. How did she have such an ability to affect him? It wasn’t as if he’d been stranded in the desert, where there were no women, and she’d been the first one he’d seen when he got back to civilisation. He was surrounded by women all of the time. Why was she any different and how could she make him feel like his insides were all twisted? Like his blood were running hotter than normal? And those rumours... He couldn’t stand people talking about him. He’d been the subject of gossip once before when Meredith had died and he’d come straight back into work the next day. People had gossiped then, whispering in corners, making judgements.

It irritated him. He was used to being calm and in control. Even when there was a dramatic event in Resus he could stay calm and focused.

But he couldn’t with her around. Perhaps he could help her find somewhere. He could look a little harder. He’d really not done anything to help her find a new flat. Apart from providing a roof over her head whilst she looked. She’d had work to do and her old flat to sort out, so she could get her deposit back and...

He sighed. She was more in his space than he’d realised. And he wasn’t ready for that. Not now. Not ever. He had to stop feeling this attraction to Naomi.

There couldn’t be a future in it.

Naomi was in the staffroom on her morning break, feeling content. The days had flown by. She’d been living with Tom for a few weeks now, trying and failing to find her feet and a new flat. Although there’d been a few awkward moments between them since that day when Stefan had alerted them to the hospital gossip, it seemed to be going quite well. As colleagues, they’d worked together, mostly like a finely tuned engine. As flatmates, she had mostly felt welcome, and only on occasion had she got the feeling Tom was uncomfortable with her being there.

Valentine’s Day, for instance, had been odd. With both of them single, both of them trying not to reference the day, or the fact that they were both alone. She’d considered, briefly, sending him a joke card but common sense had told her that it wouldn’t go down well, so they had both just worked as late as they could and grabbed a takeaway on the way home that night.

There were a few others in the staffroom, Stefan included, who sat chatting with his mates, laughing over a celebrity gossip magazine, whilst Naomi sat with a coffee and her new friend, Jackie.

Jackie was a healthcare assistant and they’d hit it off from day one. Naomi had immediately liked her because of her work ethic and ready smile. It seemed she knew everything about the department and she was always happy to point Naomi in the right direction if she needed it. But right now, Jackie was explaining to her about the Spring Ball.

‘Are you going to go?’

Naomi shook her head. ‘No.’

‘You should. It’s fabulous. Better than the Christmas party!’

‘I wouldn’t know. I probably won’t go to that either.’

‘Oh, you must go! It’s fabulous. You get to dress up like a princess and dance with a handsome man. You could bring Dr Williams!’

Naomi tried to act confused. ‘Why would I bring Dr Williams?’

‘Because you’re sleeping with him.’

What? ‘No, I’m not! Is that what everyone’s saying?’ She felt her cheeks flame with heat.

Jackie leant in closer, lowering her voice. ‘You’ve been leaving together. You arrive together. Everyone assumed—’

‘They assumed wrong!’ She got up and stormed over to the sink, unable to sit still for a moment longer. ‘I got burgled. My place was trashed and Tom offered me a place to stay until I could arrange something else!’

Jackie held up her hands as if in surrender. ‘Okay! I believe you! Whoa, calm down, woman. I’m only telling you what everyone is saying. We just thought... I mean, come on, he is delish!’

‘He’s a friend. A work colleague. My boss! Tom and I will be nothing more,’ she said firmly and loudly, just as Tom walked in, holding his coffee mug.

He paused, glancing at her, his face impassive. He looked around at Jackie and the others all staring at him, waiting for him to say something, but he just went to the coffee pot and poured himself a refill and left again.

Naomi didn’t realise she’d been holding her breath. She let it out, wondering how she would ever apologise to him for making them both the subject of so much gossip. Perhaps it would be wise to find a flat sooner, rather than later?

She sank down in the chair next to Jackie. ‘Know anywhere I could live?’

Her friend stared back at her and shook her head. ‘Sorry.’

She let out a sigh, wondering if everyone else’s attempts at being strong and independent in the world came crashing down as badly as hers.

Tom stood outside the hospital clutching his mug of coffee and fighting the urge to march back into the staffroom.

He knew he wouldn’t. He wasn’t a violent man, or the confrontational type. But the urge to give everyone a piece of his mind had suddenly soared out of nowhere. Being the subject of idle gossip wasn’t helping. He’d thought everyone had forgotten about all of that nonsense.

It was enough to make any man’s blood boil.

I don’t know why I’m getting so worked up about this!

She was just a work colleague. A tenant. A friend. An employee. Nothing more than that. And he didn’t need her to be anything more than that, he reminded himself.

Naomi Bloom.

It all kept coming back to her! Nothing had been right in his life ever since she’d fallen from that stupid ladder into his arms.

Tom sat down on one of the benches and sipped his coffee. It wasn’t too cold out. It was one of those rare February days when the sun shone brightly and there was no breeze, so it actually felt quite spring-like. Daffodils were coming up early and, above the light morning traffic, he could hear birdsong. It was almost a pleasant day, except...

It had been a day like this when Meredith had been hit by the car. The driver had been drinking and over the limit, but he’d also said the low sun had blinded him, blocking his view of another vehicle, causing him to swerve suddenly, mount the kerb and...hit Meredith.

She’d been jogging along the road, with her headphones in, music playing, and she’d not heard the rev of the engine, or the squeal of brakes before it was too late. Much too late.

He let out a heavy sigh. He had to be more vigilant. He couldn’t involve himself with Naomi. Since her arrival in his life, he’d been disturbed, unable to concentrate, unable to sleep knowing that she was just in the next room. Now everyone was talking about them.

He didn’t need that kind of reputation. He wanted everyone to think of him as a damned fine doctor and nothing else!

In the evening, Naomi was just starting to put together a quick meal. She’d put some pasta on to boil, had—admittedly—opened a carton of fresh tomato and basil sauce and was busy chopping up a fresh green salad. You couldn’t burn salad. And she never went wrong with pasta. This was a good way to apologise to Tom for the day’s events.

The radio was on and as she chopped she sang along to the music, not caring that she was off-key or didn’t know half the words.

She had just reached for a handful of fresh herbs, when she noticed Tom had silently emerged from his room and was watching her dance and bop to the music. She blushed. ‘Hi.’

Tom stood there, a slight smile of amusement on his face. ‘Cooking again?’

Self-consciously, she patted her hair, realising the wispy loose bun was still held in place by the pencil she’d used earlier. She pulled it out, shaking her hair loose with her fingers as her cheeks coloured. She glanced down at the chopped salad leaves, the mix of rocket, radicchio and watercress. ‘Erm, yes. But I’m certain we’ll get through this one with the minimum amount of fuss.’

‘No fire trucks?’

She laughed. ‘No. Well... I hope not. Look, about today, Tom, I’m really sorry—’

‘There’s no need.’ He held up his hands. ‘It’s fine. I should have known. I reacted badly to it, too. I was rude ignoring you and that was very wrong of me. I’m sorry.’

He looked it, too. She found herself feeling odd about it. Discomfited. When she’d had fallings-out with Vincent, they would apologise and she would hug him, gently, so as not to cause him injury. Injury only turned to more bone, but she had never stopped giving him hugs. She was that kind of person.

But to hug Tom? That wouldn’t feel right. She didn’t feel that she had the right to do that yet.

‘I’m sorry, too. All you’ve done is look out for me since you’ve known me and now I’m dragging your name through the mud.’

‘I’ve been in worse. Mud is nothing, compared to some places you could be.’

She thought maybe he was referring to her experience with Vincent. Yes, that had been tough, watching someone die and not being able to do a thing about it. She’d felt the same sadness with the elderly patients with Alzheimer’s. She understood how horrible it was to see a disease slowly picking away at a person, like a vulture, feeding on their soul, feeding on who they were. ‘I agree.’

‘I hope I haven’t made you feel that you have to find another place sooner, rather than later.’

‘I did feel that a little.’

‘I’m sorry. But when Jackie implied today that we were...’ he swallowed ‘...sleeping together, I just felt like they were all disregarding the feelings I had for my wife. I loved her so much and to lose her like that, in such a terrible accident... There should never be rumours like that about us. About me. I won’t ever date. Not again.’

‘Never?’

He shook his head. ‘I’ve had my one true love. You don’t get that a second time.’

She looked at him carefully. ‘You believe there’s only ever one true love for a person? That out of all the billions of people on this planet, we only ever have one person who could be our soulmate?’

He considered her words. ‘It would be a miracle if there were another.’

‘But in believing that, you’re tying yourself to a lonely future. I loved Vincent, but I don’t think he’ll be my only love. I have to believe that there’s more.’

‘Maybe we’re both right. But I won’t have gossip about us. We have to set everyone straight.’

‘All right.’

‘And I’d like to help you look for a place. A good place. I can use my contacts.’

Clearly he still wanted to get rid of her. Disappointment filled her. ‘I appreciate that, Tom.’

He looked as if he was going to say something else, but then he seemed to think better of it. Instead, he just smiled and went over to sit on the sofa.

The pasta was about to boil over. She caught it just in time and turned down the heat.

Disaster averted.

CHAPTER FIVE

THE DOORS FLEW open as the paramedics wheeled in their next patient. Tom, Naomi and the rest of the team all took a grip and helped transfer the patient from the trolley onto the flat bed.

Tom and Naomi had spent the last week or so flat-hunting but it hadn’t gone well. Places had been either too small, or too far from work, bearing in mind that she would have to use buses or trains to get to Welbeck and the London traffic was notoriously bad.

They’d gotten into a routine. Work, eat, flat-hunt, sleep. It was a routine. A safe routine. Tom knew that just by concentrating on those few things, he could keep the topic of conversation away from the more dangerous areas. He didn’t want to reveal too much of himself and he frequently felt that he was constantly warding Naomi off from asking personal questions.

The paramedic handed Tom the job notes.

‘This is Derek, forty-two, he was involved in a car-versus-lamp-post incident approximately thirty minutes ago. The car was travelling at an estimated forty miles an hour and he swerved and hit the lamppost head-on. The airbag was deployed. Head to toe, he has a scalp laceration above his left eye, bruising and pain to the right shoulder and a query right broken wrist. Patient has admitted that he’d consumed a considerable amount of alcohol and police have done a breath test, which was positive.’

Tom glanced through the notes, keeping his face unreadable. This man had been drinking, another idiot who thought he could get behind the wheel of his car and drive? What would it take before these people realised how much they were endangering others as well as themselves?

‘Was anyone else hurt at the scene?’

The paramedic shook his head. ‘No. But he came close. Those kids were lucky their mother saw him coming and got them out of the way.’

Kids?

An anger began to simmer within him. He gave a quick nod of thanks to the ambulance team as they took their equipment and left.

His team were already working. Naomi was getting venous access, whilst another doctor was doing a fast scan of the patient’s abdomen and another was taking blood-pressure readings.

The X-ray technicians arrived and took pictures of the man’s chest and pelvis and Tom ordered pain medication whilst they waited for the results.

Derek had been lucky. Nothing was broken. His wrist was most probably sprained. The only attention he needed was to his scalp, where there was a wound that was deep enough to need stitches, not glue.

Naomi fetched Tom a suturing kit and some sterile gloves and set up a small station on a metal trolley, so that he could work. But first, she cleaned the patient’s wound and irrigated it. There was still some airbag dust in and around the wound. At this moment in time, they had no idea how old the patient’s car was. If it was an older vehicle, the dust would contain sodium azide, which they definitely didn’t want to be embedded in a wound. It was better to be safe, rather than sorry.

‘Is that okay?’ Naomi asked Derek, noticing he was wincing slightly as she worked.

‘It hurts. Can’t I get some anaesthetic?’

‘Dr Williams will do that for you.’

‘How long’s that going to take?’

‘Do you need to be somewhere?’

‘My brother’s getting married.’

She put aside the used swabs and grabbed a fresh one to dry the patient’s face and around his ear. ‘What time?’

‘Three o clock.’

‘You’ve plenty of time.’

Tom washed his hands in the sink. It was his job, but dealing with people like Derek still angered him. He’d recklessly endangered others and Tom couldn’t help but think that someone like this man had been responsible for killing the love of his life. Derek had been lucky today in more ways than one. He’d had a crash and avoided major injury to himself, but more importantly he hadn’t hurt anyone else. Although it sounded like it had been close. It seemed that it was only down to a mother’s due diligence that the children had not been hurt.

Would Derek be grumbling about time issues if he’d killed a child?

Tom wiped his hands dry on a paper towel and then turned to pick up the sterile gloves and put them on.

‘Hey, Doc, give me the good stuff, yeah? I’m not good with pain.’

Tom wondered who was. He reckoned the physical pain this man was experiencing now was nothing compared to the kind of pain that Tom had gone through. He made no reply but picked up the vial of anaesthetic so he could draw it into the syringe.

He was aware that Naomi was frowning, watching him, confused by his silence, but he had no time to explain it all at this moment. And there was no way in hell he was going to explain it in front of this idiot!

Once he’d got the measurement right, he leaned over the patient to examine the now-cleaned wound and find the best place to insert the anaesthetic. ‘This will sting,’ he said, finding a tiny modicum of satisfaction when Derek winced and flinched.

‘Whoa, Doc!’

He inserted the needle again in another spot and then another, before removing his gloves and going back to the sink to wash his hands. ‘That will take a moment.’ He looked at Naomi. ‘I’ll just add the meds to his notes.’

She followed him over to his desk. ‘Are you okay? You seem...distracted. Is the gossip still bothering you?’

He looked at her askance. He hadn’t given the gossip a moment’s notice. ‘No.’

‘It’s just that you don’t seem...happy.’

‘Well, why would I be?’ He marched back over to the patient and washed his hands in the sink once again before putting on another pair of gloves. He didn’t notice the odd look Naomi gave him before she left. All he could think about was how to keep his cool whilst dealing with this patient.

Naomi found Jackie in the sluice room, emptying a bedpan.

‘Hey, Naomi. What’s up?’ Jackie was in her usual good mood today.

‘Nothing.’

Jackie closed the lid to the machine that disposed of the cardboard pans and pressed the button to activate the mulcher. ‘Tell your Aunty Jackie. Come on!’

Naomi shrugged and fiddled with the boxes of gloves on the shelf beside her. ‘Dr Williams is acting odd. More so than usual.’

‘Lovers’ tiff?’ Jackie cackled at her own joke but, seeing her friend’s reaction to it, stopped abruptly. ‘Oh, yeah, that’s right. You two are all “above board”.’ She wiggled her fingers to make quotation marks in the air.

‘We are. Flatmates plain and simple.’

‘It could be that latest case? The drunk driver?’

‘Why would that bother him? We work in A&E; we see drunks all the time.’

Jackie shook her head. ‘We do, that’s true, but...well, you’d really need to ask him.’

‘But I suppose everyone else knows about it?’

‘Pretty much. I would have thought you’d know, you’ve lived with him for a month! Why don’t you ask him? If you dare. He’s been a lot more prickly lately. I’m not sure I’d want to poke that wasp hive.’

Naomi sank back against the racks. ‘You’re telling me.’

‘I think you’d get away with it.’

She frowned. ‘Why?’

Jackie washed her hands, then dried them. ‘Because I’ve seen the way he looks at you.’

That evening, Tom gave her a lift home. He didn’t say much in the car and she sensed he had a lot on his mind. Least of all the fact that he had a lodger that he’d never wanted in the first place.

But when they got to the flat and they both had changed, she watched as Tom came out of his room and went over to the piano, looking pensive. His fingertips touched the top of the sleek black instrument and he let them drift across the surface.

Was he thinking about his wife? He’d told Naomi he had only ever played it for her. Was that case with the drunk driver today somehow connected? And if so, how?

She opened the fridge, looking for inspiration for their evening meal, but there was hardly anything in there. ‘I think we need to go to the supermarket.’

Tom looked over to where she stood in the kitchen. ‘I’m not sure I feel like that tonight.’

‘I don’t mind going. Tell me what you’d like and I’ll fetch it,’ she offered.

He stuck his hands in his pockets and came over to her. ‘Do you like seafood?’

‘Love it. Why?’

‘Then I know a perfect little place.’

The Phoenix was a floating restaurant on the River Thames. It consisted of a beautiful wide yacht with a white hull, a phoenix rising from the ashes painted on the aft.

Naomi hadn’t really known what to expect. Certainly, when Tom had suggested that he knew a restaurant they could go to, she’d expected somewhere on dry land. She hadn’t known these sorts of things existed, and had had no idea how she ought to dress. In the end, she’d settled on a summery dress, mainly white but with small pink tea roses on it, and then a white shawl for her to wrap around her shoulders.

Tom had given her a nod of approval when she’d emerged from her room and she’d noted his dashing choice of simple black trousers and a tailored white shirt. He looked very handsome, so much so that her stomach had begun to flip and twirl with nervousness and her heart rate had gone up a few notches. She’d hoped she wasn’t getting those ugly red blotches on her neck and chest, which was what usually happened when she got nervous, but if she had looked flushed, he didn’t mention it.

He’d called a taxi to take them to the restaurant and when they arrived, she’d gasped in awe and surprise at the beautiful fairy lights that lit up the boat and along the gangplank.

Now, she felt Tom’s hand at the small of her back as he guided her safely on board.

‘Table for two. Williams.’

The maître d’ checked his guest list, then escorted them to a table up on the top deck, under a canopy. Across the water, Naomi could see the Houses of Parliament all lit up and the London Eye and although there was a small chill in the air, she didn’t feel it. All she felt was excitement.

She had never been somewhere like this. She had never been on a date like this! When she’d met Vincent, it had been in the hospital and she’d known from the beginning what she would be getting into. The only dates she and Vincent had been on were hospital appointments and the occasional drive to a local pub with disabled access. Certainly nothing like this!

She settled into her seat as they were handed the menu. There was a huge selection of seafood dishes: sea bass with lemon capers, a spicy salmon tikka, chilli prawns or a simpler, steamed fish served with vegetables. She decided to go for the prawn starter, the seafood kebab for her main and strawberry cheesecake for dessert.

‘Excellent choice,’ Tom said, before turning to the waiter. ‘I’ll have the same.’

The waiter bowed and then disappeared.

Naomi smiled. ‘This seems lovely. Thank you for bringing me here.’

‘Not at all. You’ve been cooking so much this week, it’s about time you had an evening off.’

‘To give the fire alarm a rest, you mean?’

He smiled back and took a sip of his water.

The wine that Tom had ordered, a nice Sauvignon Blanc, arrived. He tested it, giving his approval, and it was poured into both their glasses.

‘Have you been here before?’ Naomi asked. She wanted to know if he’d been here with his wife. If he had, she didn’t think she would mind.

‘No. I haven’t. It was recommended to me by a colleague.’

‘It was a difficult day, today, wasn’t it?’

His gaze met hers. ‘How do you mean?’

She hesitated, not wanting to spoil the evening right at the start, but also curious to know what had happened in his past. ‘On a personal level. That drunk driver.’

Tom sipped his wine and looked out over the water. He seemed to be looking for something. After a moment or two, his gaze returned to her. ‘I guess people at work have told you what happened to Meredith?’

She shook her head. ‘No. They haven’t.’

He seemed surprised, but before he could say any more their chilli prawns arrived. He thanked the waiter and, when he’d gone, he looked back into Naomi’s eyes. ‘She was killed. By a drunk driver.’

‘Oh, no, I’m so sorry, Tom.’ She reached out and laid her hand on his. This was the type of person she was. She touched people. She let them know that she understood. His hand under hers felt warm and she wrapped her fingers around his palm. ‘If you’d rather I changed the subject...?’

He didn’t pull his hand away. But she did see the way he stared down at their hands upon the table. He looked pained. ‘It’s fine.’

‘Tell me about her. I’d like to know who she was.’

His lined brow grew less furrowed and a small light came into his eyes. ‘We met at the hospital and she dazzled me from day one. She was this bright, breezy individual, a fantastic nurse, and we just hit it off. I’d rib her about how she’d eat junk food for breakfast on her way into work and she’d joke with me about being a health fanatic just because I’d eaten a banana or something.’

Naomi smiled.

‘She called me the health freak, but she was the one who went jogging every day, no matter what the weather.’

‘She sounds dedicated.’

‘She was. She was jogging on the day she died. She used to wear headphones and listen to music. The driver mounted the kerb and hit her. She wouldn’t have heard a thing. Or even have felt it. Or so the paramedics said.’

‘I’m so sorry.’ She truly meant it. She gave his hand another squeeze and he squeezed back, looking distant for a moment, then he smiled.

‘Better eat your prawns, before they get cold.’

The prawns were beautiful. They were buttery and spicy, fat and plump with a hint of garlic and paprika. The freshly baked crusty bread was perfect to help mop up the juices and, when they’d finished, the waiter brought over some finger bowls so they could rinse their fingers.

‘That was delicious, thank you,’ she told the waiter, who smiled as he cleared their plates.

London at night, on the river, looked beautiful. Naomi had done all the essential touristy things when she’d first arrived, but that had been during the day. Going for a ride on the London Eye had been a treat and she’d looked out over the new city in which she would be living in awe. People came for miles to see this, to experience this. Now here she was seeing it all in a new light and with a great friend by her side.

Because Tom was her friend. She felt they had reached that point now. He was her boss too of course and her landlord, technically, but over time they’d grown quite close. They’d been working together, living together, sharing meals, sharing a bathroom. She felt she understood him a bit better.

She remembered how when they’d first met, he’d been very standoffish. He’d been prickly and not friendly at all, but then he’d taken her in, making a grand gesture that she truly appreciated. She’d also watched him at work and seen him as the professional, caring, hardworking doctor. And at home he’d become her friend and her cooking instructor! In what seemed like very little time, she’d learnt so much from him in so many ways and now they were here, on this wonderful boat, and she wondered briefly if it was representative of their changing relationship.

She raised her glass for a toast. ‘To Meredith.’

Surprise crossed Tom’s face and then his expression changed to one of appreciation. He raised his glass and clinked it gently against hers. ‘And to new friends.’

‘New friends.’ She sipped her wine, feeling the gentle fruity flavours wash away the heat of the spicy prawns. This was nice. She was enjoying being here with him. This side of Tom was much, much better than the first side that she’d seen.

The waiter arrived with their main course, which was seafood skewers of monkfish, scallop and salmon, drizzled in a cauliflower sauce, served with buttered carrots and broccoli florets.

They tucked in with gusto, relishing the way the sauce truly brought out the flavours of the fish, until all too soon both their plates were empty. Naomi laughed. ‘Is this a sign that my cooking hasn’t been as great as I’ve thought? Have you been secretly starving, Tom?’

He smiled back at her. ‘Your food has been delicious.’

‘Even the blackened bits?’

‘Even those. I think these celebrity chefs are missing a trick there. Carbonisation of food adds a certain je ne sais quoi.’

‘Now I know you’re lying!’

Tom laughed. ‘Living with you has been an eye-opening experience.’

‘Why, thank you!’ She met his gaze and held it, seeing his eyes sparkling with amusement. ‘So has living with you.’

‘Oh?’

‘I would never have pegged you for a cook.’

‘Really? Why not?’

‘You seem...’ She tried to find the right words. ‘You seem the kind of guy who would eat out every night. Restaurants, dinner parties, that sort of thing. Whereas I’m a microwave-meal-for-one kind of girl.’

Tom refilled their wine glasses. ‘You mean you’re a homebody?’

She nodded. ‘Yes, I am. And I like being that. This is great, too, don’t get me wrong, but I think there’s a lot to be said for staying at home in your pyjamas and eating a bowl of popcorn in front of the television.’

‘You’re absolutely right. Homes are underrated.’

She looked at him. ‘And your home? Do you enjoy being there?’

He pursed his lips momentarily and the action drew her focus. He had such a lovely mouth. A wide smile, good teeth. He didn’t smile often enough, but when he did... It couldn’t fail to make anyone smile with him. ‘I do now.’

She swallowed. Did he mean that he enjoyed being there now that she was there? Perhaps she was no longer the interloper. No longer the unwanted tenant. ‘Really?’

‘Really. I think I’ll miss you, when you leave.’

‘It’ll be quieter, you mean?’ she suggested.

‘It’ll be...emptier.’

She sipped her wine and wondered what he meant by that.

The cheesecake arrived and, on a par with the previous courses, it was absolutely delicious, just as she’d expected. By the time they’d finished eating, Naomi was feeling comfortably full so they had coffee and then Tom suggested a walk along the river.

Naomi wrapped her shawl around her shoulders, glad that she’d brought it. It was a warm evening for early March but the air was slowly getting colder and her shawl wasn’t enough. Tom proffered his jacket, wrapping it around her shoulders, and she snuggled into its warm depths. ‘Thank you.’

‘No problem.’

She smiled and looked up at him. Suddenly, it occurred to her that he seemed so alone. Not lonely. Alone. A man whose only companion was a grief that he’d carried with him for a long time. She wished she could make it better for him.

‘You know...when I lost Vincent, it was expected. We’d known for months that the end was coming and we both hoped that it would be easier. You know? That we’d have had our chance to say goodbye to each other. Do you find that difficult, Tom? That you never had the opportunity or time to say goodbye? Is that why it still hurts you so much?’

He shrugged. ‘Maybe. We’d had so little time together. I think it hurts because...well, because I’d had all these dreams for us—travelling, children—and that future has been taken away.’

She could understand. Her hopes and dreams for a future had been taken from her, too. ‘Perhaps we’ve both got different futures awaiting us. And they may be different from the ones we were expecting, but perhaps they won’t be as bad as we expect.’

He gave a grim laugh. ‘For you, maybe. I’m not planning on getting involved with anyone again, remember? You still believe that there’s another soulmate out there for you, so your future still shines bright with possibility.’

A couple walked towards them, looking so in love, so comfortable with each other. They had their arms around each other, the woman leaning her head against her partner’s shoulder as he kissed the top of her hair. Naomi smiled at them as they walked past.

‘I think there’s someone out there for you, Tom. You’ve just got to look harder.’

She could feel his gaze upon her and she glanced up at him and smiled. She stopped walking for a moment and when he stilled and faced her, she tentatively reached for his hand and grasped it in her own. ‘Promise me, Tom, that you’ll look for her.’

‘I—’

‘I don’t think you should be alone. Not for the rest of your life. That’s a long time to be blind to the possibilities all around you.’

‘You’re very kind, Naomi.’ He pushed back a loose strand of her hair, tucking it behind her ear. His eyes sparkled in the moonlight. Standing here, holding his hand by the riverside, seemed the right thing to be doing. Their relationship had changed so much and, where once she had been apprehensive around him, she now felt that she cared. That she wanted good things for him, and the idea that he would be alone for the rest of his life...

He was staring down at her, intently.

They were both standing so close to the other that she suddenly became aware of the small space between them, almost as if it were crackling with unseen electricity.

His eyes stared deep into her soul, and it was as if she could feel him searching, see him looking for something within her that only he could find. And he took a step closer.

Naomi sucked in her breath, her lips parting as he came closer. Did she want Tom to kiss her?

Yes. Absolutely.

Suddenly the realisation of how much she wanted to kiss him slammed through her, making its presence felt. It felt as if this, the kiss that was about to happen, was the most obvious thing in the world. As if it were something she had always wanted and wondered about, only she hadn’t allowed herself to think about it, or acknowledge it. Yet here it was and...

It was like everything was happening in slow motion.

Tom was moving closer. His head lowered to hers, their eyes closing as his lips approached hers.

Naomi held her breath, awaiting the touch of his lips, her heart pounding, her breathing fast and shallow. Could he hear her heart? Did he know how much she suddenly wanted this?

But where was the kiss?

She felt his hand pull free of hers and she opened her eyes to see him stand up straight again, wearing an agonised expression of pain and regret. ‘I’m sorry... I can’t...’

It was horrible. She wished she could give him what he needed and ease his pain. Make him feel that there was still a chance of happiness for him.

He began to walk again, waiting for her to follow alongside. ‘I’m sorry, Naomi.’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ she said, trying to make him feel better, but inside she felt crushed. She was bitterly disappointed.

It does matter!

Could she really have kissed Tom? She risked a quick glance at him. Yes, he was gorgeous and yes, she liked him. In fact, she liked him a lot, but would kissing him really be wise? Perhaps it was a good thing that he’d paused and thought better of it.

He was her boss, her friend and her flatmate. Kissing him would have simply opened up a whole world of complication that she didn’t need! When she thought about it sensibly, she knew it was probably a bad idea. After all, the man was obviously still in a quagmire of grief, wasn’t he?

He was a man of deep feeling. She knew that. She saw proof of it on a daily basis. Now she had no doubt that if they were to kiss, then Tom would make her feel things that she had never felt before. Vincent, for all his sweetness and vulnerability, had never been an overtly passionate kisser. Their kisses had always been friendly. They had mostly been kisses of greeting, hello and goodbye. Vanilla kisses. Their whole relationship had been about being safe. About being careful and controlled. That was the reason why he’d been such a great husband, and one who she missed dearly.

But had she ever yearned for him? Had she ever been desperate for Vincent’s touch?

No. That wasn’t what their relationship had been based on.

So now? Being here with Tom, feeling the sudden desire to know what his kisses would be like, and where they might lead...

It was terrifying!

But it was also exciting. And a little bit dangerous. She could feel adrenaline zipping through her system like electrical shocks. She felt as if she could run. She felt as if she could achieve anything if she dared.

Except kiss him.

Just because she wanted to do it, it didn’t make it right. Surely this was her worst nightmare. Getting involved with a handsome man, as she’d seen her mother do so many times, only to be used and cast aside later. Because wasn’t that what they all did? Wasn’t that what she had learned? The one thing she had decided upon from a young age was to never get involved with someone that dangerous.

And Tom was the worst kind of dangerous.

He wasn’t free to be loved.

CHAPTER SIX

SHE’D SPENT MOST of last night lying in her bed thinking about the almost-kiss, and sleep had eluded her for a while. She’d expected to wake up feeling tired and awful, but to her surprise she didn’t. Her new mindset had given her the energy and determination to make everything right again.

She’d decided as he’d driven her to work that she wouldn’t mention it. Tom obviously regretted the moment and she didn’t want him to feel embarrassed or awkward around her. Nor did she want to feel awkward around him. She wanted them to go back to the way they’d been before the almost-kiss. Good friends. Good flatmates. Boss and employee. Team players.

If she saw Tom today at the hospital, she would wish him good morning, smile and then get on with her day. If he raised the issue with her, then that would be different. But still, she’d listen and nod and smile and tell him it was all fine. She’d decided that she wouldn’t put any pressure on him whatsoever. She would be strong and independent. She would not be clingy, or whiny or make him feel as if he’d almost kissed the wrong woman. She didn’t want him to think she was someone who might turn into a weird stalker, desperate for his affections.

She put her coat into her locker, changed into her uniform and twisted her hair up into a clip. Then she headed to the staffroom to make herself a quick cup of coffee. She made drinks for Jackie, Stefan and Bobby too and settled down with her notepad and pen, waiting for the sister from the night shift to come in and do the handover.

Dr Thomas walked in, followed by a couple of healthcare assistants, then another doctor.

She wondered where Tom was.

It doesn’t matter, she told herself. Be bright and breezy.

And then...in he came. He was looking tall and delicious as always and his gaze found hers in an instant, before he quickly looked away.

Her smile froze on her face.

It was easy to tell yourself that you wouldn’t let it matter. It was easy to say that you wouldn’t show a reaction. But reality was just a little tougher and doing it was another matter entirely. Having him here so close to her made her entire body feel as if it were revving its engine, as if someone had pressed down on the accelerator, making the engine roar. She could feel her blood thrumming through her veins and could feel herself beginning to overheat.

It had been the same that morning, when Tom had driven her in to work. He’d barely said a word, but she’d been so aware of him next to her, just inches away. Every time he’d reached for the gear stick to change up or down, she’d sucked in a breath.

She didn’t know why this was happening. She hadn’t felt this way before he’d tried to kiss her. But now, after that moment, something had changed.

She dipped her head and sipped her coffee, aware of his every step, his every movement. He was making himself a drink and, although she wanted to watch him whilst his back was turned and try to gauge his mood or how he might feel about her, she kept staring straight ahead. He would be a perfect gentleman, of that she had no doubt.

Jackie said something to her and Naomi made a sound as if in agreement, but really she had no idea what her friend had just said.

She sipped her coffee again and stared at her notepad on the desk in front of her.

Just look at the notepad. Look at that and nothing else. Tom is just another person in the room. Don’t look at him.

She looked at him. She took in the broad expanse of his back, the neatness of his small, trim waist. The way his hair neatly met the collar of his shirt, the soft curve of muscle beneath the material.

He’d tried to kiss her. He’d tried and so it did mean something! Because surely there had to be feelings behind that intention. Surely he must have felt an attraction to her.

She averted her gaze as he turned round to find a seat, intently aware of him moving round to sit next to Dr Thomas, out of her eyeline.

Thank you. At least now I’ll be able to concentrate.

She took another sip of her coffee, willing herself to concentrate on something else.

Naomi was assigned to work in Minors. As was Tom. No matter, she thought. It didn’t mean they were necessarily going to run into each other all day. It was a big enough department, with sixteen cubicles. As long as she kept busy, it should be fine. And A&E was always busy.

She had no patient already assigned to her, so she went to pick up the next patient card from triage.

Logan Reed, aged twenty, who had a cut on his leg.

She called him through, noting that he was a tall, young man, quite lanky in appearance, a little pale and weak-looking. She led him through to her cubicle and asked him to sit on the bed.

‘So, Logan, what’s brought you to A&E today?’

He answered her in a dull voice. ‘I’ve cut my leg.’

‘And how did you do that?’

He shrugged.

She sensed there was more to this, something he was afraid to say. ‘Can you show me whereabouts on your leg the cut is?’

He stood up and unzipped his trousers, lowering them to his knees. He didn’t look at her or make eye contact, but just waited whilst she took in the multitude of scars across the tops of his thighs. On one thigh there was a section covered with a gauze pad.

It was now clear Logan had been self-harming and her heart sank. What could be causing this boy so much pain that he felt he had to do this?

‘Okay. Do you want to lie back for me? Then I’ll have a look at this cut.’

He positioned himself on the bed and waited.

Naomi put on some gloves and removed the gauze pad. Whilst he’d obviously cut himself again, this gash was bigger than the others and quite possibly deeper. It was still bleeding, but it looked as if it had slowed.

‘What did you use?’ she asked, trying to keep her voice calm.

Logan shrugged. ‘A craft blade.’

‘Was it clean?’

He nodded.

She delicately replaced the gauze pad and removed her gloves. ‘And what made you do this? Today? What happened to make you cut yourself worse than all the other times?’

His gaze met hers, briefly. ‘A girl. You probably think I’m stupid.’

Naomi didn’t. She knew people dealt with their pain in many different ways. Some just cried, whilst others buried themselves in work so that they didn’t have to think. Some people would exercise furiously and others would just wallow deep in depression. Then others, like Logan, self-harmed, perhaps preferring to feel physical pain, rather than the emotional one.

‘No! No, I don’t. Were you in a relationship with this girl?’

‘I thought I was. I thought we were serious. Turns out she was just having fun.’ He sounded bitter. She could understand his hurt.

‘This might need stitches, Logan. I’ll need to get a doctor to assess it properly in order to do that.’

‘I know the drill. If it does need stitches, will I get an anaesthetic?’

Naomi thought that was an odd question. ‘Of course you will. Why?’

‘Last time I needed stitches I went to a hospital—not this one—and they said that if I could cut myself without anaesthetic, I could get stitched up without it, too.’

Naomi was horrified. ‘What? That’s awful!’

‘In some places, when you self-harm, they treat you like you deserve it.’

‘Well, we don’t do that here! There are protocols in place. You won’t be treated differently from anyone else.’

Logan nodded approvingly. ‘Glad to hear it.’

‘Are you receiving treatment for your self-harming, Logan? Are you seeing anyone?’

‘I was. But I haven’t for a while.’

‘Then I’ll refer you for another assessment. Is that all right?’

‘Sure.’

She nodded. ‘Are you in pain? From the cut?’

‘A bit, but it’s okay.’

‘No. It’s not okay. It’s never okay to be in pain.’

She went in search of an available doctor, hoping to maybe find Dr Thomas, or one of the others on duty. But they were already busy. The one doctor that had just finished with a patient and was about to see another was Tom.

Naomi relaxed her shoulders, letting out a low, long breath, and then she went over to him. She kept her manner businesslike. The epitome of professionalism. ‘Tom, could I ask you to check my patient over, if you’re free?’

He met her gaze and nodded. ‘Of course. Who’s the patient?’

‘Logan Reed. He’s self-harmed, and cut his leg. It needs an assessment and possibly stitches.’

‘Has he got a current mental-health referral?’

‘No, but he’s had counselling before. I think he’s fallen off the wagon somewhat, so I’m going to re-refer him.’

‘Okay, let me take a look.’

They walked side by side to the cubicle, neither looking at the other, but each totally aware of how close they stood.

Naomi pulled open the cubicle curtain and introduced Logan to Tom, who put on some gloves and examined the wound. ‘Can you feel me touching here? And here?’ he asked Logan.

The young man nodded. ‘Yes.’

‘You can wiggle your toes and move your leg with no problems?’

‘It’s fine.’

‘Good. I don’t think it’s too deep. It needs a clean and then I can stitch it. It’s probably going to need at least three stitches. They’ll be dissolvable, so there’s no need to go to the doctor’s to get them removed.’

Logan nodded again.

‘What made you do this?’ Tom asked, quietly.

Their patient let out a long sigh. ‘This girl I was into. She was beautiful, you know? Popular. All the guys wanted to be with her and she picked me. I thought we had something special. This deep connection. But it turned out, she wasn’t as into me as I was her.’

Naomi tried her hardest not to look at Tom’s face. She’d thought Tom had sensed something between them, too. But she couldn’t imagine what this poor young boy was feeling. To only be twenty years old, but to have more scars than years on his legs. She wondered what had gone wrong in his life, which compelled him to do such a thing in order to cope with emotional pain.

She thought of her own pain. The hurt and the grief she’d felt at the loss of her marriage. She’d dreamt of being married ever since she’d been a little girl. Her mother had raised her to believe that she could not be complete without a man, and that finding love was the ultimate goal. So as a child, she’d idolised marriage as the epitome of love. The way you would show the world how dedicated you were to another person. She’d drawn pictures of her ideal dress, imagined her perfect wedding day, dreamed about her perfect groom and how her life would be as a married woman.

But she’d had none of that. Meeting Vincent had changed it all. Suddenly she’d found a way to be married without leaving herself at risk of having that man walk out on her or cheat on her. She and Vincent might not have been able to have a physical relationship, but she’d told herself that didn’t matter so much. So long as she was safe. And her heart was protected. She’d known that Vincent would die young and she would lose him quickly, but she’d felt that that was something she would deal with when the time came. She would still be able to tell the world, tell herself, that she had been married, had been in love and that she’d had a good marriage. That she’d not been desperate and unloved like her own mother, who had seemed like the loneliest woman on the planet.

Eight years she’d spent with Vincent. Eight years of being best friends with her husband: sharing the same jokes, sharing quiet times—reading books, having picnics, taking day trips to the beach or a country house. Eight years of doing the things couples did together. Of caring for him. Loving him.

Eight years of repressing her excitement, her joy, her passion for life.

We all deal with pain and suffering in different ways.

Her own suffering had turned her into a stronger woman. She felt sure of that. Now, she was single and strong and determined. She was free to live her life the way she wanted, without anything holding her back. She could have let her pain control her. She could have let her grief override her emotions, but she hadn’t.

And look at Tom. He’d lost his wife. His suffering could have turned him into a bitter individual, angry at the world. But he was kind and considerate and friendly. What was it that made one person strong and determined not to be bowed down by tragedy, whilst others could barely cope?

Although, she knew better than anyone that sometimes grief and pain could still affect you, even when you thought you were over it. Tom had held back yesterday, for example. She’d seen the pain in his eyes, and it seemed Tom was still not over his wife’s death. Maybe he still felt married. After all, he’d not chosen to end his marriage. His wife had been taken from him. Did he still have feelings for Meredith? Had he bowed his head to kiss Naomi and suddenly realised what he was doing?

Of course. Tom still loved his dead wife. He clearly felt like he had betrayed Meredith, by attempting to kiss Naomi.

If that were true, then it was definitely a good thing that he’d put the brakes on. He obviously wasn’t in the right head space for her to get involved with him. She didn’t want to be involved with a man who wasn’t free. She didn’t want to be involved with a man who still loved another woman.

She stood there, cleaning Logan’s wound with saline, trying to be delicate, trying not to hurt him, until Tom could administer the anaesthetic.

All the while, she promised herself that from now on she would start looking harder for a flat. A place of her own. Tom clearly needed his space back. His life back.

The atmosphere between them needed lightening up. But how could she do that? Perhaps she should suggest they do something fun. Something that neither of them had ever done. Something that would get them both out of the flat, both out of that space where Tom’s grim memories resided and back out into the world. Most of all, something that had nothing to do with relationships and kisses and heightened moments of tension.

They could still be friends. Good friends, even. But for her, flat-hunting was going to be a number-one priority from now on.

Tom was off-limits.

And so was she.

Tom watched Logan limp out of the department and went to write up the patient notes. He’d left Naomi clearing up the cubicle and suddenly felt a lot more relaxed than when he had been encased with her inside that small space.

His discomfort with her proximity hadn’t stopped them from treating Logan to the best of their abilities. But he hoped and prayed that this current level of unease would soon pass. The last thing he wanted was for work to feel uncomfortable, just because of what had happened with Naomi.

He knew he had to forget the moment, but it was difficult. He’d loved Meredith. Of course he had. Their relationship had been built not just on love but friendship, too. But what about Naomi? That need to kiss her had just popped up out of nowhere, completely unexpected. He hadn’t thought, Well, this is a nice moonlit walk by the river, that’s romantic, I’ll kiss her. It had just happened. They’d stood there, looking at each other, and suddenly Tom had just...needed her.

It had just seemed right. He’d felt comfortable with her. They’d been having a pleasant walk, enjoying a good conversation and she’d been so lovely, so beautiful, listening to everything he’d said, paying attention. She’d been funny and humble and such good company and he’d not been able to remember the last time he’d felt that good. Then he’d just felt the need to...

He sighed.

He’d almost kissed her and then had walked away without a word of explanation. She must have been angry with him and she must have had questions. And yet she hadn’t asked him about it. She hadn’t pressured him into talking. She was even being sweet today, her normal and professional self. There had been no unfriendly atmosphere between them, as he’d feared, especially after the drive that morning when she hadn’t said a word. He’d been silent, too, waiting for her to say something. To receive a verbal assault, anything, but she’d remained calm and serene. And he truly appreciated that.

Maybe he was wrong. Maybe it hadn’t meant as much to her as it had to him.

Tom looked up and saw Naomi walking towards him. Suddenly, he knew he had to apologise. Or at least he had to say something.

‘Tom, can we talk?’

There were other members of staff milling around. Stefan was writing on a blood sample and Jackie was nearby, washing her hands in the sink.

‘Of course. But it’ll have to be at break.’

‘I have a break at ten-thirty. Will you come and find me?’

He nodded. He watched her pick up another patient card and disappear to the waiting room.

Even after the way he’d treated her, she still acted with dignity, as if nothing had happened. He couldn’t be more grateful.

When it got to ten-thirty, he found her dismissing her last patient. They both made a drink in the staffroom and sat opposite each other over the long table.

Naomi gave him a brief, polite smile, before she opened her mouth to speak. ‘I’ve decided that what we both need is an evening of fun.’

Tom blinked. This wasn’t what he’d been expecting. ‘Okay.’

‘We’ve both been through an awful lot of stress in our personal lives and everything has just been so intense. We need to break free of that and do something random and fun, to forget work and life’s stresses and just enjoy being. What do you think?’

He gave a simple nod. ‘I agree.’ He liked the idea. She was right. ‘Absolutely.’ A smile crept across his face as he realised just how much he was beginning to really like this woman.

‘Good. I’ve arranged something I’ve never done before and hopefully something you haven’t done either. We’ll have a laugh and enjoy ourselves and just let everything go. Okay?’

Tom nodded. ‘Are you going to tell me what it is?’

She smiled at him. ‘No. Not until we get there.’

‘Right.’

She stood up. ‘Right. I’ll see you later.’

As she walked away he shook his head in disbelief. What had he done so right in his life that Naomi had been allowed to walk into it?

Then he laughed quietly to himself. He hadn’t thought that when he’d first met her. He’d thought she was a clumsy rule-breaker, who had demanded his attention.

But now?

She was brightening up his life.

‘We’re doing what?’ Tom looked at her as if she’d just suggested they go parachuting naked.

‘A roller disco derby.’

‘On skates?’

‘Roller skates, yes. Don’t worry, Tom. They give you helmets and everything.’

‘But...you, on skates. Is that safe?’

She gave him a playful nudge and laughed. ‘I’ll stay upright and everything. Come on, it’ll be fun. Eighties music, a bit of disco lighting and a whole room full of adults who all ought to know better. What could be more right?’ She took hold of his hand and he allowed himself to be pulled forward, a grin on his face.

The large wooden-floored skating arena was filled with flashing disco lights and the heavy beat of loud bass-heavy music. Tom could almost feel the beat thrumming through his bones. Skaters—who’d obviously done this before—whizzed past him, whilst other people stumbled along carefully, as he was doing.

Naomi held his hand in hers and, laughing, pulled him onto the wooden floor.

‘Hang on! Just let me grab this.’ He reached for the side, smiling broadly as his hand gripped the safety rail and he could suddenly stand fully upright once again.

Naomi stood by him smiling. ‘We’ll do this together!’ she shouted. ‘One step at a time, yes?’

He nodded and wondered what everyone at work would say if they could see him now. At the rate he was going, they might well see him, when he went to A&E later as a patient rather than a doctor, with a sprained ankle. But with a faltering lunge, he let go of the side and allowed Naomi to lead him.

The battle for his balance was an awkward one. He imagined he must look like a baby deer on stilts, all long legs and awkward wobbles, but Naomi was wobbling all over the place, too, so he didn’t feel like a total idiot. There were lots of people struggling, but everyone was laughing and those that did fall down were soon picked up by those around them.

When had he ever had so much carefree fun?

He would never have thought to come and do this on his own. Nor would he have let any of his other colleagues even suggest it! But Naomi had managed to get him here, had managed to put wheels on his feet and make him move.

Another skater whizzed past quickly, sending Tom’s arms whirling, and suddenly his feet had been lost from under him and he smacked down hard on his rump.

Naomi was bent double with laughter, but she shuffled over to give him a hand up. He was laughing so hard his sides were beginning to hurt. When he was at last back up on his ‘feet’ he clutched her hand and mouthed a ‘thank you’ as they began to skate again.

He had no idea how long they were on the arena floor, but pretty soon he started to get the hang of it and began to pick up speed. Naomi continued to stumble around behind him, so he doubled back and this time grabbed her hand.

‘Come on!’ he encouraged her, helping her to keep up with him.

Who would have thought it? Dr Tom Williams skating, and actually enjoying himself, at a roller derby! Happily, he surged forward, but then all of a sudden he felt Naomi start to wobble and he turned to catch her, doing it without thinking.

Suddenly she was in his arms again. Up close, he could see the sparkle in her eyes and he couldn’t look away. She was so beautiful! And she felt so right in his embrace. Her smile faltered briefly as she saw him gaze at her mouth, but then it returned and Tom knew that this time, he had to kiss her.

Slowly, in the middle of the roller derby, with everyone dashing past with lights flashing and the music pounding, the rest of the world faded away. For just a moment, it was only the two of them, wrapped in a world of magic and wonder. He dipped his head and let his lips touch hers.

He closed his eyes.

Her lips were so soft, so warm. Her arms came up around his neck and he pulled her closer against him. She felt so good. So right.

He allowed himself to be lost in the kiss. To just enjoy it. He would worry about the consequences later. Right now, in this moment, it was just Naomi and him.

The kiss deepened and grew more intense. He felt hungry for her; he desired her, wanted her. How was it possible that he could lose himself so easily? So readily?

But he pushed that thought away.

Someone caught his arm as they raced past and it broke the intensity of the moment.

She stared back at him as they parted, surprise and desire in her eyes, and he moistened his lips, before smiling uncertainly and taking her hand once again. They began to skate, but now it felt different.

The kiss had changed everything between them. The dynamics, the atmosphere...

And then it came.

The guilt. The pain. The flood of past memories, images of Meredith in the sunshine, laughing at him, calling his name, reaching out to him.

But his hand was in Naomi’s. And he couldn’t let go.

He needed a break. A minute to breathe.

He headed over to the safety rail.

The next week passed in a blur. Tom threw himself into his work once again, determined to get through every patient. He took blood samples, he stitched cuts, he sent patients to X-ray or CT. He was curt with everyone, no longer bothering to stop and chat, grabbing coffee on the go and not taking his full break.

He saw Naomi everywhere, it seemed. She was in the sluice, the drugs cupboard, holding patients’ hands, tucking them in or helping them to walk, helping them to deal with whatever health issue had brought them to A&E. He tried his best to ignore her. He kept his head down and walked past, keeping their interactions to a minimum.

But it was difficult. It pained him to do it. It was completely out of his character to treat a colleague like this. He knew he was being rude. He noticed the reactions of the other staff when he stormed past. He saw those questioning looks and the furtively raised eyebrows. He’d even heard a few whispering, asking, ‘What’s got into Tom?’

He had changed. He sensed it. He heard it in his voice when he spoke to people, felt it in his demeanour and hated himself whenever he was terse with someone who normally he would be cordial with.

It pained him to think what Naomi must think about his change in demeanour. She had to have noticed. But, of course, she was acting like the consummate professional she was. Always patient. Always kind and considerate. There was always a smile on her face for the patients. She interacted with him as little as was possible, but did so with extreme politeness. For example, there had been that last case, just an hour or so ago, the lady with the broken wrist. He’d confirmed the break to the patient and explained that she would need a cast whilst Naomi had just stood there, looking at her patient. When he had finished and had turned to go, she’d addressed him with a simple, ‘Thank you, Dr Williams.’ Then she’d turned back to her patient.

That was it.

He couldn’t stand it. It all seemed so false. For him, there were plenty of emotions still simmering below the surface since the kiss they’d shared, but was it the same for her?

He knew he shouldn’t let it bother him. That he needed to forget it. He knew getting involved with Naomi was the wrong thing to do.

Because despite the way he was acting, he wasn’t indifferent to Naomi. That was the whole problem. He wasn’t indifferent to her at all. And if she was suffering as well, because of him? Well, they both had to be adults enough to sort that out. He was damned if he was going to let it affect them any longer. Especially at work. Neither of them could afford to be distracted or to make any mistakes. Mistakes could cause serious danger to a patient.

He couldn’t let that happen.

Naomi sank back against the toilet door, her eyes closed, as tears began to threaten to spill.

What on earth was going on? One minute they’d been having fun, just letting off steam, trying to stay upright and the next moment she’d been in Tom’s arms and things had started to get steamy!

How could a single kiss have such power to disturb two people?

Everything had changed the very second his lips had broken away from hers. She could see it in his eyes, the way his expression changed, as if he’d suddenly closed himself off from her, when all she wanted to do was talk about what had happened.

She needed to talk about that kiss! It had felt...monumental! Lip-tingling, body-scorching, heart-poundingly good! She’d never felt that before. Ever. Was this the type of passion she’d read about in love stories? Was this what it was meant to feel like? Because she had all these weird sensations and feelings whizzing through her system and she didn’t know what she was supposed to do with them. Or how she was supposed to react to them. Her body felt alive, out of her control. Whenever she was with him, it was like her body was suddenly on alert, aware, and her heart would pound again, her mouth would go dry, her breathing would quicken. Yet Tom was acting weird and she didn’t know what to do.

Did he regret their kiss?

She so badly wanted to ask him about it, but he was staying out of her way, not giving her the opportunity to talk about it. At home he either stayed in his room, or he went out. At work, he’d begun throwing himself into his cases again, acting cold as he’d been when she’d first met him. She felt like she was losing him.

Don’t do this to me, Tom.

She needed to understand what was happening. Needed to make sense of it. For her, the kiss had been an experience that she would happily experience again and again. She’d not known it was possible to feel that good. To feel that alive! And the fact that she’d felt that with Tom...

Tears began to run down her cheeks, but not from the hurt at being ignored. She was crying because she’d felt something so magical, something she’d never believed could have existed, and now it looked as if she would never experience that again.

She needed to talk to Tom.

They both needed to sort this out.

Naomi was returning the ECG machine to its proper place when Stefan strolled over to her.

‘Hey, Naomi.’

She wished Tom would approach her just as easily. But the one man she wanted to talk to her was still avoiding her like crazy.

‘Stefan.’

‘I was wondering...have you heard of the Spring Ball? For the staff?’

‘Err... I think I’ve seen the signs up for it on the notice boards, yes.’ Naomi noticed Tom emerge from a cubicle and her gaze tracked him as he came over to the desk not far away and sat down, yet again, without making eye contact.

Stefan continued. ‘I thought maybe you’d like to go with me? As my date?’

Naomi watched, but Tom continued to write, focused intently on his work. He probably hadn’t heard what Stefan just said. He was so fixated on blocking out anything to do with her.

Going to the staff Spring Ball wasn’t something she would normally be interested in, but hadn’t she promised herself to be independent? She should be enjoying life. She should be trying out all these things she wouldn’t normally do, now that she had the freedom to do them.

Letting Stefan take her wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted Tom to take her. She wanted to walk in on his arm. To dance with him and enjoy a special night together. But he’d made it very clear that the kiss had been a terrible mistake. That she had been a terrible mistake. And that he wanted nothing to do with her in that way.

Well, fine!

She couldn’t go to the ball alone and she couldn’t see Tom taking her now, so... ‘Sure. That’d be nice. Thank you.’

Stefan beamed. ‘Great! That’s fantastic! There’s...something else actually. Jackie mentioned that you were looking for somewhere to live.’

She glanced at Tom, feeling her cheeks flame with heat, hating the way all of this was making her feel. It felt as if she might cry at any moment. She didn’t want to move out. Not really. But she’d been forced into a corner by the whole situation and things were so difficult with Tom. It was probably best for her to leave. In fact, he’d likely be pleased to get rid of her. ‘That’s right.’

‘I know of a place that’s just come free in my block. I could get you a viewing, if you wanted? It has two bedrooms. Pretty decent. And the rent’s not too high.’

‘Oh...right. Erm...yes, sure, I’ll take a look. Can’t stay where I am forever, can I?’

Tom grabbed his notes and strode off, his eyes cold, his face impassive.

It was clear that he’d heard. Inside, Naomi felt devastated, but she wasn’t sure what else she could have done. He wasn’t even talking to her any more and his rejection of her hurt. She couldn’t stay in his flat now. It had only been meant to be a temporary solution in the first place anyway and she’d been there fast approaching six weeks!

She was doing Tom a favour by moving. She was getting out of his hair, out of his life. It was what he was clearly asking for.

It was what he needed.

And if she was going to protect her heart...then it was what she needed, too.

CHAPTER SEVEN

EIGHT HOURS INTO his shift, Tom was standing in the waiting area of A&E watching his last patient hobble away on a new pair of crutches. Once his patient was safely through the double doors and on their way back home, he turned to hand some paperwork to the receptionist, but was suddenly tapped on the shoulder from behind.

‘Excuse me, are you a doctor?’

Tom turned to see a tall man like himself, who was probably in his eighties, looking as grey as a ghost and sweating slightly. ‘Are you all right, sir?’

‘I don’t feel very well, no,’ the man replied.

His complexion, the sweating and the general look of confusion in the man’s eyes told Tom that this was serious. His instinct went into overdrive and he grabbed the nearest wheelchair and manoeuvred the man into it gently. Then he turned around quickly and whisked the man through to Resus.

‘What’s your name, sir?’ he asked as he pushed the man through the department, avoiding obstacles in his path and trying not to show the patient that he was close to a crash in more ways than one.

The patient didn’t answer but just gazed about him as they passed through corridors and finally the double doors that led to the heart of A&E.

Tom would need assistance. He needed a nurse, someone to help him with this patient and his assessment.

He saw Naomi coming out of the locker room, looking as beautiful as always, if a little paler than usual. His heart sank. He’d hoped he wouldn’t have to ask her.

But he had to.

Patient care came first over personal issues.

‘Naomi? Can you give me a hand?’

He saw the look of shock register on her face, then she resumed her professional air and smiled at the patient, before hurrying along beside them.

He burst through the double doors into Resus and parked the patient in his chair next to an empty bed. Turning to Naomi, he whispered, ‘I think this guy’s having a heart attack.’

He was too close. It reminded him of that kiss. Of feeling her there in his arms, breathing in her aroma, just holding her. And of the delight of her lips upon his. Abruptly—disturbed by the sudden outpouring of this memory—he turned away. ‘Sir, can you get on this trolley for me?’ There were no other patients in Resus. The department had their cases and all the other patients had been sent up to various wards or back home.

The old man stood on wobbly, weak legs, whilst Tom and Naomi held him steady as he turned to sit on the edge of the trolley.

‘I’d better...take off...my shoes...’ The man bent forward to remove his shoes and swayed dizzily.

They both grabbed him quickly, pushing him back against the bed and sweeping up the patient’s legs. ‘Your shoes are fine, sir. Up you go now.’

Tom quickly strode over to the ECG machine and dragged it across the floor. ‘Can you remove your shirt for me?’

The man nodded slowly, as if he was hearing the instructions in slow motion. He seemed unable to focus on anything, with his head bobbing about like a boat at sea, as he slowly tried to coordinate his arms to lift off his jumper and shirt underneath.

It was taking too long. If this man was having a cardiac event, as Tom suspected, then losing all these precious seconds could have a fatal effect.

‘Here, we’ll help you.’ He grabbed the hem of the jumper and shirt and pulled them over the man’s head in one swift movement, so that Naomi could start attaching the leads to the patient’s chest. Thankfully, the man wasn’t too hairy, saving them a few more precious seconds that would have been wasted on shaving him to attach the electrodes. ‘How long have you been feeling unwell, sir?’

‘I don’t... Was in the garden...’ he mumbled, saying something further that Tom couldn’t quite catch.

Naomi was just finishing attaching all the electrodes. She’d worked quickly and expertly, aware of the urgency, but not allowing it to overwhelm her. When she was done, she gave Tom a nod.

‘Lie still for a moment, please, sir.’

Tom pressed the button to start the ECG recording the electrical impulses of the patient’s heart. Whilst he waited for the trace to begin, Naomi wrapped a blood-pressure cuff around the man’s arm and Tom put an oxygen mask over the patient’s face and set it to full flow.

‘Sir? Have you got any allergies? Anything I should know about?’ Tom asked, leaning over the bed, his ear close to the patient’s face so that he could hear an answer. Naomi grabbed the handset for the internal phone system and got through to Reception. ‘Bleep Dr Thomas to Resus, please,’ she instructed.

He glanced at the trace on the ECG machine. There was an acute ST elevation, indicating, along with his patient’s other signs of confusion and waxy, pale skin, sure signs of a myocardial infarction.

He needed IV access and blood samples. He worked quickly, his mind buzzing, all his procedures and protocols running through his head like a military parade—in order, logical, precise.

This was what he loved doing. This was what he thrived on. Pressure, adrenaline, precision. Making decisions, reacting, recording, acting appropriately, saving lives.

‘What’s happening?’ the patient mumbled through the mask, his head thrashing this way and that.

The double doors were pushed open as Dr Thomas arrived. The second he strode into the room, before the double doors had even swung closed again, the patient stopped moving and let out one long, heavy breath.

Naomi smacked the red emergency buzzer on the wall, calling for more assistance, and reached behind the trolley for the lever that would collapse it down flat.

Tom bent low over the patient, checking for breathing, watching for signs of his rising chest, but there was nothing. His fingers reached for the man’s pulse.

Nothing.

In an instant, he stood and brought his fist down on the patient’s chest.

Still nothing. The ECG showed ventricular tachycardia.

Tom hurriedly grabbed the defibrillator pads and placed them onto the man’s chest, pressing the button and making the machine charge its joules ready for the shock. He looked around the patient’s bed, making sure Dr Thomas, Naomi and the rapidly arriving team members were not touching the patient.

‘Stand clear! Shocking!’ He pressed the button again and the patient jerked slightly on the bed.

Naomi felt for a pulse and found one. ‘We’ve got him back.’

Looks of relief were on the faces of everyone surrounding the bed as the patient slowly came to, blinking, before he promptly tore off the mask and vomited over the side railings.

When he’d recovered and been handed one of the cardboard bowls, the patient wiped his mouth and then looked around him at the mass of people. ‘What happened?’

Tom stepped aside, avoiding the mess on the floor, and came to the other side of the patient’s bed. ‘What do you remember?’

‘I was in my garden. I felt...odd. Thought I’d better come to A&E. I can’t remember much more than that.’

Tom had seen that before. For some lucky people, the body prevented the mind from remembering something so traumatic and painful as a heart attack.

‘You’ve had a heart attack, sir. What’s your name?’

‘Edward Stovey.’

‘Well, Edward. You’ve been a very lucky man today.’

‘Have I?’

Naomi reached for the man’s hand and placed it in hers comfortingly. ‘We nearly lost you there.’

Edward sighed. ‘Wouldn’t have really mattered if you had.’

Tom frowned. ‘Of course it would. It would have mattered to us.’ Losing any patient was something Tom didn’t tolerate very well. To him, every loss was a failure. A failure to prevent the cruel twists and turns of fate that were sometimes visited upon good people.

‘I... Thank you, Doctor. But in some ways, for me, it would have been a blessing.’

‘In what way?’

Edward sucked in a gasp of oxygen from the mask before continuing. ‘I’ve been alone for forty-seven years. Ever since my wife died.’

Tom looked away, feeling Edward’s pain.

Naomi, watching him, realised he couldn’t talk for a moment, so she answered the patient instead. ‘I’m sorry to hear that. What happened?’

‘Brain aneurysm. She was quite young when it happened. Only thirty-six. We’d not been married long. But she was my dream. My love. I could have met her again today.’

‘You didn’t remarry?’ She stroked the patient’s hand reassuringly with her thumb.

‘No. My Betty was the only woman for me.’

Tom stared at the patient. They’d been in almost the same situation, widowed at a young age. But Edward Stovey had spent the majority of his life alone. Tom was still in the early stages of that path.

He wondered how Edward had coped. He felt suddenly full of questions he wanted to ask this man. But now was not the time. Their patient needed to be transferred up to the cardiac ward so that he could rest and be cared for properly.

He glanced at Naomi. ‘I want half-hourly obs on Mr Stovey, please, Nurse.’

‘Of course.’

Working with her in a desperate situation had been easy. They’d both known what had to be done. Their communication had been minimal, precise. Completely work related. But now their patient was in a better place and there wasn’t the same kind of urgency, even though Mr Stovey’s condition was still critical for the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours. The chances of another attack, maybe one even worse, were high. But now the immediate crisis was over, it was difficult to talk to Naomi again.

Tom couldn’t be relaxed with her. It led to dangerous places, uncertain futures, pain and grief and guilt. Kissing her had been wrong. He knew it had been wrong, yet still it had been both amazing and terrifying.

He went over to the desk to quickly fill in his report on Mr Stovey so that a complete set of notes could travel up with the patient to the cardiac unit. He placed a quick call through to the ward that would take him and gave a potted history. Luckily they had a bed free and waiting. Once the notes were done, he would be able to call the porters to come and take Mr Stovey away.

Suddenly he sensed that Naomi was near him. He felt her rather than saw her there, and he turned to see her standing behind him, looking at him, as if contemplating whether to speak to him.

He bit the inside of his lip. ‘Thank you for your help just then. I appreciate it.’

‘No problem. It’s what we’re both here for.’

He couldn’t drag his eyes away from her. It was like she had this magnetic pull over him.

What am I doing to myself? Putting myself through this torture?

He remembered that she’d agreed to go to the Spring Ball with Stefan. Unable to block out their conversation, he’d heard them arranging it. And the fact that there was a vacant flat in Stefan’s block.

She’s going to leave.

It had to be the best thing all round. Didn’t it?

Tom turned away and went back to his paperwork. There was no point in going over it all. There was nothing he could do. Nothing he could offer her. At least, not what she deserved anyway. She was a wonderful person who deserved happiness and love. Two things he wasn’t capable of giving her.

‘I was thinking about what Mr Stovey said.’ Her voice interrupted his train of thought.

‘Oh?’

‘Yes. About being alone for all those years.’

Tom signed his name on the paper, but didn’t turn around. ‘That’s his choice.’

‘Yes.’ She came and stood by his side, laying her hand upon his to still the pen. He looked up into her stunning eyes. ‘He chose that. I wonder if he was ever given another option.’

Then she walked back over to the patient’s bed.

Tom watched her go, still feeling the intense heat upon his hand where she’d touched him and wondering what she’d meant. Had she been trying to imply something when she’d wondered if Mr Stovey had had another choice?

Was she implying that he had another choice?

Could she have been trying to say that, even though she’d agreed to go to the ball with Stefan, even though she was moving out, they still had another option as to how this could end?

He wasn’t sure he could envision an alternative.

He returned to his paperwork, but he couldn’t concentrate. He kept looking up at her, then at his patient. And back to her again.

Maybe she was right.

But what if she was wrong?

Two days later, Tom checked up on Edward in the cardiac unit. His patient was doing well, becoming more mobile and eating well.

The nurses informed him that Edward had had no visitors and no one had called to check on him either. That news had disturbed him the most.

He wondered how Edward was so alone. Surely a man in his eighties had friends or neighbours who would want to know how he was doing.

So he went to see the patient himself, waiting beside his bed for the older man to stir from his sleep. ‘Good morning,’ he said, when Edward blinked his eyes and pulled himself into an upright position.

‘Morning. Dr Williams, isn’t it?’

Tom nodded. ‘How are you feeling?’

‘I’m feeling good, I think. The doctors say I can go home soon.’

‘That’s excellent news. I’m really pleased to hear it.’

‘Me too.’

‘Yes? I’m glad. Do you have anyone that might help look after you when you get back?’

Edward shook his head. ‘I look after myself.’

‘No neighbours or family to check on you?’

‘I’m on my own. I prefer it that way.’

‘How long has it been that way?’ Tom asked, genuinely interested.

‘Ever since my wife died. She was all I ever needed in life. Since she passed, I’ve pretty much kept myself to myself.’

‘Wasn’t that lonely?’

‘No. I had my work. I kept busy.’

‘What did you do?’

‘I was a taxi driver. Always with people, but, then again, always alone. But that was fine. It kept me busy and I could work for as long as I liked.’

Tom nodded uncomfortably, seeing too many similarities with his own life. Did he really want to be like Edward Stovey, working until his heart gave up? Then, what would happen when he couldn’t work? Or when retirement loomed? How would he keep busy then? Tend a garden? Take up bingo?

‘You never thought to remarry?’

Edward shook his head vehemently. ‘There was only ever one woman for me. One true love. She was my soulmate, Doctor. You don’t ever get to find another once you’ve lost them.’

He nodded. That was what he himself had always said. And he still believed that. How could he pursue something with Naomi when he knew it could never be the same as what he’d had with Meredith? Meredith had been his one true love, just as Betty had been Edward’s.

Tom wondered if there was a chance they could be wrong. What if there was another person for you, as Naomi believed? What if that was true, but he didn’t bother to look for her, or dare to take the risk? Would he be doomed to live like Edward? He shuddered at the thought of ending up in a hospital bed one day, with no one to care for him.

‘How did you know Betty was your soulmate?’

Edward smiled. ‘That’s not an easy thing to answer. It’s different for everyone. But for me, it was because Betty was in my thoughts all the time. She made me feel good. Alive. She made me laugh and she made me cry. When I wasn’t loving her, I was worrying about her, or arguing with her, or laughing with her. I wanted to care for her. I wanted to be there for her. I wanted to take away her pain. I wanted to always see her smile. That’s what it was like for me.’ He looked at Tom. ‘Do you have that with someone? Because if you do, then you should embrace it. Accept it. Love is a precious gift not always given to all.’

Tom sat back in his chair and thought hard. Yes, he’d had that with Meredith. All of it. But he was confused, because he’d also experienced it all with Naomi.

He didn’t know how that was possible. Naomi was constantly in his thoughts, especially because he was trying his hardest not to think about her. She made him smile and laugh and he felt comfortable with her. Safe. Despite her clumsiness and her inability to climb ladders, cook safely or stay upright on four wheels. He cared for her and he didn’t want to hurt her. But she was moving on. Agreeing to a date with Stefan. Looking for her own place to live.

By kissing her that night, by allowing himself that momentary weakness, hadn’t Tom hurt her already? Their relationship had already been affected by that one act and he knew she had to be hurting because he was in pain, too. He’d kissed her and now he was enforcing this distance between them, because he thought that was the right thing to do. He’d thought that if he stayed away from Naomi, then he couldn’t hurt her any more.

Because they couldn’t have a future.

Could they?

No.

Tom shook his head and abruptly stood up. All this uncertainty, this toing and froing, was giving him a headache. He forced a smile and held out his hand to shake Edward’s. ‘Well, I just thought I’d come check on you. See how you were doing.’

‘Well, I appreciate that, Doc.’ Edward took his hand. ‘Thanks for saving my life. You thank that pretty nurse for me, too.’

‘No problem. Take care, Mr Stovey.’ He started to walk away and just as he reached the ward entrance he heard Edward call out, ‘Dr Williams?’

He turned. ‘Yes?’

‘I may be wrong, of course. There was someone I could have been with. After Betty. I liked her very much and we could have been happy.’

Tom stared at the man, not knowing what to say.

‘I clung to my beliefs because I wasn’t ready to let go of my wife. I knew that if I let her go, then I wouldn’t have a direction. I wouldn’t have a reason. I became so entrenched in my role as a grieving widower, I forgot that I could actually be someone else.’

Tom saw the meaningful look in his patient’s eyes and understanding dawned on him. He also had two choices. One—take a chance on Naomi and challenge his theory about true love. Or two—remain as Meredith’s widower for the rest of his life.

In one lay an opportunity for happiness, the other would lead to a life of loneliness and heartache.

‘I saw the looks you were giving that nurse, but I also saw how she looked at you. There’s love there, isn’t there?’ Mr Stovey smiled.

It seemed a simple choice.

Naomi watched as Tom walked straight past her without acknowledgement. Without a smile. He was fully focused, head down, reading a file as he walked, his brow lined in thought.

She missed him and she had no idea how that was even possible. They’d only been friends and flatmates for six weeks and yet she missed his smiles, the way he’d listen to her chat as they cooked together, the way he’d steal glances at her when he thought she wasn’t looking.

The kiss they’d shared had been amazing. It had been the best kiss she’d experienced in her whole life and yet...she hated it. She hated it for taking Tom from her.

He’d retreated from her. They’d still shared a car into work and the same flat space, but that had been all. The conversations had gone, the caring had disappeared. In fact, any interaction between them had been non-existent.

Surely there had to be a way back for them. She’d meant for the roller derby to be fun, and at first it had been. They’d laughed so much. She could see him now, holding her hand, laughing, his eyes sparkling, as they’d both stumbled around.

How could she get that Tom back?

Naomi picked up the next patient file card and went to the waiting area to call her next patient through. ‘Amy Smith?’

A middle-aged woman got up and smiled at her and she led her new patient through to a cubicle, pulling a curtain closed behind them.

‘Take a seat. Right! Can you confirm your address and date of birth for me?’

Amy confirmed the details.

‘Okay. So you’ve received an electric shock, is that right?’

Amy nodded emphatically. ‘That’s right.’

‘Tell me what happened.’

She took a deep breath. ‘Well! Lee has been renovating the house, but you know what men are like. They start a million jobs all at once instead of just doing one and doing it well. I’d been asking him to do the light switches for ages—we’ve barely had any proper electricity for a few weeks and he promised he’d do it, only he hadn’t got round to it, so I had a go.’

‘And what happened?’ Naomi smiled through the explanation, cutting to the heart of the matter.

‘I asked him to turn off the electricity and he said he would, but he disappeared off into the kitchen. So I thought he’d done it, only he hadn’t, and when I went to touch the switch with my screwdriver I got this shock and got thrown back a bit.’

Naomi raised her eyebrows. ‘Okay. Which hand received the shock?’

‘My right, I suppose, but both hands were on the screwdriver.’

‘Can I see?’ She examined her patient’s hand, but there were no burn signs or entry points to be seen, so that was good news. ‘How far were you thrown back?’

‘About a metre. I say “thrown”...it might just have been me staggering back, but I felt something and Libby who lives next door said I ought to come and get checked out in case the current passed through my heart or something.’

Electric shocks could be tricky. The effects weren’t always immediately obvious and the more serious shocks could cause electroporation, where cell rupture caused tissue death.

In general, Amy seemed fine, but Naomi knew it was best to check her over just to make sure. ‘I’ll need to do an ECG, Amy. Have you had one before?’ Her patient shook her head. ‘It’s a series of electrodes that I place mainly on your chest and it’ll record an accurate trace of the electrical impulses in your heart. It’ll just make sure everything’s normal and it only takes a few seconds. In fact, it takes longer to set it up.’

‘Right. That’s fine. So you think I’m okay?’

‘We’ll do the trace just to make sure. Have you had any side effects? Nausea? Confusion? Pain?’

‘Nothing.’

‘You didn’t pass out?’

‘No. I’ve been fine.’

‘We’ll do the trace and make sure, then. Can you remove your top half for me?’

Amy began taking off her top. ‘This is all Lee’s fault. I swear, men are more trouble than they’re worth! I don’t see a ring on your finger, Nurse. I hope that means you’re single?’

She nodded. ‘I am.’

‘Take my advice and stay that way. I wish I had. I would have been a lot happier. And my house wouldn’t be such a mess either.’

‘I...er...need to get the ECG machine. I’ll be back in a tick.’ Naomi slipped out of the cubicle and let out a deep breath. Maybe Amy was right. She should stay single and then she’d only have to worry about herself. Look at the mess she’d got into just because she’d kissed Tom. It hurt not being close to him any more and the pain was almost physical.

But that doesn’t stop me wishing we had something more...

She pushed the machine back to the cubicle, closed the curtain once more and performed the trace. Amy’s heart was fine. But she gave her an information sheet of things to look out for and sent her on her way.

‘Thank you, Nurse. Let’s see if I’ve got electricity when I get back!’

Naomi imagined that she would have. Amy might have complained about ‘her Lee’, but Naomi would still bet anything that she loved him. That she’d be heartbroken if there was something seriously wrong with him, or if he tried to leave her.

Or if he completely cut her off. The way Tom had done to her.

That’s obviously what he wants. He’s given me a clear message that he doesn’t want anything to do with me any more.

Admitting that caused a pain in her chest and she had to stand there and rub at her breastbone for a moment, until it went away.

CHAPTER EIGHT

NAOMI SET OFF the next morning with more of a spring in her step, determinedly telling herself inwardly that what she was doing was the right thing. She’d spent a restless night tossing and turning, agonising over her decision. She knew she had to move out, find her own place and stand on her own two feet, as she’d promised herself she would.

Outside, it was slightly overcast as she walked purposefully to the bus stop and stood waiting, checking to make sure she had the right change. The sky darkened even as she stood there and she glanced up at it, worrying, realising she had misjudged the weather and hoping the downpour would hold off until later.

Her wish wasn’t granted. As the bus took her to her destination the heavens opened and she knew that without an umbrella she was going to get soaked in just her small jacket.

Oh, well, she thought. She was only meeting a lettings agent after all.

She walked with her head down against the rain, as she headed for Echo Road where the flat was situated. From what she knew it was in a block of rather old flats. The flat she was looking at today had recently become empty after the tenant who had lived there for many years had passed away. The previous tenant had not decorated or touched the place since the seventies, the agent, Deanna, had said, but Naomi pushed that thought to one side. The important thing was that she could afford this flat. Decor could always be changed. Walls could be painted. As long as it was clean, she didn’t mind.

By the time she got to the flats, her hair was plastered to her face and her clothes were soaked, her wet skirt constantly wrapping itself around her thighs.

Deanna was waiting for her and let her in exclaiming, ‘Oh, look at you! You’re like a drowned rat! At least you’ll be able to dry off for a bit inside.’

Naomi managed a weak smile and followed her in.

The flat was dark with a weird orange wallpaper adorning the walls and she looked around disappointedly at the dark brown carpet and curtains. The kitchen was a melamine nightmare and the bathroom had an avocado-coloured suite and a discoloured linoleum floor. It smelt all musty, too. As if the place had been shut up for months, not weeks.

‘It needs some modernisation, obviously,’ Deanna said. ‘But with a lick of paint and a bit of elbow grease, this place could be a stunning apartment. The sash windows are a real highlight and you could really make a feature of them. Maybe with some white voile and a bit of window cleaner.’ Deanna laughed good-naturedly.

She was being optimistic, Naomi thought. The place needed a bit more than a lick of paint. The previous tenant had been a smoker, judging by the odd tinge of yellow to most things. However, she could see that with a bit of hard work and an awful lot of time she could probably make something of the place. Sadness washed over her as she pictured herself being here. She imagined her hair all tied up in a scarf to protect it, whilst she scrubbed and polished, with the windows open wide to air the place, to get rid of that stale smell.

It wasn’t great. It wasn’t what she wanted. But it would get her away from Tom and all the problems that came with living in his space. She had no choice. It was the middle of March now and she’d been living at Tom’s for too long. If she were to live free of Tom and her feelings for him, then she’d have to move out of the beautiful flat she was in at the moment and take this place instead.

Sighing, she nodded to Deanna. ‘I’ll take it.’

The agent looked surprised. ‘Great! I’ll get everything in motion. The landlord will need a deposit and the first month’s rent in advance.’

‘Fine. I’ll call you later and arrange it.’

‘Fantastic!’ She shook Naomi’s hand. ‘I’m sure you’ll be very happy here!’

She smiled back at her. But it was forced. She could only hope that Deanna was right.

‘This is Andi, sixteen years of age and, around two o’ clock this afternoon, she took a heroin overdose. We’ve administered naloxone and given oxygen.’ The paramedics gave them the rundown as they helped to slide the young girl onto the bed.

Naomi looked at her, feeling sympathy for the young girl. She wondered if the girl had meant to take the overdose, or if she’d not truly known what she was doing. Whatever the case, the medication was just starting to take effect and she was coming round.

Blinking heavily, Andi looked around her and then she suddenly sat up and hauled herself over the side of the bed.

‘Where do you think you’re going, young lady?’ Tom said as he managed to grab her, and Naomi lowered the rail so they could get their patient back onto the bed.

She was glad Tom was there, because she didn’t think she would have physically handled the girl on her own. She was taller than Naomi and quite broad.

‘Get off me! Don’t touch me!’ The girl yanked her arm away from Tom and he backed off, with his hands raised as if in surrender.

‘Okay, okay...’ He looked over at Naomi. ‘I’ve got her parents’ details here, I’m just going to give them a ring. Can you do her obs for me?’

‘Sure.’ This confirmed what Naomi had suspected, that Tom was happy to talk to her when they were working on cases, but that he stuck to the medical, through and through. She accepted it, but she also knew she had to tell him that she’d found a place to live and that she would be leaving at the weekend.

He was bound to be relieved. She couldn’t imagine he would react in any other way, after the way he’d been acting lately.

She nodded and watched him walk over to the phone, but just when her back was turned the teenager bolted from the bed and shot through the double doors of the department.

‘Tom!’ she shouted as she ran after the girl. She knew she wouldn’t get far. The drugs only had a temporary effect.

Andi blundered through A&E, pushing past staff as if she were running from an assassin, and then shot through the waiting room and out of the main door to freedom. It was impressive. Many people got lost in the maze of A&E corridors, but this girl had found her way out even half drugged.

Naomi ran through the doors leading to the outside world and blinked in the sunshine as she searched for Andi’s figure. Then she spotted her, lying flat out on the grass by the waiting ambulances. She knelt down beside her.

Andi was out cold.

Tom caught up with Naomi and came to stand over them both. ‘How is she?’

‘Unconscious, but there’s a strong pulse.’

‘Let’s get her back inside and she can sleep it off.’ He signalled for help to a paramedic who was restocking his ambulance with oxygen and BVMs and together, using a trolley, they got the girl back inside. Once Andi had been parked in a bay and her obs had been done to make sure she was okay, Naomi turned to Tom and laid her hand on his arm before he could walk away.

‘Tom?’

He stopped in his tracks and turned around reluctantly. ‘Yes?’

‘I’ve found a place to live. The flat in Stefan’s block. I viewed it yesterday and I can move in on Saturday.’

‘I see.’

She waited to see if he would give any other reaction. ‘I thought maybe I could cook for you on the Friday night... One last dinner together?’ It would mean a lot to her if they could part as friends. Perhaps he would even be more at ease in her company if he knew that she was going.

‘I’ll cook. My treat,’ he added, although he didn’t look as thrilled by the news as she’d imagined he would. She watched him walk away and wondered if it had really been sadness she’d seen in his eyes, or whether it had all been in her own imagination.

Was this really their last night together?

Naomi sat in her bedroom, deciding upon what to wear. Tom was already busy in the kitchen and the aromas drifting around the flat were mouth-wateringly good.

No fire alarms had gone off, of course, as he was cooking, but there were the dulcet tones of classical music playing from the speakers in the living room.

Naomi wanted to make their last night special. This was their goodbye to one another, after all that had happened after that first clumsy fall off the ladder. Had that really been six weeks ago? She had only meant to have stayed one night, and now a month and a half later...

It really was time for her to go! Talk about outstaying your welcome...

She perused the dresses in her wardrobe, allowing her fingers to fondly stroke the dress she’d worn to the Phoenix riverboat restaurant. No, she wouldn’t wear that one. She wanted something different. Something a bit more...grown up.

She selected a dark green wrap-around dress, then sat in front of the mirror and took her hair up with a few pins and twists. She applied some mascara and lipstick and spritzed herself with her favourite perfume.

Then, taking a deep breath, she went back into the main living area to see what Tom was cooking.

He stood slicing vegetables, dressed in a beautifully white shirt with dark trousers. He looked up as he saw her approach, his eyes widening for a brief moment.

‘You look...nice,’ he said, after a moment.

She’d take nice. At least he was being nice to her, she supposed, but, then again, she was going to be moving out in the morning. ‘Thank you. So do you.’

He began chopping some nuts.

‘What’s on the menu?’

‘A cranberry-stuffed pork roast with seasonal vegetables and a classic lemon meringue for dessert.’

‘Sounds wonderful.’

‘It’ll be about an hour. Can I pour you a drink?’

‘I’ll have whatever you’re having.’

She wandered away from the kitchen area and found herself over by the piano. The cleaner had been yesterday and in the vase sat a beautiful bouquet of delicate pink roses. She stroked the top of the instrument, sad that she’d never managed to hear him play, and realised he’d spotted her doing so. He quickly looked away and busied himself in the kitchen again, pretending that he hadn’t seen.

Moving away, she went over to the sofa and sank onto it, tucking her feet up beside her as Tom brought her over a glass of white wine. She thanked him.

‘My pleasure,’ he said. He was about to head back to the kitchen, when she reached forward and took his hand.

‘Tom...’

His pained expression met her gaze and then he looked away, biting his lip. ‘What is it?’

‘Sit with me. Just for a moment.’

He seemed to think about it briefly, but then he did as she asked and she let go of his hand, allowing him to sit back and be relaxed. She didn’t like being the cause of his pain.

‘I wonder if we could forget the last week or so. The atmosphere between us...it’s been...difficult. I’d really like our last night together to be an enjoyable one. For both of us. Could we do that?’

Tom looked at her and there was such a mix of emotion on his face. Pain. Regret. And something else that she just couldn’t pinpoint.

This was all so strange for her. These strong emotions were so new. She’d never felt so pained before, except maybe for that day when Vincent had finally passed, but even then there had been a small measure of happiness in that moment because she’d been so relieved that he was finally free of his prison. His skeleton had betrayed him and had kept him a prisoner within a body that had no longer worked properly. He’d even been unable to talk towards the end and they’d spent their last few hours together just holding hands, waiting for the darkness to fill his eyes, and when it had... When it finally had, it had almost been a blessing.

But this... These emotions she was experiencing with Tom were so totally different. There was no skeleton keeping Tom prisoner. But his memories, his emotions, were doing the same thing. She really didn’t want to make him feel as if he was betraying his wife’s memory.

‘Since the...what happened between us... I’ve felt...distanced from you and that’s been hard for me. I felt like we were good friends before.’

‘We are.’

‘But since the kiss—’

‘I’m sorry, Naomi. I’m sorry I made you feel like you weren’t wanted, it’s just...’ Naomi could see he was struggling for the right words ‘...when I kissed you, I felt...different from how I’d expected to feel and I was overwhelmed with—’

‘Guilt?’

He shook his head. ‘No. Yes. I’d thought I was in control of my feelings. I’d told myself how my life was going to be and suddenly I was going against all of that. You were in my arms and I just had to kiss you, like I was drawn to you, like you were the air that I breathe.’ He looked up at her and caught her gaze with his own.

She sucked in a breath, amazed at how wrong she’d been. He hadn’t been feeling guilty about his wife at all. Instead, he’d felt guilt at a betrayal of himself. Guilt at losing control.

‘I couldn’t promise you a future. I was angry at myself for being weak and giving in to an impulsive urge.’

She laid her hand on his. ‘Don’t be hard on yourself. We were having fun. Laughing, skating, singing to the music—badly!’ She smiled. ‘We were close. Good friends. Sharing a good time.’

‘It was more than that.’

She nodded. She’d been trying to make light of the situation, to let him off the hook, but he was being honest with her and she appreciated that.

‘There’s something about you, Naomi, that I can’t resist, and that scares me.’

She stared back at him, feeling her heart pound and her blood race. She felt the same way about him, too. That was why his rejection of her had hurt so much. When he’d begun pushing her away, she’d found her mounting feelings for him hard to deal with. But if he had felt the same way, perhaps he’d been retreating from her for his own self-preservation... If he’d felt he could offer her nothing in the way of a future together, maybe he’d thought that it would just be better not to have been with her in the first place.

‘I feel it, too,’ she said softly.

‘You do?’

She nodded.

‘I’ve felt so bad over these past few days. It’s been so hard to stay away from you.’ He reached over and stroked her face and she had to fight the urge to turn and kiss his fingers. She burned for him. Despite everything that had happened. It was as if she’d been through a trial of separation. And now that they were close together again, on the same sofa, within touching distance, she was learning that her original desire was still there, if not stronger than before.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder.

Wasn’t that right? Was her heart involved in all of this? Because if it was, then could this be the love that everyone talked about, sang about? That was a huge, scary prospect, because she’d never loved like this before. It was terrifying because, even if she loved him, she knew she couldn’t have him. Tom had made that plain.

‘We’re together again now. For this last night. Let’s make it perfect. Because I know that we both want each other to be happy.’

‘I would never want to hurt you, Naomi.’ He tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and she smiled, feeling tears prick her eyes.

‘Then be my friend, if you can’t be anything else.’

Tom wanted to take her in his arms there and then and kiss her until they were both falling into oblivion, but he didn’t move. The power of his self-control surprised him, because he wanted more than anything to touch Naomi, hold her and kiss her.

Since their kiss he’d been tortured. He’d been almost sent crazy by his agonies of uncertainty, wanting to be with her, fighting against his mindset that he couldn’t offer her anything. It had almost torn him apart.

He was starting to falter in his belief about there being only one true love for everyone. What if Naomi were right and there was another person out there who could be his soulmate? And what if Naomi was that person? And he was throwing their relationship away because he was so certain that it was only possible to love one person so much, so certain that all other relationships after Meredith would pale in comparison.

But who was to say that these ‘paler’ relationships were no good? That they weren’t as valuable, weren’t as enjoyable, weren’t as true?

Because, damn, his feelings for Naomi felt strong! They felt as strong as anything he’d ever felt for Meredith and that scared the living daylights out of him. He still barely knew her! They’d lived together for the best part of a couple of months, but, really, that was nothing. What did that prove?

That I can’t bear the idea of her moving out. That I can’t stand this self-imposed prison I’ve created around myself.

He became aware that Naomi was staring at him, with eyes watery with tears, tears that he’d caused. He’d told her that he would never want to hurt her but he was still doing exactly that. And it was all because of his stupid rules!

I must be wrong, because Naomi feels so right!

She was right there. Right next to him. Within touching distance. He could wipe that tear from her cheek. He could wipe it away and kiss her again and throw away all those self-regulated chains that were holding him back. He could reach out to her and break free and—damn the rules!

He could make her feel better. Make himself feel better. He could be happy with Naomi if only he gave himself the opportunity.

He leaned forward and, closing his eyes, tenderly kissed away the tears on her cheek.

She sucked in a breath and he opened his eyes to look at her. They were just millimetres away, both of them holding back for just a second more, just a moment to make sure the other one wanted this as much as they did and then...

He pressed his lips to hers. His hands delved into her thick mane of hair, pulling it free of the pins and clips as it tumbled around her shoulders and down her back. Then suddenly he was tasting her and she tasted divine. She kissed him back fervently, her hands pulling him to her, pressing him against her as she lay back on the sofa and he enveloped her, his tongue exploring and his senses going into overdrive as he tasted, smelt, touched.

She groaned his name and reached for his shirt at his waistband, pulling it up and free so that her hands could find his bare skin beneath.

He needed her. He needed her so badly and yet he had to be tender. She was so soft and delicate and he wanted to enjoy every sensation, every caress, to see her every delight, revel in her joy and her ecstasy.

Finding the knot of material at her waist, he tugged it free and began to remove her dress...

Naomi gloried in the delights befalling her body. Tom had an expert touch. He knew exactly where to touch her, where to taste, and his fingers played over her skin as if she were a finely tuned musical instrument.

Tom’s mouth slowly tasted each breast, delicately licking and kissing her, trailing down over the gentle slope of her stomach, giving teasing little nips and licks, sending sensations of both shock and pleasure through her body, until finally his mouth came to settle between her thighs.

Arching her back, she groaned as he sought out her most delicate area. Grasping his hair in her hands, she gasped for breath, riding the waves of pleasure that sang their way through her nerve endings and sent her sensory system into overload, as her pleasure built and built until she was crying out his name, begging him to stop.

Was this what she had been missing all her life? This passion, this ardour? This frenzy of desire and want and need? She had dismissed such feelings as unimportant when she’d met and married Vincent, believing that the measured love she’d had for him would be enough to carry them through what was to come. She’d believed that her friendship with Vincent had been just as important as her love and that the heat, the fire, the intensity of all the feelings she was experiencing right now were something that she could live without.

She’d not known what she had been missing. Of course, she’d seen films where the two main characters got lost in a hot, scorching night, totally consumed by their passion for each other. But she’d dismissed them as pretend. They hadn’t been real. Surely that wasn’t what real people experienced. She’d thought it was impossible to find someone like that, someone who could make you go stir crazy in bed.

And so she’d continued to sit and watch the movies next to Vincent and had managed not to worry that she was missing out on something.

Now that she was experiencing it, she knew she couldn’t live without it. If only she’d known...

Tom entered her and she closed her eyes in delight. This was it. This was the feeling that she’d read about, that she’d often wondered about, that she’d wanted to feel, but never had. This feeling of being consumed, of being filled, of being joined to another in such an intimate way. And it was wondrous! Being with Tom, knowing that he needed her as much as she needed him, made her feel so free. It was crazy, laugh-out-loud amazing.

She could feel Tom’s ardour increasing as his movements got faster and harder. Gripping him to her, she gasped for air, feeling the hard strength of his taut body above her, riding her. His mouth found hers and then she lost herself yet again, allowing herself to fall into the wonderful chasm that was Tom’s arms, letting go of everything about herself that she’d ever held back, encouraging him to do the same, until suddenly—wonderfully—he cried out, thrusting into her like his whole life depended upon it and then...then he stilled. Just for a moment. Then his mouth found hers once again, pressing his lips against hers. He continued kissing her, tasting her lips, her tongue, her neck, tracing her collarbone with his lips. His hot breath trailing along her skin made her tingle.

For a second, they just lay there, holding each other, still entwined.

Naomi revelled in this glorious sensation. She had found a new side of herself that she hadn’t known existed. Never before had sex been anything like this. There’d been some drunken fumbling and Vincent had done his best to try and please her, but there’d been so many physical restrictions. With Vincent, the body had been something to fight against. For him to get angry at. He’d not been able to touch her the way she’d wanted. Not been able to excite her the way she’d really wanted.

It had always been a frustrating event and in the end something that they had stopped doing. Their marriage had become a friendship after that. It had been all about companionship and she’d lied and told herself that that was enough.

With Tom sex was something to be enjoyed. To be revelled in. She’d been made love to and she now knew it was wonderful. All her dreams about what it might be like, all her desires, had been fulfilled and she felt sated. She felt content.

And from somewhere, tears began to fall.

She couldn’t help it. The tears came unbidden and poured from her like a bursting dam. Before she knew it, she was sobbing, curling in on herself. She felt her grief and her delight pummelling her alternately until she didn’t know what she was crying about.

Tom looked at her, bewildered for a moment, but then he pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her, just holding her, waiting for whatever it was to pass.

‘Hey, it’s okay. Shh... Don’t cry.’ He stroked her arms, kissing her bare shoulders, then her cheeks and her eyelids.

He continued to be unbelievably kind as she lay there, until her tears were spent and dried upon her face. Then finally she lay still. She was afraid to look at him. Afraid of how he might react.

But he just held her, tightly, in his arms, her limbs still entwined with his. ‘You okay?’

Naomi sniffed and nodded. ‘Yes.’

‘What was that all about?’ he asked gently.

She stared at the wall, unable to look him in the eyes, but knowing she couldn’t tell him what she was feeling. How she felt loved. She knew he wasn’t ready to hear that. Not right now. ‘I don’t know.’

Tom frowned, but he kissed her one more time. ‘Don’t worry about it,’ he said. He held her even closer, refusing to let go.

It was almost enough to make her cry again, but this time she was prepared. She was ready for the tears. They might have surprised her before, but she wasn’t going to let that happen again.

She kissed his arm and laid her head against his chest, listening to his heart beat, falling in love with its rhythm. Falling in love with him.

She knew she was falling for him. She couldn’t help it. Her emotions had always been quick to assert themselves. She’d always known that when she did, she would fall fast and hard. She was still wary. It had all gone so badly after they had only kissed. Now they’d made love. But maybe this was a good sign. She’d thought that Tom would be happy to get rid of her, but they had just made love in the most beautiful way...

Snuggling into his arm, she closed her eyes and imagined. She imagined a brilliant future for the both of them. Surely it had to go well from now on. Look at how well they fitted together. It felt right.

He kissed the top of her head and she turned to look at him. ‘Okay?’

Tom smiled. ‘I am. You know, I really ought to go and turn the food down. It’s probably overcooked by now.’

Naomi laughed. He was even burning food like her. ‘You should. But maybe you should bring some of it back here. I’m starving, suddenly.’

She saw his gaze travel to her lips and he kissed her once again. ‘For food?’

‘Amongst other things.’

He smiled. ‘Well, maybe I could tempt you again with those...other things.’

Her hand slipped down his body. ‘Tempt away.’

They made love once again and after, lying spent in each other’s arms, their hunger for food overcame them. Naomi watched him walk away to the kitchen, tall and proud, admiring his broad back, neat waist, gorgeous bottom and long, powerful thighs. He was a beautiful man to look at but he was beautiful inside, too. He’d tried to stay away from her because he’d thought he had nothing to offer her, but he was wrong. He had everything to offer. She just hoped that he believed it now, too.

He came back into view with a towel around his waist and carrying a bedsheet for her. She took it, smiling, and stood up to wrap it around her body. ‘Thank you.’

He smiled at her and dipped his head to kiss her again, his lips soft against hers. ‘Can I get you anything? A drink? Something to eat?’

‘Is dinner ruined?’

‘It’s rescuable. I think I might have carbonised the meat, though.’ He gave a short laugh.

‘As long as it’s still edible, I could probably eat a horse.’

‘Maybe we should get dressed, if we’re going to eat?’

Naomi looked down at her bedsheet and his towel and grinned. ‘Let’s not.’

He laughed again and guided her over to the table. ‘Take a seat. I’ll serve.’

She sat patiently and waited, her olfactory senses suddenly going into overdrive at the aroma of the food, and her stomach rumbled.

When Tom brought dinner to the table, Naomi didn’t think it looked burnt at all. The pork was perfect, with plenty of crackling, and the vegetables were soft and buttery just the way she liked. She’d always hated it when people served them al dente anyway.

It was a gorgeous meal, made better by the fact that she and Tom were at peace again. At least for the evening. Everything might change when she moved out. But hopefully, they were moving in the right direction. One with her and Tom together.

She raised her glass in a toast. ‘To good food, good friends and love,’ she said, impulsively.

He clinked his glass to hers. ‘Good food, friends...and love.’ He swallowed his mouthful of wine and gazed at her over the table thoughtfully.

Naomi had never expected the evening to go like this. They’d barely been speaking to each other at the start! But now they were close again and would hopefully remain that way. Even though she was moving out.

It was a grim thought, imagining the new flat. There was so much hard work she had yet to do in order to get it ready, to try and make it as wonderful as this. It was going to take a lot of time and she was going to miss living here. Tom had given her a truly wonderful gift by allowing her to share this beautiful space with him. By allowing her to share his life. His feelings. She glanced over at the piano and wondered. ‘Tom...can I ask you a big favour?’

‘Of course.’

‘Before I go, would you...play for me? Play the piano?’

She saw him glance over at the instrument and take in a breath. He looked uncertain. He looked...doubtful. She wondered if she’d pushed him too far.

But he suddenly got up, brushed at his mouth with a napkin and walked over to the piano, staring down at it, as if he might be about to fight it. As if it were dangerous. But then he bent, pulled out the stool and lifted the lid as he settled onto the seat.

Naomi went over to him.

‘What shall I play?’

‘Whatever your heart tells you to.’

He glanced at her and nodded, raising his hands over the keys before finally, all of a sudden, he touched them and began to play.

The next morning, when Tom woke, he instantly looked to his side and saw Naomi sleeping. She looked so beautiful. Peaceful. With her face in gorgeous repose, her lips looked so soft and her naked body beneath the sheets was so tempting.

It had been a long time since he’d woken up with a woman beside him. The last time had been with Meredith and he’d never expected anyone to take her place, but suddenly there was...

Naomi Bloom.

What the hell do I do now?

Naomi had even mentioned love. It had just been a toast, but he wondered if she had read something into their relationship. He wasn’t sure he was ready for that. It was a huge leap from friendship to love, and one he wasn’t certain he could offer.

He wanted to give her everything. Very much so. But love? He didn’t know where he stood on that issue. And Naomi deserved to have someone who loved her and who could fully commit himself to her.

Could that person be him?

He had feelings for her, yes. There was no denying that. Making love to her had been amazing, deep and intense, but he wasn’t sure he was ready to fully hitch his wagon to someone else just yet and give himself so completely. If he did that, if he could do that... He had no idea what would happen if he lost her. Would he be able to go through that turmoil again?

There must be an opportunity here to take things slowly. Naomi would be moving out later today, after her shift, and that would create some much-needed space between them. It would allow them both to get some perspective after living and working in each other’s pockets over the last month or so. Judging by Naomi’s tears, it wasn’t just him who was feeling overwhelmed. He wasn’t sure what to think about that. Although she hadn’t seemed upset, so much as thoughtful. It didn’t seem that the experience had been awful for her.

Their coming together had been something that neither of them had been able to resist. The moment had seemed primal, soulful. But in speaking those words in her toast, Naomi had imbued it with so much meaning. Did she think that Tom loved her? Because he couldn’t promise her that.

He climbed out of bed, being careful not to wake her, and opened the door of his wardrobe. There, on the top shelf, was his one remaining photo of Meredith. It had been taken on their wedding day. She looked out at him from the frame, her head tilted slightly to one side, as if questioning him.

Why is there another woman in my place, Tom?

Her beautiful face amongst the flowers in her headdress and veil was a vision in white. He’d known exactly what he was doing when he’d married Meredith and he’d known exactly what he could offer her. He had been certain. But with Naomi...

What have I done?

Tom closed the wardrobe door and sank his head against the wood. He’d made a dreadful mistake. What he’d done had not been fair to either of them. He’d allowed his physical urge to be with Naomi to override his logical thought processes. The ones that had told him to hold back, to keep a safe distance from her. He’d let Naomi think that there could be a future for them both and that simply wasn’t fair.

He needed to tell her the truth. He owed her that much.

He went out into the living area and instantly his gaze fell to the piano. He’d even played for her. He was such a fool.

He knew they needed to talk. He needed her to wake up, so that he could tell her. So that he could let her know that this was something that would have to be taken slowly or not at all. That this wasn’t love. Not yet. Even if she thought it was.

Tom sat on the sofa and waited.

Naomi woke and rose, grabbing a robe from the back of the bedroom door. All her clothes were in her room. This morning she felt good. Great, even. She and Tom had healed the rift between them and in the bargain she’d also discovered what it was in life that she had always been missing. Amazing passion, intensity, love.

It didn’t matter that she was moving out today. The distance might even be a good thing, giving each of them their own space and putting the relationship on an equal footing. They would be able to date properly, Tom calling round to her, picking her up and taking her out. Their relationship would start just as any other one would. They would start separately, until that moment, when, if everything went right, they would come together and unite, be one.

She used Tom’s small en-suite, splashing some water on her face and drying it before she headed out of the bathroom and into the living space. She smiled when she saw him, ready to wish him good morning.

Tom stood there, by the piano, and it seemed he had been waiting for her. He’d changed into his usual suit and still looked just as magnificent dressed as he did naked.

I’m a really lucky girl.

‘I don’t think we should do this any more.’

She was rocked to her very core. What? What did he mean? Had she missed something? Had something happened whilst she’d slept?

‘You deserve someone who can offer you the world, Naomi. You deserve someone who can fully love you as you deserve to be loved. Until I know if I’m that man, I don’t think we should...do that again.’

She wasn’t sure what to say. She deserved love, yes, but so did he. She knew she could love him, and in fact, she knew she probably already did.

But he’d said he wasn’t sure he could be the man for her. That he thought they needed to wait until he worked out whether he could be with her. Naomi wondered if this was some sort of a cruel joke. She didn’t know what to think. She wouldn’t put up with it; she wouldn’t wait any longer. Not now she knew. Not now she knew what love could be like. The way it felt.

‘And I’m supposed to just hang around until you work that out?’

‘I think we might have rushed—’

‘How dare you, Tom? How dare you? I’ve been nothing but straight with you! I’ve held nothing back from you from the start and what...is that suddenly too much for you?’

He remained calm as he answered her, as if patiently explaining something to a child. ‘We made love, yes, and that was great, but that didn’t mean... I can’t love you, Naomi, the way you expect me to. I just think we should hold back for a bit.’

‘Do you?’ she asked, suddenly furious! She couldn’t believe he was doing this to her. Only last night, she’d been on cloud nine! How could he be so hot one moment and so cold the next?

‘Well, hold back all you want, Tom, but I’m not going to. Life is for living and for being happy! I thought I was going to spend it with you, but if you’re going to suddenly tell me to “hold your horses”, then I’m getting off this ride. I’ve done the waiting game. I’ve been there, done that, and I’m not doing it again for anyone! You either love me or you don’t.’

She waited for his response. She’d not meant to say it straight out like that. Although she didn’t think it was that hard, to be honest. She knew how she felt, but if he didn’t know, then...

Don’t cry again.

She could feel the tears welling. She could feel them burning the backs of her eyes as she stood there, challenging him, but she refused to blink, holding them back.

When it became clear that Tom couldn’t answer her, Naomi stormed into her room and slammed the door. Slumping onto her bed, she began to cry, pulling her pillow over her head so that Tom wouldn’t hear.

CHAPTER NINE

NAOMI SAT HUDDLED in the staffroom. She’d checked the rota. She was on duty till four p.m. So was Tom. They had a whole day to spend together after last night. After their conversation that morning.

How can I look him in the eye?

She couldn’t picture it. She couldn’t imagine him wanting to spend even a tiny second alone with her, after what had happened. She wanted to be a million miles away.

How could she and Tom work together in A&E without it spilling over and affecting everyone else they worked with? What about their patients? She didn’t know if it was possible.

She thought back to last night, to the moment where she’d cried in Tom’s arms. He had made love to her as if she were the most amazing person he knew. As if she were precious and he never wanted to let her go. He’d made her feel special, important. As if she mattered. As if she were someone who deserved every moment of happiness he could give her.

And then that happiness had been crushed!

She sank her head into her hands and groaned out loud, just as Stefan came in with Jackie.

‘Oh, dear! Rough night, was it? Need the hair of the dog?’ Stefan joked.

She looked at him and sighed, shaking her head. ‘No. It wasn’t booze.’

‘Right. Another man, then? Or did you get to the last episode of your favourite box set?’

She smiled and shook her head. It wasn’t as if she could tell them what had happened. ‘Something like that.’

‘Well, you and Dr Williams must be watching the same box set, then, because his face doesn’t look much better this morning, either!’ As she spoke Jackie turned to put her coat in her locker, so she didn’t see the look that crossed her friend’s face.

Naomi wondered how bad Tom was feeling. She’d made her own way into work, so she hadn’t seen him since she’d left this morning. She was still moving out this afternoon; everything was set.

She wondered if the atmosphere would be as bad as it had been after the kiss. Or worse. Then he’d just been standoffish. Distant. Polite. Terse. She fervently hoped that what they’d done last night wouldn’t affect everyone else around them. They all had to work together. And a disrupted team in A&E did not bode well for the rest of the hospital.

But how could she face him after their confrontation this morning?

‘Where is he?’ she asked, trying to sound casual.

‘Oh, talking to Matron, I think.’

She got up to look through the glass in the staffroom window and saw him talking to the matron across the department. He looked awful. He was a little pale and there were shadows under his eyes. A sickly heaviness weighed upon her, but then he turned and noticed her watching and he suddenly stood up taller. He finished his conversation with the matron and then he walked away, without looking back.

Her heart sank.

He’d wanted her. Pure and simple. It had been an agony to keep himself away from her, despite all his attempts to keep distance between them. Naomi Bloom had got under his skin. There was something about her that he just couldn’t ignore.

Being with her last night had been... He sighed. There were no words to describe adequately the way he’d felt. And those moments afterwards, as they’d just lain in each other’s arms, had been perfect until she’d cried...

Tom shook his head angrily. She’d got under his skin. And there was a chance she thought he loved her!

He couldn’t let her believe that. He couldn’t!

He couldn’t let it be true.

Because if he let it be true, then he’d be going against his own vow. His promise to never love another because...

If I allow her in, if I let her get close and then I lose her, like I lost Meredith...

He rubbed at his eyes and sank back against the wall. He just couldn’t do it. He’d taken things too far. He should never have slept with Naomi. Everything was complicated. He still had to see her every day at work, but now everything would be different.

That was one of the things he’d been afraid of from the very beginning. He should have made sure they stayed just friends. He should have rescued her from ladders and drunks and left it at that.

But he hadn’t.

He’d got involved and, not only had he upset himself, but he’d also upset her. Had made Naomi feel things that she should have been protected from.

Tom sank down the wall until he was crouching and stared at the people that walked past, looking at him, concerned.

It had all gone so terribly wrong.

Naomi stood back as the paramedic wheeled in the young woman on the back board.

‘This is Alison, twenty-one years of age, and the victim of a car-versus-cyclist incident. She was cycling along the main road, when a car swerved and hit her from the side. The vehicle was travelling at about thirty-five miles an hour. She was wearing this.’ The paramedic showed them the cracked cycle helmet and Naomi winced at the damage, then her wince quickly turned to a frown as she noticed Tom enter Resus.

The paramedic continued, ‘Head to toe, we have a scalp laceration in the right occipital region, neck pain with a score of seven, a suspected fracture of the right humerus and clavicle, a suspected fracture of the right femur and general cuts and scrapes down the right side. BP is one twenty over seventy, pulse is one ten and she has a BM of four point two. Pain relief was offered, but refused.’

Tom pulled on gloves and tied an apron around his waist. Studiously, he seemed to ignore her. ‘Let’s get her off the back board, please.’

They all worked together to roll the patient, sliding her out from the back board. Then the paramedics left and the team could continue monitoring the patient.

Naomi leaned over her, so Alison could see a friendly face. She looked scared and her long blonde hair was slightly matted with blood. ‘Hi, Alison, I’m a nurse. I’m going to help look after you. Now you might hear a lot of noise, or feel some pushing or pulling, but we’ll talk you through it all, okay?’

‘Yes.’ Alison tried to nod, but winced.

‘Now, where do you hurt the most?’

‘My leg and my arm.’

The paramedics had put both of her limbs into splints and Naomi knew they’d have to wait for the X-rays before anything more could be done.

‘Can you tell me where you are?’

‘In hospital.’

‘And what day is it?’

She told her.

‘Okay. Are you allergic to anything, Alison?’

‘No.’

Naomi proceeded to test Alison’s blood pressure, whilst the rest of the team buzzed over her like bees, checking, testing, assessing. They got IV access and did a quick scan of her abdomen, whilst someone else checked her pupil dilation and tracking. Naomi couldn’t help but notice old track marks on Alison’s arms, indicating a history of drug abuse. But they were old, nothing recent. Perhaps that explained her reluctance to use the pain relief offered by the paramedics.

‘Am I going to die?’ Alison asked.

Naomi leant over her again. ‘No, you’re not going to die, Alison. It looks like you’ve maybe broken your arm and leg.’

Alison began to cry. ‘He hit me. I can’t believe he hit me!’

Naomi glanced at Tom, before she could stop herself. Here was a woman who had been hit by a car, who was clearly going to survive. Tom’s wife had not been so lucky. She wondered what it did do to him every time a patient like this came into Resus. The memories of what had happened to Meredith must hit him hard each and every time. Did he resent the fact they’d not been able to save her? Had he been angry?

Tom’s face was stony and impassive. It gave nothing away. ‘Let’s get her to CT.’

The computerised tomography suite would give them a much better view of what was going on inside Alison’s body without submitting her to a full MRI. It combined X-ray technology with a computer to create images of the structures within the body, not only including bone, but also organs and blood vessels.

Naomi went with them to the CT suite and stood to one side as the radiographers gave Alison her instructions to lie still.

She waited behind Tom, glancing at him, wondering what he was thinking behind his stony facade.

He glanced at her briefly, then turned back to look at the first pictures of the scan coming through on the computer screen.

He wasn’t willing to talk just yet.

Obviously what had happened between them had shocked him. It had shocked Naomi, too. She would never have thought she would have reacted that way. She had never felt that way with a man before. What she’d experienced with Tom, she had felt certain was love, but he seemed to be denying that that was possible. It seemed that he’d promised himself he would never fall in love again and he was standing by that promise.

And what about me? I said I’d never get involved with a man again. But I did and now look at what’s happened!

She had been weak to allow Tom in. She had been stupid, allowing a man to tangle up her emotions, after she’d sworn to always protect her heart. She should have known better.

Alison’s CT results came through clear. There was a small fracture of the humerus, near the shoulder, a stable fracture of the clavicle and a hairline fracture of the leg. No other internal injuries could be seen and, as her blood pressure was stable and her pulse steady, the neck brace was removed and she was allowed to sit up to have her scalp stitched. She didn’t need surgery. She’d been incredibly lucky.

Tom sat next to the patient, perched on a stool, with the suture kit ready in his hand. Naomi stood beside him, cleaning the wound and soon it was ready for him to stitch.

‘I’ve been so lucky, haven’t I?’ Alison asked.

Naomi nodded. ‘You have. Incredibly lucky.’

‘This could have been so much worse.’

She said nothing. This seemed a natural reaction for people in A&E who had had accidents. They played the ‘what if?’ question too readily.

‘The driver was hurt, too. Was he brought here? Is he all right?’

‘He was drunk,’ Tom said, starkly, his voice terse, his mood impenetrable. ‘But fine.’

Alison breathed out an audible sigh of relief. ‘Thank goodness.’

‘Thank goodness? He was drunk driving; he broke your arm and leg.’

Alison glanced over at Tom. ‘I can’t judge. I don’t know him. Perhaps he had a reason for being drunk at that time of the morning. Maybe he’d been trying to drown his sorrows, or he’d lost someone he loved. He might even have an addiction. So, I can’t judge him. Not me.’

Naomi finished clearing away the blood around the wound and stood there shocked at Alison’s kindness. She knew most people would blame the driver, would talk about suing him. But this patient wasn’t doing any of those things. She didn’t even seem angry. ‘You have a good way of looking at life, Alison.’

‘You have to think of it that way. You can’t be bitter about things that aren’t in your control.’

Naomi thought that perhaps Alison was right. Maybe what had happened between her and Tom had never been in their control. Meeting him that first time had certainly been a complete accident, when she’d fallen from that stupid ladder. And then her flat had been burgled... Living in an awful bedsit had been her only choice, because she’d wanted to live in London. That choice had led to this moment. But she’d had no control over these odd events.

She’d chosen to never get involved with another man again. But despite her choice, her determination, it seemed fate had intervened. And now...

‘Do you need me for anything else?’ she asked Tom. She was only referring to the patient’s care, but suddenly she was all too aware that it sounded like she was asking about life in general.

‘No. I’m fine here,’ he replied.

She nodded. Of course.

Tom finished the stitching swiftly and they covered the injury with a gauze pad. Naomi smiled at Alison.

‘Do you need me to call anyone for you?’

The patient shook her head. ‘There’s no one.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘I’m all alone. But that’s okay. Because then, I only have to worry about me.’

Naomi frowned. She’d been so sure when she’d arrived in London that alone was the best way to live. It seemed she had been right all along. It was like Alison said. It gave you less to worry about. There was less to mess up and there was no chance of disappointing anyone.

‘Would you like a cup of tea?’ she asked.

Alison nodded. ‘I’d love one.’

Naomi found Tom at the drink station in the staffroom, just as he scooped his tea bag out of his cup and dropped it into the bin.

‘Sorry to disturb you,’ she said. ‘I was just going to make Alison a cup of tea.’

He nodded and stepped aside to make room for her, ardently stirring his drink.

‘I’ll move out the second I get back this afternoon. You won’t have to see me.’

‘Naomi—’

‘No, Tom... I can see you’re uncomfortable and so am I. But don’t worry. I’m sorting it all out.’ She picked up Alison’s drink and left before he could say anything else.

There! she thought. Simple. Decisive. To the point.

If she’d kept her distance in the first place then it would never have been a problem. So, now if Tom didn’t want to be committed to her, then fine. She didn’t need him. She refused to want him.

There would be no more Tom.

There would be no more Naomi and Tom.

There would be no more of that heat and need and wanting and wishing and...

Naomi handed the drink to Alison, smiling grimly, lost in thought.

There would be no more feeling lost.

How had she misunderstood so badly? The way he’d touched her, kissed her, caressed her—it had been as if he’d been holding a rare treasure, as if he couldn’t believe he was allowed to touch something so valuable. At least that was what his eyes had said. It had been there in his face, in his body, too. Every part of him treating her like a precious jewel.

Maybe she had imagined it all.

Perhaps Tom had been right when he’d been talking about them making love. Perhaps it was just sex, nothing more. Perhaps what they’d done hadn’t been special. After all, she didn’t have another point of reference.

No. She shook her head. No, there was something else there.

No matter what had happened, however, it had definitely grown far too complicated. Tom had made it absolutely clear that he wasn’t in the market for a relationship and that he could never love another.

His relationship with Meredith must have been something truly special. She must have been an angel for him to fall so deeply in love that he couldn’t tolerate the idea of loving someone else.

Naomi wasn’t sure if she even knew what love was any more.

She’d been determined not to say anything more to him, and had decided to walk away with her head held high. But then she’d seen him, standing alone outside, taking a breather between patients, and before she had known what she was doing she had walked over to him. She was overcome with a desire to explain, to try and put into words what she’d felt when she’d sobbed with happiness in his arms.

He looked up, surprised, as she opened her mouth and the words poured out.

‘Last night, Tom...it meant something to me. It meant more than just two people coming together to rid themselves of their frustrations. It meant...more. I can only speak for myself, when I say this, but I’m angry at myself for letting it happen. Angry because it ruined the friendship that we had and turned it into something else. Something uncomfortable. Something painful. I know you regret it. But at the same time, for me, it was something joyous, something mind-blowing. It meant that my eyes were opened to a possibility that I could only have dreamed of... That moment brought me you. And believe you me, I didn’t plan this. Like you, I told myself I would never fall in love again. I told myself that real, burning, passionate love caused too much pain, too much suffering for it to ever be worth it. But with you, I trusted that it wouldn’t happen. That you wouldn’t hurt me—’

‘Naomi—’

‘But you have hurt me, Tom. In a way I hadn’t even known I should be protecting myself from. The way I felt in your arms was something I’d never experienced before and that was why I cried... It was overwhelming. Overwhelmingly beautiful.’

‘I—’

‘I need to step away from you. You said you can’t give me what I need and I understand that, I do. I never even knew that I needed it myself! But I think I do now. I want to be loved, Tom, and I don’t think that should be something to be feared. You’re not ready,’ she said, faltering, with tears flowing freely down her face. She didn’t care what she looked like any longer. ‘But I can’t hang around and keep torturing myself with the thought of what might have been every time I look at your face.’

She turned, desperately, and began to walk away, her head too full to think.

Tom called her name, but the pain in her chest hurt too much to turn around and listen to anything he might have to say.

What could he tell her that she didn’t already know?

He couldn’t love her the way she wanted him to.

So that had to be the end.

Last night, Tom...

It was hours after Naomi had left the hospital and still he couldn’t get her words out of his head. She was right. It had meant something. He hadn’t let himself acknowledge it at the time and had been too overwhelmed by her emotional outpouring but now, when he considered how she’d made him feel... He knew that it really had meant something.

Naomi was truly special. And therein lay the problem. Because Tom didn’t want her to mean something. He didn’t want to care deeply for her. He didn’t want to be falling in love. Love only hurt. He’d learnt the hard way that life got in the way and that terrible accidents happened. What if Naomi was taken from him just as Meredith had been? If he let himself care for Naomi, love Naomi, then he knew he wouldn’t cope with losing her. His fear of that would ruin everything. He’d been there already. He wouldn’t go through it again. Couldn’t go through it again.

He’d relied on his work since Meredith had died and that had seen him through. It was his way of continuing to connect with people. He could still help them, if only for a short time. A&E had been perfect because he was able to step in and make their lives better, and then his patients could be on their way. No one had to develop feelings and no one would get hurt. Tom had thought that he would be able to live the rest of his life at an emotional distance from everybody.

It was all a form of self-preservation. Surely everyone was guilty of it in one way or another. Was it so bad of him to put up walls in this way? He was protecting himself. He was protecting Naomi. But of course, he knew, she couldn’t see that, that he was doing this for them both.

Tom didn’t know what to think, except that he needed this whole situation to change. He needed...damn it! He needed Naomi!

He would give anything to call her back, and take her in his arms. He wanted to talk to her, about something, anything. He wanted to just be with her.

But he couldn’t be with her. He wouldn’t allow himself to do so. What had happened was for the best. Yes, it still hurt, but surely it was best to make that clean break now, before the hurt turned to agony.

He headed back into the department. It was technically the end of his shift, but he didn’t care. He needed to work. He couldn’t face the thought of going back to the flat, and seeing her emptying it of her things. If he worked, he wouldn’t think about her. Or, at least, he’d try not to.

The rest of the staff were thrilled to see him return. They were overrun with patients and, for a brief hour or two, he managed to forget about her completely. He didn’t have time to think about what had happened that morning, or what she’d said. In those few precious hours, he didn’t have to think about that look on her face when she’d run from him.

But then, when he was told to take a break, the thoughts came clamouring in. He pushed them to one side, telling himself over and over again that he was doing the right thing. He figured that if he told himself enough times, he might even start believing it was true.

Naomi packed up the last of her things. Most of her possessions were now in boxes, or the suitcase she’d taken from her old flat, but she’d just needed to return to Tom’s flat to collect her toothbrush and make-up from the bathroom.

Moving here in the first place now seemed like such a mistake. She’d been sucked in by how beautiful it all was. After her experience with the bedsit, she’d been happy to escape to such luxury. And, of course, then there’d been Tom, who had been the most wonderful feature of the flat.

But this had never been meant for her. She’d come out of a lonely childhood, into a lonely, strangely solitary marriage where it had seemed she had spent the entire time waiting. She had always been waiting for something bad to happen, another bone to grow, another injury to occur, as Vincent had steadily grown worse. She remembered the big grandfather clock in the hallway of their home and suddenly its loud ticking had never meant so much. She’d been stuck on pause. Trapped in a place from which she’d had no escape, and so she had waited, patiently, for the end.

Vincent’s condition had called all the shots in their marriage. It had governed everything and at the time, she hadn’t minded. She’d enjoyed looking after him, had enjoyed that they were so close and had accepted everyone’s praise of her, the way they’d said she was being so brave. At least, she’d escaped her childhood, always determined not to be like her mother, flitting from one relationship to another, always searching, always falling for the prettiest face and getting hurt.

She knew she’d chosen Vincent because he had been safe. She could admit that to herself now. He had been dedicated to her. Dedicated to their relationship.

He’d needed her.

And she’d revelled in that role as the dutiful wife, for their time together, playing it safe right to the end.

Then she’d made her big move to the capital. Finally she had been able to stand on her own two feet, throw caution to the wind and enjoy life. She had told herself that she would push her nursing skills to the limits, make new friends and live a whole new life. Naomi had been determined to move onwards and upwards, enjoying her freedom, just as she’d promised Vincent before he’d died that she would.

But she’d met Tom and had fallen for him. She’d been enticed by his good looks, given herself to him, and just like her mother she’d ended up alone and hurting.

But today I start again.

Naomi rallied herself. She would call the last few weeks a false start. They were just a minor blip in her plan. This time, she would stubbornly remain single, at least for a while.

As she gathered up her things Tom’s toothbrush suddenly seemed lonely in its pot, now that she had removed her own, and she gazed at it wistfully. They had been so good in their brief time together. But now she had to put Tom from her mind.

Naomi zipped up her toiletries bag and left.

An hour or so later she looked around her new flat, trying to find some kind of optimism. Luxury and opulence were not part of her normal world. She had been spoilt for a little while. So she figured that, whilst the flat wasn’t ideal now, it would get better. With time, with some hard work and an awful lot of deep cleaning, she would make it homely. She would paint the walls cream all over and get some fresh flowers to brighten up the rooms. If she got rid of that drab carpet, she could maybe hire a floor buffer and polish the wood underneath.

Naomi knew it could be beautiful. It just needed someone with a good eye for interior design and a bit of imagination. If she applied the same reasoning to her personal life, surely she could make that better, too. All she needed was some time, some space, and then maybe her heart might be ready for love. Naomi at least knew she wanted that now. Despite everything, Tom had still made her realise that she was worth being loved.

Her heart ached as she tried to push away the thought that the person loving her wouldn’t be Tom. She had hoped that it would be. But he clearly wasn’t ready. Whatever was going on in his head was preventing him from being with her. She had to put Tom and their brief relationship into a closed box. It had been wonderful whilst it had lasted. But she had to accept that their time together in the sun was over now.

At the hospital, Naomi had initially arranged to work opposite shifts to Tom. She had checked his schedule and if he was on days, she would agree to do nights. If he was on lates, she would do the early hours. But still, there were always those moments of handover, the occasional meeting in the locker room where he would look at her with sad eyes and seem to be on the verge of saying something. Except he always remained silent. She wasn’t sure what to do. She didn’t want to change jobs. She loved working in Welbeck’s A&E, especially with all the staff, who had become good friends. But when the matron had mentioned there was an opportunity for one member of the staff to go out on a secondment with the paramedics, Naomi had leapt at the chance.

It was perfect. She’d be out of the department except for the times when they would have to bring in a patient. It would be good for her to get a new perspective on what it was like to be out on the road and on the front line.

She hadn’t been in an ambulance since her days of training, when she’d spent a day as an observer. Back then, she’d felt useless and unsure. She’d stood back from the action in her neon-yellow jacket, carrying bags for the paramedics, or fetching and carrying whatever was needed from the truck.

This time, as she clambered on board with the two paramedics, Julia and Luke, she felt sure she would be better.

Stepping outside for a breath of fresh air, Tom saw Naomi clamber on board the ambulance. He paused, unable to tear his eyes away, then he promptly turned around and walked back inside, angry with himself.

His flat was so empty without her! Two weeks she’d been gone and he hadn’t realised just how large it was until she’d left and he had been left alone again. He didn’t know how he had managed living alone before. Because now when he came home from work, the silence was deafening. The space was endless.

On that first day she’d left, he’d come home from work late, sure that she would be gone, and had wandered into her room. He’d looked about—at the bed where she’d slept, at her empty wardrobe, at her empty drawers. For the time they’d been in his home they’d all been so full of her. The whole flat had been filled with her character, her smile, her laughter. She had managed to imbue the whole place with her spirit and energy and he wasn’t sure that he’d ever be able to look at the kitchen again without thinking about her there. His mind had been full of memories of her madly cooking some crazy recipe, whilst singing to the radio, dropping spoons or turning on the blender after forgetting to put on the lid. He’d never forget her burning toast and giving his damn smoke detectors more work than they’d had in years.

He’d moved away from the kitchen and his gaze had fallen on the sofa where they’d made love...

I panicked.

His emotions had been all over the place after they’d made love and the fact that he’d been second-guessing himself hadn’t helped matters. He had always been so sure of everything. Had always considered himself to be a clear, logical thinker. After all, with luck on his side, he could save a dying person—he could stem an arterial bleed; he could resuscitate someone. But now, he was flummoxed. Because he couldn’t figure out if he could know whether he was really in love.

It had been so clear-cut with Meredith. There’d been no hesitation there, no doubt. He’d just known. But with Naomi...it was like he couldn’t think straight with her around. She scrambled his thoughts and toyed with his emotions and he didn’t know whether he was coming or going!

Maybe that was love, too.

Maybe it was a different kind of love. Maybe he had been wrong about everything.

He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts.

He certainly knew how it felt to see Naomi doing everything in her power to not come into contact with him. To see her choosing alternate shifts and volunteering to be with the paramedics. Julia and Luke were great and they’d look after her, he knew that, but...

His chest actually hurt, physically, like his heart was constantly aching with pain. His stomach was all over the place, his concentration was shot.

Perhaps separation was a good thing?

Naomi wandered around her new flat, opening windows, letting in the air before she started yet another marathon cleaning session in the flat. Then she turned on the radio, whilst she dusted and scrubbed and cleaned.

It was difficult. Some of the grime was really ingrained and it made her feel sick to look at the state of the dirty water in the bucket she was using. Not that it took much to make her feel sick these days.

She’d noticed it only recently. Her tiredness. Her exhaustion at the end of every day. And then there was the nausea that came whenever she prepared anything to eat. Last night, she’d gone to make herself a tuna sandwich and as soon as she’d opened the tin, the smell had made her heave into the kitchen sink. It was then she’d first wondered if it was something other than pure exhaustion.

She was late, too. She’d never been late. Ever.

She’d bought herself a pregnancy-testing kit, but she hadn’t had the courage to use it yet. It had been three weeks since she had slept with Tom, but...

What would she do, if she were pregnant?

If Tom couldn’t even love her, she didn’t know how he would cope with a baby. Would he be able to love it? She hoped so, for the baby’s sake. They might not be together as a couple, but she would want him to have a role in their child’s life.

But then again, what would that be like for her? She knew immediately that it would be awful. Painful. She couldn’t imagine going through a pregnancy, wanting someone to be there to hold her hand through all the scans and tests, not to mention labour and delivery, but knowing the father it wasn’t an option.

She was getting carried away. She might not even be pregnant.

But a small part of her willed it to be true. She’d always wanted children, but she’d put that desire on hold during her marriage. Even though she’d known there wasn’t a chance of conceiving, every month that had rolled around, bringing with it her next period, had made her feel desperately sad.

She decided she wouldn’t take the test until she had cleaned the bathroom. The old avocado suite actually wasn’t too bad, but there was mould on the grouting and limescale everywhere. There was no way she would use this bathroom for something so monumental as finding out if she was pregnant, without it being clean to her standards.

She emptied the bucket of water down the sink, swirled it out with clean and then filled it once again. As she waited for the level to rise she took the pregnancy test out of her handbag and rested it on the sink.

First thing tomorrow you can tell me my future.

She woke suddenly, with trepidation. Amazingly, she’d slept quite well. The exhaustion she’d been feeling had hit her hard last night, after a whole afternoon spent cleaning and scrubbing.

Her stomach roiled as she sat up in bed. Could this be morning sickness? Naomi knew it was possible for a person to believe something with so much conviction that they could convince themselves that they had an illness. It was called psychosomatic disorder. Was it possible that she was wishing so hard that she was pregnant, that she was making herself feel sick?

More importantly, did she really want Tom’s baby so badly?

She knew the answer was yes. She did want this baby. And she couldn’t think of a better man to be the father. Tom was clever and kind and considerate. He would hopefully be a loving parent, even if he couldn’t love Naomi. Even if there could never be any relationship between them as a couple, she couldn’t imagine him turning his child away.

She stood up and headed for the bathroom. She knew what she needed to do, but she still read the instructions thoroughly, before following them exactly, and then she laid the test stick on the toilet cistern and waited.

Thirty seconds. She had thirty seconds to wait before she could find out if her life had changed. If it had, she felt sure she could turn it into a positive change. She would make this flat work for her. Make her job work for her, too, until she had to go on maternity leave. With this change, her life could be bright again. Being a single mother was nothing strange these days.

See? I can make myself believe I’ll be happy.

Still, a small voice and a large ache in her heart told her that she would never be truly happy without Tom’s love. She could tell herself as many times as she liked that this would turn out all right, but until that moment came she knew she would be miserable.

Be realistic, she thought. Be honest. You want Tom, too.

Yes, she admitted to herself. She did want him. Even now. Even after all this time that they’d spent apart, she was still haunted by the memory of him, of the way he’d kissed her, made her feel, made her laugh. The way he’d made her feel warm and safe inside.

She loved him. It was an inescapable fact. And whether she was carrying his child or not, she knew she could never have him.

Naomi picked up the test and stared at the result. It was positive. She was pregnant. With Tom’s baby.

Never had she ever imagined that she wouldn’t be thrilled at discovering she was pregnant. But with the news suddenly in front of her, she only sat there stunned, tears streaming down her face.

She stayed there for ages, just holding the stick in her hands and staring at it. Outside, she could hear the early-morning bustle of traffic—the honking of horns, the sounds of reversing lorries, people calling out in the street. For everyone else, life was carrying on as normal.

But for Naomi, it was as if time had stood still. She kept wondering how she would tell him. What the look on his face would be. He had told her he would never be able to love someone else.

Please, Tom. Be the man that I know that you are and tell me that you’ll love our child.

It was now mid-April and Naomi knew she ought to be over the moon. Deep down inside, somewhere, she felt sure she was rejoicing. It was just that at the moment she felt numb, as if she was still in shock. She would have to tell Tom sooner or later. He had a right to know. Perhaps the best place would be at the Spring Ball in a few days’ time? It would be neutral ground and they would be surrounded by people, so his reaction would have to be measured and controlled. They could discuss the issue calmly over a nice glass of champagne.

Oops—no. No alcohol for me.

Fruit juice, then. She picked up the phone and called her local GP surgery. She’d need to see the doctor, and organise getting some folic acid. The doctor would get her registered with a midwife and arrange the first visit once she had got past the first trimester.

She was relieved she hadn’t forgotten everything about her maternity training. She could almost pretend that everything was well with the world.

She hoped Tom would take the news calmly and that he would be able to take responsibility and love their child. She didn’t like to think about what it might mean if he wasn’t able to. Maybe she didn’t know him at all.

Surely she hadn’t read him wrong. Tom couldn’t fail to be a good father, surely. He was charming and dependable and caring. Caring for others was in his DNA. He was a doctor, for crying out loud, and a damned good one on top of that. He loved his work, making sure that others were okay.

An image of him cradling a child in his arms came unbidden to her and she felt an ache deep in the pit of her stomach. She allowed herself to imagine him looking at that child with such intense love.

She imagined him turning to her with the same look in his eyes, and drawing her towards him...

She dashed the image from her mind. She couldn’t think of him in that way any more. She couldn’t think of him in her arms. Holding her close.

It was all such a mess! She would wait until the evening of the ball and then she would tell him about the baby. She’d agreed to go with Stefan as a friend, not as a date, so she was sure she’d be able to slip away and find Tom.

That was assuming he was going to the ball!

CHAPTER TEN

IT WAS THE next weekend and Naomi had arranged to go shopping for her ball gown with Jackie. They went to a variety of stores on the busy London streets, searching for something that appealed. There were rack upon rack of lovely dresses in all colours, shapes and sizes, but still nothing had leapt out at Naomi.

She had been fighting off her exhaustion all morning, sipping from a carton of banana milkshake to stop the pangs of sickness from overwhelming her as they shopped. She didn’t want Jackie to suspect she was pregnant, before she’d had a chance to tell Tom. It was only right that he found out first.

Jackie had managed to find her gown in the first store they went into. It was a beautiful off-the-shoulder scarlet dress, quite figure-hugging all the way to her knees, where it suddenly flowed outwards freely. The bodice was highlighted by small diamanté stones and it had looked gorgeous on her as she’d stood on the small podium and twirled in front of the mirror, so that Naomi could see it fully.

‘It looks gorgeous on you, Jackie.’

‘Oh, thanks. You know people have always said that red is my colour.’

Jackie had stepped down and wriggled back behind the curtain to get changed into her normal clothes.

‘They’re right. You looked great,’ Naomi had added.

Her friend had peered around the curtain at her. ‘Pity we can’t say the same for you.’

‘What?’

‘What’s going on between you and Tom? One minute you’re flatmates, all nice and cosy, and the best of friends, the next you can barely tolerate breathing the same air as him.’

Naomi had briefly seen a vision of herself in Tom’s arms, feeling cherished and adored and loved. Then she’d pushed the image away. He hadn’t thought about it the same way. ‘We had a difference in opinion.’

‘What about?’

‘I’d rather not talk about it. I’ve moved on.’

‘You’ve moved flat! Stefan tells me you’re in his block now. How’s that working out for you?’

It’s horrible, she’d thought. I hate that flat. It’s not home. It’s not me!

‘Yeah, it’s good.’

‘It sounds like a lot of work from what Stefan tells me. You need a hand?’

‘Er...maybe. Yeah. We could have one of those wallpaper-stripping parties.’

Jackie had swished the curtain open, dressed in her normal clothes once again. ‘Please tell me you don’t have a woodchip nightmare?’

Naomi had nodded and laughed when she’d seen the look of horror on her friend’s face. ‘I do.’

‘Oh, shoot. That’s such a delight to remove!’

Jackie had paid for her dress and, once it had been wrapped in tissue paper, boxed and bagged, they’d headed out of the shop.

Now they were trying yet another store, still searching for something for Naomi.

‘How’s A&E?’ she asked as they wandered. ‘What am I missing?’

‘Not much. You should know—you bring in half the cases! How are you enjoying your time with the paramedics?’

‘It’s good. Interesting, but...’

‘It’s not A&E.’

‘No.’

‘Do you miss it?’

She nodded.

‘You miss Tom, too, don’t you?’

Naomi tried not to make eye contact with her friend, but Jackie was persistent. She stepped in front of her, forcing her to look at her. ‘Naomi!’

‘Yes! Yes, I do.’

‘Even though you were only flatmates?’

She coloured.

‘I knew it! I knew there was more to it than what you were letting on! What happened?’

‘I don’t really want to talk about it. It upsets me. Please, Jackie. Don’t say anything to anyone. Least of all Stefan. He’s such a gossip.’

Jackie threaded her arm through Naomi’s. ‘My lips are sealed. But, you know, I will say one thing.’

‘What?’

‘That that man cares for you beyond belief. He’s miserable now; he’s like a robot again. He’s acting just the way he did after his wife died. I don’t know what he’s done to upset you, Naomi, but he loves you. You mark my words.’

She stared straight ahead.

No, he doesn’t.

It didn’t matter what Jackie said. Tom didn’t love her. He’d told her he was incapable of it. He’d said he didn’t believe in a second chance at love.

You mark my words...he loves you...

She smiled sadly. If only that were true. It was nice of Jackie to say that, but Naomi didn’t need to hear it. It only gave her false hope. But she wouldn’t be able to cope if she went to him and told him that she loved him and he threw it back in her face. If it were true, and Jackie were right, then it needed to come from Tom. And Naomi already knew that would never happen.

Jackie said no more about Tom as they continued to shop. And eventually, Naomi found a wonderful dress in midnight blue. It was ankle-length, one-shouldered, and it had a beautiful black lace overlay around the waist. They found a gorgeous red clutch to contrast with it, which wasn’t hugely expensive. Naomi decided this would be her last extravagance. All her future funds would have to go towards the flat and things for the baby. But this dress would be her swansong to being a single woman. After this, if all went well, she would be a single mother. She briefly wondered what Vincent would have said, if he could have seen her. She hoped that he would have been proud.

She was suddenly glad she was going to the ball. It was a fitting way to end this current chapter in her life.

‘I’ve probably made a mistake in accepting Stefan’s invite,’ she confessed to Jackie.

‘Stefan is full of himself. But he’s a decent guy underneath all that rubbish he doles out.’

Naomi twirled in front of the mirror in her dress, eyeing the gown and trying to see if her pregnancy showed, which of course it didn’t—it was still early days. Thank goodness. No one would guess her secret. No one would tell Tom until she’d had the chance to see him first.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

TOM WAS HARD at work in A&E. Unable to cope with the maelstrom of thoughts in his head about Naomi, he’d sought solace the way he had used to do, treating the sick and injured.

So far that day he’d seen a cardiac arrest, a tree surgeon who had fallen over twenty feet onto his back, some victims from a bad road-traffic accident and a query stroke victim.

Work had been the only way he’d been able to make himself feel better after Meredith’s death. And so he’d expected his work to have the same effect after everything that had happened with Naomi.

But it wasn’t working. His head was still in a spin. He wasn’t his normal calm, polite self. Instead, he was being terse. Curt. His temper felt extremely short and every time he caught himself snapping at someone, he would inwardly berate himself.

All he could think about was Naomi.

His neat, stable little world had crumpled in on itself. He could barely keep himself upright. He could barely keep putting one foot in front of the other, without thinking about her, wishing that he’d acted differently, wishing it all could have ended differently.

He’d sworn to himself after Meredith had died that he’d never again go through that pain of losing someone that he loved. He’d promised never to expose himself to that all-consuming grief that he’d experienced once before.

But wasn’t he suffering now anyway? He was certainly already in pain. And was that because he loved Naomi? Was he feeling this pain and uncertainty, all because he was denying himself the woman that he loved?

His brow rumpled in thought. If he admitted to himself that perhaps he did love Naomi, then what would happen? He didn’t know if there was any point in telling her. He’d already messed her around once, upset her, so he doubted she’d want to listen to him now. It was too late. He’d already told her he couldn’t love another.

He winced as he recalled his words.

If Naomi had any sense, she would run a mile. He’d used her. Unwittingly maybe. Naively, perhaps. But still, she’d said he had opened her eyes to possibilities in her life. That he’d made her realise a need for love that she’d closed the door on, just as he had. She’d just opened that door earlier than he had. She’d been ready to cope with it, ready to risk love again.

The question was...was he ready?

He was suffering so much now, because there was so much distance between them, when what he really wanted was the opposite. He’d imposed a self-built barrier of fear. And just as he’d done that, she too had tried to protect herself by moving away from him.

They’d both thought they had been protecting themselves, but in reality they hadn’t. They’d only caused themselves more hurt, because they’d believed that the alternative could only lead to pain.

But what if I allowed myself to love again? What if Naomi gave me another chance and said yes?

Tom looked down at his paperwork. There was still so much he needed to do. Yet the Spring Ball was just a few hours away and Naomi was going with Stefan. He was a decent nurse, but still... Stefan? The hospital Lothario? Tom couldn’t bear the idea.

He glanced at the clock, trying to make his decision.

Suddenly he knew exactly where he had to go.

Tom knelt in front of the headstone and laid the bunch of calla lilies on Meredith’s grave. Then he stood back and looked hard at the words and letters etched into the stone.

Meredith Williams

Beloved Wife

He cleared his throat.

‘Meredith? I need to tell you...that I love you. That I will always love you and there will always be a treasured space for you in my heart, but... I’ve met someone. Her name’s Naomi.’

His gaze drifted from his wife’s name to her photograph embedded in the stone within a golden heart. He looked at that smiling face, the twinkle in her eyes, remembering her as she’d beamed at the camera on that day so long ago.

‘You’d like her. She’s a nurse, like you. Spirited. Funny. Passionate. Caring.’ He sighed and his shoulders dropped as he looked up and past the other stones, across the empty field to the trees in the distance, gathering his thoughts. Gathering more words.

‘She means an awful lot to me and that surprised me because I didn’t think anyone could mean anything to me any more.’ He reached out to touch the cold stone. ‘I want to be with her. She may not want me, after the way I’ve treated her, but at least I’m thinking clearly now. I know what I want and I know that you, more than anyone else in the world, would want me to be happy. So I’m going to try.’

He stood there for a few more quiet moments, listening to the birds singing in the nearby trees, and spotted a squirrel scratching at the ground a few metres away. Even a rabbit had dared to venture out from the hedgerow, but it scurried away as soon as it noticed him.

Tom turned back to his wife’s picture and sucked in a deep breath. This was it. His decision. He was moving forward now. He couldn’t live his life the way he had for eight years. He’d been in limbo and it was all so clear to him now. Before Naomi had come into his life, and he’d just thought of himself as a widower, he had convinced himself that was it. That that was the way his life was going to be for the rest of his days. But he’d been wrong. He’d been so utterly wrong.

His feelings for Naomi had been so unexpected, so sudden. He had been like a man on death row who had been told that in actual fact he was being set free.

Naomi had set him free and he was no longer a prisoner. He’d done his time.

Tom gazed at Meredith’s picture. He didn’t feel sadness. He didn’t feel regret.

He felt content. Right.

He felt sure.

‘Goodbye, Meredith.’ He touched his fingers to the stone one final time and closed his eyes, feeling the soft breeze on his face, and it was as if he knew she was telling him it was okay. A smile reached his face.

Opening his eyes, he began to walk away.

He didn’t need to look back.

Naomi was getting ready for the ball. There was none of the excitement that she once would have had at the thought of such an event. Her dress was beautiful and Jackie had taken up her hair for her, which was now held in place by bejewelled pins. Looking in the mirror, as she finished her make-up, she felt she truly did look like the princess that Jackie had told her she would be.

But she didn’t feel like one. She didn’t feel the happiness she knew she ought to be feeling. After all, this was going to be her big goodbye, her first and last large event with the department. She’d decided that, after this, she would work out the months she had before she gave birth but then she would leave Welbeck. She would be the best mother to her child that she could be. She’d been given this opportunity, after all this time, and she was going to embrace it.

As she slipped on her heels and put on her bracelet and matching earrings, she tried to find the smile that had been missing from her face for so long.

She popped a small piece of ginger into her mouth. She’d been chewing on small pieces for a few days now. It seemed to help that awful sick feeling in her stomach that seemed to be there on a permanent basis. She took a deep breath.

When they arrived, she would plaster on that fake smile, be gracious and pleasant. She would greet people, all the while hating every minute, scanning the room, knowing that she had to talk to Tom.

Stefan arrived in his tuxedo, and she had to admit he looked rather charming, but she only felt sadness when she met him at the door. She felt it should have been Tom standing there.

There was a slight evening breeze, and the cool air danced around her bare arms and back as they went outside and climbed into the taxi. Stefan chatted amiably as they travelled and she tried to seem attentive. When they finally arrived at the hotel, she slowly made her way up the steps into the building and then suddenly, with her nerves racing, they entered the ballroom.

It was magnificent. It was as if they’d stepped inside a palace. Jackie had been right: the events team had really pulled out all the stops to make the place look magical. There were high vaulted ceilings lit by chandeliers and fluted lights lined the walls. Past all the porticoes and columns, Naomi could see a small orchestra in the corner, and could hear someone very talented playing the grand piano at its centre. Everyone was dressed in their finery—the men in tuxedoes and the women in beautiful ball gowns of every conceivable colour. Waiters covered the room like silent hummingbirds, offering drinks and canapés on silver trays as people clinked champagne glasses, laughing and chattering.

If only everything were different.

She wanted to be able to enjoy it. She could certainly appreciate all the hard work that had gone into the occasion. The fact that she couldn’t be here with the one person she wanted the most made her sad, tearful almost.

There were already a few couples dancing in the centre of the floor. She would have loved to dance with Tom and be close to him again, the way they had been at the roller disco. The image came to her of being in his arms, laughing, pressed up close against his chest. She could almost feel his heart pounding away, her hands in his as they had stared deeply into each other’s eyes...

She wiped away a small tear and offered Stefan a brave smile. ‘It’s gorgeous!’ she exclaimed as she followed her date down the steps into the room.

It was warm and so many people were wearing perfumes or aftershave that the aroma started to make her feel queasy. Laying a hand upon her stomach, she took a glass from a passing waiter’s tray and sipped at it to help wet her dry mouth.

Ugh. Alcohol.

She looked around for another drink, searching for something that looked like fruit juice, but as she turned away she lost sight of Stefan. Suddenly she was left in the middle of the ballroom all alone.

So this is what it feels like to be lonely in a crowd, she thought.

Jostled and bustled, she tried to make her way over to one side of the room where she could hide. There was a line of tables with a buffet selection. She wondered if she might find something there to help settle her stomach.

A few people she knew recognised her, greeting her with air kisses. Then she moved on again, telling herself that if she couldn’t find Tom, she would only stay for an hour. She would make sure she’d said hello to everyone she knew, then she would make her excuses and go.

She felt a hand on her arm and she turned, expecting to find Stefan standing there.

Tom!

All of a sudden her stomach began churning wildly, her mouth grew dry and she almost couldn’t speak. She couldn’t believe how good it was to see him here! He looked absolutely dashing in his perfect tuxedo, staring at her, as if...as if he couldn’t bear to look anywhere else.

‘Tom?’

He was here. Which meant that she would be able to tell him about the baby. She’d been worried that he wouldn’t turn up, and that she would have to find him at work. But now, the moment was here. She would have to stand in front of him and tell him that his world was about to change! That he was going to become a father. She would tell him that she would stay out of his way if that was what he wanted—even if it would kill her to do so—but she prayed that he would love and cherish their baby.

He would make a good dad, she felt sure of that. Perhaps he might be the one to teach their child to ride a bike? He would be patient, she knew; supportive, encouraging.

Tears were welling in her eyes again.

She blinked furiously, and dabbed at the corners of her eyes, hoping the tears wouldn’t fall and betray her.

Tom gave her a small smile.

‘Naomi. May I speak with you? Privately?’ He seemed serious and Naomi wondered what this could be about. She wondered if he was going to discuss work with her. Maybe he wanted to talk about what would happen now that her secondment with the paramedics was coming to an end.

She didn’t see the need for privacy if that was the case, but she was keen to get out of the crowd. She wanted to get away from the mixture of scents and the cacophony of too many people in one room.

‘Sure,’ she said.

‘There’s a small foyer over there.’ Tom pointed and then took her arm as he escorted her through the crowds.

She tried not to think too hard about his arm tucked through hers. It was a too painful reminder of everything that she couldn’t have. She wished he wouldn’t touch her at all. That would be easier.

When they got to the foyer, he let go of her arm and closed the doors behind them, shutting out the noise of the chatter and the soft piano music. She breathed in deeply, relishing the fresher air coming in through the open windows.

Now that they were here, he stood in front of her, looking a little unsure of how to start.

‘What’s wrong?’

He licked his lips and stared at her for a moment. Then he spoke.

‘Naomi? First off, I just want to say that I’m sorry. Dreadfully sorry for the way I reacted to you that night we were together.’ He reached for her hands and held them in his as he faced her. ‘That night was the most amazing thing in the world to me because it opened my eyes. No...not just my eyes. But my heart...my soul. I’d kept them locked away, determined that no one would ever have the chance to tear me apart again, but being with you...being with you made me realise that I could love again. That I could take that chance and risk my heart because I loved you.

‘It scared me. It sent me into a whirlwind of confusion and shock. I hadn’t known it was possible to care for someone that much for a second time and when you told me that I’d shown you that love was possible, I’ll admit I was frightened. It was all too clear that you’d changed me in the same way and I wasn’t ready to accept that it was okay. But I am ready now.’

She stared up at him, tears now openly falling down her cheeks as his words pierced her heart and the barriers she’d been putting up to protect herself. Those barriers were crumbling away, breaking into a million tiny pieces at every word he said.

‘I know I hurt you—I’m sorry. I know I shut you out—I’m sorry. I can’t say it enough to make amends for all the pain I caused you and I know that I have no right to expect you to forgive me. But I’m asking you to consider it. I’m asking you to find forgiveness in your heart; if not now, then maybe some time in the future, I don’t know. I just need to tell you that I love you. And if you’ll have me, then I’ll be here for you until the end of time.’

Naomi sobbed, wanting to wipe the tears away, but at the same time unwilling to let go of his hands.

He loved her?

She laughed through her tears, knowing she must look a mess, but too happy to care.

‘Oh, Tom! I do forgive you. I do. I’m sorry I put you through so much torment. And that I caused you this much pain in the first place! There you’d been, working your way through life, knowing exactly what you wanted from it, and I came along and turned it upside down.’

‘I needed you to turn it upside down.’

‘I needed you. You showed me what real love could be. It wasn’t just the physical stuff, but also the incredible companionship, the time we spent together, having fun, taking risks—’

‘The burnt dinners?’

She laughed. ‘Yes! The burnt dinners... I told you what that all meant to me before you were ready to hear it. I knew what you’d been through, that you were uncertain, and yet I couldn’t hold it back because I was so determined to be open and honest about how I felt. Because you know something? Even though I loved Vincent, I wasn’t open and honest with him. I always kept my feelings about everything locked inside, because I didn’t want to upset him, or worry him, because I thought he already had so much to deal with. But with you...’ she squeezed his fingers in hers ‘...I was overwhelmed by my feelings. I spoke without thinking, but... I love you, too, Tom. You know that I do. It’s torn my heart to pieces spending this time apart.’

‘Me too.’

‘I love you. I want to be with you.’

‘I love you, Naomi.’

He dipped his head to kiss her, but she backed away and he looked at her, confused.

‘What?’

‘There’s something else.’

‘Oh?’

‘Someone else.’

His eyes darkened and he glanced at the double doors leading to the ballroom. ‘Stefan?’

She shook her head. ‘No.’

Tom looked puzzled. ‘Then who?’ he asked, appearing to brace himself.

She smiled and blushed. ‘I can’t believe I get to tell you this and actually be happy about it.’

He stared at her, waiting for the axe to fall.

‘I’m pregnant, Tom. With our baby.’

His mouth dropped open, then he gulped and glanced down at her abdomen, a smile slowly appearing on his face. ‘You’re pregnant?’

She nodded.

‘Oh, Naomi!’ He pulled her to him and kissed her.

Naomi was so filled with happiness to be in his arms again that she thought she might burst! She’d never expected this when she’d set out that evening, not even knowing whether Tom would be there. She’d pictured herself telling him about the baby, expecting it to be sombre and sad, with him dutifully promising to be involved. Her heart had almost broken there and then, imagining the scenario.

But here she was. Tom loved her. He wanted to be with her and he was thrilled about the baby!

They would raise their child together. As a couple. Not as single parents, as she’d been prepared to do.

His lips against hers were like magic. She tingled in every place that they touched. Her heart was singing. The dark clouds that had hovered over her earlier had dissipated and she felt like they were both standing in bright sunshine. They were together and strong. And together they would be able to tackle anything. Apart, they’d been broken and weak.

Not any longer.

Now the future looked bright. Optimistic. Full of promise and expectation.

Tom broke the kiss and smiled down at her, then he reached into his pocket and dropped to one knee.

Naomi gasped.

‘Naomi Bloom. You fell into my arms the first day that we met and I want you to stay there until the day that we die. I love you more than life and you would make me the happiest man alive if you would do me the honour of marrying me.’

He opened the small box he was holding and she saw a beautiful diamond solitaire nestled in its bed of navy velvet.

‘I will!’

Tom beamed as he took the ring from the box and gently slipped it onto her finger. Then he pulled her to him once again and kissed her.

Her body sang for him. Her heart soared.

This was the love she’d known was possible. This was what she’d dreamed about when she’d set off to London to find her own way in the world. Here was her chance to find love again. And the fact that it was with Tom, the most wonderful man she had ever known, made it more than perfect.

She couldn’t be happier. It just wasn’t possible.

The noise from beyond the double doors rose an octave, reminding them that the real world still awaited them. Including Naomi’s date for the evening.

‘What about Stefan?’ she asked, smiling.

‘He can be an usher.’

‘I came here with him. I owe him an explanation.’

Tom held out his arm for her. ‘Then we’ll tell him together. I don’t think even Stefan will stand in the way of true love.’

Naomi laid her head against his shoulder. ‘We almost did,’ she said, sucking in a breath as she realised what they’d almost lost.

‘We found our way in the end.’

She looked up at him. ‘I could never lose you again.’

He kissed her. ‘You won’t have to. We have eternity together.’

They both took in a deep breath and then they pushed open the double doors.

EPILOGUE

HE COULDN’T QUITE believe it. It was almost time. All these months of waiting. Of watching Naomi’s tummy grow, of feeling those magical kicks through her skin and marvelling at the life beneath, wondering just who was in there.

Tom hadn’t known he could be this happy. To think of where he had been even a year ago, believing there was nothing left in his life to be glad about...and yet here he was, about to become a father.

Imminently.

‘Come on, Naomi...push!’ He gripped her hand, holding it against his chest, glancing from her scrunched-up face to the midwife and then down to see if he could see their baby’s head yet.

‘Baby’s coming, Naomi. One huge push for me now!’ urged the midwife.

Naomi sucked in a deep breath and focused. She gave this push her all, every tiny bit of strength that she had left. Fourteen hours of labour were nearly at an end. She was sweating. Her hair was plastered to her face.

Tom felt her squeeze his fingers as she groaned and grimaced, before she let out her breath and then immediately sucked in another, ready to push again. The midwife stopped her.

‘Here’s the head! Just pant for me now...pant, pant, that’s it. And just a tiny push for me.’

Tom looked down. They were nearly there. His baby’s head and face were emerging. ‘Look at all that hair!’

Naomi looked up at him and began to cry. ‘Really?’

‘Really.’ He kissed her forehead. ‘You’re doing it. You’re doing it! I love you so much!’

‘Get ready, Dad. Are you going to cut the cord?’

Tom nodded, beaming at the midwife. ‘Try and stop me.’ He watched anxiously as the baby turned naturally and the midwife checked for a cord around the neck, but everything was fine.

‘One last push and you’ll have your baby in your arms.’

Naomi nodded and smiled, before giving one last almighty push, the effort of which caused her to cry out.

Their baby was finally fully born, crying, into the world and the midwife lifted the squirming bundle straight onto Naomi’s stomach.

Tom wasn’t sure when he had started crying. Had it been the moment he saw his beautiful baby? Or maybe when he’d seen Naomi’s face, so full of love, as she cradled their child?

‘Here you go, Daddy. Cut between these two clips.’ The midwife handed him the scissors and Tom cut the cord in disbelief, tears streaming down his cheeks. ‘Do you want to see what you have?’ she asked.

Tom was almost afraid to touch the baby. It was so beautiful, so precious! But he rolled it gently onto its back to reveal the sex. ‘We have a daughter!’

Naomi held her tightly, lifting up her top so that their daughter could nestle against her skin. ‘A baby girl!’

The midwife smiled broadly. ‘Do we have a name?’

Naomi looked up at Tom and smiled. ‘We do.’

He laid his hand on his daughter’s tiny head as he announced her name. ‘Sophia Grace.’

He gazed down at his beautiful fiancée and his darling daughter, unable to believe that they were both his. That they were here with him. Safe. Together. Loved. He bent to gently kiss his daughter’s cheek and marvelled how soft her skin was. ‘I love you both so much,’ he murmured softly. He looked up at Naomi and they kissed, their tears of happiness mingling, their joy immeasurable.

‘I love you, too. I’m the luckiest woman in the world.’

He kissed her again, still in disbelief at what he’d just witnessed. He had a child! A beautiful, perfect baby girl, who he already loved so much and wanted to protect until the end of the earth. With love overflowing from his heart, he closed his eyes and kissed his daughter’s head as he cradled both of them in his arms, unable to believe that all of this happiness, all of this joy, was his.

‘Thank you,’ he said, when the afterbirth had been delivered and the midwife had left them alone. ‘For coming into my life. For falling into my arms and refusing to give up on me.’

She touched her forehead to his and smiled, tears of elation still on her cheeks. ‘You’re worth it.’

‘Having so much...all this happiness, all this love...’

She laid her hand upon his cheek and brought his lips down to hers. ‘We don’t need to be afraid of it.’

‘I know. I’ll cherish every second I spend with you and Sophia.’

‘And I’ll cherish them, too.’

The midwife returned to take the baby to clean her up and check her APGAR score, then she handed Sophia back, placing her carefully into Tom’s arms.

Sophia, swaddled and warm, blinked at the harsh lights in the room, then gazed up into her father’s face.

Tom stroked his daughter’s cheek, full of pride and love. Then he looked to the woman he loved just as much and reached out to hold her hand.

Together they were strong.

Together they could face anything.

The Doctor’s Forbidden Fling

Karin Baine

Lady Violet’s baby surprise!

When a family illness calls nurse Violet Dempsey back to the aristocratic world she spurned years ago, she’s finally forced to face Nate Taylor...the boy next door she left behind.

Cardiologist Nate has come a long way from his life as the son of the hired help. Yet Violet’s return shakes his foundations—and his resolve to ignore his lingering feelings for her! But after one forbidden night, everything changes. Now Violet and Nate find themselves facing an unexpected future...as a family of three!

For Tammy. From one special snowflake to another.

Our field trip was epic! xx

Special thanks to my IT guru, Cherie,

who dragged this technophobe kicking and

screaming into the twenty-first century and

managed not to throat-punch me in the process!

As always, I couldn’t have told this story without help.

A big hug to my editor, Laura, to Chellie, Susan

and Alison, and an extra squishy one for Amalie

for her author guidance too. xx

CHAPTER ONE

IN VIOLET DEMPSEY’S experience the family room in a hospital department was where good news and hope came to die. It was in one of these seemingly innocuous side rooms she’d learned of her mother’s fate and now she was waiting to hear of her father’s too. He was fighting for his life in the cardiac care unit down the corridor while she was staring at the wall waiting for that ominous knock at the door.

She knew how crucial the first few hours after a heart attack were and she’d spent them trying to organise a flight back to Northern Ireland from London. Even that relatively short drive from Belfast to the Silent Valley Hospital in County Down had seemed like an eternity when her father was so close to death.

Their relationship was strained to say the least, since she refused to conform to her role as the daughter of an earl, but that didn’t mean she didn’t care. After watching her mother’s struggle to fit into society life, Violet had simply decided to take her own path rather than the one her father had paved for her. They’d barely spoken since.

The tap on the door still made her jump even though she’d been expecting it. This was the reckoning. Life or death. Her stomach clenched as the door opened and the harbinger of impending doom swooped in. Except this was no po-faced stranger invading the already claustrophobic space.

‘Nate?’

He was taller, broader and better groomed than she remembered but she’d recognise that dimpled smile anywhere. The hardest thing she’d ever had to do was walk away from that handsome face twelve years ago. She had no clue what he was doing here but he’d always had that knack of knowing exactly when she’d needed him.

‘Hello, Violet. Or should I say Lady Violet? It’s been a while.’ He closed the door behind him and took the seat opposite her. It was so like Nate to plonk himself in the middle of her problems without a formal invitation.

‘It has, but as I recall you were never one to stand on ceremony. Violet is just fine.’ She hoped he was teasing her rather than trying to rile her when he understood better than anyone how much she hated her title.

They hadn’t parted on the best of terms, on any terms really since she’d left without a word of explanation. Although he would have just cause to turn his back on her after what had happened, or even want a showdown to confront her about her behaviour, she was counting on him cutting her some slack in the circumstances. The old Nate would always have put her needs first and it was odd enough trying to come to terms with the fully formed man version of her childhood companion without finding out he might’ve completely changed character since their last meet too. Especially as she was just as attracted to Nate the adult.

The dark blond floppy hair had been tamed into a dapper short back and sides, the boyish face now defined with a sleek jawline and dusted with enough stubble to be fashionable and sexy. The son of Strachmore Castle’s domestic staff had apparently swapped his hard-wearing flannel shirts for more tailored, expensive attire. He could easily have moved in her family’s circle of friends now. If either of them had ever wanted that. One impulsive teenage kiss had effectively ended their friendship and sent Violet scurrying off to London before she committed to something that could never have worked.

Nate cleared his throat and she realised she’d been staring longer than an old friend ought to. The heat started to build in her cheeks as she recalled their last meet when they had ventured into new realms of their relationship.

‘So... I assume you’re here at your father’s behest? He told me he was the one who phoned for the ambulance.’ She steered the conversation, and her mind, away from dangerous territory. There was nothing like the thought of disapproving parents to pour cold water on certain heated moments that should be left in the past.

Nate leaned forward in the chair, forcing Violet to meet those hazel eyes she’d forgotten were so easy to get lost in. ‘It was Dad who found him, but that’s not why I’m here. This chat is of a more...professional nature. I’m a doctor here. Your father’s cardiologist, in fact.’

She opened her mouth to tell him to stop messing about, then closed it again when she saw how serious he was. There was a ghost of a memory of the sister in charge mentioning a Dr Taylor but she’d never imagined this scenario in her wildest dreams.

‘I didn’t even know you’d gone to medical school,’ she blurted out before she realised how bad that sounded. Cold. As though the spoilt brat with the privileged upbringing had swanned off and never looked back. That their time together had meant nothing to her.

It wasn’t that she hadn’t cared, or thought about him, over the years. Quite the opposite. She’d been afraid she’d become too interested in the life and times of Nate Taylor. For the sake of her new independent life away from her family’s estate, she’d deemed it necessary to sever all ties with the one person who could’ve convinced her to stay.

‘I mean, I keep contact with home to a bare minimum.’ She wanted to justify her ignorance of his success in her absence. Of course she wasn’t vain enough to imagine he’d spent all this time tending the grounds with his father, waiting for her return. She simply hadn’t thought of him as being so...ambitious.

‘I decided medicine would be a better paid, more respected profession compared to following family tradition into service.’ There was that same old chip on the shoulder that had dominated conversation between them for hours in the old boathouse. Obviously their determination to branch away from the routes their parents had chosen for them had shaped both of their lives. For the better.

‘You’ve certainly done well for yourself.’ Not that it made a difference to her. Nate was a good person at heart, no matter what salary he brought home. The very reason she’d needed to create some distance between them. He’d deserved better than getting mixed up in the hell that was society life when her main goal had been to escape it.

‘I’m sure I’ve surprised a few people round here by working my way out of a minimum-wage lifestyle. Now, I hear you’ve gone into nursing yourself so I’m sure you’ll understand the seriousness of your father’s condition.’ He was definitely pricklier than she remembered and not above shaming her by displaying greater knowledge of her achievements than she had of his.

Violet’s inner teenager with the schoolgirl crush couldn’t help but wonder if he’d specifically sought out that information about her, or if his mother had simply been bending his ear. As the housekeeper at Strachmore, Mrs Taylor liked to keep her finger on the pulse, and that extended even as far as London. Every now and then Violet fielded prying phone calls from her father’s well-meaning employee and, although she tried to keep details of her new life to a minimum, snippets of her successes and failures tended to slip through. The failures mostly related to relationships when the purpose of these communications was primarily to see if Violet had found herself a husband yet. Not in this lifetime. To her, marriage meant giving up everything you were to make another person happy and she’d seen first-hand the damage that could do. The fact she was here without her mother was proof enough it didn’t work.

‘Mental health is more my area of expertise.’ Violet had felt so powerless after her mother had taken her own life she’d wanted to train in an area where she could make a real difference. It could be a challenging role at times but one that brought its own rewards. She was doing her best to emotionally save lives, if not physically like Nate.

That little nugget apparently was news to him, as his raised eyebrows finally gave an indication he felt something more than indifference to her.

‘I guess that’s...understandable and admirable.’

The compliment was hard won. Not that Violet had chosen her profession to gain brownie points from anyone, but Nate seemed reluctant to give her credit for getting off her backside to work instead of languishing in that house. It was another reminder they’d left those summer afternoons planning their escape far behind.

‘Us kids done good.’ For old times’ sake she decided to praise them both for doing exactly what they’d said they would and breaking free from their parents’ hold.

Although, her father would’ve been appalled by her murder of the English language after paying for her elocution lessons. That was exactly why she’d relished doing it so frequently during her adolescence. Credit where it was due though, those hours spent improving her pronunciation had probably made her transition to London easier than sounding like a Northern Irish Eliza Doolittle. Perhaps she owed the old man some credit even if it had felt as if he was trying to force her to be someone she wasn’t at the time.

‘And yet here we are...’

She knew he was trying to get her to focus back on what was happening here and now but the words held a different meaning for her. No matter how hard she tried, she would never be able to completely separate her world from her father’s.

‘Okay, give it to me straight. Is he going to make it?’ At some point she was going to have to apologise for running out on him but that would mean having to explain why she’d done it. It wasn’t the time or place for that intense personal conversation, given the reason they were both here.

The scowl marring Nate’s brow was further indication that her father was as bad as she’d feared. ‘As you know, your father has suffered a myocardial infarction—a heart attack. He was unresponsive when the paramedics arrived and they had to resuscitate him on scene.’

It was no wonder Mr Taylor’s message had been so fragmented and frantic. Technically, her father had died. She really didn’t know how to feel about that. Since her mother had passed away Violet had resented him—for the way he’d treated her and for not being the one to have gone in her place. Now she was faced with the possibility of losing him too, things didn’t seem so clear-cut. When you stripped away the bad memories and anger, he was still her father. She was starting to understand why her mother hadn’t been able to simply walk away when the going got too rough. Sometimes having a conscience could be a terrible thing.

‘A heart attack,’ she repeated. Even though she’d heard it from others, coming from Nate somehow made it more real.

He nodded. ‘It’s been confirmed by blood tests. The increased levels of cardiac enzymes have indicated the presence of damage to the heart muscle. We’ll continue taking bloods every six to eight hours as well as running electrocardiograms, ECGs, to monitor his heart’s electrical activity and make sure there are no further complications. The next twenty-four to forty-eight hours will be crucial. Our first line of treatment would usually be emergency angioplasty to widen the arteries and allow easier blood flow to the heart. Unfortunately your father has proved...opposed to that idea.’

Nate didn’t sugar-coat it. He didn’t need to. They both knew she preferred straight talking to well-meaning platitudes. That way she wouldn’t get hurt by hidden truths further down the line. Such as finding out her mother’s overdose hadn’t been as accidental as she’d first been led to believe.

It was a typical response from her father to ignore advice and insist he knew better than everyone. This time it could cause his own death instead of someone else’s.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, batting away those old feelings flooding back and that helplessness at not being able to shake her father into facing facts. It hadn’t worked for her mother so her chances after all this time were slim.

‘Do we know what caused it?’ She knew nothing of his lifestyle these days but she doubted his love of whiskey and cigars had diminished since she’d last seen him. He was a man who did as he pleased and sod the consequences.

‘There’s no family history of heart disease that we know of and no current health problems, I understand. We’ll know more after we run a few tests. For now, our priority is limiting the damage to the heart.’

‘I’m sorry I couldn’t give the nurses any more information.’ She grimaced, imagining the low opinion the staff were already forming of the absent daughter who couldn’t give them any insight into her own father.

‘It’s all right. I understand things have been...tricky between you both. We’ve pieced together what we could in the meantime.’

No doubt the Taylors’ close relationship with her father had played a part in gathering that information. Violet didn’t begrudge the bond the families had, but it sometimes made her feel inadequate, superfluous to requirements. Indeed, no one had ever needed her until now. Even now she wasn’t sure how her presence would be received by either side of the class divide.

‘Can I see him?’ No matter how fractured their relationship had been since her mother’s death, or how frustrating he was, he was the only family she had left. Just because she wasn’t the daughter he wanted didn’t mean she’d stopped caring about him. It simply made it more difficult.

Nate bounced back up onto his feet. ‘I might be able to pull a few strings and get you a couple of minutes with him.’

The way he’d been reacting to her she was surprised he was willing to do anything other than list the facts of her father’s condition. She figured this one must be for old times’ sake—the days before things had got complicated and she’d made him despise her.

Determined to make the most of this breakthrough, she followed him into CCU, bobbing up and down like a meerkat keeping watch for predators as she tried to locate the patient. Nate strode through the ward with an air of confidence and authority she’d never seen in him before. It suited him. She had a sense of pride in him as patients and staff alike sat up straighter as he walked by. Finally people other than her had realised his worth in this world.

She zoned out the blue flashes of nurses zipping by and the hospital beds occupied by ill strangers to hone in on her father. He was in the top left-hand corner of the room, by the window. At least he’d only have one immediate neighbour to complain about when he was back to his grouchy self. The Earl Dempsey would not be happy to find himself on an NHS ward surrounded by the great unwashed when he woke instead of some private hospital he’d happily pay through the nose for. Tough. When all was said and done, Nate and his colleagues were all that was keeping him alive.

‘He’s a little out of it at the moment due to the morphine we’ve given him to reduce the pain.’ Nate led her to the bedside and for the first time in her life Violet felt sorry for her father. The man who’d virtually driven her mother to death in the pursuit of gaining a higher status in society now looked like any other old man lying there in his hospital gown, his white hair matted to his head and tubes and wires covering every inch of him.

She couldn’t miss the monitors charting his vital signs, the IVs pumping life-saving drugs into his system, or the oxygen mask keeping him breathing, but she didn’t cry. Nate’s shoulder was safe from her tears these days. That display of emotion was reserved for the privacy of her own home where no one could witness her weakness. There was no way she was going to end up like her vulnerable mother, letting others take advantage of her. She was stronger than that. She’d had to be.

‘What are his chances?’ Violet was so matter-of-fact, so devoid of emotion, Nate was concerned she might be in shock and he’d have to treat her too. Then this night really would be complete.

Until now, he’d only seen her act this coldly once before. He knew she hadn’t visited home since leaving for university but this was still her father lying here on the brink of death. The girl he’d grown up with had years of fear and hurt built up inside her because of this man, whether she loved him or not. There ought to be some sort of reaction to finding he could die without ever resolving the past.

He’d held back from saying those things that had sprung to mind the minute he’d known she was in the building, all of them prefaced with ‘why?’. He’d had no choice but to pick himself back up and get on with life after her disappearing act but that didn’t mean he’d stopped asking himself what he’d done to drive her away.

Seeing her again brought conflicting emotions to the fore. That broken-hearted teenager who still haunted his relationships would probably always hold a candle for her but with that came the hurt of her abandonment and that dismissal of his feelings for her.

Instead of acknowledging his declaration of love for her, or reciprocating, she’d walked away and refused to see him again before she’d left for London. It had been the only time she hadn’t turned to him for advice, or confided her plans. The only time she’d turned her back on him instead of leaning on him for support. Although her rejection had cut him deeply, he’d tried to turn it into a positive. If he’d carried on in that vein, as an emotional crutch for her, he would’ve remained stagnant at Strachmore in his parents’ footsteps. They’d given the best years of their lives to the running of the castle, sacrificing everything else in their loyalty to the Dempseys.

Despite his father’s view that they owed the family some sort of non-existent debt that included tying the next generation of Taylors to the Earl’s needs, Nate had sworn not to get drawn into that trap. His parents might have conceded some of their freedom to maintain their positions but he was pretty sure sacrificing their firstborn hadn’t been included in the terms and conditions of their contracts. This was his life, and he’d had ambitions beyond the Strachmore estate.

Violet had been the one flaw in that plan. He’d probably have given up all of his hopes and dreams to be with her. It still hadn’t been enough. He hadn’t been enough. Her actions had been confirmation he needed to do something with his life beyond the estate and he owed her for giving him that final push. That was partly why he’d insisted on speaking to her himself tonight.

He’d often imagined the moment their paths would cross again. Every medical exam he’d taken and passed with flying colours had been his way of getting his own back, proof he had been worthy of her after all. He mightn’t have been born into money but with hard work he’d earned it, along with a good reputation. She would’ve seen that for herself if she’d shown any faith in him and stuck around.

There were many points in his career where he’d been spurred on with the thought of being able to flaunt his success some day. As if she were a loser in a game show and he were showing her what she could have won. If money and status had been all that mattered to her when he’d only had love to give, he knew she’d be kicking herself to find out he had it all now.

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t curious as to how the years had treated her too. If her mother’s death had changed her emotionally, life in London had certainly transformed her physically. Although she’d hate it, her noble heritage shone through in every step she took. The once waist-length raven hair was now styled in a sleek bob, and her skinny frame, although still slender, definitely had curves in all the right places. She was every inch the sophisticated woman about town even in her casual butt-hugging jeans and silky polka-dot blouse. However, her new look and altered attitude couldn’t hide the real Violet from him. Those blue eyes, the colour of a stormy winter’s night, were as troubled as ever and he couldn’t bring himself to confront her about the past when she was already in such turmoil.

It could wait until they were both ready to talk and stop pretending seeing each other wasn’t a big deal. She might’ve moved on, consigned everything they’d had together to the past, but he still needed an explanation as to why she’d turned her back on him so he could close that chapter. Violet’s rejection had marked the one failure in his life and that wasn’t something he found easy to live with.

Although he wanted answers, for now he’d have to put his personal feelings aside and treat her as he would any family member of a critical patient. In the old days he wouldn’t have thought twice about throwing his arms around her and giving her a much-needed hug, but they weren’t here together through choice. Neither were they angsty teenagers united in rebellion against their parents. They were adults, virtual strangers who knew nothing of each other’s lives. He chose a clinical approach to appease this edgier version of the girl he once knew and try to maintain some sort of professional distance from the case.

After dealing with the Earl, he had a renewed appreciation for what Violet and her mother had contended with. The frustration at not being able to do his job and perform the angioplasty because of his patient’s non-compliance had made him want to scream. In some ways he understood Violet’s decision to leave him to his own devices; it was easier than standing by and watching him self-destruct. Even in the jaws of death he thought he thought he knew better than those around him. As if he imagined continued denial would somehow defy fate.

‘He’s not out of danger yet but he is in the best place. We’ve administered clot-busting drugs quite early so it should restore the blood flow and reduce the damage. In my experience, the earlier we treat the patient after a heart attack, the better chance of survival they have.’ Although he performed this procedure day after day, it was never routine. Every patient was individual, reacted differently to medication, suffered varying degrees of muscle damage and experienced all sorts of complications on the road to recovery. All he could do was fight with all the drugs and technology he had available to him and the rest was up to fate, or the stubbornness of the patient.

‘I don’t wish him any harm, you know. Despite everything. I’m not heartless.’ Violet leaned across the bed and for a split second Nate thought she was going to reach out to her father. At the last second she withdrew again.

‘I know. I’m sure he knows it too.’ He might have had his doubts about that when she’d abandoned her life here with him in it, but she’d proved that rumour wrong by simply being here. Clearly she still cared for her father, and Nate had no doubt somewhere deep down the feeling was mutual. The trouble was they were both too stubborn to make the first move on building that bridge. He’d seen how the loss of her mother had affected Violet and he dearly hoped there was still time for her to connect with her father, to get closure if nothing else.

Nate had had his own parental issues but he still checked in with them on a regular basis. He just made sure he kept enough distance to ensure they didn’t interfere in his life and he didn’t get roped into drama at Strachmore. Until now.

The steady blip of the monitors suddenly flatlined as the Earl’s heart rate dropped. Nate swung into action as the alarm rang out to summon the crash team. A second arrest was always a possibility when patients were at their most vulnerable after the first. Especially when they’d refused life-saving treatment. In Nate’s head he’d thought bringing Violet in could somehow prevent the worst from happening. Instead, she was here to witness it for herself.

‘Violet, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.’ He motioned for help to get her out of here. Saving a man’s life wasn’t as pretty as they made out in the movies and he certainly didn’t want family members in the audience for the performance.

‘Nate?’ She didn’t have to say anything else. The trembling bottom lip caught between her teeth and wide eyes expressed her plea eloquently enough.

‘I’ll do everything I can. I promise.’ He was forced to block out that haunting image of her silently begging him to save her father so he could focus on the job at hand. He didn’t want to be the one to have to deliver that earth-shattering news to her for a second time.

Sweat beaded on his forehead as he charged the defibrillator that had been wheeled to the bedside.

‘Stand clear.’

The first shock Nate administered to try and kick-start the heart again was for the Earl, and Violet, and a second chance for their father-daughter relationship. He started CPR, thinking of his own parents and their ties to this man with every chest compression.

So much for not wanting anyone relying on him. Now both of their families were depending on him to save the day. And a life.

CHAPTER TWO

NATE LEANING OVER the bed, pumping her father’s chest, was the last thing Violet saw before the ward doors swung shut, closing her out of her father’s struggle for life. A nurse steered her back towards the cell she’d vacated only minutes earlier for another interminable wait. With her pulse racing, her insides knotted, she didn’t have it in her to resist a second incarceration.

There was nothing she could do but take a seat in her still-warm chair. Everything was in Nate’s hands now. Literally. She trusted his word to do his utmost to save his patient; he’d never let her down before. It had been the other way around. When he’d kissed her, told her he loved her, she’d run away rather than confess she felt the same. It was the one thing she couldn’t give him, dared not give him, when she’d watched love destroy her mother.

She admired Nate’s professionalism after the way she’d left things with him. There was an aloofness about him she wasn’t used to, but she guessed she’d been the one who’d created that by going to London without telling him why. Perhaps it was water under the bridge for him and not something he was keen to be reminded of. In fairness, she probably deserved a lot worse than the cold shoulder and she didn’t think she’d be quite so civilised if the situation had been reversed. Whatever his thoughts on seeing her, she was grateful to him for not calling her out on what had happened. She didn’t want to deal with any more emotional fallout today. For someone who did her best to keep her feelings on lockdown, this had been a doozy of a day already and she couldn’t face any more demons from her past.

Yet, here she was relying on him the same way she had every time her parents had fought, feeling sorry for herself and wondering what the future held. This time her thoughts were consumed with becoming an orphan at the age of thirty instead of being married off to another family who valued reputation above all else.

There was a tentative knock on the door and the same nurse appeared with a tea tray. ‘I thought you could do with a cuppa.’

‘Thanks.’ Violet accepted the offering with a forced smile. Despite the fact she hadn’t eaten anything since receiving that fateful telephone call, her stomach was in too much turmoil for her to even face the plain biscuits presented to her with the tea.

‘You need something to keep your strength up. You’ll be no use to your father if you faint from hunger.’

Violet honestly didn’t know what use she’d be to her father whether she was conscious or not, but her new shadow stood waiting and watching until she took a nibble at a biscuit and a sip of tea. Only then, her care of duty fulfilled, did the nurse leave her alone again.

The next time the door opened some time later, it was Nate who entered. She told herself the little flip her heart did was in anticipation of finding out her father’s fate. It had absolutely nothing to do with the sight of Dr Taylor with his shirt sleeves rolled up and his perfectly groomed hair now ruffled and unkempt as if he’d just got out of bed. It was clear neither he nor her father had had an easy time of it.

‘We got him back.’ Nate immediately ended her suspense and she let go of the breath she’d been holding since he walked in.

‘Thank you.’ Her voice was nothing more than a whisper, her throat burning from the tears she couldn’t shed. Until today she hadn’t realised how much it meant to her to know she wasn’t alone in the world.

‘We’ll keep him under close observation. A second arrest was always a possibility after the stress his heart has been under today but he’s stable now.’

Nate’s dedication was a blessing. Especially when her father had treated him with nothing but disdain when they were growing up. He thought associating with those below one’s station was degrading and it had been to blame for Violet’s ‘rebellion’. In hindsight, she wondered if he’d seen how dangerously close they’d come to having a proper relationship and that had coloured his view of their friendship. Nate would never have lived up to her father’s idea of a noble son-in-law to carry on his title. Not that he would’ve wanted it either. He hated Strachmore as much as she did. In the end the Earl’s campaign to keep them separated had been a wasted exercise on his part. Violet had no intention of settling down with anyone, whether she loved them or not.

‘Thanks for keeping me in the loop. I know you’re probably needed elsewhere.’ She was under no illusion that this particular cardiologist was assigned to her only. He’d undoubtedly done her a huge favour by personally informing her of her father’s condition. For reasons known only to him when he’d made it clear he hadn’t forgiven her for her sins.

‘Do you need me to order you a taxi? Is there somewhere you need to be?’ He eyed her small I-left-in-a-hurry luggage, probably keen to ship her out of his territory as soon as possible.

She’d barely packed enough for more than tonight, but that had been out of sheer panic rather than optimism.

‘I’m fine here for the night if that’s allowed? I can pull a couple of chairs together.’ She hadn’t thought beyond getting here before it was too late, never mind overnight accommodation. Since it was still touch and go, her personal discomfort didn’t seem that important.

‘You can’t sleep here. I’m sure you’re exhausted.’

There was a pause and a heavy sigh before he continued. ‘I’ll give you a lift back to Strachmore and get the keys from my mum to let you in.’

Nate sounded resigned to homing her for the night, as if she were a stray dog he’d picked up on the side of the road and was stuck with until help arrived. This was how things had always been between them—Nate finding solutions to problems of her own making. Except back then he’d always seemed to enjoy coming to her rescue.

‘Honestly, I don’t want to hold you back any longer. I’m sure you have other patients to see and this means I’m close if anything happens during the night.’ If she was honest she wasn’t sure her family home would be any more inviting than this windowless broom cupboard.

Nate dipped his head, looking decidedly sheepish. ‘My shift finished hours ago. I’m all yours.’

A shiver played across her skin, teasing every tiny hair to attention. It was her guilt at keeping him at his post through some misplaced sense of loyalty manifesting. Definitely not a physical reaction to him offering herself up to her.

‘I can’t ask you to—’

‘You didn’t. I’m volunteering.’ He was already grabbing her bag and robbing her of her refusal even though he made his offer sound as if he’d had no other choice.

He paused by the door and fixed her with those soul-reaching eyes. ‘The night staff will phone you, and me, if there’s any change. I’ll get you back here in a flash if it comes to it.’

‘Only if you’re sure?’ She’d finally run out of excuses not to go home.

Violet waited in the car while he paid his parents a visit. She hoped it was quick. The longer they were travelling companions with this elephant from the past, the more likely they were going to have to acknowledge it. She wasn’t ready to face that, or the Taylors. Not that she held any ill will against the pair—after all, they were the ones who kept this place running—but she was tired and definitely not in the mood for grand reunions or lectures. Nate had left the engine running and the heater on so he clearly didn’t intend to loiter either. He was probably every bit as eager as she was to put today behind him.

She shifted in the leather bucket seat, which was marginally more comfortable than the hospital waiting chairs. The mode of transport she was being chauffeured around the countryside in was still something of a shock to her system. To see the boy who’d spent his summers working umpteen jobs to save cash had splashed out on a bright red sports car was more surprising than if he’d turned up on an ancient motorbike and sidecar. It was almost as though he was sticking two fingers up at everyone who’d treated him as a second-class citizen in his youth and told him he’d never amount to anything beyond Strachmore. Ironically, the youngest member of the Dempsey family relied on public transport to get her from A to B. It was more practical for city life but it also had the added bonus of ticking off her father.

She watched Nate stride back to the car in the muted evening light. He could easily pass as the master of the big house now he’d swapped his ripped jeans for those tailored suits. Although, he would probably look good in anything. Or nothing.

Whoa!

Those teenage hormones she’d thought she’d left behind long ago had apparently resurfaced and mutated into adult ones. It had been a long, emotional day and clearly she was misinterpreting his reluctant kindness for something...sexier.

She cleared her throat as he opened the car door and climbed back into the driver’s seat. If only she could clear her mind of the images she’d planted there as easily. Her wayward thoughts weren’t helped by the fact his tall frame was packed so tightly into the car, his thighs were almost touching hers.

‘Mum’s in a tizzy about not having the place cleaned for your arrival. I assured her I’d roll the red carpet out for you myself but we’d best get out of here before we run into a cleaning mob brandishing mops and dusters.’

Violet ignored the barb, simply grateful he’d run interference for her, when Mrs Taylor was probably bursting with questions for her. ‘I’m sure the house is as spotless as ever with your mother at the helm. I only wish I could clone her and take her back to London with me.’

Unlike Strachmore Castle, her poky flat was never going to make the cover of any magazines but she worked hard to pay the rent. That meant more to her than gleaming silver and polished marble floors ever would.

Nate threw the car into reverse and rested his arm along the back of her seat as he kept watch out of the back window. The smell of soap and hard-working doctor enveloped her and for a moment she was tempted to snuggle into his solid chest. He could give her comfort and a whole lot besides. Exactly why she should stick to the idea of him as only a friend, or her father’s doctor, and not someone who’d taken the lead role in her first erotic imaginings.

‘Do you know how long you’ll be staying? I mean, is someone holding the fort for you while you’re here?’ He trained his eyes back on the dark road leading from the cottage up to the main house, so Violet couldn’t tell if he was fishing for personal info or making polite conversation.

‘I’ll stay as long as I’m needed. I have a lot of personal leave I can use.’ She preferred to keep busy with work rather than take duvet days where she had nothing to do but dwell on things beyond her control. It wasn’t the first time her superiors had warned her of possible burnout if she didn’t take a break from her caseload so they’d be only too happy for her to take some time off.

‘If you need anything my parents will be here to help.’

He was leaving himself out of the equation but it was a long time since Violet had relied on anyone having her back. For good reason. She’d needed to learn to stand on her own two feet to make herself stronger than her mother had been.

‘Thank you. I know you’ve gone out of your way to help me and I wouldn’t want to get your other half offside by holding you hostage to my problems.’ Okay, she was fishing. He’d been her first crush, her first kiss, it was only natural that this curious cat was wrestling a green-eyed monster at the thought of him going home to another woman. One who wasn’t afraid to make compromises.

‘There’s no danger of that. I’m a confirmed bachelor.’

Those words had the same effect as if he’d thrown a bucket of ice-cold water over her as she jumped from one conclusion to another. She’d been so caught up in her feelings for him she’d never contemplated how much his could have changed for her, or for women in general. Suddenly his new grooming regime started to take on a whole new meaning. ‘You’re not—’

‘No, I’m not gay, Violet. I thought you of all people would realise I’m attracted to women.’ He turned and, though Violet couldn’t see his face clearly in the dim interior, she imagined he was looking at her lips, remembering that kiss too.

She’d managed to block it out for over a decade but here, so close to him again, it was all she could think about. That first tentative exploration of each other had soon given way to a raw passion she hadn’t experienced since. These days she approached any romantic entanglements with a certain degree of cynicism and caution, which meant she was always holding back. In that moment with Nate’s lips on hers she’d given no thought to consequence or complications that could arise. That had come later when she’d tried to imagine a future together and failed. He didn’t belong in her world and vice versa. Ironically they seemed to have traded places anyway.

As the stately home loomed into view of the car headlights, the butterflies in her stomach turned kamikaze, dive-bombing her insides until there was a chance she might hurl over the expensive leather upholstery. At least it was wipe-clean.

‘Home sweet home.’ Nate’s attempt at humour was a welcome distraction from the memories assaulting her from the second the stone pillars of the eighteenth-century house came into view.

Her father, spit forming at the corners of his mouth when she defied him by sneaking out to a concert with Nate.

Violet hiding in the old servants’ quarters when she was supposed to be dining with the Montgomery family, whose son had been deemed a suitable match for her at the age of seventeen.

The empty pill bottle by her mother’s bedside.

Dark humour was definitely the cure for dark memories.

‘In case you can’t see it, I’m giving you the death stare.’

Nate gave a hearty chuckle, letting the serious doctor mask slip for a glimpse of her old friend. ‘Nostrils flaring, mouth puckered up like you’ve just licked a lemon, eyes narrowed to mere slits—I can picture it now.’

Violet flattened her lips back into a thin line with a huff. She could hear the smugness in his voice that he still knew her better than anyone even after all of this time.

They pulled up into the driveway and the sound of the handbrake meant there was no more stalling.

‘Thanks for everything. I can let myself in.’

‘No can do. I told you I’m under instruction to escort Lady Violet inside her ancestral home. Don’t forget, under different circumstances I could’ve ended up as your official errand boy.’

He was being facetious. Violet knew he would never have played the skivvy any more than she would’ve been the boss lady. Still, it conjured up more interesting images if they’d chosen different paths.

She let out a long sigh and admitted defeat. Having a surly Nate here was infinitely more bearable than having Mrs Taylor fussing around her, or setting foot back inside alone. It was one thing going home to an empty flat at night but an entirely different game coming back here where the ghosts of her past roamed the hallways.

Nate really needed to work on that keeping-at-arm’s-length ethos where relationships were concerned. He’d thought he’d built up a tolerance to all things Dempsey since his teenage heartbreak. One glimpse of those big blue eyes and he was taking on the duties of the whole domestic staff who’d once resided here—the chauffeur, the butler and housekeeper all rolled into one. He told himself his promise to light a fire and see her settled in was the only way to keep his parents at bay and Violet’s discomfort to a minimum. They meant well, their subservient role so deeply ingrained in them the very thought of Lady Violet returning to a cold, empty house brought them out in a cold sweat. He knew this would be difficult enough for her without an audience and he still had a duty of care via her father.

Despite their history, or possibly because of the one they’d had pre-kiss, he still felt an obligation to help her. Perhaps he wasn’t as far removed from his heritage as he liked to think. He’d really been the only one Violet had had to turn to when things had got rough and it would be callous for him to abandon her now for the sake of his own pride. He simply hadn’t been able to leave her for the night in that waiting room, expecting her to bed down where she stood. In a fit of madness he’d even briefly contemplated taking her back to his house rather than expect her to face this place alone.

Ultimately he’d done enough damage to his relationship boundaries already. She was only back in the country five minutes and he’d already landed himself firmly in the friend zone. Not a position he wanted to be in with any beautiful woman. Especially one he already had an emotional history with. One who’d dumped him without a second thought. Then there was the double blow to his ego with the whole gay thing. He knew one teenage fumble probably hadn’t made a long-lasting impact on her but he’d assumed it had been enough to define his sexuality.

Now he’d slipped back into a supporting role there was no way he was ever going to win top billing as Violet’s leading man. If he’d once imagined taking her back into his arms and replacing that inexperienced make-out session with a more confident approach to recover his male pride, he’d stuffed up the minute he’d insisted on staying to talk to her about her father. Friends or lovers—there was no in between for him when it came to the women in his life. He didn’t even want to peek inside people’s personal baggage, never mind help them unpack it, and yet that was exactly what he was doing now. The pressure was on him more than ever to save his patient and return everyone back to their normal status quo. As soon as he’d done the gentlemanly thing and seen her settled in, he could walk away with a clear conscience. He’d proved the better person by not exacting revenge.

‘You put the kettle on and I’ll get the fire started.’ He opened the heavy front door with a reverence the stately home deserved even if the current owner didn’t. It was a beautiful building, full of history and wonder. Unfortunately it also held negative connotations for those entering it tonight. While Violet had been the princess held captive in the tower, he’d very much been the lowly serf kept in his place by his master. He’d dealt with a lot of those issues through hard work and determination but he couldn’t help feeling Violet still had to face hers. Although he still had an axe of his own to grind with her, he wasn’t totally unsympathetic. It was best he try to make this as normal as possible for her. As if they were walking into any other family home and not the country pile of her ancestors. Easier said than done when there was a huge chandelier dominating the space in front of them.

‘We do have modern-day conveniences like central heating.’ She was still resisting his attempts to phase her into her surroundings gradually with his assistance, but he was used to dealing with difficult patients and bolshie family members.

She was more defensive than he remembered. He guessed years of independent living had toughened her up. A definite plus given his aversion to needy people outside the workplace.

‘And kettles?’

It amused him to watch her flounce away the way she used to when his teasing went too far. It was further proof her fiery spirit was very much alive. She was going to need it to see her through the next days, whatever they held.

‘Milk, no sugar,’ he called after her as he headed for the study.

It was the closest and smallest room on the ground floor, and easier to heat. The pale blue walls and ornate white ceiling of the entrance hall were pretty and in keeping with the period pieces dotted throughout but they didn’t make the cool atmosphere any more inviting. Okay, they had no practical need for a fire but there was something homely about a real fire. It was cosy and welcoming, something this house was sadly lacking.

He could sense the disapproving stares of past earls staring down at him from the walls as he trespassed into the inner sanctum. They all had the same stern features of Samuel Dempsey. Nate wondered if not smiling was another one of the house rules Violet had deigned to disobey. Ruling with an iron fist might have worked in the olden days but, as far as he’d seen, all it had succeeded in doing in recent times was shatter the family.

‘Is this where they found him?’

He hadn’t heard Violet enter the room as he’d knelt to set the fire in the hearth. It wasn’t until he turned around again that he understood why she’d sounded so pained.

Her father’s papers littered the mahogany and brass writing desk and spilled onto the floor, his chair toppled over in the corner of the room with a whiskey tumbler lying next to it—the contents of which had seeped into the antique rug long ago.

‘I’m so sorry, Violet. I had no idea. We can move into the drawing room and I’ll get this tidied up.’ Regardless of the painful history between them, he would never have purposely exposed her to this scene. He took the rattling cups and saucers from her shaking hands before she slopped the tea on the expensive furnishings too.

‘It’s all right. It was just a shock.’ She righted the heavy chair and Nate set down the tea things so he could help.

They both bent down to reach for the upturned glass at the same time, Violet’s bracelet clinking against it in the process. He reached for her wrist, curiosity getting the better of common sense.

‘Is this the one I bought you?’ It was only a cheap turquoise bead bracelet with a dainty seahorse charm hanging from it. So unlike the diamonds and pearls her mother had favoured on occasion. He was surprised it had stood the test of time, even more so to find she still wore it.

A trace of a smile lifted the corners of her mouth. ‘Yes. From the day at the aquarium.’

The day things had changed between them for ever.

‘You were fascinated by those damn seahorses.’

She’d stood for ages watching them as if she’d found her peace there and he’d wanted her to have a souvenir of that summer afternoon together. He hadn’t known it would be their last.

‘They’re just so...serene. I envy the simplicity of their life. And, of course, it’s the male who gives birth. The female seahorse has a much freer life than most women, she transfers her eggs and goes back to her own place—the onus isn’t on her to carry on the family line.’ It was a tragic narrative of Violet’s childhood when she’d been jealous of a fragile species trapped in a tank. At least now she was free of some of her burden even if it had cost Nate a piece of his heart in the process.

He flicked the charm up with his thumb so it rested on his nail. So small, so inexpensive, so evocative. If that day had meant nothing to her, if he’d meant nothing to her, why would she still be attached to it now? He felt her pulse quicken beneath him, met her eyes with his, and they were back in that bubble where nothing mattered except the chemistry.

He didn’t know who’d leaned closer to whom but suddenly they were no more than a breath away from kissing. Violet’s eyes fluttered shut, her lips were parted and waiting for him. There was nothing he wanted more in that moment than to give into temptation. Despite how much she’d hurt him in the past, he’d wanted to do this the minute he’d seen her again but this was typical Violet behaviour. She couldn’t drop him and pick him up when the mood took her. Not any more. Especially when she still hadn’t done him the courtesy of an apology or an explanation, never mind simply acknowledging what she’d done to him.

Unfortunately physical attraction couldn’t always override common sense. A kiss was much more than that when it was with your first love, the woman who’d broken your heart without a backward glance.

He let go of her wrist and stepped away from temptation. As he began to collect his thoughts away from her lips, the Earl’s collection of antique clocks chimed the late hour and sounded the death knell for this...whatever the hell it was.

When he didn’t swoop in and ravage her, Violet was afraid to open her eyes and face him. She’d done it again—gone with her heart instead of her head. Thank goodness one of them had been thinking clearly this time. She shuddered at how close she’d come to making another monumental mistake when she’d yet to address the last one she’d made with Nate. Her world was complicated enough now without resurrecting old emotions like zombies wandering through her life with no real purpose except causing eternal misery for everyone in their path. She needed to remember that every time she was tempted to lose herself in his embrace, that one place she was able to forget her troubles.

In her defence she’d been under a lot of pressure today and Nate had been her one source of comfort, the only familiar thing from home that didn’t make her want to run screaming. Even in his current indifferent state. She blamed her faux pas entirely on stress. Apparently making moves on hot doctors was a side effect of tangled emotions no one had warned her about. They hadn’t covered that in her course. Then again, Nate was the professional—he should’ve known he was in danger simply by being in the room with her.

In fact, he seemed to have found the best treatment for her particular case by continuing to pick up the debris around them and ignoring the latest addition to the elephant herd now parading around the room.

‘No wonder Mum was so frantic about getting this place tidied up before you set foot inside. I guess they just locked up the house once the ambulance left.’ Nate in cleaning mode was as efficient as his mother and Violet decided to follow his lead. Time and distance hadn’t made this any more feasible.

They worked quietly together, sifting her father’s correspondence into manageable piles. The quicker they got this sorted, the easier it would make it for Nate to leave. She knew him well enough to know he’d see this out until the end, when he’d fulfilled his obligation to her and his parents.

‘Violet?’ After some time he drew her attention to a stack of letters headed with bold red lettering.

‘Mmm?’

‘These are all bills. Most of them final demands.’

‘Let me see.’ She snatched a few from his grasp and confirmed it. All correspondence, most of it threatening action against him, was leading to the conclusion her father was in dire financial trouble.

She collapsed into the chair with such force she almost toppled it over again. This was too much for her to handle on top of everything else today. Somehow she was going to have to fix this. She just had no idea how.

‘You had no clue this was going on?’ Nate spoke softly, as if he was afraid of spooking her even more.

The façade her father had presented to the world all these years had duped many into thinking their fortune was never ending. She’d known differently.

‘The place has been leaking money for years but I didn’t know things were this bad.’ Her father’s spending and refusal to admit they were in trouble had been the source of many an argument in the house before her mother died. The worry and uncertainty about the future had certainly contributed to her mother’s fragile state of mind but he hadn’t taken any responsibility then and he wasn’t likely to do so now.

‘What? There’s no magical pot of gold hidden under the floorboards?’ Nate pretended to be surprised the place didn’t run by reputation and superiority complexes alone.

‘Unfortunately not.’ She lifted the stack of bills and slammed them back down on the table. This wasn’t his problem. Hell, it wasn’t even hers.

Whatever happened to her father, Violet knew she was going to have to be the one to sort this out. She should have known better than to come back. It had been inevitable that she’d get sucked back into her father’s delusions of grandeur and the repercussions of stark reality. Perhaps she should have done as she was told at seventeen and agreed to marry Lord Montgomery’s son. At least she might’ve been in a position now to help financially, possibly with her mother still around too.

This new discovery threatened to undo all the progress she’d made in her new life. Nothing had changed in her absence, she’d simply avoided dealing with it. She was back to being that frightened girl, lonely and overwhelmed by the burden her father had put upon her.

She wanted to confront him, scream and cry, and walk away for ever. Now she could do none of those things. She was stuck here. Again.

‘I’ll worry about these tomorrow, as soon as I know he’s made it through the night. Then I might go up there and kill him myself.’

Nate arched an eyebrow at her with a smirk. ‘Now, I know you don’t mean that. I told you, there’s help available. It’s a shame you Dempseys are too damn stubborn for your own good. You don’t have to do this on your own.’

Deep down she knew he was talking about his parents or some other official source of financial advice but it gave her more comfort to imagine he was still in her corner. ‘You’re the only person who was ever there for me, you know.’

Reuniting with Nate was the only light in this darkness and she wanted to run towards the safety she knew was there. For a little while she didn’t want to think about tomorrow, or the next day, or the next. He could help her forget, take her to that happy place away from all of this mess. What was one more mistake when her life was crumbling around her? All she had to do was convince him, and herself, this wasn’t the big deal it had been when they were teenagers.

Suddenly she was tired of being strong, of bearing the weight of Strachmore on her shoulders alone.

‘Stay with me tonight, Nate.’

Nate’s body reacted to the invitation before his brain kicked in and listed all the reasons this was a bad idea. He ignored all parts of him straining to make the decision for him, knowing Violet would regret this in the morning, as he would. For altogether different reasons. This was his chance to exorcise that painful rejection for good, but he knew her well enough to understand what this was really about. Her way of dealing with difficult matters had always been to divert her attention elsewhere, put off tackling the hard stuff for as long as possible. Violet was the Queen of Procrastination and he’d always been the Fool, keeping her entertained and distracting her from the hardships within the castle walls.

Not any more. He’d made certain he was King of his own castle since those days.

‘I think it would be better if I went home.’

She’d let him know he wasn’t good enough for her before and he wasn’t going to be the consolation prize now.

She stood up so she was close enough to invade his personal space and trailed a fingertip down the front of his shirt. ‘Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about this, about us—’

She didn’t need to say any more. He was already picturing them together in bed, giving into that chemistry he’d never been able to forget.

He took a deep breath to purify his thoughts and make sense of hers. She’d taken an emotional battering today and he’d never take advantage of her when she was so vulnerable. Lord knew he wanted her and it was an ego boost to know it was reciprocated this time but it didn’t change circumstances. Friend or lover? He reminded himself he couldn’t be both and remain sane. He’d breached the professional boundary long ago and only friendship had remained before he’d ended up in no-man’s land—a minefield he had to tiptoe through, full of the sort of explosive situations he’d happily avoided since he was nineteen.

‘We’re both adults, single, with no illusions this would be anything more than sex. I need the distraction.’ It was confirmation of exactly where he stood with her and that wasn’t any place of importance. She might as well have been hiring an escort for the evening for all the emotional significance she afforded him.

Normally that kind of detachment wasn’t a problem. In fact he welcomed it. It stopped things becoming too messy. However Violet wasn’t a faceless one-night stand. Uncomplicated sex should never involve the woman whose rejection had made you so cynical about relationships in the first place.

‘Unfortunately, sharing a bed is not the modern-day equivalent of hanging out in the boathouse pretending real life isn’t happening around us.’ His heavy dose of honesty transformed Violet’s coquettish eye-fluttering into a wide-eyed, open-mouthed, I’ve-just-been-slapped-in-the-face expression.

He was pretty sure he’d worn that same look once before and he took no satisfaction in being the one to cause it this time.

‘You’re right. I don’t know what the hell I was thinking.’

He could see the shame clouding her eyes already. That wasn’t what he wanted either.

‘There’s nothing I’d enjoy more than taking you to bed right now, but I think it would be a mistake. For both of us. Get some sleep and I’ll see you in the morning.’ He knew she didn’t want to be alone, but he didn’t intend falling into that old pattern of being at her beck and call again. He’d invested too much in that before and paid the consequences.

‘You always were the sensible one.’ She gave him a wobbly smile and Nate knew he had to get out of here before the tears really did fall. When she finally did give into the real emotions she was trying to hide from, he knew he’d never be able to leave her.

‘And you always were the impulsive one.’ He’d lost count of the number of times he’d had to talk her out of doing something stupid—like running away or sabotaging her father’s dinner parties with laxatives. It was probably the reason she hadn’t confided in him about moving to London. She hadn’t wanted to be talked out of it.

This proposition was most likely a cry for help rather than an unyielding need to have him in her bed, but it didn’t make it any easier to resist.

‘Goodnight, Violet.’

He wondered if she’d ever regretted walking away as much as he did now.

CHAPTER THREE

THE TROUBLE WITH the countryside was the quiet. There was no traffic noise to drown out Violet’s thoughts and nowhere to go to escape her shame. She’d spent most of the night replaying the moment she’d made a complete fool of herself with Nate. Lord knew what he thought of her throwing herself at him like some nympho desperate for a quick lay. She shuddered, the cringe factor at an all-time high as she recalled the look of disgust on his face as he rejected her advances. All he’d done was show her some kindness, more than she deserved, and she’d implied she was only interested in his body. Nothing could be further from the truth. Well, okay, his body had been on her mind since she’d first seen him suited and booted but she’d needed him for so much more than that. She’d tried to use sex to get him to stay when she was really yearning for his company.

After one bombshell too many, her common sense had been blown to pieces. There was no other logical explanation for her behaviour last night. These past years of being so strong, so independent had skewed her idea of friendship until she’d seen it as a weakness. Until yesterday, when Nate had reminded her how good it was to have someone in your corner fighting your battles with you. In her messed-up head, sleeping with Nate had seemed like the only way to recapture that fantasy world they’d had when they were young but he’d called her on it. She had no right to expect anything from him when she’d been the one to burst that bubble in the first place. What had been the point of walking away then if she was simply going to drag him back into all Strachmore’s problems now?

In the cold light of day Nate’s refusal to stay had probably been the most sensible option but her ego was still a little bruised. Clearly he’d done what she’d ultimately wanted for him at the time and moved on from her. She should be happy about it. Not wondering what, apart from her badly executed proposition, had turned him off her. That one kiss had been so full of love and passion for her she hated to think she’d killed it stone dead with her actions, even though she’d acted in what she’d thought was in both of their interests.

At least not sleeping with Nate meant minimal embarrassment when she would inevitably run into him again. The good news this morning was that her father had made it through the night and was as well as could be expected for a man determined to be in control of his own destiny at any cost.

Now that the sun was up she was keen to get to the hospital and see him but her thoughts were as muddled as ever when it came to her father. Last night she’d been afraid for him, and herself, as far as his health and finances were concerned. Yet there was also that lingering resentment that he’d brought her back here, unintentionally or not. These rose-covered walls and four-poster bed might be the stuff of little girls’ dreams but to her this had always been a prison, a place that had robbed her of her freedom. Even as an adult she was still trapped here.

She tossed off the covers and climbed out of bed, her bare feet sinking into the thick wool carpet reminding her she wasn’t in Kansas any more. The wooden floors throughout her flat served a dual purpose—minimum cleaning and a stand against her old-fashioned upbringing.

She wandered down the halls trying to find the beauty in her opulent surroundings and failing. The shiny, gilded trinkets and ornate antiquities were exquisite but at what cost? She would’ve taken a childhood in a one-bedroom council flat if it had meant she could’ve had her mother back. Not so her father. Even when his wife had begged him to downsize to stem their outgoings, he’d refused to part with the family silver or make any concessions to give her peace of mind. If anything, he’d become more extravagant, throwing lavish parties to prevent the rumour mill churning with stories about the depleted family coffers. Her mother had been expected to be compliant in the façade, playing the glamorous, gracious hostess while quashing her anxiety with a cocktail of drugs.

Violet slid her hand over the smooth mahogany bannister leading down the staircase. It took her to a happier period when the house was her playground and this was her slide taking her from one floor to another. With few friends outside her preparatory school, she’d had to make her own entertainment when she’d been waiting for Nate to finish working in the grounds with his father. At least with him she’d never had to pretend to be something she wasn’t. She shouldn’t have tried to do that last night by making out she was some sort of good-time girl.

Perhaps he’d seen right through her façade the way he’d always been able to and realised she’d simply been acting out of fear. That thought was preferable to the one where he didn’t find her attractive any more and enough to spur her on to get dressed and face the day ahead.

So many elements of what happened last night had been playing on Nate’s mind. The most persistent one being Violet’s indecent proposal and why he’d turned her down. He doubted she felt any more for him now than she had back then and surmised she’d been trying to use him as a sticking plaster over the wound coming back here had reopened. He knew he’d ultimately made the right decision. Going down that path again would only have led to that same dead end it had taken him years to navigate his way out of.

In hindsight her flight to London rather than take the next step with him had probably been for the best. Nothing had changed since then. Except they were no longer best friends and self-preservation was a higher priority for him now.

The discovery of the Earl’s debts had added to his disturbed sleep; he was worried not only for Violet but for his family too. Regardless of his own thoughts on Strachmore, or the people who resided there, his parents were very much a part of it. Any financial problems would affect them too when it was their livelihood, and their affiliation was the only thing keeping a roof over their heads. The cottage was the only perk of the job as far as he could see and one that would certainly vanish along with the Dempseys. Strachmore’s problems were also his now. He couldn’t stand by and watch his parents lose their home simply because he and Violet had unresolved issues. They were all going to have to work together to find a solution. The future was going to have to be more important than the past.

He’d made Samuel Dempsey his first port of call on the ward rounds this morning to follow his progress. All had been quiet since the last dramatic intervention to restart his heart so Nate hoped this was the start of his recovery. There was no associated arrhythmia, with the heart beating too quickly, too slowly, or irregularly, which could sometimes occur after a heart attack. It would take a while to assess the full damage done to the heart and how much tissue would be able to recover but, for now, he was stable.

That was more than could be said for another one of his elderly patients, who’d suffered severe heart failure and had undergone stenting of his coronary arteries yesterday. The balloon catheter supposed to inflate/ deflate timed by the patient’s heartbeat and support the circulation hadn’t been beneficial in this case. After examining him, Nate had had to concede that a large part of the heart muscle had died and nothing more could be done. A younger patient might have been a candidate for further surgery but it had been decided at the morning multi-disciplinary meeting not to pursue any further investigation. Already weak, the patient wouldn’t have survived another round of intrusive surgery. It wasn’t the outcome he wanted for any of his patients, no matter what their age or circumstance. He absorbed every loss as though it were personal, his failing. If anything happened to the Earl he’d never forgive himself for letting Violet or his parents down.

After seeing in-patients, outpatients and performing a pacemaker insertion, he’d come full circle back to CCU. Deep down he’d known Violet would be here.

‘Hey, Dad.’ Violet was glad to see he was a bit more with it and his pallor was a lot less grey today. She’d been sitting around for hours waiting for all the tests and scans to be completed before she got to see him. Making her own way to the hospital this morning had seemed like a better plan than car-sharing with the man who didn’t want to sleep with her but it also meant no string-pulling visitor privileges.

‘Violet? What are you doing here?’ His eyes were flickering open and shut as though he wasn’t sure whether or not to believe what he was seeing. It was no wonder when she’d spent so long out of the country, and his life.

‘The doctors have told you what happened, right?’ She didn’t want the responsibility of breaking the news to him; he wasn’t invincible. He’d probably call her a liar if she tried.

‘A heart attack.’ He nodded and closed his eyes again. She couldn’t tell if he was tired, zoned out on drugs or annoyed she was here. Probably all three. She was the last person he’d want to see him weak and out of control.

‘I wanted to make sure you were all right.’ It was weird saying that when she’d barely let him enter her thoughts until recently. He’d been out of sight, out of mind, to enable her to move forward. Until one phone call had forced her to acknowledge he was still part of her life whether she liked it or not.

She stood by the bed, arms folded and doing her best to sound strong, as if admitting she’d been scared for him would somehow give him power back over her.

‘I’m grand.’

And people wondered where she got her stubborn streak from. There was no point telling him how close to death he’d come. He knew. He simply wouldn’t admit it to her or himself.

She waited for something more—a complaint about sharing a room with the general public, a request for water, an acknowledgement of what it meant for her to be here. Nothing. Not even an attempt to keep his eyes open.

Violet took deep breaths to try and quieten the urge to treat this as some sort of therapy session, unleashing years of unresolved issues in a verbal tirade while he was strapped down and forced to listen. He was still a sick man and she was living with enough guilt without having to shoulder the blame for his possible relapse. She’d waited this long, she could hold out a little longer to say her piece. Preferably when he and Strachmore were back on their feet and she’d bought a return ticket to London.

‘And how are we doing today, Lord Dempsey? You were asleep when I came by earlier.’ The sound of Nate’s voice close to Violet’s ear made her jump. Lost in her inner raging, she hadn’t heard him approach, hadn’t expected him to purposely come within five hundred yards of her after last night.

Even while she was trying to find the courage to face him her cheeks were burning. Looking him in the eye after her epic seduction fail was akin to watching your drunk antics at a wedding back on video. Except she didn’t have alcohol to blame for losing control of her mind and there was definitely nobody getting married around here.

‘I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck, Doctor.’

Violet could only shake her head in disgusted wonder as Rip Van Winkle bypassed her with the truth in favour of the medical professional. It said everything about their lack of communication and trust.

‘Your body went through a lot yesterday so you are going to be quite sore for a while. We’ll give you some more pain relief to make you more comfortable in the meantime. I don’t have a problem with you calling me Nate if you prefer, Lord Dempsey.’ He was smiling as he reached for the chart at the end of the bed with no obvious signs of long-lasting trauma after her little display last night. Things could’ve been awkward but he apparently wasn’t going to make an issue of it. Not in public at least.

‘Why would I want to do that?’ Her father was making an effort to sit up now, scowling as he did so.

Violet’s stomach sank with the realisation he didn’t know who it was who had saved his life. Nate deserved some sort of recognition. ‘You remember Nate, Dad? Bill and Margaret Taylor’s son? He’s a cardiologist now.’

‘For now we need you to rest but as soon as you’re feeling up to it we’ll need to get you moving, even if it’s just to sit in the chair by the bed. It’s important we get the blood flowing around your body again.’ Nate ignored her attempts to big him up and went about his doctory business.

Violet couldn’t help the eye-rolling when she might as well be talking to the walls today for all the notice anyone was paying her. Perhaps she’d actually died of embarrassment when Nate had walked out last night and this was actually her ghost standing by the bedside whom no one could apparently see or hear.

‘Nathaniel?’ He was peering at Nate, his face screwed up in a sneer. Yeah, the penny had finally dropped.

Nate gave a curt nod. ‘There appears to be some narrowing of your arteries, Lord Dempsey, and we will have to look into the possibility of a surgical intervention before they become blocked again.’

‘You had a lucky escape this time, thanks to Nate.’ She wanted to fend off the vitriol she could see was already building with his strength.

‘I want to go home.’ There was no thanks or recognition this man had saved his life, only demands.

Violet didn’t know why that should surprise her. Owing his life to someone he’d looked down on for most of his life would mean admitting his stereotyping had been wrong. That chaos theory would rip his entire belief system apart. It was about time.

‘I’m afraid you can’t just yet. We need to build up your mobility gradually so you don’t overdo it. Trust me, we want you recovered and out of here as soon as possible too. We need the bed.’ Nate still managed to crack a joke even though it was probably killing him as much as her not to bite back.

‘And when you do, you’re going to have to cut back on the whiskey and cigars, Dad.’ It was time he took responsibility for his own actions to save his own skin if no one else’s.

‘Just like your mother. Trying to tell me what to do. Who asked you to come back here anyway?’ The old curmudgeon closed his eyes and lay back down. Conversation over as far as he was concerned.

Violet’s blood was boiling. All anyone had tried to do was help him and all they ever got in return was verbal abuse. The olive branch she’d held out was being whacked around her head with every dismissive utterance.

‘This is for your own good. If you don’t want me here, if you don’t want Nate involved, then start looking after yourself.’ In all the years she’d spent with her own patients, she’d always been able to tread carefully and keep her temper in check in the toughest circumstances. Right now it was stretched to snapping point. There’d been a very good reason she’d left her personal baggage in a different country—it made her a different person. A weaker one.

He didn’t bat an eyelid.

‘This is something we can discuss once your father is up to it. Lifestyle will be something we’ll cover during rehabilitation. I think we should let you rest now, Lord Dempsey.’ Nate addressed her directly for the first time since he’d sneaked in and it was to undermine the stance she was trying to take here.

She swung around, hands on hips, and tried to communicate via the medium of dirty looks how ticked off she was with him. The patient gave a grunt next to them, which Violet knew amounted to another dismissal. The chance to get everything off her chest had passed and she wasn’t best pleased about it.

Nate did his own spot of mime, nodding towards the door. She had no option but to follow when he turned on his heel and walked away from the volcanic eruption she was building up to. She didn’t attempt to quieten the fast click of her footsteps out into the hallway after him.

‘What?’ She was mad at him, her father and, most of all, herself for ending up back in this situation.

He held one hand up in surrender, with the other resting on the door handle of that dreaded family room. ‘Can we talk?’

‘Not in there.’ She was already on the edge without being forced to relive that nightmare again.

‘That’s right. It’ll be safer for me if we go somewhere more...public.’

She heard the tease in his voice before she noticed the glint in his eye and the dimples blossoming in his cheeks. It was too hard to stay mad when he was giving her his best ‘naughty puppy’ look. Violet groaned in defeat. It had been too good to be true to think he would let last night’s shenanigans sink without a trace.

‘What can I say? I was clearly in the midst of some sort of breakdown. I promise not to try and jump your bones today. I’m sure there’s some sort of medical ethics involved where you’re not allowed to bring that up without my permission.’ The only blessing about this continued humiliation was that, by turning it into a joke at her expense, they’d broken the ice before it had time to fully form between them.

She was loath to admit it but she needed him as a friend if nothing else. It was one thing being strong and independent when you were able to leave all of your troubles at work, quite another when they followed you home at night and invited their mates round to party. A familiar, if not overly friendly, face was the only thing stopping her from being completely overwhelmed and jumping on the first plane back.

‘That really only applies if you’re my patient...’

‘I’m sure with the stress I’m under that’s a definite possibility. So, if we can forget that ever happened...you wanted to talk?’ If her father was going to continue playing dumb she was going to have to get back to Strachmore and make a start on that pretty red paper trail. She knew she wasn’t going to like what she found at the end of it.

Nate gestured towards the empty plastic chairs in the corridor. It wasn’t exactly the cosiest set-up for a heart-to-heart but there was every possibility she’d break her promise if they were holed up in that confined space again together. That white doctor coat suited him. It said he was in charge and that was irresistible to someone whose own confidence was floundering more with every second she spent back here.

‘First off, I wasn’t trying to interfere in there. I know you have a lot of things to sort out with your father but it’s going to have to wait.’

She was so intent on watching his lips and imagining how differently things could’ve turned out last night, it took a few seconds for his words to register. ‘Sorry. What?’

‘We need to keep his stress levels to a minimum while he recovers. The lectures can wait until we get him through the other side of this. Trust me, we’ll be giving a few of our own on his lifestyle before he leaves.’ He rested his hand on top of hers, probably the way he offered his support to all family members who walked these hallways. Violet wondered if his touch had the same effect on them. The bolt of electricity shooting through her at the point of contact was powerful enough to make the heart defibrillators redundant.

She slid her hand out from his so she could think clearly. ‘You’re asking me to back off?’

‘For now, yes.’ He could just as well be talking about the inappropriate thoughts she kept having about him.

Back off. Stop picturing me wearing nothing but my stethoscope.

She reluctantly agreed. The strength of her willpower would surely be tested over the next few days. In both areas.

‘Now, I don’t want to tread on your toes any more than I already have but I was thinking about Strachmore.’ His scowl seemed only natural. It pained Violet every time she thought of the place too.

‘Did the nightmares keep you awake last night?’ She thought he appeared a little more rugged this morning and had hoped that spurning her advances had kept him awake with regret.

Oh, wait. That had been her.

Nate gave her his version of the death stare. It didn’t have the same menacing effect when he puckered his lips at her. She was simply tempted to help smooth them out again.

‘I’m serious. I had a few ideas of what you could do to generate some income.’

‘I’m listening.’ So far her only plans had included selling up or torching the place for the insurance money. Both of which had her conscience screaming ‘Cop out!’ She’d probably find herself haunted by the ghosts of past earls for eternity if she surrendered their legacy so easily. Besides, she was none too fond of playing with matches. There was always a chance of getting burned.

‘Okay, so, I was thinking more long-term financial stability. A way of making the estate self-sufficient. You have beautiful gardens, large banqueting areas and floors of empty bedrooms. It’s the perfect wedding venue. Stately homes are all the rage these days and not only for receptions. You can apply for a licence to actually hold the ceremonies on site—’ Nate had obviously given this a lot of thought in the space of a few hours. No doubt it was a ploy to get her out of the country quick smart before she put him in any more awkward situations.

‘That sounds...complicated.’ She rubbed her temples, the mere thought of tackling this bringing on another tension headache.

‘Perhaps, at the beginning, but once everything is in place I’m pretty sure the bookings will come flooding in.’ He made it sound so simple.

‘Where do you even begin with that sort of thing?’ It sounded like a lot of hard work that would keep her here far beyond a couple of weeks’ paid leave. She didn’t want to start something she’d be expected to see through to the end. Her idea of helping was to get the bills paid while her father was laid up, not take on a whole new set of problems on his behalf.

‘You’ll need public liability insurance for a start, and then the licences for alcohol, entertainment, et cetera. There’d have to be a fire-risk assessment, maybe some planning permission depending on how far you want to develop this.’

‘I’m not sure I do. I’m not sticking around, remember?’

‘I know. I’m just brainstorming ideas that will keep the place afloat so you don’t have to come back.’

‘Of course.’ Violet took a direct hit in the feels. This wasn’t Nate trying to ease her burden. He just didn’t want her hanging around.

‘You don’t have to jump right in at the deep end. There’s no reason why you couldn’t test those waters first by opening the place up to the public. You could run tours of the house or hire out the gardens for photographic shoots. There’s endless possibilities.’

And an infinite number of new headaches to deal with.

‘I suppose it’s worth looking into.’ Especially if it meant she could absolve herself of further responsibilities or reasons to return. Coming back had only managed to upset the new life she’d created for herself and Nate had made it abundantly clear there was nothing left for her here. If only this weren’t such a Herculean task to take on herself it could’ve proved the answer to all of their prayers.

‘I’ve spoken to my parents and they’re on board with whatever decision you make. After all, Strachmore is their home too. There’s just one problem...’

‘Of course there is. You’re sure it’s just the one?’

‘Well, one particular obstacle which could shut the whole project down before it gets off the ground.’ The way he was fidgeting with his tie gave away his sudden nerves, which didn’t bode well for Violet. She thought he was supposed to be bringing her solutions, not more reasons to get wound up.

‘Which is?’ She sat on her hands so she didn’t give into her instinct to stick her fingers in her ears. She had to hear this if she was to find some way out of this whole mess.

‘Your father. We’ll need his say-so on everything.’ Not even Nate’s apologetic smile could salve that slap in the face.

The man who’d let the castle crumble around him was the only one who could save it. If he weren’t so completely blinkered by his self-importance there might’ve been a chance that plan might’ve actually worked.

‘That’s the end of that, then.’ Enough people had wasted their time and energy trying to wake him up to what was happening around him for Violet to know this was a lost cause.

‘I get this isn’t going to be easy but it’ll be worth it in the end. You’ll finally be able to leave Strachmore behind.’

She couldn’t fault his logic. It was the lack of emotion she was having trouble dealing with. He apparently wanted this all neatly tidied up so he could wash his hands of everything she’d brought to his door.

‘That’s what we all want, I guess.’ Unfortunately, even if she had been at her ass-kicking, emotionally detached, sleeping-at-night best, this was going to be a monumental task. If by some miracle she could engage her father in conversation long enough to convince him of the plan, the practicalities alone would cripple her.

She needed help. She needed Nate. All that was left to do was swallow her pride and admit it.

‘I know you can do this, Violet.’ He had more faith in her than she had in herself. Or perhaps it was wishful thinking on his part, pre-empting the words that were going to come out of her mouth next.

‘I don’t think I can do this on my own. Will you help me?’ She almost choked on the words that went against everything she’d strived for in adulthood. This was the second time in less than twenty-four hours she’d showed him her weakness.

By asking Nate to sleep with her, now begging him to bail her out, she made her new life into a sham. She’d flown back into town as a city slicker, an independent career woman who hadn’t relied on anyone to help her make it in the Big Smoke. Now she was back to being that simpering, frightened girl she’d done her best to escape.

A wave of nausea crested over her as she waited for what seemed like an eternity. He’d turned down her request last night and she wouldn’t blame him for doing the same again. He didn’t owe her anything and he certainly didn’t need this clingy, emotional side of her any more than she did. She’d simply hoped Nate would be the one person who wouldn’t hold the past against her.

‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. You’ve done so much for us already and I know you’re busy—’ She tried to back out of this with her last scrap of dignity intact.

His brow was furrowed in contemplation and she could almost see his refusal making its way from his brain to his lips. This smart idea had been right up there with asking the man she’d unceremoniously dumped years before to jump into bed with her.

She got to her feet and scouted out the nearest toilets so she could have a good blub in private. It was her own fault she didn’t have a friend in him now when she’d run out on him when he’d needed her the most.

‘Wait!’ Nate shot out a hand and grabbed her by the wrist, pressing against her bracelet and temporarily branding her skin with her seahorse charm. It was a reminder of everything she’d thrown away and apparently could never get back.

It was too late. The old Nate wouldn’t have hesitated to offer his support.

‘Don’t worry about it, Nate. I’ve dumped my problems on you once too often. I’ll put in a few phone calls myself tomorrow—the bank, Citizens Advice, the Samaritans...’ She forced a smile past the lump in her throat and her trembling bottom lip. Even though she’d been content on her own for a long time, somehow the thought of not having him by her side now made her feel more alone than ever.

CHAPTER FOUR

‘I’LL HELP. WE’LL FIGURE this out together if that’s what you want?’ Nate hadn’t known what he was going to say until the words were out of his mouth. He hadn’t known he was going to reach for her until she’d tried to walk away. Now it was too late to take any of it back. His conscience had got the better of him again when it became clear how desperate she was for him to stick around. Once upon a time he’d been in that very position, wishing she’d stay with him at any cost. Just because he’d been left in the cold it didn’t mean he should do the same to Violet. He would never intentionally hurt her when her family had done such a sterling job of that throughout her entire life.

He’d hesitated with good reason. The ‘no’ had danced on his tongue where he couldn’t quite catch it. This was everything he’d sworn to stay away from—Violet, Strachmore, and a commitment to be there for someone for more than purely physical reasons. It might’ve been easier to draw that line if they had slept together. But he couldn’t bear to see that dejected look on her face again if he rejected her a second time.

Violet bit her lip and nodded her head. From everything he’d heard over the years, she’d had her life all figured out without assistance from anyone. He knew she must’ve been out of options to turn to him for help after all this time apart. A huge step backward for her. Lord knew he wasn’t in a hurry to go back to the Dark Ages either, where everything revolved around her father’s will, but he had to consider the long-term benefits. One pride-swallowing favour could render him guilt-free for the rest of his days from everyone who might expect something from him in the future. This would be a one-off.

He resigned himself to whatever fate had in store for him next as punishment for not learning his lesson the first time around. If he approached this new relationship with Violet with the logical side of his brain instead of that useless emotional one, he might just come out of this with what was left of his heart in one piece.

‘Okay, then. First things first, we’ll need to pay off the most pressing bills before applying for any licences. We can’t have them cutting off the electric, or, God forbid, your father’s champagne-of-the-month subscription before he gets home.’

Another nod. She was going to have to move from the back seat and take over some of the driving duties if his involvement here was to remain short-lived. He was assisting her in her hour of need, not enabling her to ignore the problem.

‘How do you want to proceed with this, Violet?’

She was going to have to make decisions for herself and not get too comfortable with him being around. Once his idea was up and running, so was he. He’d thought he’d found his ‘Get out of Jail Free’ card by coming up with this venture in the first place. A pair of storm-coloured eyes had been his undoing yet again. Perhaps he could persuade her to start wearing sunglasses and prevent any further forced promises being made in a hypnotic trance.

Violet inhaled a deep breath as though she was girding herself for the challenge ahead. The first good sign she was in this with him. ‘We should sit down and go through the paperwork together to see exactly what we’re dealing with.’

It was the logical first step and the proactive approach he wanted to see from her. However, it also meant spending more time together. Inevitable, he supposed, and also the main reason he’d initially resisted volunteering for being her second in command. He’d already proved how weak-willed he was when it came to Violet, barely surviving the last test of his strength.

‘If you have everything with you now we could go through it in my office. I have some time before my cardiac clinic.’ His attempt to avoid a repeat of their previous one-to-one at Strachmore earned him a raised eyebrow and a grin.

‘I understand why you don’t trust me not to rip your clothes off if we’re left alone for too long, but I’m afraid I don’t carry my father’s shame around in my handbag. We’ll have to come up with an alternative venue. Somewhere with a glass partition, perhaps, to protect you from unwarranted advances? Or would you prefer I was immobilised and trussed up à la Hannibal Lecter?’

It was his turn to give the dirty looks. He was simply taking necessary security measures to make sure this remained a platonic meeting.

‘Let’s not make this weird, Nate. I’m sure even you’ve been knocked back on occasion without being made to feel like a sex fiend by the other party.’

She was right. By shying away from being alone with her he was turning this into a bigger deal than it should be. There’d been instances where he’d turned down advances from patients and colleagues alike and he’d carried on without giving it a second thought. He shouldn’t treat this, treat Violet, any different from anyone else. That was what had got him into trouble thus far.

‘I can’t say I’ve ever encountered that particular problem myself...’

He hit the jackpot with that one—a ‘tut’ and an eye-roll combo.

‘Well, Mr Smooth, I defer to your superiority in these matters. What shall it be? My place, yours, or somewhere neutral? Say, Belfast City Hall? It’s a bit of a drive but there’ll be plenty of people around to keep you safe.’ This snarky Violet put him more at ease than the meek version even if she was making him the butt of her jokes.

If he was honest, he’d seen enough of Strachmore this last couple of days to last him another lifetime. The city hall was tempting but that merely compounded the theory he didn’t trust her, or himself, not to act inappropriately. That only left one other option.

‘My place it is. I can swing by after my shift to pick you and the paperwork up. Maybe even grab some takeaway to eat while we work?’ He was going on the theory that at least if they were at his house they’d be playing by his rules. There was no chance of any last-minute sleepovers and absolutely no reminders of their shared past. He would set the boundaries and time limits on tonight’s escapade.

‘That would be great. I’ll pop in and say goodbye to Dad and head back to get things organised.’ The smile back on her face was because of him. Her peace of mind came at the price of his but at least those eyes had their sparkle back.

‘And I’ve got a waiting room full of patients to attend. Unless there’s any emergencies I should be away around seven p.m.’ He made a move to get back to Outpatients, where he was confident in his decision-making process.

‘Thanks, Nate.’

Why did every pat on the head from Violet seem like a reward and a step back at the same time?

Violet couldn’t sit still. She’d changed, twice, carefully applied, then removed, her make-up, and cooked a lasagne. All so she wouldn’t come across to Nate as though she was trying too hard. This wasn’t a date, it was an intervention of sorts. Yet the butterflies in her stomach were the same ones she’d had when she’d waited for him to take her to their fake prom.

Sure, she’d swapped her baby pink swing dress for jeans and the grey hoodie she usually wore for jogging, but it was the same sense of excitement making her fidgety at the prospect of spending the evening with him.

Until yesterday she’d forgotten the effect he had on her. It was entirely possible her subconscious had locked those memories away with the bad ones, fearing they were equally damaging to her equilibrium. Her London-based liaisons held no element of surprise when she was the one calling the shots. Having the upper hand enabled her to bail when things got too serious. Just as she had done with Nate. That had been a bigger step for her than leaving home, but one that had also given her the courage to protect herself first and foremost in her following relationships.

Now she was back to hanging around this big house waiting for Nate to rescue her. Except this time he was whisking her from a mountain of debt instead of the school dance she’d been dreading and taking her to his place instead of the old boathouse.

That had been the night her feelings for him had begun to change. He’d dressed in his best shirt and tie to escort her to their alternative prom. To this day no one knew she’d ditched the fancy hotel venue her classmates had attended for an evening in the draughty wooden shack. She’d been more comfortable there, safer, than in a room full of her peers.

Sweet sixteen and never been kissed but in his strong arms as they’d danced to the mix tape he’d made specially, she’d thought about it. He’d been the only one who’d taken her pleas that she hadn’t wanted to go to her prom seriously but still wanted to make the night special for her. He’d always known what was best for her and it would be easy to sit back and let him make those judgement calls for her now, but deep down she realised those days were long gone.

She’d seen it in his reluctance to get involved, felt it when she’d had to ask for help rather than have him pre-empt it. It was down to her that things had changed between them and she hadn’t regretted that decision until she’d had to come back and face him. It had been easier not to miss that close relationship when she wasn’t seeing him every day.

She covered the lasagne dish with aluminium foil and put the salad ingredients into a portable container. This way she was simply bringing dinner to a friend’s house, leaving no room for misunderstanding when Nate wasn’t paying for the food they’d eat together.

She’d been listening for a car horn to sound his arrival and hadn’t expected him to ring the doorbell. Neither had she expected to see him waiting on her doorstep. All he’d needed were the bouquet of flowers and box of chocolates accessories and she’d found her dream date.

Not a date. Crisis management.

If she kept telling herself that they might both come out of this unscathed.

‘Hey.’ He scuffed his shoes on the stone steps the way he always had when they were kids, eager to get away from here as soon as she was ready before her father spotted him.

‘Hey. I’ve just got to grab a few things and I’ll meet you at the car.’ She knew he was only standing here out of courtesy, being the gentleman her father had always told her she’d deserved.

After a quick dash inside to collect the makings of dinner, she joined him in the car.

‘What’s that?’ He sniffed the air and peered at the mini tower of food containers on her knee as if she were using his vehicle to transfer toxic waste across the country.

‘Dinner. Lasagne, to be more precise. I can’t take credit for the salad but I made everything else from scratch.’

The car swerved as Nate turned to stare at her. ‘Since when could you make more than burnt toast?’

Violet reached across to straighten the steering wheel so he didn’t run them off the road. That split second of closeness made her heart beat a little faster. His breath was hot on the back of her neck, his frame strong around her and his spicy aftershave so enticing she wanted to sink back into him. She didn’t.

‘I know it was our secret snack of choice in the days of sneaking into the kitchen but the single life called for something more exciting and nutritious. The lack of a social life gives me plenty of time to experiment in the kitchen after work.’ She was rambling now but since she was practically sprawled in his lap things could get awkward quickly if they let silence descend.

‘I...er...think we’re good now.’ He gave her the nod to extricate herself from his side of the car.

Their brief encounter had given her more than a warm feeling inside. A tingling sensation had started at the top of her thighs and was steadily making its way south. It took a few seconds staring at the upturned dish in her lap before she made the connection.

‘Ack!’ The bottom of her sweatshirt and her jeans were now coated in a hot tomato and minced beef marinade. Thankfully the pasta layers had remained intact between the foil and the dish so she was able to rescue it with a quick flip.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘I spilled dinner. Don’t worry, I caught most of it.’ In her lap, which was now stinging beneath her denims. She tried not to make a scene and draw even more attention to her stupidity.

Hs curiosity deepened his forehead into a frown when he cast a glance in her direction. ‘Are you all right?’

‘Fine,’ she said through gritted teeth as molten lasagne lava singed her flesh.

‘We’re here now anyway. I’ll take a look once we’re inside.’

They pulled up outside a very modern, very secluded two-storey glass building overlooking Dundrum Bay. Nothing like the city-based apartment she’d pictured him in.

‘I had no idea you lived so close.’ Even more surprising than this sophisticated bachelor pad with only the local wildlife for company was the fact Strachmore was merely a ten-minute drive away.

‘Only for this last couple of years. I’ve worked all over Ireland but when the position opened up in Silent Valley, I decided to move back. It turned out I missed the peace and quiet out here. And it’s still far enough away to deter my parents from dropping in when they feel like it.’

Violet imagined no one got beyond the gates without some sort of personal invitation. She tried not to think about those who had passed through here and took comfort in the fact she’d been personally chauffeured door-to-door by the owner.

Nate climbed out of the driver seat and walked around to her side of the car. He opened the door and took possession of their dinner remains in one hand. Even as he helped her out with his free hand, it was obvious he was assessing the extent of her injuries.

Violet groaned as the cool air made contact and increased her discomfort.

‘That’s it. Get inside and take your clothes off.’ Nate opened the front door and practically shoved her inside.

‘I bet you say that to all the ladies,’ Violet snarked with a grimace.

In a different situation that line would’ve got her hot and bothered for other reasons. Now she was simply cringing at the turn this night had taken already. It wasn’t the civilised evening she’d planned.

‘Only the ones who turn up on my doorstep with third-degree burns.’ He chivvied her upstairs to the bathroom while he carried the source of tonight’s humiliation to the kitchen.

Violet eased her jeans down to reveal angry red welts across her thighs. They were throbbing so badly now as she sat on the edge of the bath she wasn’t sure how she’d ever put her clothes back on again.

She took a towel from the rail and ran it under the tap before draping it across her sensitive skin. The relief was only temporary as the heat from her burns began again in earnest.

There was a knock on the door. ‘Violet? Are you okay in there?’

She wondered how it had come to sitting in her underwear in Nate’s bathroom nursing a lasagne scalding.

‘Umm...have you got any antiseptic cream I can use?’ With any luck a dollop of cold cream and a few glasses of wine would help her forget this had ever happened.

‘In the bathroom cabinet but I think I should take a look first. Can I come in?’

Her mortification was complete as Nate joined her, fully dressed, in the confined space.

‘May I?’ He hunkered down in front of her asking permission to see her mishap for himself.

She slowly lifted away the towel covering the last of her dignity. In keeping with her not-a-date mantra she’d forgone all sexy, lacy underwear in favour of the comfy cartoon knickers one of her friends had given her for Christmas. Her cheeks burned as much as her thighs.

‘Ouch. It looks painful but you’ll live. It mightn’t feel like it now but it’s pretty superficial. You won’t require hospital treatment, although you should really keep those burns under running water for a few minutes.’ He reached for the shower attachment over the bath and turned the tap on.

As Violet swung around to put her bare legs into the bath she was grateful he hadn’t made her strip and get into his fancy-pants shower cubicle in the corner with more nozzles and buttons than she’d know what to do with.

Nate rolled his sleeves up as he administered the cooling jets of water to the burn site. After a few minutes of relative silence her teeth began to chatter from the cold.

‘I think that should do for now.’ He patted her dry with another towel then retrieved a tub of cream from the bathroom cabinet.

There was such a calm, gentle manner about him Violet could see what made him a great doctor. He applied the cream in soothing strokes, not batting an eyelid at her choice of underwear. It was unnerving having him so close, paying such attention to delicate parts of her. He was tender and considerate, and Violet was forced to clamp down on inappropriate thoughts as arousal took hold of her.

Nate was still intent on treating her burn, apparently oblivious to the erotic nature his touch had taken on in her corrupted mind. If his strong fingers massaged any further up her thigh she might spontaneously combust. And probably not very quietly.

As if reading her thoughts. Nate withdrew and got to his feet. ‘We’ll get you some painkillers but you should be fine. I wouldn’t try and get your jeans on again though—they’ll rub too much against the skin.’

‘I’m not prancing around your house all night in my undies. Imagine the gossip.’

Nate looked as horrified by that suggestion as she was. Clearly all that electricity had been surging in one direction only.

Nate was having difficulty putting out of his mind that image of Violet wandering through his house in the altogether, not least because she was already half-naked in front of him. ‘I’ll go see if I can find you something to wear and throw those clothes in the washing machine before they stain.’

He needed space, and a reality check. Violet might not be his patient per se, but he definitely shouldn’t be thinking about the softness of her skin while he was treating her. Not even her novelty underwear was helping to rein in his wayward libido. It reminded him he was one of the few who’d ever seen that fun side of her. A reminder there was more to her than glamour and pain.

He retreated to the sanctuary of his bedroom where there was nothing to stimulate his Violet fantasies any further. Except the huge bed with the black leather headboard dominating the room. He turned his back on his pride and joy and yanked the wardrobe open. He’d known nothing in here would ever fit her but he’d taken the time out to compose himself before more than his trousers became uncomfortable.

The rows of dry-cleaned shirts and trousers were practical for a busy doctor but not much use for a slender burn victim who needed covering for both of their sakes. He paused flicking through the rails when he came to his lab coats and scrubs but apparently even they were too much for his over-sexed imagination to handle. He snatched a white shirt from the hanger. The sooner he covered her up, the sooner they could carry on with the real reason she was in his house.

It took a few seconds for his befuddled brain to clear so he could remember what that was.

She was still perched on the end of his bath where he’d left her, looking for all the world as if she were in that post-coital, comfortable-wearing-nothing stage. Except he hadn’t had that pleasure and nothing about this was comfortable for him.

‘Here. This should be long enough to wear as a dress with the bonus of letting the air around those burns.’ He practically threw the shirt at her in his haste to get away. He even contemplated going back to the en-suite in his bedroom for his own cold shower.

When his stomach began to rumble it gave him a different body part to focus on. ‘Just throw your clothes in the laundry and I’ll see if I can rescue what’s left of dinner.’

He reconstructed the layers of pasta as best he could and plated it up with the well-tossed salad. Violet reappeared in the doorway as he was setting it out on the dining table and diverted his appetite elsewhere.

The shirt skimmed the tops of her thighs, covering her curves and brightly coloured underwear, but it did nothing to hide those long, toned legs. He’d never be able to wear that shirt again without seeing her in it or smelling her sweet perfume.

He sat down at the table and took a long drink of water, trying to drown that persistent idea that this was how she’d look the next morning if she’d spent the night. All that could save him now was that folder of truth spelling out in great detail why he shouldn’t get involved with the sexy heiress. She came with more than just overnight baggage.

Violet could see it written all over Nate’s face that he wanted this night to be over. They ate dinner in virtual silence although she suspected neither of them had much of an appetite. Despite her efforts to make this a casual arrangement it had all the hallmarks of an awkward first date, or a really bad seduction attempt. After her last botched come-on, it wouldn’t be beyond the realms of possibility for one to accuse her of faking a lasagne-related injury so she had an excuse to strip. If only she’d planned this. Or, Nate had been interested in her half-naked body.

‘That was delicious. My compliments to the chef.’ He cleared away the dishes in his obvious hurry to get down to the real business of the evening and send her on her way before she caused any more embarrassment.

‘Thank you, and mine to the doctor.’ Although she was still in some discomfort, the pain had considerably subsided, with only the occasional flare-up of mortification.

She hoped she’d recover sufficiently to put her own clothes back on, dirty or not. She didn’t fancy doing the walk of shame home in Nate’s shirt under false pretences. That was normally only a liberty taken after spending a night together. Naked.

‘Let’s see what the damage is.’ He’d retrieved the folder of paperwork she’d left in the car so they were able to finally get the evening back on track and prevent her from forming any more ideas of how she could get him into bed.

Violet spread the bills and threatening letters over the table, glad she had him beside her to help get her through this.

‘We’ve got household bills, unpaid credit cards, bank statements...’

They sorted the final demands into easier-to-handle piles. Her father would be apoplectic if he suspected they were going through his personal things but this was for his own good as well as hers. Perhaps one day he’d realise that.

‘I’m sure some of these companies might be sympathetic and suspend payment for a while if you contact them and explain your father’s current circumstances. I don’t think they would deal with me since I’m not family.’

‘I’ll phone around first thing. It’s worth a try.’ It would help her if they could find some way to stagger the payments so she could work her way through these gradually.

Nate frowned as he gathered a handful of scarlet bills. ‘Unfortunately, there are quite a few of these which require immediate payment before you find yourself cut off from civilisation.’

Electricity, telephone and rates bills were ones she couldn’t afford to ignore even if her father had.

‘And the credit cards are going to need at least minimum payment made on them. Not to mention the loans he’s taken out with sky-high interest rates.’ It took every scrap of courage inside her not to rip everything up and pretend she’d never seen it. Instead, she created a new ‘red alert’ pile to be dealt with in the morning.

‘There’s definitely no emergency fund anywhere to buy some time?’ Nate’s optimism had long outlived hers.

A thorough read of the bank statements confirmed her father had been living on a wing and a prayer for quite some time. No doubt his good name had given him more leeway than most but little else.

‘I’m afraid his finances are as dire as my own.’

‘Can I help?’ Nate reached for the nightmare she was holding in her hand but she snatched it away from his grasp.

‘No!’ She’d put upon him enough, let him pry further into the family secrets than anyone, but she had to draw the line somewhere. Asking Nate for financial assistance would be the final insult to all involved. Her father would never forgive her and she didn’t want Nate to feel even more used than he already did. If she could find any other way to bail out Strachmore than borrowing from him she would.

‘It’s only money, Violet. Something I can help with.’

It’s only money.

How many times had she heard those words from her father? Enough to know it was never ‘only money’. It annoyed her more hearing it from someone who’d worked hard to make his fortune, not inherited and squandered it. It was more than money, it was a matter of pride.

‘Thanks but I don’t want to go down that road. I can cover a few of the smaller debts for now and I have an idea of how to raise the rest.’ She didn’t have much in the way of inheritance other than headaches and a useless title but there were a few things she could sell that her father had absolutely no say in.

‘I don’t like the sound of that.’

He had his arms folded across his chest, his pride probably wounded by her refusal of help, but Violet hadn’t relinquished total control just yet. Nate was her support but it was important she didn’t compromise her own principles to suit him. Otherwise, that made a mockery of everything she’d railed so hard against. She might as well be married in that case.

‘Thanks to my mother I’m still a woman of certain means.’

‘You can’t—’

‘I’m going to sell her necklace. It’s only jewellery after all.’ Suddenly the ball was firmly back in her court.

‘I won’t let you do that.’ Nate couldn’t stand back and watch her throw away the only thing of worth left from her mother. Not on behalf of someone who didn’t appreciate her and certainly not when there was an alternative on offer.

Money he had, could give her easier than anything else when it held no emotional attachment for him. It could solve the problem and let him off the hook a hell of a lot quicker if she’d accept it.

‘You won’t let me? Who the hell do you think you are telling me what I can and can’t do?’ Violet leaned across the table to blast him as she battled for control. With that passion she could’ve been the CEO of her own company, defending her assets in the boardroom.

Assets he was getting a good view of every time she leaned over.

‘Your friend. I know how much your mother’s things mean to you.’ He walked around the table beside her so this supposed friend wasn’t getting excited with every glimpse of her white cotton bra.

‘I have some of her other belongings, which don’t represent the problems that kept her awake at night. Expensive jewellery was Dad’s way of showing off money he didn’t have, not an expression of love for my mother.’ She had that defiant tilt to her chin she used to have when she was challenging her parents’ authority.

Nate didn’t want her to think she didn’t have anyone in her corner. He was there, yelling advice from behind the ropes.

‘I don’t want you to give up something you love just to make a point to your father. You might come to regret it.’

‘Been there, done that.’ She was talking about him. He could see it in that wistful smile and he wanted to believe she’d loved him once. It meant everything to him to know she might’ve regretted leaving him. That he hadn’t imagined the strength of their bond and he’d been more than part of the fixtures at Strachmore.

All of the anger he’d been holding against her for these past years seemed to fade and render his resistance to touching her futile. He reached out to tuck a wayward strand of hair behind her ear.

‘How did we end up here, Vi?’

Things could’ve worked out so differently if she’d been brave then and given them a chance regardless of what anyone thought. He’d been so in love with her all she’d had to do was give him the word and he would’ve gone anywhere with her, done anything for her. Now he was a man on his own, too scarred to let anyone into his life.

‘I don’t know but sometimes I wish I could go back.’

With Violet standing here in his dining room wearing nothing more than his shirt and a smile, this was as far from those innocent days as they got. ‘I can’t say I’d rather be anywhere else.’

He leaned in to kiss her, reasoning twice in twelve years wasn’t going to wreak too much havoc. He simply wanted to find out if her lips were as soft and sweet as he remembered. They were.

He should’ve left it at one gentle peck on the lips, enough to reconnect and erase the bad feeling left with her departure. When he opened his eyes and saw her lips parted for more, felt her hands slide around his neck in submission, he couldn’t recall any reason to hold back. They both wanted this. In some ways they needed it to enable them to finally move on.

He slipped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer to deepen the kiss he’d waited too long to repeat. As Violet pressed her body against his it soon became clear this was more than one innocent smooch. His erection grew ever stronger with every flick of her tongue against his, every breathy moan of acceptance.

With his hands at her waist he lifted her off the floor and set her on the edge of the table. Violet gave a yelp against his mouth in surprise but wrapped her legs around him to keep him in place. With one sweep of his arm he cleared the papers from the table to the floor so he could lay her down. He went with her, kissing the exposed skin at the open V of his shirt. She was a feast he intended to enjoy guilt-free.

Violet’s limbs had turned to jelly with that first brush of his lips on hers and made her forget they were in the middle of an argument. Her thoughts were hazy with desire but she’d known he’d only been trying to help as always. She’d been the one to let emotions get in the way by almost letting slip the extent of her feelings for him in the past and lighting the touch paper for this chemistry that had been bubbling between them since she’d come home. If she was honest it had always been there and it had been a long, hard fight to keep it at bay, and not always a successful one.

That second kiss had nothing to do with the past. This time around they were acting on pure carnal instinct. Having sex on a dining table was as animalistic and far from emotional entanglement as she could hope for.

As if to illustrate her point, Nate was reaching beneath her shirt to remove her panties and making her wet with want for him. Her skin was so sensitive every brush of his fingers sent a shudder rippling through her in anticipation. She couldn’t distinguish her scald marks from the rest of her skin burning up with his every touch.

He stepped back and tossed her underwear over his shoulder with a grin, leaving Violet squirming on the hard wood surface. She didn’t care how uncomfortable this was, all that mattered was the ache he’d created inside her and how soon he was going to cure it.

Not any time soon, it seemed, as he began a torturously slow ascent along her thigh using his mouth and tongue. Her body was on high alert—her nipples hardening, her arousal heading to meet him—as he teased her with a sample of everything he could do for her. To her.

Violet braced her hands on the table, fighting off the too early waves of ecstasy trying to drag her into oblivion. She wanted this to last as long as humanly possible because in all likelihood it could be their first and last surrender to temptation.

Somewhere in the distance she heard a faint buzzing sound. She hadn’t figured Nate to be into anything kinky but, spread-eagled before him, it wouldn’t be right to start getting prudish now. She heard Nate groan and bit back one of her own. He was certainly taking his time. If he was into that tantric nonsense she was going to have to take matters into her own hands pretty soon.

‘I’m really sorry, Violet.’ The sound of his voice and the cold air hitting her where his hot lips had once been pulled her sharply back from the brink.

‘Hmm?’ She was struggling to sit up, her body limp with desire and Nate-tending.

‘I have to go. I’m needed at the hospital.’ He waved a battery-powered device at her, which was unfortunately ending their evening, not getting it off to an exciting start.

‘You’ve been paged?’ She came close to banging her head on the table in frustration.

‘’Fraid so.’ The bulge in his trousers and his sad eyes said he was as disappointed as she was that this was over before it had begun.

Violet scrabbled to sit up, her hands sliding on the remnants of the bills scattered around. Her guilt receptors kicked in immediately. Putting her own needs first had saved her sanity in the past, but in this case she’d lost sight of what was most important. They were supposed to be working on helping her father, taking steps to make sure she could escape at the end of all of this. Getting jiggy with Nate certainly wasn’t doing anything to fast-track those plans.

He was integral to all aspects of her life here and she didn’t want to jeopardise any of that. She should be doing everything she could to try and get her father back in his rightful place instead of finding reasons to keep her around.

‘It’s probably for the best. You’re my dad’s cardiologist...you’re helping me with Strachmore...that has to be more important than this...us.’

Nate was left breathless with the full impact of Violet’s comment. It was bad enough that he’d been physically pained at having to call a halt to this moment of madness but Violet’s reaction had body-slammed him and stolen what was left of those feel-good endorphins.

He was acceptable in his professional capacity treating her father, helpful in his role as financial advisor, but, when she’d stopped to think about it, not good enough even as a temporary bed partner.

Of course, hooking up with Violet hadn’t been a good idea; he’d known that from the first time they’d almost done this. He’d simply got carried away with the revelation she might’ve loved him at some point. If he’d been thinking with his head he might’ve realised that had made her even more callous for leaving him.

‘I have to go straight into surgery so I’m afraid I won’t have time to take you home. I’ll leave money for a taxi. Make sure you lock the door on your way out.’ This time he wasn’t going to sit around brooding about why she didn’t want him. He had a job and a life outside Lady Dempsey’s whim.

CHAPTER FIVE

VIOLET HAD KEPT herself as busy as possible in the days following Lasagne-Gate. She’d managed to sell her mother’s diamond necklace back to the jewellers her father had originally bought it from, for probably a fraction of what he’d paid for it, but it had eased some of the financial burden heaped on her shoulders. For the best part of forty-eight hours she’d had the phone attached to her ear, fending off the bailiffs before they descended on the castle to seize the family silver. It had taken a lot of time, talking and money but she’d managed to pacify most of the creditors chasing her father. For now. Unfortunately none of it had managed to keep Nate from her thoughts for long.

If the hospital hadn’t paged him she had no doubt they would’ve rocked that dining table all night long. That call had given her the clarity to remember how much sleeping together could complicate things. Even he seemed to have had a change of heart since then, reverting to that aloof Nate she’d encountered on that first night. There’d been no mention of the fact they’d almost done the deed at his house, neither had there been an invitation to finish what they’d started. It was a shame her body wouldn’t let her forget the sizzling after-dinner entertainment.

She and Nate had kept interaction about Strachmore matters in strictly public areas since that night but it didn’t prevent her from thinking about what they’d done in private. His talk of fire-risk assessments could have well been about the physical effect he had on her. A five-minute chat these days was enough to leave her hot and bothered when she could still feel his lips inching along her inner thigh. It wasn’t fair only one of them appeared to be suffering, and it was confidence-crushing to find he had no lingering desire to see that night to a conclusion. Even if her conscience had played a part in bringing matters to an end.

Unresolved sexual tension aside, this past couple of nights had been tough. It didn’t cost her a second thought to come home every night to her London flat but Strachmore seemed to amplify her loneliness. The chimes of antique clocks echoing through the empty house taunted her, reminded her of the time that had passed between her and everyone here. She couldn’t get it back and some day her lone occupancy of the castle would be permanent.

When she was with Nate there wasn’t a moment to dwell on the past, or the future. With him, it was all about the present. She missed his company at night, especially when she had absolutely nothing to come home to. He was part of the reason she was spending longer at the hospital. It certainly wasn’t all about being in her father’s presence. She was as sympathetic as anyone could be for everything he’d gone through but his self-pity was exhausting.

He was still in some pain and Violet knew a lot of his bad temper was down to fear and frustration. It didn’t make it any easier for her to come here two or three times a day and bear the brunt of his complaints. Especially when she was working so hard behind the scenes to make his life as uncomplicated as possible when he got home. That revelation was another headache waiting to happen. She knew he would explode when he found out and she would have to justify the fact she’d cared enough to try and alleviate some of his stress. Samuel Dempsey never asked for help and he certainly wouldn’t appreciate it.

Even now Violet could see a commotion around him at the nurses’ station. Over the past couple of days he’d progressed to bathing on his own and taking short walks around the room. She suspected they’d come to rue their encouragement of his mobility. Now they’d all be in the line of fire.

‘Dad? Is everything okay?’

She fought the urge to turn on her heel and let someone else deal with him. That selfish attitude was probably part of the reason Strachmore was in the mess it was. She’d had to put herself first at eighteen but that meant the Earl and his bloody-mindedness had been left unchecked for too long. He hadn’t been accountable to anyone in her absence and it was a big ask to expect him to take on any advice now. They were both going to have to shoulder some responsibility for the current state of affairs and take steps to rectify the damage. As much as she longed to have this all neatly wrapped up so she could get back to her own life, Violet wasn’t convinced she was strong enough to make a difference.

‘I’m fed up with being poked and prodded every day in this...this torture chamber. How am I supposed to rest when I’m woken every five minutes for scans and tests? There’s absolutely no respect for me here and I’ve had enough. I want to go home.’ He slammed his fist down on the desk and Violet jumped, along with several of the nurses.

If her prayers were answered she’d disappear into the bowels of the earth any second now and not have to face these people as her father spat abuse at them. It was different when she was the one subjected to his tirades—she was family, had grown up listening to them—but these people should be exempt.

‘The doctors and nurses have worked tirelessly to get you well again. You’ve got to understand these tests are necessary—they’re not done out of spite.’ Sometimes it was like talking to a petulant child when she tried to reason with him. When he was in one of his rages there was no logic involved, only emotion. The overriding one usually being anger. In these circumstances it was liable to kill him.

‘I was explaining to your father that we want to move him onto a main ward to continue his recovery. We would prefer to continue the ECG monitoring for a few more days there before he goes home.’

She hadn’t seen Nate standing in the melee until her father had turned to glare at her impudence. But there he was, standing toe to toe with him and trying to run interference for her. Even when he seemed to be avoiding her his chivalry still shone through.

‘Do you know who I am?’

Violet cringed as he played the nobility card. The one that had done nothing but bring her embarrassment over the years.

‘Yes, Lord Dempsey, and I assure you you’ll receive the same standard of treatment as all of our patients.’ Social status had never held any sway with Nate either. It wouldn’t need to, given his professional approach to his work. Violet was certain every one of his patients was treated with the utmost respect no matter what their background, perhaps even despite it in cases such as this.

‘That’s what I’m afraid of. Thanks but no, thanks. I want to go home to a clean bed where the staff are paid more than the minimum wage to take care of me.’

‘Dad! That’s completely out of order.’ Not to mention factually incorrect. It showed how delusional her father was when he was under the impression his staff were being paid more than a qualified cardiologist.

‘I appreciate this is a difficult time for you but we need to take precautions for the good of your own health. Your physical activity needs to be increased gradually and we would like to make sure you attend cardiac rehabilitation.’

It could’ve been another run-in between the pair when Nate was nothing more than a schoolboy, given the manner in which her father continued to speak to him. Not once had Nate been forced to raise his voice to make his point even though he was surely wounded by the insults flying around. Violet had never seen anyone stand their ground with the Earl in full flow. Even when she’d mounted her great rebellion she’d done it over the telephone rather than face to face.

‘I’m sure those are matters which my own doctor can facilitate. He’s a man with over forty years of experience. I trust him.’ Another dig at Nate, both personally and professionally.

Not that her father would’ve taken any more notice of a different staff member, Violet was sure, but this continual slight against Nate was very hard even for her to stomach. By denying his achievements he somehow rendered her own unremarkable. The great Earl would never admit he’d been wrong in trying to force them into their society pigeonholes or congratulate them on their successes. Until now Violet hadn’t realised she’d been waiting for his approval.

Nate had dealt with his fair share of obstinate patients over the years. People had different coping mechanisms when it came to facing their own mortality and sometimes that manifested itself against the very staff treating them. Usually he took it in his stride. After all, who was to say he wouldn’t lash out if he were the one on the other end of the stethoscope? Today he was finding new limits to his tolerance he didn’t know he was capable of.

In the space of ten minutes his integrity and his professionalism had been called into question by someone who’d known him since he’d been a child. That was the problem, he supposed. His parents’ employer was still judging him on the nonconforming teen he imagined had robbed him of his daughter. It was ironic that Nate hadn’t gained anything from that loss except the successful career that was now being maligned. Regardless of how hard he tried, those from Strachmore would never see him as anything but the next generation of domestic staff. The only difference was the Dempseys weren’t paying him to take this abuse.

He’d even had to battle his own family to pursue his chosen career. In their eyes by going to medical school he’d thrown away the honour of working for the aristocracy. As if their allegiance meant he should’ve sacrificed his prospects too. They hadn’t understood his resistance to doing manual labour so a privileged family could sit comfortably on their pedestals. There’d been no support, financially or otherwise, as they’d seen him as some sort of traitor.

That attitude had created a distance between Nate and his parents. He’d hated them at times for their blind devotion to the Earl when they’d effectively disowned their own son for the sin of ambition. In a roundabout way they had been part of his success when his anger had driven him to reach the pinnacle of his career. These days he accepted them for who they were in the hope they would some day do the same for him. He’d learned it wasn’t healthy to hold on to grudges or look for answers where there was none, and taken back control of his life by simply accepting circumstances beyond his control. No matter how much it jarred.

‘In that case all I can do is ask you to wait until we have your discharge papers ready. We need to have it in writing that you are going against our recommendations by leaving before your treatment here is complete. There’s also the matter of arranging your medication before you leave.’ If it was merely a case of one stubborn patient showing he was still in control of his own fate, Nate would sign off and move on to the next patient who actually wanted his help. That was practically impossible when Violet was standing opposite worrying her bottom lip with her teeth.

‘I will not linger here a second longer than is absolutely necessary.’ The Earl continued to bluster, his cheeks reddening as he pointed a knobbly finger at Nate as though he were holding him to ransom. It was the other way around. As tempted as Nate was to have Security bundle him out of the door, he couldn’t bear to be responsible for anything happening to Violet’s only surviving family member.

‘That’s entirely your prerogative, but it would be in your best interests to wait for the reasons I’ve stated. I would also ask you would do so quietly to prevent any further disruption to your fellow patients on the ward.’

His thoughts were also for Violet, who was standing with her arms wrapped around her waist in a self-comforting gesture being completely blanked by her father. The more distressed he could see her becoming, the harder it was for Nate to keep his own temper in check.

‘How dare—?’

‘Dad! He said he’ll sort it. Go and lie down before you do yourself any more damage.’ Violet cut him off as he launched into another rant, her hands now planted on her hips.

The strength of her bravery was belied by her trembling bottom lip, which only Nate seemed to notice. The Earl, whether exhausted by his own ire or his daughter’s, finally returned to his bed with a grumble.

Violet visibly relaxed when the argument was brought to a close. Nate had never been privy to the rows she must’ve witnessed at Strachmore and, although he’d been dismayed at times by his own parents’ behaviour, he’d never been afraid in his own home. He had seen the fear in her eyes as she’d confronted her father about his attitude and Nate had just witnessed how vile this man could be. Although he’d tried to back off before he and Violet acted out any more erotic scenes on his furniture, he couldn’t seem to stay away.

If he’d truly meant to keep his distance he could’ve transferred Samuel Dempsey’s care elsewhere and reduced the chances of running into his daughter, but Nate was very much a part of this dysfunctional relationship. Despite the constant reminders he would never be a suitable match for Violet, it had been hell trying to put that night at his place out of his mind. The handprints left on his table were a frustrating reminder they were physically compatible, combustible even, if not couple material.

Now today’s drama was over they were left staring at each other pretending there wasn’t a conflict of interests going on. He had history with Violet, and her father, which he was doing his best not to let cloud his judgement. Unfortunately whatever happened with this patient was always going to affect his personal life too.

‘You can’t let him leave.’ Violet was imploring him to intervene with those big expressive eyes. He preferred the dark glittering sapphires when she was in the throes of passion to the all too familiar worried baby blues.

‘Now you’re trying to tell me what’s for the best?’

She’d almost bitten his head off for daring to do the same over the matter of her mother’s jewellery. A matter that he still wasn’t happy to lay to rest.

‘I’m serious, Nate. You said yourself he should stay here. He’s not ready to go home.’ Everything in her tense body language said she wasn’t ready for it either. If he could’ve chained her father to the bed rather than subject her to any more of his outbursts, he would’ve found a way to do it. They both knew her father’s return to Strachmore would throw everything they’d been working towards into chaos.

‘My hands are tied, I’m afraid. He’s an adult, of, allegedly, sound mind. I can only advise him to remain under my care, not force him. This is clearly also an extremely volatile environment for him and staying won’t benefit him or the other patients around him.’ He hated himself for doing this to her. While she was doing her best to be strong, Nate had seen enough of her telltale signs to see she was struggling.

‘What am I going to do with him? I’m a mental-health nurse, I’m not qualified for cardiac care.’ Violet kept glancing across to his bed, where he was still grumbling and slamming his things around. It was impossible to tell which of them was more stressed here.

‘I’ll get in touch with his GP, see if he can’t persuade him to stay where he is. Failing that, between me, you and my parents, we’ll have to muddle through.’ Another commitment he’d made just so he could put that smile back on Violet’s face. There was also that niggle about not being able to perform the angioplasty making him uneasy. It was the first time he’d been unable to complete his duty of care to the full.

‘You’ll come and check on him?’

‘We’ll probably have to find some covert way of doing it but I won’t let you take this on alone.’ At least then he could keep an eye on the Earl’s recovery and watch for any complications arising from his refusal of conventional treatment.

‘You won’t let me, huh?’

‘Well, I thought on this occasion you might concede a small piece of that iron will.’

They exchanged wry smiles over the private joke. The origin of which was rooted in that night at his house. Not long after they’d argued over Violet’s stance on selling her mother’s jewellery, they’d ended up locking tongues, and almost a lot more besides, on his dining room table.

He began to regret his decision to wear a tie today as the air seemed to dissipate and leave him struggling to breathe. It made no difference if they were alone or in a ward full of people when it came to chemistry. Violet was staring at his lips and he could tell she was recalling the last time she’d yielded to him.

The silence that fell between them crackled with tension and unfinished business. It didn’t matter to his libido that both members of the Dempsey family had judged him and found him wanting. He was programmed to enjoy the benefits of a physical relationship without any emotional messiness and he shouldn’t start changing the rules now. It was his pride keeping him awake at night imagining what could’ve been instead of living it.

‘Dr Taylor, you’re needed in Room One.’

Nate was reminded he was supposed to be working, not trying to figure out a way he could sleep with Violet without compromising his principles. He gave the nurse a nod of acknowledgement.

‘I’d best get on and do what I’m paid for. Don’t worry, Violet, I’ll make sure your father has the best care whether it’s here or at home.’ The promises tripped off his tongue as easy as denial and insults flowed from Samuel Dempsey’s. They were both trapped in a pattern of self-destructive behaviour that could jeopardise their future if they weren’t careful. Sooner or later they were going to have to make changes in order to survive. For Nate that would entail cutting out more than whiskey and cigars.

True to his word Nate had sent in a crack team of physiotherapists and dieticians to speak to the Earl. Neither Violet nor the forest’s worth of advice leaflets had been enough to convince him to stay put. As usual, they’d all had to bend to his will and accept he was going home. He’d offended so many people along the way, there was a certain amount of relief mixed with Violet’s trepidation.

Regardless of their lengthy estrangement she still felt the need to apologise to everyone he came into contact with for his abrupt manner. She should have been firmer with him, tried harder to make him modify his behaviour, but the truth was she was still intimidated by him herself. If he objected to her interference and really cut loose on her, she wasn’t sure she would turn out to be any stronger than her mother.

She’d given up any right to tell him what to do when she’d left home at eighteen and vice versa. There was no way she would’ve accepted him swanning back into her life and trying to run it for her after all this time either. The difference was, she wasn’t putting other people’s livelihoods in jeopardy with a blinkered approach to her finances. She’d made damn sure she had no dependants for that very reason, when it had cost her so much to simply take responsibility for herself.

It was late afternoon before they were ready to leave, much to her father’s continued agitation. He didn’t seem to grasp the fact that a crotchety old man going against medical advice wasn’t the top priority on a ward full of seriously ill patients.

Not even the whistling porter who came to escort him from CCU escaped his wrath.

‘I’m not a cripple,’ he said and kicked the wheel of the wheelchair in disgust.

‘It’s only to take you to the door, Dad. Bill’s picking us up outside. The physio said gentle exercise only, remember? You don’t want to end up exhausted before you leave the grounds.’ She imagined by this stage they were all glad to see the back of him from the department.

He was already out of breath with the effort it had taken to get dressed but he eventually got into the chair with a huff.

‘A lot of fuss about nothing, if you ask me.’

She hadn’t asked him, because that had the potential for her to lose her temper and demand to know why it was impossible for him to thank Nate for saving his life. They might get into hostile territory sooner than anticipated and run the risk of shattering the fragile remains of their father-daughter relationship, dooming Strachmore for ever.

As they made their way through the corridors she hoped to catch a glimpse of Nate, but he undoubtedly had his hands full with clinics and surgery. His skill in his field still astounded her, and she appreciated the time he’d dedicated to helping her even if her father didn’t. He’d borne the brunt of her parent’s rudeness through no fault of his own.

She wondered how much of that bitterness was actually apportioned to her. Her father had always associated her belligerent attitude with Nate’s influence rather than his own tyranny. There was the possibility he blamed him for encouraging her to break out on her own. In which case she was going to have to set the record straight with a few home truths.

She’d never stopped to consider how her new start in London might have impacted on those she’d left behind. It had been easier to believe they’d all carried on as normal instead of adding more ballast to her burden of guilt. Only now were the consequences of her actions, her cowardice, becoming clear.

The next step was for all those who’d messed up to hold their hands up and admit their mistakes so they could start to move on from past transgressions. Even Nate, who appeared to have his life together, hadn’t managed to let go of all responsibility to Strachmore. She owed it to him to enable that final break but just not yet. She had an inkling she was going to need his support more than ever now she was faced with living under her father’s rule once more.

The Taylors did enough fussing over her father to enable her to take a back seat for a short while. When they were fawning over him his level of churlishness significantly decreased and gave Violet a reprieve from her ‘tightly coiled spring’ act every time he opened his mouth.

Bill had kindly arranged for his bed to be moved down to the ground floor to save him from having to take the stairs and Margaret had prepared a light dinner following his new dietary regime. It was only when the couple went home that the interminable silence fell at the dining table.

Of course he’d refused to take a dinner tray on his lap, insisted on keeping things ‘normal’ with the formal dining, regardless of how ludicrous it was with only the two of them seated around the massive mahogany table. She suspected this charade was more for his benefit than hers. He looked like the king of his castle perched at the head of the table even if he mightn’t feel it.

‘I’ve missed Mrs Taylor’s cooking,’ she said to break the tense atmosphere spoiling her appetite.

‘There was nothing stopping you coming back if you missed it that much.’ He didn’t miss a beat as he scored a point against her in between spoonfuls of soup.

There was nothing to be gained by getting into a fight now, when he was still wearing a hospital band around his wrist. They could get into the whys and wherefores of their non-relationship when he was fully recovered and she wasn’t afraid of causing him to relapse.

‘I’ve been so busy with work I haven’t had much time for holidays.’ It wasn’t completely untrue. She’d simply omitted to tell him he was the reason she didn’t take any.

‘For twelve years?’ He paused mid-slurp to raise a bushy white eyebrow.

She’d never been a particularly good liar.

‘I didn’t think I’d be very welcome.’ She wasn’t even sure she was now. At the minute his attitude towards her labelled her as more of an uninvited guest rather than the prodigal daughter returned to the loving arms of her father.

‘I never asked you to leave in the first place.’

This was exactly the sort of backwards-and-forwards blame game she’d hoped to avoid.

‘Well, I’m here now. I have some time off to take while you recuperate.’ The way her nerves were stretched she might very well need some extra time to recover herself when this was all over.

‘Why the sudden interest in me now? Or did you only come back to claim your inheritance? I’m sorry if I ruined your plans but it seems I’m going to stick around a while longer.’ He resumed sipping as though he hadn’t completely ripped her good intentions to pieces.

Violet could barely find the words to refute his allegations. She’d never expected to have to justify caring for him. ‘I... I... That’s not fair. I only came back for you. To make sure you were all right.’

‘Unfortunately for you, and me, I’m fine.’

She was sure her frown matched her father’s as she struggled to work out what the hell he meant. Were things so bad that he didn’t want to be here any more? Was that the reason he’d refused treatment and insisted on leaving hospital too early? A chill blasted through her at the thought of losing another parent to the jaws of that black dog that had hounded her mother to her death.

‘You’re not fine. You’re recovering from a heart attack and you’re drowning in a sea of debt. All I want to do is help you.’ Her voice hitched as she held out that olive branch. Despite everything, he had to be her main priority now or she would end up truly alone for ever.

He very carefully set his spoon down and fixed her with that withering stare that made Violet want to hide under the table. ‘What do you know about my personal affairs?’

Only now, faced with the prospect of telling him what she’d been up to over the past few days, did she realise how intrusive he’d find her actions. She gulped. ‘We found the bills and final demands when we were tidying up. It wasn’t as if we were snooping.’

‘What do you mean “we”? Who else has been prying into my private business?’ He was red in the face, building up to one of his eruptions, and Violet braced herself to take the full force of it.

‘Nate. He has some really good ideas about what we could do here—’

The fist came down hard on the table, rattling the dishes and the cutlery in its wake. Even Violet was shaking from the impact.

‘Who the hell do you think you are coming back here and rifling through my things? Nothing at Strachmore is any of your business. You made that clear when you ran away, Violet. And it certainly has nothing to do with him.’

‘I understand why you’re angry at me. I stayed away too long, I realise that, but why do you hate Nate so much? He saved your life.’

‘I didn’t ask him to.’

There it was again, the unmistakable sound of a man who’d grown tired of living. She’d dealt with enough suicidal teens in her time to take his comments seriously and not simply dismiss them as attention-seeking. Lord Dempsey would never willingly admit defeat unless there was something seriously wrong.

‘Dad—’

The doorbell chimed before she could query his state of mind any further or tell him how selfish that kind of thinking was.

‘You’d better get that. Or do you expect me to struggle all the way to the front door and back?’ Apparently the invalid card was only valid if it involved her guilt.

Violet made her way to the door on somewhat shaky limbs. Trying to get her father to open up would be like death by a thousand paper cuts—slow, with each new wound more painful than the last. Whoever was on the other side of this door, be it the Taylors or a door-to-door salesman, she intended to drag them inside to interrupt the direction the conversation with her father was taking. Neither of them were ready to tackle that head-on without building up their strength first.

‘Hi. I thought I should pop over and see how the ground lay. Should I get my flak jacket from the car now or have you laced his tea with sedatives already?’ Nate greeted Violet with a joke in an attempt to hide the nerves that had kept him from knocking on the door for the past ten minutes.

He’d stayed in the car with the engine running, contemplating whether or not to get involved in the Dempseys’ domestics. He’d had no doubt the two of them under the same roof was causing friction when it was in their nature to rub each other up the wrong way. The reservations had come when he’d pictured himself in the middle of it. In the end, his conscience had rapped on the door for him. He couldn’t leave Violet to manage his patient and his moods alone. Not when he kept promising her otherwise.

‘Oh, Nate. You’re a sight for sore eyes.’

He had no room for preening when he saw Violet was visibly shaken and as pale as the alabaster statues in the entrance hall behind her.

‘What’s happened?’ The whole idea had been to make this a casual visit but he was well versed in emergencies too.

‘He’s angry about me being here...about our meddling in his affairs...and he’s saying such morbid things. It’s as if he’s upset he’s still here.’ Violet was hanging on to his arm as she rambled. There was absolutely no danger of him leaving now.

‘Okay. We knew he wasn’t going to react well when he found out we’d been digging into his financial status. As for the rest, depression or anxiety isn’t uncommon in heart-attack survivors. He’ll be feeling weak and vulnerable. Something which your father definitely won’t be used to. He might need to start a course of anti-depressants. I’ll have a chat with him and see if I can get a handle on his mental state.’ Another reason Nate would’ve preferred he’d prolonged his hospital stay. There were so many possible after-effects, and not all of them physical, aftercare was a vital part of recovery. He’d been denied giving that and Violet was the one suffering as a consequence.

‘That would usually be where I come in.’ Violet sighed as she stepped aside to let him in, looking as dejected as she was describing her father.

‘Hey, it’s not your fault. You’re too close to see this objectively and you’re doing your bit simply by being here.’ He hooked a finger under her chin to lift her head up and was tempted to kiss her worried mouth to bring them both some comfort.

It seemed an age since they’d last done that, their night together almost nothing more than an erotic fantasy now. He’d wanted that intimacy again, even for the briefest moment, to remind him it had been real, that she’d wanted him once as more than someone to bail her out when the going got tough.

‘Who is it?’ The dulcet tones of a crotchety Earl soon put paid to any romantic notions, reminding Nate of his professional responsibilities.

The medical stuff was within the remit of his normal day-to-day life. Whatever this was with Violet certainly wasn’t. He let his hand fall down to his side again and took a deep breath. ‘I guess it’s time to face the music.’

Violet led the way towards the dining room with no real urgency in her step and he could see her steeling herself before she went in. It had never been the homely environment he’d been lucky to have even before his strained relationship with his parents, but the atmosphere here was so tense and thick with resentment it wasn’t conducive to anyone’s health.

‘Hello, Lord Dempsey. I was just down visiting my parents and I thought I’d see how you were settling in.’ It was a little white lie to soften the idea of his trespassing where he wasn’t wanted. In all these years he’d never just ‘popped in’ for a visit, even when he’d been only a stone’s throw away.

Samuel Dempsey eyed the offer of a handshake with a suspicious glare. ‘I don’t need to settle in. I live here.’

‘I know Violet has been very worried about you—’

All concerns were brushed aside with an ungentlemanly snort.

‘Worried about her inheritance more like. Is that why you’re really here? Violet tells me you’ve both been helping yourselves to things while I’ve been fighting for my life.’ He leaned back in his chair, arms folded across his chest, giving the impression he was enjoying this power play. It was as though he saw this as a game, where they were competing for the title of top dog and there could only be one winner. Nothing could be further from the truth. Nate wanted them to work together to make sure he was still fit to rule his kingdom.

‘That’s not what I said. We were simply trying to get things organised for you coming home.’ Violet made a futile attempt to clear their names. Futile because her father wouldn’t even look at her while she was talking, keeping his beady eyes firmly tableside on Nate.

‘I’ve got your number. You’re teaming up to snatch this place from under me. I see you riding around in your fancy car pretending you are somebody. Well, let me tell you, class isn’t something you can buy.’ The blue veins were pulsing beneath his flushed skin as he raged against his imagined foes.

Nate had to count to ten in his head to keep his own temper in check. It wasn’t his place to make this any more personal than it already was by pointing out the Earl’s faults in turn. Class didn’t always equate to decency and it was entirely possible to have one without the other.

‘Please don’t do this again, Dad.’ Violet’s small plea was so full of fear it instantly made Nate think of her caught in the middle of her parents’ battles. He didn’t want to put her in that position again and he certainly didn’t want to inflame the situation any further.

‘It’s okay, Violet. Your father’s entitled to say how he feels in his own home.’ It was a shame he’d never let his daughter do the same. Still, it wasn’t his family, or his battle.

‘Damn right I am. Just as I’m entitled to some privacy. I shouldn’t have to put my personal correspondence under lock and key every time I leave the house.’ For a man so predisposed to dramatic outbursts, he was doing a good job of making his near-death experience sound like a trip to the shops. Painting Nate and Violet as a pair of opportunistic burglars in the process.

‘Perhaps I should leave.’ Nate made eye contact with Violet. Her father wasn’t showing any signs of having given up on life, at least not to him. If anything he seemed to be fighting to hang on to everything he had.

‘Good idea. I’ve been perfectly capable of taking care of myself for the past I-don’t-know-how-long. I don’t need anybody’s help now.’ The Earl was clinging desperately to his independence.

Nate could sympathise to some extent with his stubborn stance against them. They were essentially trespassers who’d taken it upon themselves to get involved in his affairs. But he could also see that Violet was simply doing what she thought was best for him. This had moved so far beyond the professional excuses he’d made for coming here tonight he was in danger of having his say on the matter. Something that probably wouldn’t please either side and would only drag him in deeper.

‘Everyone in this room knows that’s not true. You have no money coming in and nothing to cover the debts you already have. I’ve managed to cover a few of the most urgent bills but you need to generate some sort of income.’ Whether it was because she’d found strength in numbers or she was so exasperated, Violet was starting to find her voice. She didn’t need him; she hadn’t done for some time. Nate imagined it was a case of reverting back to type because she had so much unfinished business with her father. And him.

‘I didn’t ask you to pay for anything. I suppose the money came from Dr Flash here? Well, the Dempseys don’t need anyone’s charity. Especially not from domestic staff.’

‘I paid with my own money. I sold Mum’s necklace, if you must know. One of us had to get our priorities straight.’

Nate could only stand and watch as Violet threw herself under the bus to save him from further abuse. Now she had her father’s full attention.

‘How could you?’ He visibly paled and sat up straighter in his chair with her full disclosure, acting as though it were a betrayal rather than the huge sacrifice Nate knew it had been for her.

‘What’s the alternative? Wait for the bailiffs to seize it anyway in lieu of payment? Or do you have a Swiss bank account somewhere you’ve forgotten to mention?’

Violet was in full flow now. There was no reason for Nate to intervene when she was managing so beautifully without back up. She needed to have her say. It had been a long time coming.

‘Does her memory mean so little to you that you can sell it for a few pieces of silver?’

‘If you knew Mum at all you’d realise she hated those gaudy baubles you insisted on buying her. It was sentimental things like the clay bead bracelet I made at primary school she wore every day, not expensive statement jewellery.’

Not unlike the bracelet she’d worn on her own wrist for over a decade. There was a flutter of something he didn’t want to recognise in his chest at the thought he’d held the same special place in her thoughts. It felt a lot like hope.

‘Your mother was a good woman. She deserved the best.’

‘But at what price, Dad? She knew you couldn’t afford that kind of expense and worried herself to death over it. I think she’d be only too happy at the idea of using it to make a difference here.’

It was the first time Nate had witnessed something approaching shame on the Earl’s face before he hung his head. ‘I know you blame me, Violet, but your mother was a sick woman. I can’t change what happened in the past.’

Violet dropped to her knees and reached for her father’s hand. ‘But you can do something about the future. We can open Strachmore to the public and bring enough money in to cover all your outgoings here. Nate’s been looking into the idea of hiring part of the place out as a wedding venue.’

Just when it seemed as though they were making progress, Samuel Dempsey got to his feet, almost knocking his daughter to the floor in the process.

‘Over my dead body! This is my home. It’s not for sale or rent and neither is my pride.’

Nate immediately went to Violet’s aid and helped her up to a more dignified position. It was too much of an insult against her good intentions to simply let him get away with this one. He turned, fully prepared to wade in and add his voice to Violet’s cause, only to find the Earl had his eyes closed, refusing to entertain further discussion. He truly was the most infuriating man to try and get through to.

Then Nate noticed his hand move to his chest, then grab his left arm before he fell to the floor with a sickening thud.

‘Dad!’

His expletive was drowned out by Violet’s shout.

Along with the Earl’s sickly pallor and clammy skin, all the signs pointed to another cardiac arrest. Nate should’ve seen this coming but he’d been too caught up in other people’s emotions to keep his doctor head in the game.

Although the Earl had dropped like a stone he’d thankfully avoided hitting the table on the way down and there was no indication of any head injuries. Nate loosened the shirt around his neck and tilted his head back to check his breathing. Nothing.

‘He’s not breathing. Phone 999.’ He delegated phone duties to prompt Violet into moving. He couldn’t afford to have her in shock too. Far from helping, his meddling had simply caused more catastrophe. He should’ve left well alone and they might all have carried on down their own paths they’d chosen a dozen years back. Oblivious to each other’s emotional dysfunction.

If he hadn’t still been hung up on Violet and insisted on getting involved in her father’s treatment in the first place this could’ve turned out differently. The Earl might’ve accepted help easier or sooner without all of this added stress.

Leaving the past unresolved now seemed a better option than being directly responsible for his death. If the worst happened there was no chance Violet would ever forgive him, never mind love him.

CHAPTER SIX

VIOLET STAMMERED OUT the address and the details of what had happened to the switchboard operator. It was difficult to focus on what was being said on the other end of the phone when she was watching Nate pump life back into her father’s chest for a second time. The difference now was there was no defibrillator to shock the heart back into rhythm. He was literally the only thing standing between her father and certain death.

‘The ambulance is on its way.’ Sooner rather than later, she hoped. Every second counted now in bringing her father back.

Violet was helpless in the fight, watching her father’s body jerk with every violent chest compression needed to keep the blood circulating around his body. It was her fault they were all in this situation. If she hadn’t come back in the first place, or dragged Nate into their family politics, her father might still be recovering in his hospital bed. Not lying here on his dining-room floor literally heartbroken because of the accusations she’d thrown at him. This was what happened when she finally stood up to him.

He’d never forgive her for this. If he made it through. She’d never forgive herself if he didn’t.

‘Did they say how long on that ambulance?’ Nate was breathing heavily, sweat beading on his upper lip, with the continued effort of CPR. It was easy to forget how physical a task it was doing the heart’s job when it was out of commission.

‘Five minutes. Apparently there’s one not too far from here.’

Nate nodded and turned his attention back to his patient.

Watching him work, his hair falling over his forehead as he tried to prolong life, was impressive and mesmerising. She, on the other hand, was standing here like a spare part with no active role in saving her father’s life.

‘Do you want me to take over for a while?’ Her mouth was dry at the mere thought of undertaking such a crucial task but Nate needed a break and she needed to do something useful.

‘Are you sure?’ His serious face told her he wasn’t going to leave his post unless she was confident she could do this.

‘Yes.’ She knelt down beside him on the floor, not giving her brain time to start overanalysing everything that could go wrong.

‘Remember, you need to be forceful to be effective. Ready?’ He scooted over so she could move closer for the transfer.

‘Yes.’ No.

She’d never performed CPR on an actual person, only synthetic dummies whose fate didn’t affect anyone. If she screwed this up she’d have her father’s death on her conscience for ever as well as Strachmore’s fate.

She locked out her arms and linked her fingers in preparation, throwing her weight into the first compression when she took over.

‘One, two, three...’ She counted out each chest pump to keep the timing regular and her brain occupied.

‘That’s good. Nice and steady.’ Nate laid a hand on her back to support her and used the other to grab his phone from his pocket.

Her father’s skin was cold beneath her fingers and she tried desperately not to convince herself it was already too late but Nate wouldn’t give up and neither would she.

‘Come on. We can do this,’ she told him in the hope he would suddenly bat her away and tell her he could do this on his own. This was the first time she’d actually been in a position to help him and she prayed it wouldn’t be the last.

‘Apparently the ambulance is coming up the drive. I’ll go out and direct them here if that’s okay with you?’

‘Sure. Hurry.’

Her arms were beginning to tire with the tension and repetitive movements but adrenaline was keeping them moving. She could hear the sirens, see the shadows of the ambulance lights dancing through the windows, but she didn’t relax until Nate returned with the crew, giving them the lowdown on events to date.

‘We can take over from here.’ Nate gave her a reprieve and took over the compressions while the paramedics set to work with the oxygen and defibrillator.

‘Stand clear.’

This time Violet was there to witness the shocks as they were delivered in between Nate’s chest compressions as everyone crowded around to save her father’s life. They had him hooked up to so many machines and life-saving equipment he might as well have been in the hospital.

After the second shock was administered there was a renewed flurry of activity.

‘We’ve got a pulse.’

‘Lord Dempsey, can you hear us?’

‘Open your eyes for us, Samuel.’

‘Dad?’ Violet held her breath, waiting for confirmation there was still a chance he could make it. Nate came to her and put her mind at ease with a squeeze of her hand.

‘He’s breathing on his own again. You did an excellent job, Nurse Dempsey.’

‘We made a good team, Dr Taylor.’ Her limbs were shaking as the tension began to ebb from her body, only to be replaced with shock at what she’d just undertaken. They were a long way from celebrating just yet but they’d done their bit to get him this far.

‘I’ll ride with you in the ambulance in case there are any complications. We might have to operate this time to prevent this from happening again.’ Not even Nate’s warmth could prevent the cold chill that ran down her spine. They were right back at square one, with the stakes higher than ever. This time she was directly responsible for putting her father in hospital and it was down to Nate again to save the day.

Nate had been more forceful about the need to perform emergency angioplasty as soon as they reached the hospital to prevent any more attacks. This latest episode had obviously shaken the Earl as he’d agreed without much of a fight this time. Now Nate’s blue scrubs were sticking to the sweat on his back. He performed this procedure as a matter of routine but not usually on people who thought he’d somehow forged his qualifications, and not with old girlfriends sitting outside waiting for news.

With the Earl awake and aware of everything going on around him, Nate was under pressure more than ever to prove himself. He’d never been more aware of the small risks involved in this minimally invasive treatment, or his responsibilities during it, as he stood over Violet’s father.

‘Okay, Lord Dempsey, you’ll be awake during the procedure but you shouldn’t feel anything with the local anaesthetic we’ve given you. You can even watch what’s happening on the monitor beside you.’ He usually tried to make his patients more at ease by remaining on first-name terms but he didn’t want to antagonise his patient before they started.

‘Thanks.’

They’d administered a mild sedative along with a local anaesthetic but Nate was still pleasantly surprised at how co-operative the patient was being, considering his earlier mood. Well, at least less combative than he’d expected. He’d had visions of having to strap him down to stop him taking a swing at him for bringing him back to the hospital.

‘We’re just going to insert a catheter into the small incision we’ve made in your wrist. That will allow us to inject X-ray dye into the arteries so we can get a clear picture of what’s going on in there.’ He could make a better assessment of how to proceed when he could see the problem for himself instead of guessing.

Once he had the nod, Nate carried on as he would normally do. There was nothing out of the ordinary about this case if he could set personal history aside and stop thinking about how much was riding on this being a success. Potentially this was his chance of winning the Earl’s approval, essential in making his and Violet’s lives a little easier. It mattered to him to be accepted when he was spending so much time at Strachmore. With Violet. There was also the matter of professional pride when this was his patient who’d been readmitted only a matter of hours after leaving.

With the help of the monitors, he concentrated on feeding the thin, flexible tube through the blood vessels until it reached the coronary arteries on the heart. It was an intricate process, one which he’d honed over the years. Hence, his continued irritation when people dismissed the skills he’d worked hard to perfect.

‘You can see on the screen that your right coronary artery is almost completely blocked, preventing blood flowing to that particular section of the heart.’ It was clear now exactly what was causing the problem and, providing there were no objections, he could repair it.

‘What’s next, Doctor?’

If the Earl’s co-operation had taken him by surprise, being referred to respectfully in his professional capacity was nearly enough to knock him off his feet.

‘The best thing to open the artery is to insert a tiny balloon and inflate it to let the blood flow. I think in your case we’ll also need to use a stent too. It’s a small mesh tube that helps support the inner wall of the artery to make sure it remains open once we remove the balloon.’

‘Whatever you think’s for the best.’ He deferred to Nate with his eyes closed, either too tired to argue or too squeamish to watch.

It enabled Nate to relax a tad without being scrutinised as he threaded the guide wire into the affected artery. The balloon was inflated to widen the artery and squash fatty deposits against the artery wall, the stent expanding with it. Once the stent was open, he was able to deflate the balloon and remove it.

‘And that’s us finished.’ The whole thing had taken just over an hour, a typical time for the procedure but, under the gaze of Lord Dempsey, it had felt like a never-ending test of his abilities.

‘Already?’ Lord Dempsey was straining to make sure he’d been true to his word.

‘Yes. We’ll send you back to CCU to monitor you overnight but with any luck you should be back home again tomorrow.’ He removed the catheter and the lab nurse applied pressure to the site to prevent any bleeding. Job done with a great degree of satisfaction and relief.

‘Thank you, Nathaniel.’ The Earl reached out to shake his hand and Nate stood a little taller in his comfy Theatre shoes.

‘I think you need to thank your daughter too. She was very much part of the team keeping you alive until you got here.’ She deserved some positive recognition from him for once too.

‘Violet?’

‘She helped me perform CPR until the ambulance reached you. That is one lady determined to keep you around for a while longer.’ Nate wanted to put to bed the ridiculous idea that she wanted him out of the way. No devious gold-digger would have worked so hard to bring him back from the dead.

‘I’ll talk to her.’

‘I think it’s about time you did but, please, hear her out this time. She only wants the best for you, and the estate.’ He’d held his counsel too long and in his eyes both he and Violet had proved their true intentions over the course of the evening. Despite their resistance to Strachmore and all it stood for, they’d both made a commitment to them in their own way.

He stripped off the lead apron that he’d worn to protect against the X-rays and tossed his surgical gown aside, keen to report back to Violet and share this feeling of after-surgery euphoria with someone for once.

Violet was biting what was left of her fingernails. She inspected her once-beautiful nails, now raggedy, the candyfloss-pink varnish starting to flake. It was funny how quickly frivolous things such as her weekly manicure became insignificant in the grand scheme of things. Nate had reassured her that her father’s was a relatively straightforward procedure and she had every faith in him, but her father’s health was so precarious she couldn’t relax until she saw them both coming out of Theatre.

‘Did everything go okay?’ Her father was awake, Nate was smiling, but she wanted confirmation all had gone to plan.

‘Like clockwork. We’re just taking your father back to CCU, if you want to come with us?’

He was so handsome in his scrubs, made even more so with his amazing life-saving skills, Violet was liable to follow him anywhere. Overcome with relief and gratitude, she launched herself at him for a hug. She found solace in the smell of sweat and soap, which told her everything about how hard he’d worked over the course of the last hours. Now the drama was over she wished they were able to take time out in one of their old haunts to decompress and simply enjoy each other’s company. Somewhere she wasn’t constantly faced with reasons she shouldn’t want to be with him.

From the corner of her eye she saw her father struggle to sit up. She instantly let go of her hold around Nate’s neck and stepped away from the hunky cardiologist. Even though she was proud of him, it was her natural response to back off, knowing her father would never approve of such a public display no matter what the circumstances and especially with someone he deemed beneath him.

‘How are you feeling, Dad?’

‘Sore.’

If she’d expected Nate to flick on her father’s humility switch while he was in there, she was sadly mistaken. She couldn’t bear for him to take umbrage against Nate for any residual pain after all his hard work.

‘I’m sure Nate did everything he could—’

‘I didn’t dispute that. From what I saw in there Nathaniel is a very, very skilled physician but I think I’m entitled to express my discomfort after everything I’ve been through. Now, if you don’t mind, I need some rest.’

Violet could only stand open-mouthed as he was wheeled away.

When she finally regained control of her paralysed body parts she turned to stare at Wonder Doc. ‘Did I imagine that or did my father just pay you a backhanded compliment?’

If so, it was a breakthrough of epic proportions. She’d never heard him praise anyone for anything. It was probably the closest thing to an apology they’d ever hear from him. Violet was pleased on Nate’s behalf that he was finally being recognised for his achievements even if she wasn’t likely to receive that honour herself.

Nate gave her a wry smile to warm her frozen limbs. ‘I told you I was good at what I do.’

‘Yes, yes, you are.’ That brought all things non-medical to Violet’s corrupted mind, forcing her to break eye contact before he saw her lustful thoughts for himself. She knew how good he was at everything he did—she’d had a sample for herself. That taster had only made her crave more.

Nate gave a nervous cough and she got the impression those wayward thoughts hadn’t been confined only to her head.

‘It’s late but you can go to CCU and say goodnight before you leave if you want.’ Apparently he’d decided to go with the relatively safe ground of dealing with her father compared to that minefield of their relationship and the boundaries they’d come close to redrawing.

‘I’m not sure that’s such a good idea. I don’t want to push my luck and end up in another row with him after that bombshell. I don’t want a repeat of what happened at the house.’ Their cosy chats didn’t have a great track record. For all the good she’d done so far trying to help, she was tempted to simply let his world collapse around him rather than take any more responsibility for his ill health.

‘You saw him for yourself. He’s quite mellow at the minute. For him. Although, it might be wise not to mention Strachmore. At all.’

‘Message received loud and clear.’ Violet pondered his advice. There’d been enough excitement for one day, but surely five minutes spent bedside saying goodnight couldn’t hurt? It might even put her mind at ease to see him settled at the end of such a traumatic twenty-four hours. Then she might stand a chance of a decent night’s sleep.

She set off after the porter towards the coronary care unit safe in the knowledge Nate had fallen into step next to her. She was getting too used to having a sidekick with her during her trials and tribulations. When she finally went back to London she was probably going to have to get a dog or something to pour out her troubles to even though it would be a poor substitute for this man, who knew her better than she knew herself at times.

‘I’m just popping in to make sure you’re comfortable before I head home.’ Violet approached her father’s bed with as much caution as ever. There never was any warning of what mood he’d be in from one minute to the next, and he was bound to be tired and cranky after the evening he’d had. This wasn’t the time or place to start pointing out his flaws and mistakes again. With any luck he’d begin to realise them for himself some day.

‘I know you would rather I’d died instead of your mother. I do too.’

It was such an out-of-the-blue statement coming from him it stunned Violet into silence. Not so long ago it would’ve been true, she’d have preferred to have lived without him instead of her mother, but she’d moved past that. Nobody could change the past and it had been her mother’s decision to leave them when all was said and done.

The greatest surprise, other than her father considering anyone else’s feelings, was that he’d expressed something approaching remorse. She guessed facing his own mortality had finally awoken his conscience from its long slumber.

‘Why would you say that now when we’ve done everything we could to keep you here tonight?’

He’d never shown any emotion over her mother’s death, not even in the immediate aftermath. He’d done what he’d always done: pretended the bad stuff wasn’t happening around him and carried on as usual. That had included hiding the truth from her about the overdose, leaving it to others to break that news to her. Hearing him express a wish to swap places with his dead wife at any point was unexpected, out of character, and made him more human. It went some way to softening the hard stance she’d taken against him because of his apparent indifference to her great loss, but he should be celebrating the fact he was still here tonight.

She eyed Nate, hoping he knew where the hell that had come from. Perhaps he’d done some counselling alongside the heart repairs—a full mind and body MOT.

‘Lord Dempsey, are you feeling okay?’ Nate’s frown didn’t tally with insider knowledge of his patient’s sudden attack of conscience. Now he’d witnessed that morbid decline for himself he might be able to prescribe something to lift his mood.

‘I know you only came home through a sense of duty, Violet. I’ve barely heard from you in over a decade, for goodness’ sake. I could’ve died tonight without us ever clearing the air and I think it’s time we had this talk before it’s really too late. You’ve made it pretty clear you thought I was responsible for you losing your mother but do you honestly think I ever wanted to be here without her? I blame myself for her death as much as you do but I can’t change what happened. Lord knows, I wish I could.’ He bypassed Nate’s question to continue his train of disturbing thoughts, his eyes red with stubborn unshed tears.

Nate pulled the curtains around the bed, giving them some privacy. It merely added to Violet’s sense of emotional suffocation.

It was the first time her father had taken any responsibility for her mother’s death, everything Violet had wanted since losing her. Seeing his distress as he did so didn’t bring her the peace she’d always imagined. Quite the opposite. It was distressing to discover he’d been hurting all this time on his own too. Perhaps if he’d been this open with her back then she wouldn’t have been so desperate to leave and they could’ve used their combined grief as a base to evolve their relationship instead of leaving it to stagnate.

‘All you had to do was love us.’ Her voice became smaller as the tragedy of her loss got bigger.

‘I did. I still do. I never meant to hurt you or your mother but I always wanted to do the best for Strachmore too. Generations of my family kept the castle through war and unrest. I couldn’t be the one to let it all slip away. I didn’t realise it was your mother I’d truly failed until it was too late.’

‘Why couldn’t you have said this at the time to your teenage daughter who thought she’d lost the only parent who cared for her?’ Until now she’d only ever seen the dark side of him and had run from it at the first opportunity. This guilt, this expression of actual emotion had come too late for her mother, perhaps even for her. Everything she’d thought she’d known about her father and her parents’ marriage had coloured her view on every relationship she’d ever had. It had even cost her one with Nate.

‘I dealt with things the only way I knew how—with a stiff upper lip. I was devastated, but what use would I have been to you if I’d fallen apart too? I might have gone about things the wrong way but I was the one who had to be strong. I’ve come close to death too many times this week to take anything for granted. I don’t want to die with you still hating me. It’s difficult enough knowing your mother went feeling that way about me. I’d do anything to change places with her. I’ve wanted that since she passed but I can’t undo the past. Nathaniel has given me a second chance to at least try and make amends with you.’

Silence fell in the small cubicle, heavy with unspoken apology. She wouldn’t have expected him to break down and beg for forgiveness but seeing him contrite like this was unnerving in itself. It was a bittersweet moment. This was the conversation he should’ve had with her mother, explaining his actions and exhibiting signs of humanity—capable of making mistakes and now owning up to them.

The logical part of her brain knew her mother must’ve had mental-health problems beyond her father’s churlish ways to do what she’d done. Violet had chosen to ignore that fact and diverted all the anger she felt as a result of her mother’s actions towards her father. It wasn’t going to be easy to shift her perception of her father overnight and she needed time to process everything. With his roundabout apology she wasn’t certain what he expected from her in return either.

‘I don’t hate you and I’ll be here for as long as you need me. We’ll discuss this again when you’re feeling better. Now get some rest.’ She was desperately fighting her own tears, her breath catching on the lump of emotion wedged in her throat. She didn’t want to cause him any more pain than he was obviously already in.

She leaned over and placed a kiss on his cheek. An act she’d never carried out without being prompted. He wanted her forgiveness, and she would willingly give it if she thought they could move on, but she couldn’t help feeling as though she was walking into another trap.

‘Are you going to be okay?’ Nate had snatched his keys from the dining-room floor where they’d fallen from his pocket during the fight to save the Earl and now he was saying his goodbyes on Strachmore’s marble steps.

He and Violet had taken a taxi back together, since he had to get his car, but she’d been non-communicative during the journey home. She was entitled to some quiet after another fraught day. He’d inadvertently intruded on her heart-to-heart with her father and been as shocked by the outcome as she was. However, he didn’t want her to sit brooding all night, feeling guilty about what had happened, or dwelling on her father’s state of mind. None of this was her fault.

‘I never saw that coming,’ she said, staring off into the distance. ‘He was grieving in his own way, still is, and I left him alone. I’m supposed to be a mental-health expert and I didn’t even consider that a possibility.’

‘You couldn’t have known when you were in a different country. I would say he’s been very good at keeping his feelings to himself when my parents didn’t pick up on it either and they see him every day. Hell, he’s my patient, if you want to start pointing fingers at people who should have seen he was having trouble coping with his grief.’ Perhaps if Nate hadn’t known the background to their estrangement he might’ve picked up on other reasons for the Earl’s mood swings besides his relationship with Violet. Blame wasn’t going to solve the problem, only more of the plain talking he’d witnessed tonight.

‘That’s the point, I wasn’t here. I was feeling sorry for myself in London, learning to treat people with mental issues when my own father was mourning the loss of his wife. Hating him all this time makes me the awful person I thought he was.’ Her eyes rested on him again, two oceans of blue crashing with waves of sorrow.

He grabbed her by the shoulders, desperate to still those troubled waters. ‘Stop this. It’s obvious he wants you to stay here—that’s why he’s telling you all of this. He’s trying to leave whatever has gone on between you behind so you can now both start to look forward. You’ve both suffered and I’m sure you’ve both said things you’ve regretted but now’s the time to let the healing begin. These plans for Strachmore could mean a clean slate and a chance for you two to start building bridges if we can get him on board.’

A strengthening of Violet’s relationship with her father would not only bring them some peace of mind, it could also give Nate some space from the happenings at the Dempsey household. He was already in way over his head and if he could hand over the reins so much the better. When all was said and done he wasn’t going to be part of Strachmore’s legacy any more than he was going to be a permanent fixture in Violet’s life. These were all simply temporary arrangements due to circumstance. Not even his first love took priority over his sense of self-preservation. At least, not long-term.

‘And I want that but not at the price I suspect I’ll have to pay. What if I’m simply swapping one prison for another? I ran away so he wouldn’t be able to force me to marry and keep me tied to this place. After that emotional outpouring I’ll be the bad guy again if I leave again. I don’t want him under the illusion I’m staying indefinitely. Whether he chooses to go along with this wedding idea or not, I’ve still got a job and a home in London I have every intention of returning to.’

Her torment was pretty much the same as his own. Somehow they had to find a way to fulfil their promises but still maintain their hold on their lives pre-heart attack. Ones which hadn’t included Strachmore or each other.

‘Everything’s still raw at the minute. You can clarify the situation tomorrow and discuss what you both expect to come from this.’ When everyone had had a good night’s sleep and some time to think about exactly what they’d committed to.

‘I don’t know how to do that without disappointing him again. I want Strachmore to succeed but I’m not sacrificing everything else for it.’

‘Tell him you’re glad he got everything off his chest but your personal circumstances haven’t changed as a result. Set very clear boundaries so you remain in control. If you don’t have a firm date for going back to work, make one and don’t break it.’ That would prevent them both from falling any deeper into this quagmire of guilt and responsibility they’d unwittingly stumbled into. With an end date they’d be able to claw their way back out at some point and carry on as though this had never happened.

‘He’s always been such a dominant force I don’t think I can cope if he starts talking about dying again. I’m afraid I’ll let him guilt-trip me into staying permanently. I’m so weak.’

He could feel her shoulders sag under the weight of her burden. Nothing tonight seemed to have eased it for her. He gave her a gentle shake in an attempt to awaken that fighting spirit he’d seen in her earlier.

‘Emotionally and physically exhausted perhaps, but you’re certainly not weak. You took over CPR tonight without hesitation when I began to tire, pumping your father’s heart as though it was your own life depending on it. Does that sound like a woman who can’t handle a crisis to you?’

That raised a faint smile. ‘I did surprise myself.’

‘You didn’t surprise me. I’ve always known how amazing you are.’ He let go of his grip on her shoulders to cradle her face in his hands. With only the shine of the moon lighting the darkness, bathing Violet’s heart-shaped features in its silvery glow, she’d never looked so beautiful.

With adrenaline and pride still coursing through his veins post-op, he leaned in for a kiss. He’d gained some respect tonight and it was enough to bolster his ego. Although he might never find total acceptance, her soft lips against his would be sufficient reward.

Violet accepted his tongue into her warm mouth, met him with her own. Somehow she tasted sweeter now he knew there’d be no complications in getting involved. She didn’t want to stay at Strachmore any longer than was necessary or any more than he did. They could both walk away at the end of her stay without any ill feeling or recriminations this time.

They wanted each other—that much had never really been in doubt. Everything preventing this attraction reaching its natural conclusion was an obstacle constructed by his own pride.

‘Are we really going to do this?’ Violet already knew the answer but they’d both changed their minds so often she didn’t want either of them to end up disappointed. Her head was so full of every word spoken, every life-changing decision that had been made over the course of the evening, she needed to be free of her thoughts for a while.

Nate was encouraging her to leave as soon as feasibly possible, removing that last obstacle before they got naked with each other. They were going into this with their eyes open and their hearts closed this time around. Neither would expect more than the other was prepared to give, avoiding any guilt or misunderstandings. Exactly how she preferred to conduct her love life.

‘I guess so.’ Nate interrupted her inner conciliation with what she was doing with his husky breath in her ear. It instantly revitalised her weary body, awakening every nerve ending and hitting each erogenous zone simultaneously.

Why was she still waiting?

‘Shall we take this inside?’ She was breathless; the cold night air and Nate’s trail of kisses over the sensitive skin at her neck conspiring to make her shiver.

‘Only if we can skip the acrobatics on the fixtures and fittings and go straight to bed. I’ve been on my feet all night.’ Nate grinned as he backed her over the doorstep and kicked the door shut with his foot.

‘You’re just full of brilliant ideas, Nathaniel Taylor.’ She wasn’t about to object to some tenderness after the day she’d had. A night lying in each other’s arms sounded perfect to her.

‘I think this is one of my best ones yet.’ He growled and grabbed her backside. She flung her arms around his neck as he kissed her again, keeping them locked together as he hoisted her up around his waist.

‘I thought you said no acrobatics?’ It did a girl’s ego good to be picked up so effortlessly and carried upstairs as though she weighed nothing. Even more when she could feel the hard evidence of her seducer’s arousal pressing into her.

‘I’m simply making sure I have you where I want you. The door is shut, my phone’s off, and I’m not due back to work until tomorrow. No more interruptions. Tonight is ours. I’m reclaiming it.’ He fastened his mouth to hers, sealing that promise he would do everything to drive her demons away for a while at least.

‘Well, in that case, giddy up, Taylor.’ She dropped her hand to slap him on the ass, giggling at the surprise on his face.

‘Oh, it’s like that, is it, Dempsey? You think you’re the one calling the shots here?’ He halted their journey at the top of the stairs, pushing her up against the wall and rendering her limbs useless.

‘Uh-huh,’ she mumbled, daring him to prove her wrong.

Now he had her pinned between the hardness of his body and the brickwork, his hands were free to do just that. He slid the sleeve of her white peasant blouse off her shoulder, exposing her skin to more soft kisses. Her insides turned to mush while everything on the outside stood up and begged for more.

‘You sure about that?’ he asked with a devilish grin that caught her breath as she waited to see what else he had in store.

‘Hmm, mmm.’ She nodded, temporarily struck dumb as he slipped his hand inside her bra.

Her nipples were as hard as diamonds now at the very idea he was claiming her body for the night as he palmed her breast with an authority to make her gasp. She could afford to relinquish a little control if it meant feeling this good.

He teased her at first with a flick of the tongue over her puckered pink flesh, only increasing the pressure, and the enjoyment, when she bucked against him demanding more. There were no more thoughts buzzing in her head except those of the carnal kind as Nate drew her nipple into his mouth, sucking her towards oblivion. She was caught between a moan and a gasp as he took her to the crossroads between pain and pleasure.

She’d been right not to let this happen when they were young. If she’d known this would be how it felt to be in his bed she might never have left home. At least here and now she was free to savour this for what it was without trying to predict what happened next. She’d take an orgasm and one hell of a memory to keep her warm in her old age over a doomed relationship any day.

‘You’re a stubborn so-and-so. I guess we’ll just have to take our turn at going on top.’ He peeled her back off the wall and carried her towards the bedroom. It was just as well when she knew her trembling legs would never have carried her there on their own.

He dropped her gently onto the bed and proceeded to strip her clothes away, leaving her panties to the very last. If sexy was a handsome cardiologist tugging your underwear down with his teeth she’d hit the jackpot. It was like watching her wildest, most erotic dream play out for real. Except someone had censored out the best bit.

She teased her fingers along the ridge in his trousers, making it his turn to moan. And strip. He stood strong and proud, meeting all of her expectations as he sprang free from his confinement.

‘What about contraception? I don’t have any with me.’ The pained expression as he made the confession said he’d put an end to this now, regardless of his own discomfort, if protection was an issue.

‘It’s okay, I’m covered.’ She might’ve been offended he was so frightened of somehow getting trapped if she hadn’t been on the pill since her first real boyfriend for the very same reason. A pregnancy didn’t go together with her independent woman stance.

Nate’s relief was there in his smile, and every other part of his body she could see was willing this to happen. There didn’t seem a valid argument for holding back any more when they were clearly ready to take the next step. One they’d both waited a long time for.

He joined her on the bed, covering her lips and body with his. She rubbed herself against his erection, her softness yielding to his long length until they were joined together in one quick thrust. He exhaled a shaky breath in her ear as she settled around him. The sound of his contentment echoed the same sense of satisfaction travelling from her well-tended lips to her curled toes. This moment was everything she’d expected it to be, everything she’d feared it could be.

He was kissing her again, tending her lips at a leisurely pace, reminding her they had all night to indulge this fantasy when her body was craving everything he had now. She trembled with need, her urgency to reach that final peak increasing every time he drove into her. Her mind drifted between this plane and the next, only the pinch of Nate’s fingers on her flesh keeping her anchored in the present for now.

As their bodies slammed together she made the mistake of looking into his eyes. Regardless of the fact this was supposed to be a one-time-only deal, those eyes were shifting from brown to green, reflecting emotions that weren’t included in the terms and conditions. They should’ve made some sort of ‘no kissing on the lips’ rule, like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman, to prevent this from being any more than sex. Except they weren’t strangers who’d hooked up on the sidewalk and the kissing damage had been done a long time ago.

She tightened her hold on Nate internally and externally, hitching her legs around his waist and clenching around him. They needed to start treating this like hot, dirty sex, not childhood sweethearts who’d finally consummated their feelings for one another.

She clung to him, dug her nails into his back, picking up the pace and trying to stop this from turning into something it wasn’t. His irises were now only full of desire, dark with lust and need, his breathing erratic as she pushed him towards surrender. This was all about one thing now—sexual release—and that was exactly how she preferred it.

Nate’s entire body shuddered against her as he cried out. Finally Violet was able to give herself completely over to the moment as their bodies rocked together one last time. All of the tension and stress she’d been carrying inside flowed away as she threw herself into that welcoming abyss.

She didn’t even know she was crying until Nate wiped her tears away.

‘Hey. Was it really that bad?’ Not once had he seen her break down during everything she’d faced since coming back here. Although she’d come close to cracking at times, she’d held it together with every new challenge her father’s illness had brought her. To see her break now pained him when they’d shared something amazing together. Society ranking had meant nothing when they were rocking each other’s world and he hoped these weren’t tears of regret. Not when he expected her to be soaring up on the clouds with him after what they’d experienced together.

‘No. It was really that good. You made me forget all the bad stuff.’ She gave him a watery smile.

‘My reputation remains intact.’ He lay back, hands behind his head, his ego as satisfied as the rest of him.

‘Definitely. I guess it all caught up with me for a moment.’ She turned her face away from him as though she was embarrassed she’d let him see her cry.

Nate turned on his side and pulled her close. There was no reason for her to feel ashamed when lesser mortals would have struggled long before now. Still, he didn’t want to draw any more attention to her tears when she was uncomfortable about it.

‘In that case it’s my duty to keep you occupied—body and soul. I do believe it’s your turn to go on top.’ He rolled over, taking Violet with him so she could feel as though she was back in control for a while.

He’d spent a long time imagining this time with her and he didn’t want anything to spoil it for either of them. They’d already shared the lows of today, they were entitled to enjoy a few highs too. Tomorrow they’d have to face all of those same problems keeping them tied to the estate, but tonight was still theirs.

CHAPTER SEVEN

THE RIGOROUS BEDROOM workout might have taken Violet’s mind off everything except what Nate was doing to her body, but it hadn’t helped her sleep any easier. She sat up watching his broad chest rise and fall in peaceful slumber as the sun rose.

He had a body made to help a girl forget—those perfect pecs, lickable abs, and...damn she needed him gone. Lying here naked together wasn’t going to help matters one iota. Bedding him once had been exciting, eye-opening, leaving her curiosity and body satiated, but ringing the bell for round two was only asking for trouble. It had been easier to tell herself this would be a one-off before she’d known how good they were together.

This wasn’t her usual casual affair where no feelings above the waist came into play. Never mind he was involved in everything going on between her and her father, now he’d seen her cry, for goodness’ sake. She never cried, not in front of anyone, and certainly not during sex. It was a wonder he hadn’t bolted out of the door at the sight of the first tear. In fact, it was kind of disturbing he hadn’t. If this was purely sex, why was he still here?

Nate rolled over, the sheet falling lower to display that sexy ‘V’ of his torso leading to the danger zone. She dragged her eyes away with more discipline than she’d known she possessed. Good sex was like any other addiction—hard to resist when it could make your troubles fade away so easily and leave you feeling invincible. It was the side effects you had to watch out for. Emotional attachment had a way of sneaking into temporary ‘fixes’.

She sneaked another peek at Sleeping Beauty, who was definitely beginning to stir beneath the covers. There was absolutely no chance of going cold turkey when she was going to be exposed to said addictive substance every day here. Only the sound of the front door opening stopped her from falling off the wagon before she’d even got on it and taking one last hit of that Nate Taylor good stuff.

‘Cooee!’ It was closely followed by the morning call of the lesser-spotted housekeeper.

Violet had forgotten the Taylors had more than one set of keys between them. They always rose with the larks to start their duties and let themselves in so as not to disturb the Earl before he was ready to wake. Apparently those same rules didn’t apply to her. She wasn’t used to having to answer to anyone except herself these days.

‘It’s only me!’ Mrs Taylor called again, louder this time, as though she was getting closer.

There’d be no way of passing this off as anything casual if Nate’s mother caught them in bed. They’d never hear the end of it. Although her father had begun to warm towards Nate, if he found out about this all hell would break loose.

‘Wake up!’ she whispered and shook her bed partner awake.

‘Hmm?’ His eyes fluttered open with a moan that almost made her care less about getting busted. Almost.

She scrabbled around the floor for her discarded clothes and hastily threw them on. She might think more clearly if she wasn’t naked. Or lying next to Nate’s impressive morning glory.

‘Your mother’s here.’

That woke him up and killed his libido quicker than a bucket of ice-cold water.

‘What?’ He bounced up, wide-eyed now and with that same look of panic he’d had when she’d once caught him skinny dipping in the lake. Unfortunately Violet hadn’t had as clear a view of his assets then as she did now as he hopped around the room trying to get dressed.

‘Violet? I wanted to make sure everything was all right. Have you seen Nathaniel this morning? I see his car’s still parked outside—’ Mrs Taylor voiced her concerns from somewhere on the stairs.

Nate muttered all the expletives running through Violet’s head at the same time. The first rule of secret liaisons was to be discreet. History should have told them privacy wasn’t an option around here.

‘How the hell are we going to get out of this one?’ He jammed his feet into his shoes, the muscles in his back flexing with tension. He’d always been a completely different person when he was around his parents than when he was with her. In this case his frustration was most likely directed at himself and her for letting this happen.

‘I’ve got an idea. Stay here.’

He was so straight-shooting he might well stomp out and announce what they’d done to shock his mother and get her to back off. Violet didn’t want them making this into a big deal simply because they’d been interrupted.

She stepped out of the room before he could grab her and tiptoed to the top of the stairs. ‘Hello, Mrs Taylor. Nate stayed over in the west wing last night. It was late when we got back from the hospital and he’d left his car here. I thought it would be better for him to stay than drive home when he was so exhausted. I’ll give him a call and perhaps you could make us something to eat in the meantime?’ She hated using her position here to suit her agenda, the lies made her sick to the stomach, but in this instance she deemed them necessary, for everybody’s sake.

‘Of course, dear.’ Mrs Taylor beamed, no doubt thrilled at the idea of resuming her duties to the family in the Earl’s absence. Violet couldn’t imagine one without the other any more, nor did she want to. The Taylors were part of Strachmore and would hopefully take the reins when she was no longer here.

Violet waited until Mrs Taylor scurried off towards the kitchen before she turned back. Nate was fully dressed now and standing by the door with a scowl to sour the milk his mother was probably pouring on their cornflakes. She suddenly found the need to justify her actions. After all, this was his family she was bossing about.

‘I thought it would buy us some time.’

‘Sure. There’s nothing Mum loves more than playing the faithful servant. I guess I’ll see you downstairs for breakfast in five.’

It was her turn to be dismissed and she didn’t enjoy it one bit. The fairy tale was well and truly over and now they were back to that upstairs-downstairs divide that had always dominated their lives.

Nate doubted there was anything more cringeworthy than a post-coital breakfast with an ex and your mother. When had his life got so messy? Oh, yes, the second Violet Dempsey had walked back into it wearing skin-tight jeans and a worried smile.

‘I’m so glad things went to plan with your father at the hospital. I hardly slept a wink last night.’

Nate declined a second cup of tea. He’d only agreed to this charade so his mother’s suspicion was kept to a minimum and he wouldn’t be expected to pay penance for defiling the Earl’s daughter.

‘Neither did I, Mrs Taylor.’ Violet’s reply was innocent enough for his mother’s ears. To his, it was a reference to something definitely inappropriate for the breakfast table. Something that was now reminding him of everything they’d done last night instead of sleeping, in all its X-rated glory.

‘Speaking of which, I’m going to have to nip home and change before I go into work and check on him.’ He drained the last of his tea and took a big enough bite of toast to reassure his mother he’d eaten. Her fussing wasn’t confined solely to the Dempseys’ welfare but he didn’t have to pay for the privilege.

It hadn’t sat well with him when Violet had requested she make breakfast for them. Deep down he knew it had been a ploy to save their blushes, but it had succeeded in also reminding him of his place too in the scheme of things. Although he still couldn’t quite believe they’d finally slept together, he wouldn’t let his ego get too inflated. He was always going to be the son of the hired help, no matter how big his pay packet.

‘Thanks for everything you did last night.’ This time he knew she was deliberately trying to make mischief as she fixed him with those ever-darkening sapphire eyes.

She pursed her lips together to blow the steam from her china cup and Nate’s mind immediately connected her actions to scenes of a sexual nature. He jumped up from the table, lucky it was only his knee banging against the table in the process.

‘You’re welcome. Any time.’ They hadn’t discussed what happened next with regard to this new development in their relationship, but something told him it was going to take a great deal of willpower to prevent it happening again. That something was going to require a long cold shower to get rid of.

At least she hadn’t seen him off to work with a packed lunch and a kiss in that we’ve-slept-together-so-let’s-set-the-wedding-date fashion some were fond of after one night in bed. He’d met enough of those to recognise the hope of commitment even with a promise of none. He should be happy Violet didn’t have it, not lingering on his Dempsey-induced inferiority complex. It left the bedroom door open for another casual hook-up with no expectations beyond those four walls. If she was agreeable, continuing the more physical side of their relationship for the time she had left at Strachmore could be the ideal way to work out their residual issues and finally get closure.

Today’s status update: Lover.

It had all but killed Violet sitting so close to Nate this morning, pretending they hadn’t spent the entire night getting to know each other more intimately than ever before. While they’d swapped their private thoughts and feelings in their younger days, it was nothing compared to what they’d shared together in bed. Sex with Nate had been the only positive experience she’d had since coming home, and the most fun.

She didn’t know what new discoveries she’d make regarding her father from one day to the next but so far they’d all taken an emotional toll. Her time with Nate had been cathartic, a chance to wind down and remember how it was to be a young, carefree woman. She could do with more of that. More of him.

His mother’s interruption this morning had prevented them from analysing their actions and discussing where they went from here. With her body still zinging from their tryst, she hoped he was on the same page she was as far as letting this thing run its course. The only commitment she’d intended making was to her job back in London with a phone call today.

Although her father’s altered attitude was a revelation, she’d discovered for herself it hadn’t made him Dad of the Year overnight. His old, grouchy self was very much alive and kicking when she’d been to see him this morning. She’d left him talking to the rehabilitation team and come back to make a start on making Strachmore accessible to the public in the hope he’d agree to give the idea a chance. The first step was a deep clean of the areas she thought might appeal to history buffs. Mrs Taylor ensured the main house was spick and span but it had been some time since anyone had paid any attention to the old servant quarters.

This part of the house where her ancestors had housed their domestic staff had always intrigued her and she’d used it as a hiding place at times, safe in the knowledge her parents would never venture there. The major flaw in the architecture here was the lack of ventilation. She stripped off the denim shirt she’d found in her closet so she was cooler in her strappy white singlet as she worked, moving from room to room with her duster and mop.

It was like being in a time warp once you set foot on those stone steps. The period pieces of furniture and personal effects left from days gone by were still in good condition under their thick layer of dust. From the huge wooden table in the servant hall where the staff would’ve congregated for their meals, to the sparsely furnished bedrooms, they’d all played an important part in Strachmore’s history.

She was cleaning down the worktops in the room where the butler used to polish the household’s shoes and boots when she thought she heard footsteps. The idea of seeing past residents had never frightened her, but she held her breath as the steps grew closer and louder.

‘Thank goodness, it’s you.’ She let out a relieved sigh when Nate stepped into view, but her heart didn’t beat any slower. He was the quintessential gentleman today, again dressed in his dapper charcoal-grey fitted waistcoat and trousers. Although, she preferred him wearing only a sheet. Or not.

‘Everyone seems so happy to see me today. It makes a change. Even your father managed to be civil.’ He joined her in the small space, stealing more of her oxygen.

She bustled away to the farthest side of the room to clean the sink so she could breathe again. ‘You saw my father?’

‘I did. I can’t lie and say trying to discuss treatment was a fertile exercise, but he has agreed to see a grief counsellor.’ He skirted around the leather-covered bench in the centre of the room to come towards her.

She scrubbed the sink a little harder and tried to avoid his gaze. Her morning had been productive but less than glamorous. If she was to convince him another tumble in the sheets was a good idea she wasn’t going to do it covered in dirt and sweat.

‘That’s great. I really appreciate you doing that for him. It will help him move on.’ And her, if they could start some dialogue over what had happened to her mother without blaming each other.

‘I really do think he’s beginning to soften, though, and it shouldn’t be too long before you can persuade him about the benefits of Project Wedding Venue.’ He slipped his hands around her waist and made her drop her scrubbing brush.

Was he simply more tactile because he was celebrating their future liberation from Strachmore, or making a move? She wasn’t sure if her now supercharged libido was interpreting his actions to suit her needs.

‘I...uh...can’t wait. That’s partly why I’m down here. I thought if we got this cleaned up we could do house tours to break us in gently.’

‘You are rocking this domestic goddess thing you’ve got going on.’

Her mouth was dry now and it wasn’t down to the dusty atmosphere. He was nuzzling her neck, holding her tight and giving her the unmistakable sign now that he was interested in picking up from where they’d left off last night. Every step she took with Nate, as much as she wanted it, was also a test of her courage. It was a step further from her comfort zone, and one closer to keeping her here.

‘There’s so much to do to get the place ready. The paint’s peeling everywhere, it’ll all need to be redone. Then there’s the structural repairs if we don’t want to be sued by people getting hit by pieces of loose masonry.’ All things that could be remedied easily but suddenly seemed so important to excuse her current state.

‘Don’t worry—I’ll help. We’ll all chip in when and where we can while we’re waiting for approval from up above.’ He spun her around to face him and she forgot why she cared so much about her appearance when he so clearly appreciated it.

He was kissing her neck, grazing her earlobe with his teeth and generally turning her into a puddle of hormones.

‘I didn’t think I’d see you today. I thought you’d be busy with work.’ She was sure he’d be able to feel her pulse throbbing violently beneath his lips.

‘I’ve no patients scheduled for the next few hours. I thought we could take the time to discuss our new arrangement.’ He dropped a feather-light kiss on her lips.

‘What’s that?’ Violet was burning so hot for him all these wooden fixtures and fittings were becoming a serious fire hazard, but she wasn’t going to be the one to make the rules. After the way things had ended the last time between them she wanted this to be his call.

‘We had such a good time last night, I don’t see any reason to keep us from doing it again. I’d go as far to say we should do it every night before you leave.’

Before you leave. They were the crucial words she wanted to hear. That way there was no room for misunderstandings when her time here was done.

‘Every night, huh?’

‘Maybe every day too if we feel the need.’ He would definitely have the need for her in his arms, night and day, now he’d established a clear time frame. His commitment would end the minute she was on a flight back to London and that was an even bigger aphrodisiac than seeing Violet get her hands dirty.

He’d spent the morning flitting between arousal and annoyance every time he’d thought about last night and this morning. So much so he’d been in danger of becoming distracted. For the sake of his patients, and his sanity, he’d needed to come and see her here. He hadn’t known what action he should take regarding their tryst, whether it was better to draw a line under it or repeat it. One look at Violet had made it a no-brainer. Literally. That wasn’t the part of his body doing his thinking any more.

‘It might make my time here more bearable, I suppose...’ She was teasing him now. He could see through that flimsy shirt she was as turned on as he was.

‘I think I’ll make that my new tagline on my business cards. Dr Nathaniel Taylor—making life more bearable for over thirty years.’ He hadn’t come here with sex on his mind, only a desire to see her, but the time limit they’d just set meant he didn’t want to waste any more time talking.

He planted his lips on Violet’s with an urgency he’d never felt with anyone but her. It was an all-consuming need to be part of her, have her be part of him, which he could indulge now he knew there’d be no consequences or regret.

They were a flurry of hands and clothes as they tore at each other’s clothes. The waistcoat had been a spur-of-the-moment decision this morning, one he was now cursing for its many, many buttons.

‘Sod it.’ He tore it open, the damnable buttons pinging around the room in the process.

‘Shouldn’t it be my clothes you’re tearing off?’ Violet helped him undo those of his shirt in double-quick time so he was topless, and halfway to where he wanted to be.

‘Don’t worry, you’re next.’ He whipped off her shirt in one swift move to find she’d gone commando, her perky breasts greeting him without restraint.

Violet writhed beneath him as he buried his head in her cleavage, revelling in her softness. She was opening his belt, unzipping his fly and letting his trousers pool around his feet. When she gripped his erection in her surprisingly strong hand he had to grab hold of the bench behind him before the instant rush of blood from his head caused him to black out. When she knelt and took him in her mouth there were fireworks in the darkness behind his eyelids.

With her hands gripping his hips, his hands pulling her hair, she took him to the edge of oblivion and back time and time again.

‘Come here.’ He urged her up beside him to make this afternoon delight last longer than he was currently anticipating. She kicked off her own jeans and underwear and pressed her naked form against his fevered flesh.

‘You know, we’re not the first people to make out in here. Rumour has it this was the favourite spot for one of the most notorious butlers who worked here. He had a reputation for seducing the kitchen maids and he carved his initials wherever he made his conquests. They’re all over the house. See?’ She traced her finger over a set of initials scratched into the leather-covered bench.

He could see where this was going. ‘You got a penknife on you?’

‘There’s an old kitchen knife on the window sill.’

He hurriedly carved a crude NT into the wooden cabinets on the wall. ‘Now we’re making history too.’

‘There? Really?’

He pulled her over beside him. ‘Well, the randy butler’s already claimed the bench and we’ve done the furniture thing already...’

As much fun as it was marking his territory, he wanted to finish what they’d started. He braced himself against the cupboard doors, caging Violet against the cupboards. His beautiful sex monkey hooked herself around him, permitting their bodies to forge together with ease.

They were so in tune with each other she met his every thrust, kept pace with him until they reached that glorious peak together. Their combined cries of ecstasy were loud enough to wake the dead and Nate was glad they were far enough from the main house to be heard. He didn’t often get carried away in such a fashion where anyone, including his mother, could catch him in flagrante. His reputation was his livelihood but when he was with Violet nothing else seemed to matter. A dangerous game to play in real life but thankfully this was nothing more than a holiday fling, giving them the excuse to take a walk on the wild side for a week or two.

Once they got their breath back and their clothes back on, Violet returned to the scene of the crime to inspect the graffiti.

‘He must’ve had a lot of fun during his time here. I’ve seen these initials in the wine cellar, the laundry room and the stone archway at the back of the house.’ She studied the carving, lost in thought, as though she somehow envied the freedom of a paid servant.

Nate didn’t want her to relate this moment between them to feelings of regret when that was the very thing they were trying to avoid.

‘I reckon we could give the horny butler a run for his money. Let’s set ourselves a challenge to reclaim every nook and cranny where he’s made his mark with one of our own. It shouldn’t be Strachmore subordinates only who get to have all the fun. I think it’s time the lady of the house got to play too.’

This became more like an illicit romance between servant and mistress with every clandestine meeting in the big house. He could live with that as long as they kept treating this as an exciting fling with a definite deadline. There was no better way to do that than to make love in every room of the house, erasing every bad memory associated with the place in the process. It was therapy on an enjoyable level for both parties, ensuring they chased the pain away with lots of pleasure. A way of closing out the past and opening up their hearts for the future. One that couldn’t include each other.

CHAPTER EIGHT

VIOLET DIDN’T KNOW much about BH but he’d certainly been a busy boy and NT had been doing his best to rival him. Of course, they’d been discreet in recording their exploits for posterity, careful not to vandalise valuable historical artefacts, and they’d had fun along the way. In all, these last two weeks exploring, and supposedly renovating, the forgotten rooms at Strachmore had been some of the best days of her life.

Her father was growing stronger every day, thanks to his work with the physiotherapists and Mrs Taylor’s close attention to his diet. Violet had made it clear she’d be returning to her job at the end of the month and that had been sufficient to prompt him into sitting down with her and Nate to discuss the ideas they had to make the estate self-sufficient. He’d eventually agreed in principle to their suggestions and put his signature to the required paperwork for now.

Nate’s cool, calm explanation of the proposed changes and the expected benefits had been a crucial part of negotiations. Having him as a third party helped prevent a lot of the emotional obstacles from getting in the way. In the end her father had even offered to sell a few of the paintings he had in storage so she could hire an events manager and whoever else it took to make this thing work in her absence. She might even come home every now and then, now there were a few more attractions, and a few places still left for NT to conquer.

There hadn’t been a conversation between her and Nate about the possibility of her coming back, or reconnecting if she did. It didn’t seem such a stretch to carry on with what they had going on. She wouldn’t be a permanent fixture in his life, expecting any more than she did now—great sex. It would be a shame to end things completely when they were having such a good time together. Spending more time with Nate would give her something to look forward to other than TV and pizza at the end of the working week.

She watched him now, schmoozing with the wedding party and the photographer in the grounds, and listened in fascination as he recounted her family’s history to the bride and groom. Despite his resistance, he was as much a part of Strachmore as she was. More than ever given their recent antics. She couldn’t imagine coming home and not seeing him here.

He waved her over, not ready to leave his post as today’s host just yet. The bride and groom were his colleagues from the hospital here to use Strachmore as the backdrop for their wedding photographs. It was a favour both to his friends, and Violet. They got free use of the grounds and it was the first step to gently break her father into the idea of sharing his family home with strangers.

Violet watched the newly-weds smiling for the camera capturing their love for eternity. She wanted to be sick.

‘I’d be crying too if I’d been condemned to a life of misery.’ She sidled up to Nate, making sure she was out of earshot of the over-emotional couple now dabbing their eyes and hugging. She didn’t want to ruin their day but marriage had a lot to do with the misery that had surrounded her ancestral home for so long. Her father’s confession of his love for her mother had only served to confuse her views on matrimony further. It had all seemed so black and white when she’d thought her mother’s love for her father had never been reciprocated and had cost her her life. The fear of giving everything and receiving nothing in return had kept Violet from falling into that marriage trap.

Now she knew how much her father had loved her and how lost he was without her, it made her question if refusing to admit your feelings was equally destructive. Apparently once love had you in its clutches it was game over, either way, and no amount of pretending or running could prevent it.

‘Not a fan of the bride, or the groom?’ Nate cocked his head at her as though she were some anomaly of nature for not getting sentimental over the proceedings.

‘Marriage in general. You saw what it did to my family. It’s all flowers and romance now but she’s probably given up all her hopes and dreams to play wifey.’ She clung on to that belief her mother had been the only casualty in the marriage—the only one with feelings to consider. The alternative was to admit both of her parents had been at fault and their marriage had been a partnership rather than a dictatorship, with each of them responsible for their own actions. That idea of free will, even as part of a couple, called into question every excuse Violet had ever made for being on her own.

‘It’s not the eighteen hundreds any more, you know. Women can get married, have children and still work if they choose.’ He was being surprisingly pro-commitment for someone who’d taken great care to make sure they didn’t have one.

Violet’s stomach flip-flopped. Perhaps it was only her he didn’t want around long-term. She hadn’t contemplated having to see him with someone else any time she came home, someone he might want to settle down with.

‘You didn’t strike me as the marrying kind.’ At least not since they were teenage sweethearts when the intensity of his feelings for her, and hers for him, had sent her running.

‘I’m not. It seems to work for some people, though. My parents would be an example of that, I guess. For the record, I have no problem with the honeymoon part. It’s being tied down I take issue with.’ Nate confirmed his place alongside Violet on the dark side, enabling her to breathe a little easier.

‘I don’t know who’s in your little black book but I’m sure you could find someone who isn’t into bondage.’ Not that she was encouraging him to start hooking up with anyone else. She’d prefer he did that when she was long gone. If he really had to.

Nate snorted. ‘That I can handle. It’s this notion that love can solve problems that galls me when, ultimately, it only creates more. All this nonsense is fine for sentimental types whose only aspirations in life are a semi-detached house and two-point-four children but you’re right, some of us have bigger dreams.’

She should’ve been relieved to hear his matrimonial views were in sync with her own but hearing he was as cynical as she was chilled her insides. He was so changed in his views since a teen and she knew she’d been the cause. She must have hurt him more than he ever would admit. Her selfish actions might well have cost him the happy family she’d always thought he’d deserved. The Dempsey curse had struck again.

For a split second she’d zoned out, light-headed and unsteady in her high heels. Her conscience had clearly taken news of his commitment phobia badly, manifesting her guilt physically. They moved with the wedding party through the gardens and she slipped off to take a seat on the carved stone bench under the eucalyptus tree. She stripped a couple of the long blue-green leaves and crushed them in her fingers. The smell of menthol and pine instantly filled the air. She took a deep breath, hoping it would help quell her rolling stomach.

It was coming up to that time of the month too, which probably wasn’t helping this feeling of nausea. She did a quick mental calculation—she’d been here for three weeks, her last period had been before she’d taken time off work... She frowned. That couldn’t be right. She was as regular as clockwork, every four weeks. Her calculations made it more than five. She did another tot-up of the dates. It was still longer than she’d ever gone. It had to be down to the stress.

Another cramp doubled her over, surely a clear sign all was as it should be. What was the alternative? She hadn’t eaten anything other than Mrs Taylor’s nutritious meals, same as her father, so it wasn’t food poisoning. That left one glaring possibility. She couldn’t be pregnant, she just couldn’t.

Nate chose that moment to come and sit beside her. ‘Are you okay? You look a little pale.’

He put his hand on her forehead, her skin suddenly clammy now. Her own health hadn’t been of any significance when her father had been so critical. Now it meant everything. With horror she recalled the fraught night waiting for news of her father and that whole debacle with Nate at the house. Her routine had gone completely out of the window and she’d been a day late taking her pill. In the circumstances she hadn’t thought in a million years she would have to take extra precautions. Sex with Nate had never seemed an option. Her recklessness had apparently come at a price after all.

How would she ever make her escape from Strachmore now if she was pregnant? She didn’t have the support in London needed to look after a baby and work at the same time and she certainly wouldn’t be able to afford childcare on her wages. Nate hadn’t asked for this either, when she’d promised him this would be nothing more than a fling. She couldn’t expect him to take two of them on when he’d made it clear he didn’t even want a plus one. Hell, she didn’t even want one.

Parenthood had never been in her future plans. It had been too much for her mother to cope with and not enough for her to stick around. Violet didn’t want that level of change, or responsibility, causing chaos in the new life she’d made for herself. Her quiet, organised life, where loving anyone except herself was simply out of the question. It was part of the reason she’d been keen to get back to it, knowing she’d be safe from her feelings for Nate there. Now she was in double trouble.

All she could do was throw herself at her father’s mercy now, if the worst had indeed happened, and beg him to take in his pregnant, unmarried daughter. Her life was never going to be the same.

‘I think I’m gonna be sick.’

Nate had tried to go after Violet when she’d taken suddenly ill, but she’d shooed him back to the wedding party, insisting someone should be taking an active role in the day’s events. He’d had no option but to return to the gathered guests when Strachmore’s reputation would soon depend on good word of mouth. Someone had to escort them around the grounds and smile in all the right places. Even if he had been desperate to go check on her.

He’d spent most of his waking moments outside work with her these past weeks, and all of his sleeping ones too. If there was something wrong he wanted to be with her, looking after her the way he always did. He guessed that sense of duty towards the Dempseys was simply born into him. That was the only acceptable explanation for why he cared so much.

Once he’d seen the wedding party off to continue their celebrations elsewhere, he sprinted back to the house. He bounded up the stairs calling her name but she didn’t answer. Eventually he found her in her bedroom, changed out of the dress she’d bought specially for today back into her casual jeans and grey hoodie. She seemed even paler now she’d removed her make-up, looking lost perched on the end of her princess bed. He was sorry he’d left her alone for so long.

When he saw her suitcase lying open on the bed, clothes strewn all around, he went into full panic mode. ‘What’s wrong? Is it that bad? Do you need me to take you to the hospital?’

‘I’m fine. Actually, I’m not. I’m far from it but I don’t need to go to the hospital. I need to go home.’

She wasn’t making any sense and was starting to freak him out.

He knelt on the floor and took her hand. If he’d known she’d react so strongly against the idea of marriage he’d never have suggested bringing his friends here. Her commitment issues were clearly greater than his. In a moment of sentimentality he’d even contemplated how Violet would have looked in a wedding dress. Beautiful and elegant as always, he supposed. If she hadn’t run away, breaking his heart, or he’d been enough for her to contemplate staying, they might have had this one day for themselves. It was a shame their parents’ actions had skewed their view on marriage for ever when people like his co-workers today seemed to find their happiness in it.

‘You don’t need to go anywhere. The condemned couple has left the building. We are officially bridal-party free. If it’s an allergy to weddings you have, perhaps we can go hang out in the divorce courts to counteract the toxins.’ Usually his naff jokes were enough to make her smile, but not today.

‘It’s not that. Thank you for setting that up today,—they really seemed to enjoy it. It’s just...it’s just... I can’t do this.’ She dropped her head into her hands and sobbed her heart out.

This was it—she was going to run again before he was ready to accept it was over. He was supposed to have two more weeks with her. Now she was cutting their time together short he was left with that same sick, empty feeling inside as before. He needed some warning before he was back to his ‘work, eat, sleep’ routine with none of the fun in between and no one to come home to at the end of the day.

‘Do you need me to get you anything?’

‘A pregnancy test?’ Violet gave a forced laugh, but there was nothing funny about it.

‘Don’t joke about something like that.’

‘I’m not. I’m late.’

Nate dropped her hand to steady himself before he fell over. This couldn’t be happening. ‘But you’re on the pill, right?’

‘I think I missed one the night I flew in from London.’ Her grimace sucker-punched him in the gut.

‘You’ve been under a lot of stress too though.’ He slowly got to his feet, still trying to come up with alternative theories. Ones that wouldn’t tie them together for the rest of their days.

‘I’ve been queasy and light-headed today. We both know if there’s a possibility the worst could happen, it will. I should have known things were going too well.’ The tears started again and it was obvious she didn’t want this any more than he did. Neither of them had signed on for parenthood; they hadn’t even been able to commit to each other for longer than a month, for heaven’s sake.

‘We’ll get through this. Somehow.’ The sickness was spreading to him now, his stomach twisting into a tight knot of anxiety.

A baby, their baby, was going to affect so many—him, Violet, his parents, the Earl... Nobody was going to take the news well. Why should they? He’d messed up big style. He should’ve taken extra precautions to prevent this happening, but he’d been too lost in his own desires to consider the consequences. Now he’d ruined Violet’s future, the one she’d worked so hard to ensure didn’t include him.

‘I don’t expect you to take this on. That’s why I’m leaving. This was my mistake. I’ll deal with it on my own.’ She wouldn’t look at him and turned her attention back to throwing her clothes haphazardly into her case.

A vice gripped his heart and squeezed. If there was a baby he wanted to be part of its life, wanted to be included in any decisions concerning their child. He didn’t want Violet to deal with this on her own, regardless of how she did or didn’t feel about him. A child needed two supportive parents to have the best possible start in life. To make sure it wouldn’t ever feel abandoned, as he had when he’d attempted to improve his lot in life.

‘Let’s not jump too far ahead of ourselves. First things first—we get a test.’ If their lives were about to change for ever they should really find out for sure. The delay would also give him a chance to figure out how to get her to stay. Indefinitely.

The sight of Violet packing to leave had crushed him almost as much as finding her room empty had when she’d first gone to London without an explanation. This was much, much worse. That had been puppy love, a childish infatuation. Now he knew how powerful real love was. The kind that was ripping him apart from the inside out at the thought of her leaving again. She was taking an even bigger part of him with her this time. Literally.

This baby might not have been planned but that didn’t mean he didn’t want it or wouldn’t take responsibility for it. All of those steps he’d taken to avoid emotional attachments had led to the biggest one of all—fatherhood. He got chills every time he thought about it. Twelve years ago this would’ve been everything he’d wanted. Violet’s rejection had changed all that, clouded his view on relationships even more. He’d dodged commitment as if it were some deadly disease when all along he’d still been devoted to Violet. She was the only woman he’d ever imagined spending his life with. Still was.

Unfortunately, the last time he’d confessed his feelings for her she’d skipped the country. He doubted ruining her life with an unplanned pregnancy was going to do anything to improve his chances of her loving him back. She’d only just begun making progress with her father and this news could set them back at loggerheads. Nate knew the Earl’s reputation was everything to him and he would never want to sully Violet’s name because of his selfish mistake.

The journey in the car to the chemist for the pregnancy test had given him the space and clarity to decide what to do.

‘Marry me, Violet.’ He loved her. No matter how much he tried to deny it, in the midst of this chaos, the strength of his feelings for her were abundantly clear. Until now he’d refused to admit it and run the risk of repeating the past. Although he’d never be the great love of her life he’d hoped to be, he’d always supported her. He’d always been afraid of marriage but now it seemed the best solution for all three of them. They needed each other.

‘Don’t be stupid.’ A marriage proposal wasn’t helping her dizziness as she glared at Nate and back at the screen. She knew it was a knee-jerk reaction to the reading when he’d told her what an awful idea he thought marriage was only hours ago. He didn’t love her and she doubted he’d even entertained spending the rest of his days with her until they’d sat on the edge of her bed watching the digital screen spell out their future.

Pregnant

2-3

There was no mistaking her symptoms now, the damage apparently done at the beginning of their supposed fun fling. She gave a strangled laugh. It was either see the irony of that or start crying again.

‘I mean it. This baby needs a father and I know how you feel about marriage but you need a husband. Hear me out—’ He put a hand up to stop her as she bristled. ‘It can be in name only, or you know we can keep the physical side going since we’ve both enjoyed it. What I’m saying is, love doesn’t have to enter the equation. I don’t expect it to. But I have a house you and the baby can live in, I can provide for you, and your reputation remains intact.’ He looked so pleased with himself as he shredded her heart into tiny irreparable pieces.

The man she’d apparently never stopped loving, the father of her unborn child, was offering her a marriage of convenience. It somehow seemed worse than the arranged marriages her father had proposed to maintain his social status. Probably because she knew she was in love with Nate and she’d ruined her chances of him ever feeling the same way about her. It was the reason she’d made certain she would leave the country again for London, a place she’d hoped to be able to forget him. Now she would have a permanent reminder.

Nate would always do the right thing, that was who he was, and it was the only reason he would want to marry her. She’d wreaked havoc in his life once too often and it wasn’t fair to lumber him with a wife and child he’d never wanted. Neither did she want to give up her job to fake a happy marriage, following in her mother’s tragic footsteps after all.

In an ideal world her baby would have two doting parents, madly in love with each other, providing the happy, family environment she’d never had. Marrying Nate would simply be perpetuating that myth that money and good name were all that mattered. She would rather raise this baby alone than with a father who was only there out of a sense of duty. The next generation of Dempseys deserved more after the trouble she’d caused to emancipate herself from society rules in the first place.

‘It wouldn’t work, Nate. We’d only end up making each other miserable. Marriage isn’t for us. It’s for people who love each other and are willing to give up everything to be together. Forget about me, forget about the baby, and just pretend I never came back. That this never happened.’

The vertigo was back, her head spinning with snapshots of these weeks they’d spent together and memories of her parents’ tumultuous relationship. Neither of them should have to compromise who they were simply because they’d made a mistake. In her case, it was falling in love with a man who could never love her back after everything she’d done to him.

‘That’s impossible.’ Nate rested his hand gently on her stomach, staking a claim on the life growing inside her.

She slapped it away. It would be easier for him to walk away now before this was about more than a bunch of cells. ‘Not if I’m in a different country. I don’t want you in my life, Nate. That wasn’t the deal.’

She was shaking with nerves as the lie left her lips, hoping he couldn’t see through it, or if he did he’d realise this was her way of letting him off the hook. She wanted Nate in her life more than anything but not through a sense of responsibility. This was her way of trying to protect him, sacrificing her desires again and putting him first before her own needs. No matter how much it hurt.

Violet had taken a sledgehammer to what was left of his heart and pounded it until it was nothing but a big red stain he would never be able to scrub away. He was willing to give himself to her body and soul, something he’d never thought he would do, something he’d never imagined he would want to do. Everything he had worked to achieve seemed to have been building up to this moment and asking Violet to share it with him and their baby. Yet, she still didn’t want him. The house, the job, the car—none of it was enough to convince her to be with him. None of it seemed to matter without her.

‘I know this wasn’t what either of us had planned but I’m simply trying to make the best of the situation.’ He was doing his damnedest not to get too emotional and make her even more skittish than she was. She didn’t respond well to intense personal discussion, as he’d found out to his cost. Her default setting was to run and hide rather than confront the truth; he’d seen it so many times before. She’d disappeared for twelve years after one kiss between them and he knew if she went back this time he’d lose her for ever.

‘I just want you to go, Nate.’ She sounded tired, resigned to life as a single parent already and he was being forced into the role of absent father. He didn’t want to make things even more difficult for Violet than they already were by arguing with her, even though he was dying inside with every push further away. Neither could he, in good conscience, simply walk away after getting her into this condition in the first place.

He wanted to be there as she blossomed during her pregnancy, see their baby on the screen as it happened, not in some grainy printout he’d been sent as an afterthought. That role of a supportive father was important to him. It was something neither of them had really had growing up. Violet’s father had been more concerned with his place in society than her feelings and Nate’s parents’ priority had always been Strachmore.

His childhood hadn’t been carefree either, but an endless round of chores and lectures on being respectful. He’d practically had to make himself invisible so as not to offend the Earl. That wasn’t conducive to making a child feel wanted or loved. More like an unpaid, unappreciated skivvy. Perhaps if they’d both been accepted for who they were by their own families they wouldn’t have the problems they had connecting now.

If Violet didn’t want him in her life there wasn’t much he could do, but he had to at least try to be a part of their child’s. That wasn’t going to work long distance and he was willing to make sacrifices to get her to stay if it prevented their baby becoming another statistic of a broken relationship.

‘I’ll go and I promise not to come back unless you want me to. On the condition you stay at Strachmore until you’re due back at work. I want you to be one hundred per cent sure that this is what you want.’ His feet were blocks of wood, heavy and clumsy, as he reluctantly made his way to the door. He’d thought knowing she was leaving would be easier than finding out after she’d gone. He was wrong. However, whenever it happened, Violet walking out of his life was always going to be the worst thing that would ever happen to him.

‘I am.’ She threw one last knife into his back and killed the last dregs of hope stone dead.

CHAPTER NINE

‘I’M SURE IT won’t be much longer now.’ Violet tried to pacify her father, who’d already picked up and set down the one magazine sitting on the waiting-room table. She understood how difficult it was to manage time when dealing with emotional patients, but she also knew how much of a short fuse her father had when he was kept waiting for an appointment. Especially when grief counselling wasn’t something he was totally on board with.

He checked the clock again and gave a huff but at least nothing had been thrown in the interim. It was progress but she was still tense sitting here in the hospital with him. Her heart picked up the pace again as the thought of bumping into Nate came to mind. It had been over a week since she’d seen him at the house. He’d kept to his word to stay away as she’d known he would, enabling her to spend her last few days at Strachmore trying to figure out her next move.

‘I haven’t seen Nathaniel for a while. Did something happen between you two?’ Her father picked up on the very subject matter making her unhappy.

Although she was glad he’d chosen conversation over berating the staff to fill the time, every time she thought of telling him about the baby her heart fluttered in her chest and she felt as though she might pass out.

‘He’s a busy man and we’ve probably taken up too much of his time at Strachmore.’ She had no wish to take up any more of it by making him pay for her mistake. Whether she stayed at home or went back to London, she had to plan the rest of her life without him in it. The thought alone made her light-headed.

‘I’m not blind, Violet, nor am I stupid. That boy has been in love with you for years and vice versa, unless I’m very much mistaken. He’s hardly been away from Strachmore these past weeks and I doubt that’s solely because of me. Now, he’s suddenly incommunicado. Something clearly happened between the two of you and, whatever it is, I don’t want it to affect your decisions about coming home in the future. I know I drove you away in the past but I really want you to at least visit.’

It was a huge step for him to admit his past behaviour towards her and let her know he wanted her to be part of his life again but, oh, how she wished he were right about Nate’s feelings for her. He might have been in love with her when they were kids but time and distance, not to mention her actions, had changed that. She fidgeted with the sleeve of her shirt, knowing she in turn should be honest with him, regardless of how petrified she was at the prospect of having to tell him she was pregnant. He might have mellowed slightly since his heart attack and subsequent procedures but that didn’t mean his principles had changed.

The Earl’s daughter was pregnant by the son of the housekeeper and it didn’t get much more scandalous than that when it came to society gossip. This would be a real test of his priorities but she couldn’t put it off much longer. Her condition would soon become apparent if she did come back in the future. It wouldn’t be fair on her father to disappear again without telling him why.

She took a deep breath. And another. ‘I’m pregnant.’

She braced herself for the backlash—shouting, screaming, crashing furniture—all of his typical reactions to such news would be justified this time. Most of them she’d done herself since sending Nate away.

‘And he’s not stepping up to his responsibilities?’ Only when he’d jumped to the wrong conclusion did his face take on that red hue of impending rage.

‘No. It’s not that...he even offered to marry me.’ She was quick to defend Nate; he’d done everything right. Except love her.

‘What’s the problem, then?’

‘I don’t want to get married because it’s the right thing to do. I’m sorry, but I’d rather be on my own than in a cold marriage put on for appearances’ sake.’ Her reasons for turning Nate down might seem a tad insensitive in light of the present situation but it was the truth. Perhaps if there’d been a bit more of that between her parents, or between her and Nate, things could’ve turned out much differently. If she’d been honest with him about the strength of her feelings for him in the first place they might’ve actually stood a chance together.

Her father’s frown turned into a half-smile. ‘Marriage always was your sticking point. That doesn’t mean you can’t still be together. Times have changed, so you keep telling me.’

She was surprised he’d paid any heed to her word against that of his ingrained sense of tradition. An illegitimate child would have devastated him not so long ago but he was clearly working hard on keeping their relationship alive.

‘I can’t be with someone who doesn’t love me. It wouldn’t be fair on me, or the baby.’ She rubbed her hand over her still flat-belly, wishing only happiness for the life growing inside her.

‘I don’t believe that for one minute. Only a man in love would put up with your irritable father and do everything he has to secure Strachmore’s future. I think it’s you who doesn’t want to commit.’

‘Well, he’s never said it,’ she huffed, upset at the accusation she was the one at fault here. As far as she was concerned she’d done everything right to ensure Nate had been treated fairly. Not many women would’ve given him the green light to walk away. Especially when they were head over heels about him and carrying his child.

‘Have you? You know, if I could change things I’d make sure your mother and I had really talked about how we felt. I’d make damn sure I listened. Don’t throw something special away because you’re scared to face the truth. You’ll spend the rest of your life regretting it.’ His teary blue eyes were a reflection of her own but she feared they’d both left it too late. She’d pushed Nate away, said some horrible things to ensure he’d stay out of her life. Unfortunately, given his silence since, she seemed to have succeeded in her quest.

‘You’re not mad at me? About the baby?’ She was going to need at least one person to be there holding her hand when this bundle of trouble arrived and turned everything upside down. If she had her father’s support it would ease some of her stress and help her enjoy this pregnancy more. So far it had been all tension and sickness and she was still waiting for the so-called blossoming to start.

He sighed.

‘It’s not what I wanted for you but it’s not the end of the world. I just want you to be happy.’ He reached over and gave her hand a squeeze, the only loving gesture she could ever remember getting from him. She cursed her hormones as the tears tipped over the edge of her lashes. She wasn’t sure she’d ever be truly happy again.

‘Lord Dempsey?’ The receptionist called him for his appointment, drawing them both out of their heart-to-heart and on their feet.

‘Whoa.’ Violet had to sit down again as all the blood in her body seemed to rush to her head at once.

The receptionist rushed over to check on her. ‘Are you all right?’

‘She’s pregnant,’ her father answered for her, rubbing her back, already playing the role of protective grandfather.

‘Just a little dizzy. My heart’s racing a little but that’s been happening a lot recently.’ She didn’t want to make a fuss and somehow have Nate get wind of it, but she was a bit breathless and seriously feeling as if she was about to faint.

‘At least you’re in the right place. I’ll put in a call and get them to check you out in A and E.’

Violet could only nod as she struggled to stay conscious.

It wasn’t long before she found herself stretched out on a bed with electrodes stuck all over her body, hooked up to an ECG machine. They’d gone over her medical history, and taken blood samples. She didn’t know what they were expecting to find but the longer she lay here worrying what was happening, the faster her heart rate seemed to get. It was beating so hard she could easily have just finished running a marathon rather than simply have had an intense conversation with her father. She rested her hands on her invisible bump. It was still early days into her pregnancy and she was trying not to freak out about the fact she was already in hospital.

The doctor studied the printout of her test with a frown, which wasn’t helping her relax at all. ‘Your heart rate is higher than we would like. At the minute it’s beating so fast the heart muscle can’t relax between contractions and the lack of oxygen is what’s causing the dizzy spells.’

‘Will it harm the baby?’ That was all that mattered right now. She mightn’t have planned on this baby but neither did she want anything to happen to it. It was all she had left of Nate now.

He shook his head. ‘There’s nothing to worry about. We do want to send you to CCU, though, so they can keep a close eye on you during treatment.’

If she didn’t laugh at the irony she’d cry. It was the one department in the building she was virtually guaranteed to see the man she’d been trying to avoid. There was no way her baby daddy was going to remain a silent partner once she and junior rocked up on his turf. He was going to have plenty to say about looking after herself and his child. Fate was going to make sure they had one last showdown before she left for London this time.

London. It had been her salvation, her road to independence, but now going back to her empty apartment felt like a punishment for her mistake. She had family here, and friends. And Nate. All she had in London was her job. She’d been so busy building walls to protect her heart she’d isolated herself emotionally and physically from anyone who’d tried to get close. It wasn’t the ideal set-up for a woman raising a child on her own. What if there were any more complications during the pregnancy? She had no one to lean on there because that was the way she’d wanted it. Impending motherhood had since changed her views on complete independence.

These past weeks had reminded her how good it felt to have companionship, to be loved, to be in love. Even having her father waiting patiently outside for news she and the baby were safe was a turning point in their relationship, an insight into the family life she could have had here. Returning to a one-bedroom flat, pregnant and broken-hearted, wasn’t something she was looking forward to. She was going to miss Strachmore and everyone associated with it.

Nate was on his way to do the rounds on the coronary care unit, having just finished fitting a pacemaker for one of his patients. It was best to keep busy to stop him from running up to Strachmore to see if Violet was still there. He’d given her his word he wouldn’t go near her to give her space to think, but the distinct lack of communication indicated his plan to get her to stick around had backfired. As she’d told him in no uncertain terms, she didn’t want, or need, him in her life. He didn’t even know if she was still in the country.

This time he wasn’t simply going to accept her decision. He would follow her to London if it meant he could at least see their child grow and flourish. Without Violet and the baby here he wasn’t sure what was keeping him here anyway. The house he’d been so proud of owning now seemed too big for a single man, too empty. The rooms should be full of toys and plans for the future, not a reminder of everything he’d lost. He didn’t know how he was ever going to get over her this time, knowing what they could have...should have had together. Too bad his peasant status had let him down again. It was a stigma he would never be able to overcome to become worthy of the Earl’s daughter. Or perhaps he’d simply have to face the fact that she’d never loved him anyway and he’d been the one using his upbringing as an excuse. Either way she didn’t want him, and he was lost without her.

If only it were as easy to fix his broken heart as those of his patients. He’d gladly volunteer as a guinea pig for any new research looking into replacing emotionally battered hearts if it meant an end to this misery. He hadn’t even been able to share the pain of losing the woman he loved and his baby when no one had known they’d existed, including his family. This was only supposed to have been a meaningless fling; there’d been no reason to broadcast the fact they were together. He’d had no way of knowing this would change him for ever. Somehow he was going to have to break the news to his parents they were soon to become grandparents and they might never see their first, and possibly only, grandchild.

Thoughts of Violet and the baby had tormented him for days; he’d been wondering if some day another man would take over his role as husband and father. He knew without doubt he could never replace what he’d lost, but that didn’t mean Violet wouldn’t love someone else, someone acceptable. If she didn’t relent about seeing him again to at least discuss future arrangements, he might have to move away too. He didn’t think he could face Strachmore again or hearing any stories coming out of it. He’d been here before, knew the pain he’d go through to come out the other side and the only thing to get him through was hard work.

In fact he was obsessing over his personal life so much it was encroaching on his professional one. He would’ve sworn he’d seen the Earl walk past when the CCU doors had flashed open at the end of the corridor. Impossible. He would’ve known if his patient had been readmitted. Still, it would put his mind at rest to check with the senior nurse in charge.

‘Has Samuel Dempsey been admitted again, by any chance?’

‘No, but he’s here with his daughter. She came in yesterday.’

‘What? Why didn’t anyone tell me?’ In the fearful haze clouding his brain he’d forgotten this had been a secret affair. His colleagues had no idea this woman in jeopardy was everything to him.

The nurse frowned. ‘She said she didn’t want us to contact anyone. We’ve put her in Room One—’

Nate didn’t wait to hear any more. He was already haring off to find Violet, regardless of whether she wanted to see him or not. People weren’t admitted to CCU on a whim, especially pregnant women. If Violet, or the baby, were in danger he was going to be there for them regardless of her objections.

He burst into the side room and, while he was glad to see her again, the sight of her lying in the hospital bed, small and pale, was almost his undoing. The heart monitors that were part of his everyday job now took on a sinister new meaning as they charted her progress.

‘Nate!’

Perhaps he should have given her some warning before crashing in here as he watched her heart rate spike on the screen. He reached for her charts to find out exactly what was going on. ‘Are you and the baby okay?’

‘We’re fine. I didn’t sleep very well last night so they moved me in here for a little more peace and quiet.’ Despite the circumstances and how they’d left things the last time they’d seen each other, she actually looked pleased to see him.

‘Why didn’t you phone me?’ He directed his question at her father, sitting by the bedside, not a figment of his imagination at all. It was more of an accusation that he’d been purposely kept out of the loop. Probably by the man who’d made it his life’s work to interfere in hers. So much for the new leaf they’d supposed he’d turned over.

‘I told him not to. I’ve caused you enough grief over the years. It’s not fair to keep involving you in my problems.’ Violet’s admission saved him from beginning a new battle with her father even though it was completely without foundation. He’d never backed away when she’d needed him.

‘Why not? This is my baby too. I want to be involved.’ A second too late he realised he’d blown the big secret. She might not have wanted her father to know her predicament before she’d gone back to London and now Nate would have his reaction on his conscience too.

‘As I told her you should be. Now, I think it’s about time you two had a serious talk about your future, about this baby.’ The Earl’s lack of punch-throwing and willingness to walk out of the room, leaving him alone with his daughter, led Nate to believe Violet had already broken the news of the addition to the family.

‘You told him?’

‘I didn’t think I’d be able to hide it much longer. He took it better than I could ever have dreamed of.’

‘Clearly. I’m still standing.’ It would’ve been a different story twelve years ago, pre medical school, if he’d knocked up the Earl’s daughter. The long road to cardiology had been worth it to be accepted on some level, if not as part of the family.

‘Actually, he didn’t seem that surprised. I guess we weren’t as discreet as we thought we’d been.’ That twinkle in her eye took Nate back to a time and a place he was already having trouble letting go of.

‘Okay. Let’s see what we have here.’ He resisted running over and kissing her when he knew for sure she wasn’t in immediate danger. It might be pushing his luck too far.

SVT, supraventricular tachycardia, was something he’d had plenty of experience with in his patients, including pregnant women. The complications that could arise were often due to the presence of heart disease, a cause for concern given her father’s recent history. Thankfully her ultrasounds and ECGs had ruled this out. She had, however, been admitted with a very high tachycardia rate, reaching between one hundred and eighty and two hundred and forty beats per minute.

‘I’m fine, honestly.’ Violet tried to convince him there was no need for him to worry, or be here, but he could see her arrhythmia had not yet abated.

‘We still need to get that heart rate stable again before you leave.’ There was no way she was going home until he knew all was well. A beta blocker had already been administered to no avail. There was always a small chance the administered drugs could cross the placental barrier so it wasn’t something he wanted for her long term when there were no obvious benefits in her case. The alternative wasn’t something he relished for the mother of his unborn child either.

‘They said they might have to take me to Theatre?’ There was a slight tremor in her voice belying her nerves even though she was insisting on her indestructability.

Since she hadn’t bawled at him to get out of the room he dared to get closer to the bedside. ‘If your heart rate doesn’t regulate they are planning electrical cardioversion. Essentially this will be delivering a mild electric shock to jolt the heart back into a normal rhythm.’

‘The same thing you did to Dad?’

‘Something similar. Except without the drama. And you’re a much prettier patient.’ He couldn’t stop himself from reaching out and stroking her hair back from her forehead. This could be the last time he’d see her if she chose life in London alone over one with him. The last chance he had to tell her how he really felt in the hope it could somehow make a difference.

She closed her eyes. ‘Nate—’

‘You scared me, you know. When they told me you were here I nearly flipped my lid. I know you don’t want to hear it but I want to marry you. I want to raise our baby together. I don’t want to find out what’s happening to you via a third party.’ There were eight months left of this pregnancy, never mind the next eighteen years of their baby’s life.

‘I appreciate the sentiment but a marriage of convenience isn’t what I want. It never has been. Forcing you to marry someone you don’t love makes me no better than my father when he was trying to pair me off for the greater good. I don’t expect you to make compromises in your life to suit me, nor am I willing to do that for anyone. I saw what that did to my mother.’

‘I’m not asking you to make compromises. I’m simply asking you to be with me. And what’s this nonsense about not loving you? I’ve loved you since our private prom night in the boathouse and I doubt I’ll ever stop loving you. You’re the one who keeps running out on me.’ He wasn’t about to take responsibility for her fleeing the country again when he was the one trying to get her to stay. If she was insisting on leaving because the thought of being with him was so abhorrent, he wanted to hear her say it. It was the only way he was ever going to be able to accept it.

‘But...but...you made it sound as though you felt an obligation to marry me. You never mentioned the L word.’ Violet held her breath, the impact of what he was saying too great to comprehend in her current state. He was basically killing her argument for getting on a plane back to London stone dead.

‘The last time I did that you disappeared for over a decade. I was trying to prevent another vanishing-woman act. Listen, I know I didn’t measure up then and no amount of certificates will make me a qualified member of the aristocracy, but I will look after you and our child. I don’t want you to change. I’m not asking anything from you except to give us a chance.’

She thought her heart was going to burst through her chest, it felt so full. Nate loved her; even after everything, he loved her.

‘I was scared, that’s why I left the first time, why I was leaving now. I thought it was best for you. I watched my parents’ love turn to hate with the pressures of society. I didn’t want that for you, or us. The strength of my feelings for you was never in question but I didn’t want it to be at the cost of anyone’s freedom. You didn’t sign up for a baby, or a grumpy Earl, or a run-down country estate.’ It said a lot that he was still here now she’d reminded him of all the baggage she was lugging with her.

Nate sat on the edge of the bed and took her hand in his. ‘I love you. Everything else we can deal with.’

She didn’t think she’d ever get tired of hearing him say those words. ‘You mean it?’

‘I mean every word. I want to marry you because I love you. A baby is just the icing on the cake. I’ll move to London with you, leave my job and be a stay-at-home dad, whatever it takes for us to be together because that’s what I want more than anything else in the world.’ He leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on her lips.

As soon as he touched her the tension left her body, a sense of peace finally descending and releasing her from the burdens of the past. This was everything she’d been waiting for.

After a long, satisfying smooch, Nate got up from the bed. ‘I don’t believe it.’

‘What?’

He was staring at the heart monitor and she automatically feared the worst. No matter who tried to reassure her, having electrodes stuck to her body to conduct electricity to her organs wasn’t how a first-time mum wanted to begin her pregnancy. She’d take morning sickness or a craving for pickles over that scenario any day.

‘Your heart rate is stabilising on its own.’

Violet followed his gaze. Sure enough the figures were dropping, evening out to where they were supposed to be. Finding Nate actually wanted to marry her had been enough to shock her heart into working properly again. Although, she might have to insist he keep his distance for a while longer. If he kept kissing her and things got steamy there was every chance he’d send her pulse sky-high again.

‘In that case I guess we can start making plans for the future. We’ve got a baby to think about.’

She didn’t want to spend any more time looking back. Not when she had so much to look forward to. Her life was going to change for ever, probably bring more challenges along the way, but with Nate at her side she knew she could face them head-on.

After all, one kiss from him had been enough to heal her heart.

EPILOGUE

VIOLET WATCHED FROM her bedroom window as the wedding guests filed around the side of the house to the Victorian conservatory. This was it, the day she’d fought against for most of her life in the very place she’d run from as a teenager and she couldn’t have been happier. In less than an hour’s time she’d be marrying Nate.

With Strachmore now fully licensed to hold weddings, it seemed fitting that theirs would be the first. They’d agreed upon a small affair with only close family and friends in attendance, simple and discreet with none of the palaver she’d always associated with society weddings. Today was about celebrating their love and nothing else. Everything was perfect.

She stroked her small baby bump concealed under her white lace bridal gown. It wouldn’t be long before the three of them would become a family. The past four months had been a whirlwind of activity. After a great deal of thought she’d decided she wanted to move back to Northern Ireland, with both families nearby when the baby arrived. Nate had gone with her back to London to help her pack her things for moving in with him while she worked out her notice. With all of their pre-planning she hoped the rest of her pregnancy was going to be more relaxing.

Once the baby was born she would go back to work at a local level and share the childminding with Nate and the excited grandparents anxiously awaiting the new arrival. Everything was slotting into place. She just wished she had her mother here to share it.

A knock on the door interrupted her maudlin thoughts before they could fully develop and taint the happiest day of her life.

‘I just wanted to see how my beautiful bride was holding up.’ Nate, devastatingly handsome in his wedding tuxedo, stepped into the room and immediately lifted her spirits again. She couldn’t help but wonder if he wore one of those mood rings she’d had as a kid, which had some way of telling him when she needed him most.

‘I’m fine, but isn’t it bad luck for us to see each other before the wedding?’ She really didn’t want to tempt fate when it had taken so long for them to reach this point.

‘I thought we’d broken free of tradition and superstition by now? These days we make our own luck.’ He crossed the room in three strides to reach her and slip his hands around her waist. It was all she needed to feel complete again.

‘You’re right. I’m sure there’s a million women out there who’d want to swap places with me at this moment.’ She was the luckiest woman alive to be marrying this man today and she wasn’t going to let any imagined curses get in the way of that a second time.

‘Have I told you how stunning you are yet? I have to keep pinching myself as a reminder that this is actually happening.’ He deflected her comment with one of his own, standing back to admire her vintage-style dress.

‘This is actually happening. We’re minutes away from taking our vows in front of all those people out there.’ The nerves started to creep back in at the thought of leaving this lovely cosy cocoon with Nate and proclaiming their love in public.

‘Well, we’ve got a little while yet...’ He had that twinkle in his eye that said NT wanted to make his mark one last time as a single man.

‘Do you know how long it took for me to squeeze into this dress? There’s no way I’m taking it off again.’ The knowledge he still found her irresistible despite her changing body was enough to send shivers of need skating across her skin and make her want to fast forward to their wedding night.

‘Who said anything about getting you naked? Honestly, the way your hormones are raging I’m wondering if I’m going to make it back from the honeymoon alive.’ His fake outrage widened Violet’s smile even further. She couldn’t promise him that when they were going to spend the next two weeks alone on a tropical island. They were still making up for lost time.

‘So if you’re not going to seduce me, what are you doing in my bedroom, Mr Taylor?’

‘I have a present for you, soon-to-be Mrs Taylor.’ Nate reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet jewellery box. He opened it to reveal a delicate silver necklace.

‘It’s beautiful.’ Violet fingered the tiny diamond-encrusted entwined seahorses dangling from the end of the chain he was now fastening around her neck. She’d taken off her bracelet today and had felt naked without it, as if a piece of her were missing.

‘I’m afraid I couldn’t get your mother’s necklace back for you, but I thought you could do with an upgrade from my last gift of jewellery.’

‘Thank you.’ She knew this was his way of marking the start of their new life together and fading out the past.

‘I thought we could have our first dance here too. Without anyone else.’ He placed her hands around his neck and took her in his arms. She closed her eyes and relaxed into his embrace, remembering their faux prom where they’d danced in secret and fallen in love for the first time. Nate was all she’d ever needed.

As they held each other tight, their bodies swaying together with nothing but the beat of their hearts keeping time, Violet knew there was nowhere else she’d rather be. She’d finally come home.

Tempted by the Movie Star

In the Cowboy’s Arms

Vicki Lewis Thompson

Hollywood Baby Affair

Anna DePalo

The Mysterious Italian Houseguest

Scarlet Wilson

www.millsandboon.co.uk

In the Cowboy’s Arms

Vicki Lewis Thompson

To Mills & Boon authors everywhere—

In an uncertain world, our stories have given

pleasure, lightened burdens and changed lives.

We rock.

Chapter One

Broad-shouldered, lean-hipped men with square jaws and captivating eyes were a dime a dozen in Hollywood. After spending all twenty-seven years of her life in Tinseltown, Geena Lysander wasn’t easily impressed. It was a testament to the beauty of Matt Forrest that her glasses fogged up whenever he walked into her office.

He was also a decent guy, and she didn’t often come across someone who was both ethical and gorgeous. She’d been strongly attracted to him ever since they’d started working together six months ago. Several times she’d caught a flash of heat in his gaze that indicated he had feelings for her, too.

Once she’d thought he’d been ready to ask her out. When he hadn’t, she’d decided it was for the best, considering their professional relationship. But that hadn’t stopped her from wanting to kiss him, especially when he flashed one of his megawatt smiles.

Judging from the grim set of his mouth, he wouldn’t be doing that today. Usually he came in wearing his signature hat, a chocolate-brown Stetson with a turquoise-studded hatband. He favored snug T-shirts, faded jeans and scuffed cowboy boots.

Not this morning. Instead, he’d pulled a generic baseball cap over his thick dark hair and covered his baby blues with aviator shades. He hadn’t bothered to shave. She’d never seen that beat-up denim jacket before, either, and he’d turned the collar up even though it was seventy degrees outside. The jeans and the boots were the same, though.

Giving her glasses a quick polish, she smiled, then she put them back on and stood. “Hey.”

“Ma’am.” He touched the brim of his cap in greeting, but he didn’t smile back.

If he’d intended to create a disguise, he’d failed. The paparazzi were experts at spotting celebrities trying to look like street people. And Matt, bless his heart, would look hot as sin no matter what he wore. “Any troubles on the way over?”

He shook his head. “Stayed with a buddy last night, which seems to have thrown them off the trail temporarily. Figured they might be watching my apartment building.”

“I can send someone to check that out.”

“I appreciate it, but I plan to avoid my place for a while so don’t go to any extra trouble.” Still no smile, and Matt was the kind of guy who looked for the humor in a situation.

She’d always cherished that about him and hated seeing him so down. He might have exercised poor judgment yesterday, but she understood how that could happen with a costar like Briana Danvers. He was so new at the game. One big-budget movie in the can and another scheduled to start shooting next month meant he was on his way, but he was bound to make a few rookie mistakes in the process.

That’s what PR reps like her were for—to repair those little whoopsies.

He took off his shades and stared at her, his gaze bleak. “What now?”

“We’ll work through it.” As she sat down, she gestured to the chair in front of her desk. “Have a seat.”

“Thank you.” He lowered his muscular body onto the leather upholstery with a sigh.

“Heard anything from Harvey?” She wasn’t crazy about Matt’s agent, who headed up a big firm and always seemed to be unavailable or out of the country. But the guy had negotiated the original movie deal and Matt had been signed for another potential blockbuster that would begin filming in a few weeks, so Harvey was getting his client work. That was the bottom line.

“He texted me. Said I should relax, that it would all blow over.”

“He’s probably right.”

“I hope he is, but this has really thrown me for a loop.”

“I’m sure it has.” And she was determined to help him sort it out, since Harvey had obviously dismissed the issue.

Pulling off his cap, Matt tunneled his fingers through his hair. “I never expected Briana to behave like that or say those things about me.” The words were laced with pain.

Geena wondered if she should have seen this train wreck coming and warned him. Briana was seductive, both onscreen and off. The poor guy had probably become lost in the fantasy. “It’s easy to develop feelings for a costar. You wouldn’t be the first and you won’t be the last.”

“That’s just it. I knew I couldn’t let anything happen.” He sat forward in his chair, his expression tense. “First of all, she’s married, and second, her husband is Clifton effing Wallace, everyone’s favorite, including my mom’s. And mine, actually. He reminds me so much of the Duke.”

High praise from Matt. Early on he’d told her that he knew all of John Wayne’s movies by heart and repeatedly watched them for inspiration. “It’s not the end of the world, Matt. Don’t beat yourself up for being human.”

“No, ma’am, I’m not.” The chair squeaked as he leaned back and gazed at the ceiling. “I’m beating myself up for being stupid. A complete idiot.”

Her heart went out to him. Had they not been separated by her desk, she would have squeezed his arm or given him a hug. Then she caught herself imagining that potential hug in far too much detail.

She cleared her throat. “It’ll be okay.”

“Eventually, I guess.” He met her gaze. “I’m sure Harvey has a point. But being called a home wrecker is humiliating. I can take it, but I hate that my folks will have to hear such things.”

“They’re in Wyoming, right?”

“Yes, ma’am. But they’ll have to face their friends and neighbors, and Sheridan’s a fairly small town. They’ve been so proud of me...” His voice trailed off.

“Like I said, we’ll handle it. The key is to appear contrite and apologetic. Then I can set you up with some visually appealing charity work, like organizing a benefit for a local animal rescue organization. Fans will overlook this, especially if you seem sufficiently remorseful.”

He went very still. “Surely you don’t believe I hit on her.”

“What I think doesn’t matter. The media is running a picture of you kissing her outside a café in Burbank. We need to—”

“I didn’t kiss her.”

“But—”

“She kissed me.”

Judging from the mutual lip-lock Geena had seen in the picture, it was all semantics. “The specific details aren’t important. To be honest, getting labeled as a bad boy isn’t the worst thing that could happen, especially if we demonstrate that you regret your behavior. Up to now, I’ve promoted you as Hollywood’s fresh new face, a handsome guy with a squeaky clean rep. But fans may like discovering you’re not perfect.”

His blue eyes lost all expression. “So you think I forced my attentions on Briana.”

She would love to believe that he hadn’t at least invited that kiss, even if he hadn’t initiated it. The pictures were pretty damning. She understood why he wanted to put a different spin on the encounter, but that strategy could backfire into a he-said-she-said nightmare. “It makes no difference who started it. If we jump on the story right away we can take control of the narrative before it gets blown out of proportion.”

“I see.”

His icy tone made her blink. One glance at his face told her that a wall had gone up. She’d seen that protective shield a couple of times before and had thought the device would serve him well in a brutal business. But employing it against her was counterproductive. “Matt, listen. We can—”

“Sorry, ma’am.” He stood and put on his hat and shades. “But I’m outta here.”

“Wait!” She leaped up. “You can’t leave now. It’ll look like you’re running away.”

“That’s fine with me.” He turned toward the door.

“Where are you going?”

“Home.”

The minute Matt stepped out on the sidewalk they were on him with their cameras, mikes and invasive questions. Must be a slow news day if someone had tracked him over here. Too bad he hadn’t called a cab. None were in sight, either.

He shouldered his way through what felt like a mob, but was only five or six reporters, and sprinted toward the nearest bus stop. Three years of running all over town auditioning for commercials had forced him to memorize the public transportation system. There was a bus stop a couple of blocks from here. Thanks to a rigorous training schedule, he was in shape.

He outran the paparazzi and caught the bus right before it pulled away from the curb. After paying the fare he sank gratefully into a seat. Adrenaline plus the blast of A/C made him shiver as he ran through his options.

Going back to his apartment wouldn’t work. Even if he made it inside without being accosted, he’d be a virtual prisoner in there until this thing died down. He believed it would. That was what he’d expected Geena to say.

She was a super-smart lady. A little nerdy, but he liked that about her. Tall and slender, she dressed in conservative suits and wore her brown hair up in an arrangement on top of her head. She had a sexy librarian thing going on that had fascinated him from the get-go.

When she was thinking real hard she took off her glasses and stuck them in her hairdo. He’d envisioned her thinking hard about this mess and coming up with a plan that included hustling him out the back entrance of the building. Then she’d hire a car to spirit him away to some remote cabin in the mountains for a week or so.

He’d even fantasized that she’d take time off and go with him. They could strategize how to deal with this and...yeah, get cozy in the cabin. He’d allowed his brain to come up with an intimate scenario that would never happen, but it had been fun to think about.

Instead, she wanted him to publicly apologize for something he hadn’t done and then become proactive by supporting animal rescue. He loved helping a good cause, and animal rescue was dear to his heart. His foster father had devoted his life to a well-respected practice as a large-animal vet.

But Matt balked at using homeless animals as a publicity stunt to prove he was a nice guy. Her plan sucked, but that wasn’t the worst part. The real kicker was realizing that Geena believed he’d done what Briana had accused him of.

He felt like ending the relationship with her PR company ASAP, but that was a knee-jerk reaction. He’d give himself time to think about it before doing anything drastic. Aside from being attracted to her, he also liked her and admired that she’d built the company herself. She looked too young to be the head of the firm, and once he’d asked her how old she was. Turned out she was twenty-seven, same as him.

Being near her gave him a buzz, no question, and he’d caught her giving him the eye, too.

He’d debated asking her to dinner to see what might happen. He’d come close to doing it once, but he wasn’t sure if asking his PR rep for a date would be an unprofessional move. Making that call wasn’t easy in an industry where the lines seemed to blur, but in the end he’d decided to err on the side of caution.

When it came to Briana Danvers, though, his thoughts had been crystal clear. During the filming of Preston’s Revenge she’d kissed him like she meant it, but he’d never for one second contemplated making a move in private, let alone in a public setting. If Geena thought he had, then she’d seriously misjudged him.

Being blamed for something he didn’t do was a hot button. His mom used to do it all the time. Thanks to some counseling, now he could handle the issue if he didn’t respect the person doing the judging. But he respected Geena and it bothered him that she thought he could have made a move on Cliff Wallace’s wife.

So much for his fantasy of spending a few days in a cabin with her. If she wouldn’t help him get the hell out of Dodge, he’d take care of it himself. When he’d told her he was going home, he’d meant Thunder Mountain Ranch where his foster parents lived. They’d saved his bacon when his mom had left him years ago, and ever since then he’d considered them his true family along with his foster brothers.

Rosie and Herb Padgett had been a godsend for many boys caught between a rock and a hard place. But these days, instead of taking in foster kids, they’d opened a residential equine academy for older teens. Much as he wanted to go home, showing up when classes were in session was inconsiderate, especially now that he was a hot item in the scandal sheets.

He used to wonder if he’d ever be famous enough to appear on the cover of the magazines in racks at the grocery store. Thanks to Briana, now he was. They’d plastered that picture everywhere, and one tabloid had dredged up a stock photo of Cliff looking outraged. It’d implied that had been Cliff’s reaction. Probably had been, and Matt hated that.

If he could hide out at the ranch for a few days, he wouldn’t have to keep seeing those tabloids. A quick check of the Thunder Mountain Academy site on his phone brought good news. The spring session had ended two days ago and summer classes wouldn’t start for another week. That meant everyone would be busy preparing the cabins and the rec hall for the next batch of kids.

He could help with that, but first he had to get on a plane. He hadn’t paid attention to what bus he’d used to escape the reporters, but this one wouldn’t take him to the airport. A few transfers would confuse his pursuers if he still had any, and he could make plane reservations on the way.

His tickets, one to Denver and a separate one on a commuter to the Sheridan County Airport, cost a ridiculous amount. Then again, he was making a ridiculous amount, enough for first class on the LA to Denver leg. He’d considered that briefly, because he didn’t fit comfortably in coach, but flying up front would only draw more attention.

Besides, he hated spending money on something so transitory as a bigger seat on the plane. He preferred investing in more permanent pleasures. He’d sunk a good portion of his earnings into a fixer-upper ranch not far from Thunder Mountain. He’d bought it sight unseen as a sanctuary from the craziness of LA, not knowing just how crazy things could get.

Rosie and Herb had checked out the place before he’d signed the papers and they’d assured him it would be beautiful once he gave it some TLC. Although he wouldn’t have much time to do that on this trip, he couldn’t wait to see it.

Too bad he had to be back in LA so soon, but some publicity gigs for Preston’s Revenge were scheduled next week, and after that he’d start shooting the new movie. He hoped to God Briana had settled down by the time they had to make a joint appearance. If not, those events would be awkward as hell.

After the relative tranquility of the bus ride, he stepped into the chaos of LAX with trepidation. He scanned the crowd for reporters and then decided he was being paranoid. He wasn’t a big enough deal for them to stake out the airport. No one paid attention to him until he had to hand over his driver’s license going through security.

The woman’s eyes widened. “Aren’t you—”

“Yes, ma’am. Please don’t react.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, honey.” She gave him a smile and stamped his boarding pass.

Okay, so maybe not everyone in the world thought he was a scumbag who’d tried to steal Cliff Wallace’s wife. In the gate area he spotted several people reading the tabloid that had caused the most commotion because the headline screamed HOME WRECKER in large type. He kept his head down and hoped for the best. A couple of teenage girls snapped some pictures, but he could certainly live with that. Even if they posted them online, the paparazzi couldn’t get to him here.

He checked his phone and saw several texts from Geena, although she hadn’t tried to call him. He appreciated that. He texted back that he was on his way to Sheridan and would be out of touch for a week or so.

Then it occurred to him he should let Rosie know he was coming. In all the chaos he’d forgotten to do that. She was somewhat psychic, but figuring out he was flying home today might be beyond her powers. He sought out an area that was slightly less noisy and called her.

She answered immediately. “You’ve been on my mind all morning. How are you, son?”

Her caring voice almost made him lose it. No scolding, no exclamations of horror, no tears. She only wanted to know that he was okay. “I’m fine, Mom. I’m coming home for a few days, if that’s okay.”

“Of course it’s okay! When will you be here?”

He checked his arrival time. “I have a long layover in Denver so I won’t make it for dinner. Looks like I’ll land about nine or so tonight.”

“Cade and Lexi will pick you up.”

“Great. Can’t wait to see them.” His foster brother Cade Gallagher had moved back from Colorado two years ago and reunited with his high school sweetheart, Lexi Simmons. They’d both worked hard to make Thunder Mountain Academy a reality.

“The truck’s new, so look for the academy logo on the door. Oh, Matt, I’m so glad you’re coming home. I feel the need to see you.”

“I feel the need to see you, too.” He swallowed a sudden lump in his throat. “Gotta go. We’re about to load.”

He disconnected and stared at the floor while he pulled himself together. Six months ago he’d called Rosie with the life-changing news that he’d been given the male lead in his first big-budget film. She’d whooped and hollered for a good five minutes before she’d been able to speak rationally.

What a beautiful moment that had been. He’d cherished the idea that she could brag to her friends about her son the movie star. He’d loved giving her something special to celebrate after all she and Herb had done for him. And now that shiny moment had been tarnished.

At least his folks were in Wyoming, far from the ugliness. He never wanted it to touch them. Their privacy meant everything to him and he’d protect it at all costs.

Chapter Two

Matt had no trouble spotting the ranch truck as he stood in the cool night air outside the Sheridan airport waiting for his ride. Cade drove up in a tan, four-door long bed with the Thunder Mountain Academy logo on the door. Lexi wasn’t with him, after all, so Matt climbed into the front seat and grasped Cade’s outstretched hand.

“Hey, Matt.” A straw cowboy hat shadowed Cade’s face, but his subdued greeting telegraphed his concern. “No luggage?”

“Nope.” Matt closed the door and fastened his seat belt.

“At least you stayed ahead of the peasants with the pitchforks.” Cade put the truck in gear and pulled out.

“Barely. Nice truck.”

“Mom likes me to drive it whenever I come to town. She thinks it’s good for the academy’s image.”

Matt leaned back against the seat. “Yeah, until some derelict gets in.”

“Now that you mention it, you do look a little rough around the edges, bro. Is the scruff for your next role?”

“The scruff is for lack of a razor, although I figured it also might keep people from recognizing me.”

“Oh.”

“So, where’s Lexi?”

“She thought we might need some brotherhood moments so she’s waiting at the ranch with Mom and Dad.”

“Wow.” Lexi’s understanding touched him. “That’s...really nice of her.”

“That’s my lady. She has it all going on.”

“You’re a lucky guy.”

“Yes, yes, I am.” Cade stopped at a red light and took a deep breath. “And since she’s given us the chance to talk, let me say this whole thing bites. I mean, one damn kiss. It’s not like you were boinking that woman in the middle of Sunset Boulevard. And wouldn’t you know some jackass would be there with a camera.”

“Of course he was.” In spite of his exhaustion, Matt’s anger flared to life. “She hired him to be there.”

“What?”

“She set me up.” Matt’s stomach clenched as he said it out loud for the first time. “I can’t prove it yet, but the long layover in Denver allowed me to think through all that’s happened and I’ve put the pieces together. I realize everything started on the last day of shooting when she propositioned me.”

“Aw, hell. Seriously?”

“Afraid so. I’ve never told anyone about it, though, so keep it to yourself.”

“Goes without saying.”

“Anyway, she was a little drunk, but not that drunk. She said Cliff wasn’t man enough for her anymore.”

“Anymore? They’ve been married for like three years, tops!”

Matt shrugged. “Who knows what their relationship is like? She promised we’d be discreet and no one would ever have to know. I turned her down as nicely as I could, but—”

“Now she hates you with the heat of a thousand branding irons.”

“Sure looks that way. She invited me to lunch yesterday, supposedly to apologize for her inappropriate behavior. Instead, she kissed me in front of witnesses and then told the media I was the aggressor.”

“Holy shit on a swizzle stick.”

“Yeah.” He glanced over at Cade. “But now that I’m out of paparazzi range it should die down. Without me to harass they’ll focus on some other poor slob. At least, that’s my plan. And I’d like to forget Briana Danvers while I’m here, so let’s talk about something else. You still have that gray tabby cat?”

“You remember Ringo?”

“Absolutely. He was one of the highlights from that quick visit last year.”

Cade chuckled. “Ringo’s living the life. Ever since Lexi moved into my cabin he prefers staying there with us instead of patrolling the barn looking for mice. He’s turned into a feline couch potato.”

“Smart cat.”

“Smarter than we are, that’s for sure. Listen, you may want to forget about Briana, but I’m just getting started thinking about her and I want justice.” Cade smacked the steering wheel. “Here’s an idea! We’ll call a press conference so you can tell your side. We can’t let her get away with this crap.”

His brother had his back. The heaviness lifted from Matt’s shoulders and he smiled for the first time in twenty-four hours. A press conference in Sheridan, Wyoming. That would be a first, especially if they could get any members of the press to show up, which wasn’t likely.

“I don’t know how to organize a press conference,” Cade continued, “but I’ll bet you do. Or you know people who know people. We can make it happen.”

“Look, it’s a good impulse and I appreciate the moral support, but a press conference won’t work for a lot of reasons.”

“What she’s done is wrong, damn it! It’s character assassination and you need to defend yourself.”

“I doubt I can. She’s a very good actress who knows her camera angles. She orchestrated that kiss so I’d look guilty as charged. Even if I try to tell my side, hardly anyone will believe me.”

“They might if you tell them about the proposition.”

“Not doing that.”

Cade groaned. “I should have known you wouldn’t. You’re too noble for your own good, buddy. She doesn’t deserve your overdeveloped sense of chivalry.”

“It’s not her I’m thinking about. It’s Cliff Wallace. I respect the hell out of the guy. He has lousy instincts when it comes to women, but like I said, Briana’s a very good actress. He may eventually find out the truth about her, but not because of me.”

“You had some love scenes with her, right?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Hot?”

“Yep.”

Cade was silent for a while. Then he cleared his throat. “Let me just say I respect the hell out of you, cowboy. A lot of guys would have taken her up on that offer.”

“Not if they were members of the Thunder Mountain Brotherhood.” Matt took great pride in being a part of the group Cade had started years ago with Damon Harrison and Finn O’Roarke, the first three foster boys. Now every guy who’d lived at the ranch was included.

“True.”

“And not if they’d been raised by Herb and Rosie.”

Cade grinned. “Also true. And for the record, Mom’s been informing everyone that the tabloids got it wrong. You never would have behaved that way.”

“God, I love that woman.”

“Don’t we all.” He looked over at Matt. “Are you planning to tell her everything you just told me?”

“Probably not.”

“I wouldn’t, either, unless you want her to buy a ticket to LA and open up a can of whoop-ass on Briana. She’s already put a couple of DVDs in the trash compactor.”

Matt chuckled at the image of Rosie listening to the crunch as the DVDs bit the dust. “That’s why I had to come home, so I could hear stuff like this. Mom’s destroying DVDs and you’re ready to call a press conference. It’s a far better reaction than what I got from my PR rep this morning.”

“Which was?”

“She wanted me to publicly show remorse for my behavior.”

Cade met that comment with several choice swear words. “So, did you fire her?”

“Not yet. She doesn’t know me that well and the photo convinced her I’d forced myself on Briana.”

“Did you tell her you hadn’t?”

“Yeah, I said it was the other way around—that Briana kissed me—but Geena didn’t think it mattered who kissed who. I’m supposed to suck it up and be apologetic.”

“That’s her name? Geena?”

“Geena Lysander.”

“Well, this Geena person should have believed you. She should have taken your side. Apologize, my ass.”

“In a way, she was trying to take my side. She kept telling me it would be okay and we’d fix this.” He thought of the earnest light in her eyes as she’d laid out her plan. She had pretty eyes, and when they took on that special gleam, he had the urge to kiss her. Like that would ever happen.

“Well, you’re not apologizing.”

“Nope. I’ll just hide out for the next few days. My phone’s been off for hours and I’m growing fond of that mode. I might leave it off.”

“But you’re a big-deal actor now. Don’t you have to stay in touch with your peeps?”

“My peeps are all right here in Sheridan. You, Lexi, Rosie and Herb. Plus Damon and Philomena. How’s their baby doing, by the way?”

“Sophie’s cute as hell, bright red hair just like her mother’s. And Jake Ramsey moved back to town. He’s working at the fire station and engaged to Amethyst Ferguson. Remember her?”

Matt laughed. “Doesn’t everybody? I can’t hear ‘Santa Baby’ without remembering her sexy performance back in high school. I thought she’d be giving Taylor Swift a run for her money by now.”

“Turns out she’d rather stick to performing locally.”

“You know, after what just happened, I get that.”

“Please don’t tell me you’re hanging it up because of this nonsense.”

“No, I’m not. I’m starting a new movie next month.”

“Awesome! I don’t think I heard about that.”

“It came up pretty fast, and I kept meaning to call Mom but then this thing hit.” Matt let out a weary sigh. “But I’ll hang in there. I love acting. Always have.”

“The ultimate escape.” Cade glanced at him. “Do you remember telling me that?”

“I do, actually. School plays were great when I was a kid, but this...you can completely disappear into the role. You don’t have to worry about what to say because they hand you a script. You don’t have to wonder how everything will turn out, either. It’s all written out.”

“Sounds damned appealing. It’s a wonder more of us didn’t get into that line of work. Perfect way to forget about things you’d rather not remember.”

“Sure is. But I need a break. I’m ready to unplug, at least for the next week or so. Let’s talk about your wedding. Third weekend in August, right?”

“Yep.”

“I want all the deets, bridegroom.”

“You won’t be bored?”

“Not a chance.” He settled back, ready to hear about something positive for a change.

Once Cade got started on the subject of his upcoming nuptials, he barely stopped for breath. Matt got a kick out of his excitement. By the time they turned down the dirt road leading to the ranch, the humiliation of the past twenty-four hours seemed unimportant compared to Cade’s obvious joy in marrying the love of his life.

The tabloid blitz had loomed large back in LA, but moonlight shining on the massive bulk of the Bighorns put everything in perspective. Cade parked in the circular gravel drive in front of the low-slung ranch house and Matt swung down from the cab. Lamplight coming through the windows allowed him to see Rosie, Herb and Lexi sitting in the Adirondack chairs lined up on the long porch.

They called out a greeting as they started down the steps. Matt hadn’t shaved or showered in two days, but nobody seemed to care. Arms outstretched, they gathered him close. Coming home had been the right thing to do.

As the crow flew, Sheridan didn’t seem that far from LA. Geena wished she could get there by crow, because clearly traveling by passenger plane would take all flipping day. The layover in Denver was ridiculous, but it gave her plenty of time to think about where she’d gone wrong with Matt Forrest.

And she’d gone very wrong with him. She’d also underestimated Briana Danvers’s thirst for publicity. Somehow the woman had learned that Matt had left town and she’d made a huge deal of it, calling his departure an admission of guilt.

That was exactly why Geena had wanted him to stick around, but she’d handled the situation poorly. Because she’d dealt with her fair share of clients caught in compromising situations off the set, she’d assumed Matt fell into that category. She’d expected him to agree with her plan to contain the damage. Instead, he’d stormed out of her office.

So she’d gone into research mode. A friend had sent her the dailies from Preston’s Revenge. The scenes between Briana and Matt were off the charts, but did that mean he’d aggressively pursued her?

She was less and less sure about that. Briana was married to a revered but aging Western movie star. What if she’d been captivated by Matt? He claimed that she’d initiated the kiss.

And, unlike other clients, he seemed horrified by the drama that photo had created. Some stars were thrilled by any publicity at all, even if it was potentially negative. Not Matt. He’d chosen to hide out.

It might have been a workable strategy except that Briana obviously planned to keep stirring the pot. Matt needed to fight back or he was liable to be forever labeled with Briana’s taunt of run, Forrest, run.

No other celebrities were doing something stupid this week, so the gossip mags were hungry for anything Briana fed them. The situation reflected poorly on Geena’s firm, which she’d started only three years ago, but that wasn’t why she’d decided to make a trip to Sheridan. She couldn’t bear to stand by and watch Matt take a beating.

So she’d booked her flights to Sheridan, a place that was not easy to get to. But she’d brave a puddle jumper if that’s what it took to talk to Matt face-to-face.

He wouldn’t be happy to see his PR rep, though. She reminded herself of that as she drove her rented SUV down some of the darkest roads she’d ever seen. Thank God for her GPS or she’d surely have ended up in some pasture staring at an angry bull.

She almost missed the turnoff to Thunder Mountain Ranch. At the last minute she saw it, thanks to a small spotlight trained on the carved wooden sign. A second sign hung below it proclaiming this the Home of Thunder Mountain Academy.

She had no idea what that was about, but the ranch was listed as Matt’s home address so she’d forge on. Presumably his parents, Rosie and Herb Padgett, lived here. He’d probably changed his last name to something less jarring than Matt Padgett, which was smart marketing.

The dirt road leading to the ranch was even darker than the highway. If she’d spent the night in Sheridan, she could have tackled this road first thing in the morning. But Matt would have an easier time turning her away in broad daylight. A gentleman didn’t send a lady back out into the night after she’d traveled all day to see him. And Matt Forrest was a gentleman.

She’d allowed the turmoil Briana had created to obscure that basic fact. Briana might be irresistible to the majority of males out there, but despite her famous allure, Matt would never succumb to it in a public place. Such behavior would have violated his personal code of conduct, one that probably had its roots right here on this extremely authentic-looking ranch and in all the John Wayne movies he’d memorized.

Arriving unannounced with a small overnight case in the passenger seat was cheeky. She planned to leave it there and see what happened after she knocked on the door, but in movies ranch houses always had spare bedrooms. Staying in the same house as Matt would help the cause, since she didn’t expect instant cooperation.

The SUV’s tires crunched on a layer of thick gravel as she navigated the circular drive and parked by the front door. Hers was the only vehicle there, but several more were down by a large hip-roofed barn. The Adirondack chairs lined up on the long front porch were empty, but when she stepped out of the car, she heard country music coming from the house. And laughter, both male and female. It seemed she’d arrived in the middle of a party.

Well, that made sense. His folks had probably decided to celebrate his success and ignore the scandal. No wonder he’d wanted to come back to that kind of love and support.

She paused beside the SUV. Her arrival would be about as popular as Maleficent crashing a baby shower. On the other hand, having lots of people around might be a good thing. She was fine with crowds. Growing up with a Hollywood star for a mom, she’d learned to handle herself in any circumstance, no matter how bizarre or awkward.

She was still debating what to do when the front door opened and a redheaded woman came out holding a baby who looked to be about five or six months old. A tall guy tugged on the brim of his cowboy hat as he followed her out and started to close the door.

“I still say she said my name,” called someone from inside, someone who sounded a lot like Matt.

Laughing, the cowboy swung the door open again. “You’re dreaming, bro!” he called back.

“Aw, come on, Damon.” The redhead was busy fiddling with the baby’s blanket and obviously hadn’t spotted the SUV yet. “Let Uncle Matt have his little fantasy.”

“You heard her,” the guy named Damon said as he closed the door. “She was saying ma-ma like she always does. She—hello, who’s this?” He put a protective hand on the woman’s shoulder and looked in Geena’s direction.

She moved away from the vehicle and came toward them. “My name’s Geena Lysander and I’m here to see Matt Forrest, but apparently I’m interrupting a celebration.”

“Geena Lysander,” the woman said. “Your name came up tonight. Aren’t you his PR rep?”

“Yes, and I’m here to discuss—”

“Let me stop you right there, ma’am.” The tall cowboy descended the steps. “From what I understand, he’s not interested in having any more discussions. He came here to get away from all that, so I’m afraid you’ve made a trip for nothing. My wife and I can lead you back into town and get you settled in a hotel room, though.”

Despite Geena’s height, augmented by four-inch heels, she had to look up to meet his determined gaze. Judging from the set of his jaw, he planned to do whatever was necessary to keep her from going up to the front door. Clearly he intended to protect Matt from the likes of her.

As she debated her next move, the door opened again and Matt stepped out holding a pacifier. At first he looked confused by her presence, but gradually his expression hardened into a mask of anger.

She despaired of getting through to him but she had to try. “I realize you’re not happy to see me.”

“No, ma’am, I’m not.”

“But we need to talk.”

Instead of responding to her comment, he gestured to the SUV. “Is that your vehicle?”

“Yes. I rented it.”

“No worries, bro,” Damon said. “We’ll lead her back to town and help her find a hotel room.”

Matt shook his head. “I appreciate the offer, but this is my deal and I’ll handle the problem.” He gave the pacifier to the redhead. “Found this on the sofa and thought you might need it. You two head on home with Sophie. I’ll grab the keys to the ranch truck and make sure Geena has a place for the night.” He glanced over at her. “And a plane reservation in the morning.”

“We’re not in a rush,” Damon said. “We’ll hang out here until you fetch the truck keys.”

“Listen, you don’t have to stand guard over me.” Geena glanced toward the baby, who was starting to fuss. “I promise to stay right here while Matt gets those keys. I’m sure you’d like to get home.”

“We would. Sophie’s hungry.” The redhead jiggled the bundle in her arms. “I think you can stand down, cowboy. Geena doesn’t look dangerous.”

“Okay.” Damon faced Geena and touched the brim of his hat in farewell. “Ma’am.”

“Bye.” She felt wistful as she watched them walk toward the vehicles parked near the barn. She couldn’t remember a time when anyone had stood between her and a potential threat. Must be nice.

Chapter Three

Geena had solid brass ones. Matt would give her that much, but nothing else. She’d made it as far as the driveway, but she wasn’t coming any closer than that. Once he’d escorted her to a hotel in town, he’d fire her like he should have done yesterday. Then she’d have to fly home because she wouldn’t have any reason to hang around.

He stepped inside the house and paused to take a calming breath. Barreling in looking agitated would provoke a bunch of questions. He’d like to do this with as little discussion as possible. He’d already talked about the subject more than he wanted to.

During dinner Phil had asked whether he had publicity folks doing damage control and he’d described his meeting with Geena. He wasn’t surprised that Damon had been ready to escort her straight back to town, but that wasn’t his responsibility or Phil’s.

The living room furniture had been moved aside for dancing, and now that Damon and Phil had left, only four people occupied the floor. Cade and Lexi were teaching some elaborate new move to Herb and Rosie. Matt hated to break that up, but it couldn’t be helped.

As he approached the group, Cade glanced at him. “How about you partner with Lexi? I know this already.”

“I’d be glad to, but I have a little errand to run. Can I borrow the ranch truck for a couple of hours?”

Herb looked puzzled. “Certainly, but I can’t imagine what sort of errand you’d have to run at this hour.”

“Don’t pry,” Rosie said. “Maybe he’s heard from an old girlfriend.”

Cade nudged back his hat. “That would be a trick, since he made such a huge deal about turning off his phone for the next week.” His voice softened. “What’s up, bro?”

“We have an uninvited guest and I need to escort her back to town.”

Rosie blinked. “A woman’s outside? Did some starstruck fan follow you here?”

“No, she’s not a fan. Look, if it’s okay, I’ll just get the keys and take care of this.”

“Hang on,” Cade said. “If it’s some damned reporter, let me go out there with you. I’m sure between the two of us we can convince her to get lost.”

Matt sighed. He probably should have spit it out in the beginning. “She’s not a reporter, either. It’s Geena. If I can borrow the truck for a couple of hours, I’ll—”

“Great.” Cade started for the door. “I’m delighted she’s here and she’s not going anywhere until I’ve told her exactly what I think of how she treated you.”

“No!” Matt blocked Cade’s progress. “Nobody’s going out there except me. All I need is the keys to the truck. She doesn’t know the area so I feel an obligation to make sure she gets back to town okay and has a hotel room. Then I’ll make damn sure she knows that she has to leave in the morning.”

“Matt.” Rosie sent him a look of reproach. “The woman traveled all the way from Los Angeles to see you. I realize you’re annoyed with her, but shooing her away after she’s made that kind of effort isn’t good manners.”

He stared at his foster mother. “She showed up uninvited. That isn’t good manners, either.”

“True, but two wrongs don’t make a right. Sending her back where she came from might give you temporary satisfaction, but it’s not the gracious thing to do.”

“But—”

“Is she an evil person?”

“No.”

“Has she deliberately harmed you in any way?”

Matt sighed. He’d lived with Rosie long enough to know where this was going. “No.”

“Then you need to take the high road, son. Invite her to join us and I’ll offer to put her up.”

Every instinct told him that this was a bad idea. “I don’t want her here, Mom.” He clenched both fists. “Whatever nastiness happened in LA stays in LA. I don’t want you and Dad involved. Or anyone in my family, for that matter.”

Rosie studied him for a moment. “I understand that and I appreciate your desire to protect us. That’s very gallant. I can tell you’re very angry that she’s come here, but let’s think about why she did. Her job is to make you look good, right?”

“Supposedly, but I don’t like her plan or the fact she came to my home uninvited. I’m going to fire her.”

“Do you have a replacement lined up?”

“Not yet.”

“Considering you need a PR person to guide you through this incident, you might want to hold off ditching the one you have. I agree that you shouldn’t apologize for something you didn’t do, but she’s on your turf now.” Rosie smiled. “You don’t agree with her plan for handling things, but now you have a golden opportunity to change her mind.”

Cade nodded, a gleam in his eyes. “And I have a golden opportunity to give her a piece of mine. Yeah, let’s invite her in. Can’t wait.”

“Cade Gallagher.” Rosie pinned him with her gaze. “You will not ambush someone who’s a guest in this house. In fact, I’m going out there to issue the invitation myself. You boys stay right here. And once she walks through that door, you’ll be on your best behavior with her at all times. Is that clear?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Matt and Cade said in unison.

Lexi’s muffled snort was the only sound in the room as Rosie turned and left.

Geena reasoned that she hadn’t completely lost out. Matt was enough of a gentleman to make sure she found her way back to Sheridan and that she had a place to stay. While she could handle everything herself, she’d accept his help because it would give her a chance to accomplish what she’d come for.

Sometime during their interaction she’d apologize for assuming he’d accosted Briana. Then she’d make her case for having him come back to repair the damage to his reputation. Grabbing a few moments on the fly wasn’t ideal, but at least her trip wouldn’t be completely wasted.

God, he’d been angry, so angry that his blue eyes had glittered like a pair of Fourth of July sparklers. The effect had been thrilling, actually, seeing him go into protector mode concerning his home and family. Now wasn’t a good time to think about it, but that cowboy turned her on.

When the front door opened she expected him to come out bringing all his Matt Forrestness with him.

Instead, a plump woman with blond hair walked out on the porch and down the steps. She approached and held out her hand. “Hello, Geena. I’m Rosie Padgett, Matt’s foster mom.”

“Foster mom?” Geena heard herself and cringed. “Sorry, that was rude.” She accepted Rosie’s firm handshake. “It’s just that from the way Matt talked about you, I thought he was your son.”

“He is. They all are. Many years ago Herb and I started taking in boys with nowhere else to go. Most of them ended up calling us Mom and Dad, which pleases us no end. We couldn’t have kids of our own and now we’re blessed with a huge family. We love it.”

“Wow. So this ranch used to be a foster home?”

“Sure did, although once again, the boys usually dropped the word foster after they’d been here awhile. The ranch was just home.”

“That’s wonderful.” She was beginning to realize how little she knew about Matt. But she doubted Rosie had walked out here to give her a quick history lesson.

“It has been. Listen, I know you’ve had a long trip. I’ll bet you could use some food and something to drink. Why don’t you come in?”

Whoa. Talk about falling down the rabbit hole. “Uh, because Matt doesn’t want me to?”

“You’re right, he doesn’t. He’s embarrassed about the mess with Briana Danvers and hates how it’s affected his life. He made the trip without going back to his apartment because he didn’t want to be waylaid. He asked me to shop for him today so he’d have a few clothes and some toiletries.”

“Poor guy.”

“He’s hurting, that’s for sure. And he doesn’t want any of it touching his family.” Rosie paused. “But unless you have paparazzi hiding in your SUV, I can’t imagine how bringing you inside would involve us in the scandal.”

“I promise I’m not dragging a gaggle of reporters behind me. Sheridan isn’t the easiest place in the world to access by air. Matt’s not a big enough story to warrant suffering through long layovers and tiny planes.”

Rosie laughed. “I love that about this town. But in spite of the inconvenience, here you are.”

“Because I really have to talk to him.”

“I’m sure you do. Just because Matt doesn’t go online doesn’t mean I haven’t. I’ve sent that woman an email letting her know what I think of her shenanigans, not that she’ll ever see it.”

“No, she probably won’t. I’m sure her PR people filter out the negative ones. I do the same for my clients. If I thought this would go away I’d ignore her, but she’s escalated the attack. That’s why I need to discuss it with Matt.”

“Then let’s make that happen. You’re lucky we were having a party or we all might have been in bed.”

“Oh! I didn’t think of that!”

“I’ll bet nobody goes to bed at ten in Los Angeles.”

“Not anyone I know. Plus it’s an hour earlier there. I forgot about the time change, which isn’t like me. I apologize.”

“As it turns out, it doesn’t matter. But I should warn you that ranch folks get up at dawn so we don’t tend to be night owls unless it’s a special occasion.”

“Then I won’t stay long. And I really don’t need someone to lead me back to town and find me a hotel. I can manage.”

“No reason for you to do that. We have plenty of room.”

Geena was stunned. “You’re suggesting I stay here?”

“I am.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Actually, it’s a fine idea. I assume you have a bag with you?”

“Yes, but—”

“Then let’s get it.” Rosie started toward the SUV.

“Wait a minute. Matt will hit the roof. I knew he’d be upset but I had no idea how upset. After I talk with him I’ll drive into town like he suggested. I don’t want to cause problems.”

“Trust me, there will be no problems.”

“You’re sure?”

“Absolutely sure.” Rosie opened the passenger door and reached for the overnight bag.

“Oh, no, let me get it.” Geena edged her out of the way. “It’s bad enough that I arrived unannounced and uninvited. I won’t have you schlepping my luggage.” She pulled out the small carry-on and closed the door.

“The way I figure it,” Rosie said as they started back toward the porch, “you came unannounced because you had to. If you’d told Matt, he would have met you at the airport and sent you right back.”

“Guaranteed.”

“I realize there’s a crisis here, and it’s a shame you and Matt don’t see eye-to-eye on how it should be managed.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Just so you’re clear on my position, I agree with him that he shouldn’t have to make a public apology. He didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I know that now.” Geena lifted her bag so it would clear the steps. “It’s one of the things I want to tell him.”

Rosie glanced over, her expression eager. “You have proof?”

“Unfortunately not. But when I started thinking about what a gentleman he is, I knew he wouldn’t have deliberately embarrassed a woman in public.”

“Ah. That’s a good start. You’re beginning to see who he is under the pretty packaging.”

Geena choked on a laugh. “Excuse me?”

“Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed that he’s a beautiful young man, because I won’t believe you.”

“Okay, I’ve noticed.”

“I’m sure that Briana noticed, too. I have a feeling we don’t have the whole story, but like you said, Matt’s a gentleman. We might have to get the info out of Cade.”

“Cade?”

“One of Matt’s brothers. He’s inside with his fiancée, Lexi, so you’ll get to meet both of them, plus my husband, Herb. This is all working out for the best.” She opened the door. “After you.”

A knot of anxiety settled in Geena’s stomach as she walked into the living room carrying her overnight bag. Sure, she was good at handling awkward situations in the world of glitz and glamour. Somehow it was easier when a large number of the participants had an agenda, often a self-serving one.

She hadn’t spent much time around people who weren’t jockeying for a spot on the next rung up, people who got up at dawn to feed the chickens or whatever it was they found to do at that hour. She’d never set foot on an honest-to-God ranch, let alone a ranch that used to be a foster home.

Had she ever known someone who’d been a foster kid? If so, they hadn’t told her about it. Matt hadn’t told her, either. He’d obviously considered it private information and she respected that.

The comfy-looking living room furniture had been shoved against the wall, probably to create a dance floor. Even without a fire in the fireplace, the room had a cozy, lived-in feel. She could imagine how much it would appeal to a homeless boy.

The good-looking, dark-haired cowboy standing next to a woman with short brown curls had to be Cade, the one most likely to have the inside scoop on what had gone down between Matt and Briana. The woman must be Lexi, who fit right into the casual setting in her jeans, boots and long-sleeved yellow T-shirt.

Cade wore a cowboy hat indoors, like Matt always did. Apparently that was the custom around here, although the older gentleman wasn’t wearing one. She pegged him as Herb, Rosie’s husband.

For one awful moment there was total silence in the room. It made her realize that the heels, nifty black jacket and pencil skirt she’d worn on the plane were out of place on a working ranch, but she didn’t own Western wear and she’d wanted to look professional.

Matt was the first to move. “Let me take that.” He came forward and divested her of the bag.

“Thank you.”

He gave her a curt nod. “You’re welcome. Mom, where should I put it?”

“The green bedroom’s all made up.”

“Right.” He disappeared down a hallway.

“Hi, Geena.” Lexi walked over to shake her hand. “I’m Lexi Simmons and this is my fiancé, Cade Gallagher.”

Cade touched the brim of his hat. “Ma’am.” The greeting, polite but with no warmth, was identical to the farewell Damon had given her a while ago.

“I’m Herb, Rosie’s husband.” The wiry guy had kind eyes and a firm grip. “Welcome to Thunder Mountain.”

“Thank you.” She swallowed a lump of nervousness. “I’m glad to be here.”

“And we’re pleased to have you.” Rosie said it as if daring anyone to contradict her.

Geena couldn’t remember when she’d felt less sure of herself. “Look, you were all doing something before I barged in here, so please continue.”

“We were working on a dance step,” Lexi said. “I don’t suppose you’d want to learn—”

“Why not?” Geena nudged off her heels and put them in a corner.

“Before you get into that,” Rosie said, “are you hungry? Can I make you a sandwich?”

“I’m starving.” Her hunger pangs wouldn’t allow her to say anything but the truth. “I headed out here as soon as I picked up the rental.” Her gaze swept the room. “I knew it was late, although I didn’t realize how late. I apologize for that.”

“Then let me fix you something. Any issues? Food allergies?”

“I’ll be grateful for anything, but let me make it myself. I don’t expect to be waited on.”

Rosie waved her off. “Tomorrow I’ll put you to work, but tonight relax and enjoy yourself. What do you want to drink?”

“Water, please.”

“That’s it? How about an adult beverage?”

Geena considered where she was and what they might have on hand. Under the circumstances, alcohol would be welcome. “A beer would be great.”

Matt came back at that moment. “I’ll get it. You can sample my brother’s brew.” He said it with enormous pride before leaving the room.

“Cade?” She glanced to him. “You make beer?”

“Oh, no, not me. That would be Finn O’Roarke. He has a microbrewery in Seattle. Very successful.” His gaze issued a challenge. “We have a lot of talent in the brotherhood. Brewers, lawyers, horse trainers, firefighters. You name it, we got it.”

“Impressive. You called it a brotherhood. What’s that all about?”

“Nothing.” Matt arrived and handed her an open bottle of beer and a glass before turning to glare at Cade. “Absolutely nothing.”

“Yeah.” Cade exchanged a glance with Matt. “Just a figure of speech. Not important.”

Geena didn’t push it, but her PR instincts were telling her that if Matt belonged to a group calling themselves the brotherhood, she needed to pay attention. A public apology for the kiss didn’t interest her anymore, now that she knew Matt would have to lie in order to make one. But apparently he had a rich tradition of family and loyalty.

She could work the heck out of that angle. Fans would love to know that he was part of a close-knit group of foster brothers who’d grown up on a working ranch. Talk about wholesome. She wasn’t sure what would be the best promo vehicle to get the story out, but it probably didn’t matter. Judging from his reaction so far, he’d never let that story be told.

Chapter Four

Matt hadn’t wanted Geena anywhere near his family, and yet here she was, and damned if she didn’t fit in much better than he could have predicted. Barefoot and wearing a tight skirt that restricted her movements, she still managed to execute the dance moves Cade and Lexi taught her.

Worse yet, she was very appealing doing it. No, not just appealing. The glasses paired with her excellent sense of rhythm created a dynamite combination of brains and sexy moves.

In the months he’d known Geena he’d had many inappropriate thoughts about her, even though mostly she’d sat behind her desk while they talked. She wasn’t behind her desk now, and every time she wiggled her hips, his johnson gave a twitch in response.

She was making inroads with his family members, too. His mom had defected immediately and he wanted to know what those two had talked about outside. Lexi and Herb had both warmed to her, as well. Cade had been a holdout for quite a while, but her willingness to learn the new dance step was slowly winning him over.

Then Rosie brought in Geena’s sandwich and everyone took a break. Matt fetched some chips and more of Finn’s beer from the fridge in the rec room. That was another thing. Earlier, Geena had put down the glass he’d brought her and was drinking from the bottle like everyone else. It was a small thing, but small things added up. She was easy to be with.

While Geena ate, the group lounged on the displaced furniture and talked about Thunder Mountain Academy. Matt hadn’t wanted Geena to know anything about that, either, but it was a logical topic because several chores were in the works during this break between sessions.

Geena seemed fascinated by every aspect of the program. Matt’s family softened even more in response to her enthusiasm. It wasn’t artificial enthusiasm, either. That was a quality he’d liked about her from the beginning. Hollywood was crawling with fakes, but Geena never pretended to be something she wasn’t.

Perfect example—she could have arrived all duded up in an effort to present herself as a cowgirl. Instead, she’d worn the type of clothes he’d always seen her in. This was his first glimpse of her bare toes, however. She’d propped her feet up on the coffee table and he couldn’t help noticing her sea-blue polish. And her delicate ankles and shapely calves.

He looked away. The situation was complicated enough already.

“Do you ride?” Lexi asked her.

“I don’t know the first thing about horses.” Geena finished off her sandwich. “I take that back. I know what a Clydesdale is because I’ve seen the commercials. My hat’s off to whoever came up with the idea of using them to market beer.”

Lexi smiled. “Yeah, everybody loves those big ol’ horses, me included. I just thought you might be a rider since you’re so interested in the academy.”

“I wouldn’t mind trying it sometime, but I’d be a total beginner.”

“Want to try it while you’re here?”

Matt bit back a groan. That was so Lexi, eager to introduce the uninitiated to the wonders of horseback riding. That was why she was such a good teacher, but in this case he wished she’d zip her lip.

“I’d love to, but all I brought to wear was stuff like this.” Geena gestured to her skirt and jacket.

“I can find you some clothes and boots,” Rosie said. “I’ve stocked up on spare items for the students.”

“I don’t know. I’m pretty tall.”

“So are some of the girls we get here. I try to be prepared when pants get ripped and kids come with expensive boots that shouldn’t be worn to muck out stalls.”

“So they have to be financially well-off to attend?”

“At first they did.” Herb hadn’t spoken much but this was a favorite topic of his. “We’re working on changing that. We already have one scholarship opportunity thanks to Ben Radcliffe, a local saddle maker who conducts a class every semester. We’re looking for more sponsors. There are plenty of kids who would benefit but don’t have the tuition.”

“I’ll offer a scholarship,” Matt said. “I can probably handle two or three if the money stays good. I can’t believe I haven’t thought of it before.”

“That’s brilliant.” Geena smiled. “Too bad we can’t get it organized this week because a picture of you with a recipient would be—”

“Not happening.” Matt gazed at her and wished they didn’t always have to be on opposite sides of this particular fence. But she didn’t seem to get his need for privacy. Maybe he’d have to fire her, after all. “The scholarships would be anonymous.”

She frowned. “You’d be throwing away a great PR opportunity if you do that.”

“And keeping my personal life separate from my public one. That’s always been important to me, but after what happened two days ago, it’s critical.”

Her shoulders slumped. “That makes it tough to do my job.”

“I know. But that’s the way it has to be.”

“It’s okay. I’ll think of something else. I—” She stifled a yawn. “Sorry. It’s been a long day. I guess the beer and food made me sleepy.”

“I’m sure you’re exhausted.” Rosie switched into mothering mode. “You should get some rest. I know what I said about getting up at dawn, but you don’t have to.”

“Oh, no, I want to.” She glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner. “When is dawn, anyway?”

That got a laugh. Even Matt couldn’t help grinning. She was such a city girl. But she was also game for anything, which meant she’d get along fine in this new setting. Resilience was a valued commodity around here.

“It’s around five fifteen,” his dad said.

Her eyes widened. “That early?”

“But you don’t have to get up then,” Herb continued. “We do because the horses need to be fed and turned out to pasture. Rosie likes to organize the food for breakfast, but we don’t eat until after six, so you’ll have some extra time to ease into the day.”

“Well, um, I never eat breakfast.”

“You’ll want to eat this one.” Lexi glanced over at Cade. “Nobody fixes a better breakfast than Rosie. Am I right?”

“Except for you, sweetheart.”

“Nice try, Gallagher.” Lexi gave him an affectionate nudge. “Flattery will get you nowhere. You’re still responsible for fifty percent of the cooking at our house.”

Cade sighed. “But I’m still no good at it.”

“You’re improving. That’s what’s important.”

“You’re both invited down here in the morning, though,” Rosie said. “It’s not every day we see Matt at the breakfast table. But Geena, you’re excused. I’ll have the coffeepot on until at least eight, so if that’s all you need, come in and help yourself. We don’t force food on anyone.”

“I’ll be there at six and I’d love to have your breakfast. I’ll also get up at dawn to watch Herb feed the horses. I’ve never seen anybody do that except in the movies.”

Herb smiled. “It’s not all that exciting.”

“Maybe not to you, because you do it every day. Me, I get up, get dressed, hit the drive-through at Starbucks and head to my office. Feeding horses at five thirty in the morning is exotic.”

“Then you’re welcome to show up at dawn.”

“Great. Thank you.” She turned to Matt. “Listen, before I toddle off to bed, can I have a word with you?”

His mom stood. “We can leave you two alone so you can talk.”

“Heavens, no! You’re all settled in. Matt and I will step out onto the porch.” She glanced at him. “Okay with you?”

“Sure.” He shouldn’t have had that last beer. He was feeling way too mellow and he had to stay sharp. But refusing to have a chat on the porch would seem rude and his mom would call him on it.

Geena walked out there barefoot and that charmed him. He didn’t want to be charmed any more than he wanted to have sexy thoughts about her. He needed to be tough and uncompromising as he sought to protect his family from...he was no longer clear what that was. He hadn’t wanted any part of his life in LA to intrude on his life here, and yet Geena had inserted herself into his inner circle and the sky hadn’t fallen.

After he closed the door, she turned and leaned her slim hips against the porch railing. She looked tired, which was understandable. The trip from California was taxing, especially for someone who wasn’t used to long layovers, little planes and country roads. She’d probably fare better traveling to New York or London than making her way to Sheridan, Wyoming, home to folks who climbed out of bed at the crack of dawn.

He found a spot to lean against the front wall of the house so they’d both be standing. He suspected she hadn’t taken one of the Adirondack chairs because she doubted she’d have the energy to pull herself back out of it. A cricket chirped nearby and a breeze stirred the tall pines not far from the house.

Geena sighed. “This is nice.”

“Yeah.” A little too nice. Even though his family was just beyond that door, he knew they wouldn’t come out. They understood this was private

That left him with a feeling of intimacy he’d never experienced with Geena. They were truly alone for the first time since she’d arrived. He began thinking about how she’d feel in his arms and how her lips would taste. Did she have a lover? After watching her dance, he could easily imagine that she did.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Apparently she was in no rush to begin the conversation, but unless they started talking he would continue with his inappropriate thoughts. If he walked over and kissed her, would she resist? Or would she part her lips and invite him in?

Finally he had to say something, anything, to keep him from acting on his fantasy. “You picked up that dance step pretty fast.”

She opened her eyes and smiled. “Thanks. I should be able to, after fifteen years of ballet and tap.”

He liked having another key to her personality. “When was this?”

“My mother enrolled me when I was three. Voice and acting lessons, too, so I’d be a triple threat. She named me after Geena Davis. I was supposed to be a star.”

“I didn’t know that.” Not surprising. What he didn’t know about Geena was seriously out of proportion to what he did know. “What happened?”

“A common story.” She gave a little shrug. “I can dance and sing okay but I have no talent for acting. If I’d been movie-star beautiful that might have made up for my bad acting, but I’m not.”

“I think you look nice.” That just popped out. Hadn’t meant to say it at all.

“Thanks.” She smiled and took off her glasses to polish them. “But I would have had to be a real knockout to succeed. Luckily, along the way I discovered that supporting the careers of other actors makes me happy. I’ve hung out with them all my life, so opening a PR business was a no-brainer. Mom wasn’t too pleased with my decision, but she eventually came to grips with it.”

“That’s good.” He sometimes wondered if the woman who’d given birth to him would come out of the woodwork and claim his success was all because of her. “I’ll have to admit that I’ve never seen one of your mother’s movies.”

“Sad to say, they were forgettable. She blames the scripts and the directing. Personally, I think she’s better at creating drama offscreen than on. I was afraid she’d end up with her own reality TV show, but fortunately we were all spared that. She finally gave up trying to draw attention to herself and moved to Italy.”

He couldn’t get a bead on whether she loved her mother or tolerated her. “Is that a good thing?”

“To be honest, it’s a relief. She’s exhausting to be around.”

“Almost as bad as a day spent trying to get to Sheridan, huh?”

“In retrospect, it wasn’t so terrible.” She put her glasses back on and pushed away from the railing. “Anyway, I didn’t want to go to bed without talking to you about something.”

Ah, yes, bedtime. Between the dancing, the beer and finally being alone with her, he was losing the battle with his sexual attraction. She’d be in the bedroom next to his and that would make falling asleep a challenge. When he’d arrived, his mom had asked him if he wanted to bunk in one of the cabins for nostalgia’s sake. Knowing he’d be interfering with the cleaning and preparations for the summer school kids, he’d decided not to.

Now he wished he’d opted for the cabin. His mom had obviously accepted Geena, and for all he knew Rosie had put them adjacent to each other on purpose. It would be like her to think it served him right for being so unwelcoming. He wasn’t feeling unwelcoming anymore. Life had been so much simpler when he’d thought of Geena as the enemy instead of a sexy woman who might or might not be seeing someone.

She took another deep breath, which strained the buttons on her jacket.

He’d been fascinated by that jacket all evening. It revealed a slight bit of cleavage, and near as he could tell, she wore nothing but a bra or a camisole underneath. She didn’t really need a blouse because the jacket provided decent coverage, but he’d thought about what he’d see if he unfastened the buttons.

He needed to get off this train of thought and buy a ticket on another one. Her outfit was no more seductive than any she’d worn in meetings they’d had regarding his career. But those meetings had taken place in her office and not during a cool evening when a silky breeze wafted over them bringing the scent of wild grasses and pine trees.

“You’re upset because I invaded your territory.” Her voice was soft and weary.

“That did upset me.” He wasn’t angry now but chose not to say that.

“If I’d only hoped to convince you to go along with my original plan, then coming here would have been obnoxious, but that’s not why I booked those flights.”

“Then why did you?”

“First of all, I realized that Briana isn’t going to let go of this. If you haven’t gone online then you might not know, but she’s come up with a cutesy slogan and she’s plastering it everywhere.”

Okay, this topic might effectively cool his jets. “I’m afraid to ask what it is.”

“Run, Forrest, run.”

“Oh, for God’s sake.” Just as Geena had predicted, he’d been branded a coward. “That’s sickening.”

“I agree, but the plain truth is that you’re not going to be able to ride this one out. She’s portraying your silence and your absence as an admission of guilt and she’s spinning stories about how you lusted after her during the filming of Preston’s Revenge.”

His stomach pitched. “That’s a damned lie.” So much for the seductive ambiance of the porch.

“I know it is.”

“How?” Their discussion in her office came back to him along with the anger he’d felt at being wrongly accused. “You weren’t there.”

“No, but I—”

“Geena, you’ve always been a straight shooter before. Please don’t twist yourself into a pretzel because you like my family and you want to smooth things over.”

Her chin lifted and she met his gaze. “That is not the case and I resent your implication.”

“And I’m suspicious of your sudden turnaround! How can you be so sure I’m telling the truth?” He took a step closer. “Maybe I spent every available moment on location trying to seduce her while she valiantly fought me off.”

A flame burned in her eyes, which were definitely green, like he’d thought. “I’m trying to apologize, damn it. You didn’t try to seduce her and you didn’t kiss her outside that café. A gentleman wouldn’t do those things. I allowed the photo to convince me of something I should have known wasn’t true. But I finally figured it out.”

This was turning into an effing roller coaster. “So you’ve decided I’m a gentleman?”

“I didn’t just decide. You’ve demonstrated it from the beginning with your yes, ma’am behavior and your respect for everyone in my office, including the cleaning lady. She made a point of telling me that you showed up late one afternoon after we’d all left and you offered to carry out the trash.”

“Who wouldn’t?”

“Most people, Matt. So obviously you didn’t initiate that embarrassing scene in Burbank and you didn’t hit on her during the filming. It doesn’t fit your profile. It’s not you.”

“God, that makes me happy. You can’t imagine how happy.” Vindicated. Damn, that felt good.

“Because I hadn’t put that together, I insulted your sense of honor. No wonder you stomped out of my office. I’m surprised you didn’t end our business relationship.”

He smiled. “That was my original goal when I thought I’d be escorting you back to town. First I’d get you a hotel room and then I’d fire you.”

“Good thing Rosie asked me to stay, huh?”

“I wasn’t in favor of that, either.”

“Yeah, she robbed you of your chance to fire me.” She gazed at him with an expression that bordered on tenderness. “You can still do that if you want, although Rosie seems to think you need me.”

The warmth in her eyes brought him right back to the thoughts he’d been having until the discussion turned ugly. Drawn by that warmth, he drifted closer, within touching distance. “I probably do need you. I have no idea how to deal with this fiasco. Anyway, I can’t fire you with Rosie around. She’d give me hell for it. The others wouldn’t like it, either. You made some friends in there.”

“Nice to know.” For some reason her glasses misted up. She took them off. “How about out here?”

He was a goner. “I’ve always liked you. That’s why it bothered me so much that you believed I’d caused that scene.”

“I’ve always liked you, too.” She moistened her lips. “That’s all the more reason I should have stopped to think before I jumped to conclusions.”

The gesture caught his attention and he noticed her lipstick had worn off. He’d never seen her without it. Because of that, the natural pink of her bare lips was more arousing than if she’d stripped naked. The sweep of her tongue had left her mouth with a satin sheen that begged to be savored.

“Rosie thinks there’s more to it.”

“More to what?” While he’d been imagining how she’d taste, he’d lost track of the conversation. Lifting his gaze, he saw awareness in her expression and his heart pounded in anticipation. She knew what he wanted. Judging from the way she was looking at him, she wasn’t opposed.

“The kissing incident.” Her breathing quickened. “She doesn’t think we have all the facts and you won’t make those public because you’re too much of a gentleman. I’m inclined to agree. There are lines you won’t cross.”

He searched her expression. “Apparently you admire that.”

“I do.”

“Then maybe we should head inside.”

She swallowed. “We should?”

“Uh-huh. I’m guessing you already have someone in your life.”

“Actually, I don’t.” Her voice was laced with tension. “Why do you want that information?”

“Because I’m two seconds away from kissing you and I’d hate to ruin my sterling reputation.”

Color bloomed in her cheeks. “I promise your reputation’s safe with me.”

Chapter Five

Being kissed by Matt Forrest was the last thing in the world Geena had expected to happen to her in Wyoming. Being trampled by a moose had seemed far more likely, or being eaten by a grizzly bear.

But kicking off her shoes to learn Cade’s new dance step had felt like kicking off the traces. She’d been under strain, too, and dancing plus a bottle of beer had relaxed her. She’d forgotten to be so darned professional, and like any good actor, Matt had taken his cue.

Licking her lips had been an innocent and unplanned move, but when those electric-blue eyes had focused on her mouth, game over. A powerful wave of lust had swept her brain clean of everything but the need to kiss and be kissed by the hottest cowboy she’d ever known.

He took off his hat and laid it on a chair. Then he reached for her. Cupping her face in both hands, he gazed into her eyes. “I’ve thought about doing this for months. How about you?”

She was so excited she could barely breathe. “Never crossed my mind.” Sliding her hands up the soft cotton of his T-shirt, she felt the solid muscles underneath. The tactile thrill was more delicious than she could have possibly imagined.

“You’re not attracted to me? I could have sworn—”

“I didn’t say that.” She rubbed her hands across his chest because she couldn’t help herself.

“So you are attracted to me.”

“Uh-huh.” She began a slow massage and watched his eyes darken to navy.

“I should’ve asked you out. I almost did.”

“What stopped you?”

His gaze searched hers. “I thought it might be unprofessional.”

“And people talk.”

“Tell me about it.” He tipped her head back. “But tonight, after watching you dance, I don’t really care.”

“I don’t much care, either.” Her pulse raced as she anticipated the touch of his mouth. It looked sexy on screen but ten times more kissable in real life.

He leaned closer. “Glad to hear it.” And he captured her mouth.

When he did, the takeover was complete. She leaned into him and ran up the white flag without firing a single shot. No doubt the guy had many talents or he wouldn’t be finding success in the competitive film industry. But he could give a master course in the art of mouth-to-mouth contact.

He made the connection effortlessly, as if he’d already mapped the contours of her lips. And once he settled in, heaven help her. The movements of his mouth and tongue were subtle yet devastating. He teased, he sucked and he nibbled until she was ready to rip her clothes off because she wanted his brand of intense pleasure everywhere.

That tortured moan had come from her. Her panties were damp and she was clinging to him for dear life. Dimly she remembered they were on the porch of his parents’ house and nothing she longed for could happen here.

Gasping in reaction, she struggled out of his arms and backed away. “You should have a license for that mouth.”

His chuckle was low and sexy, although he was breathing hard, too. “You were giving as good as you got, lady.”

“Okay, Forrest, the gloves are off. We’re officially hot for each other.”

“I noticed.” He dragged in air. “I’m quick that way.”

She pressed a hand against her thumping heart. “I’m... I don’t know what’s supposed to happen next. This is still highly unprofessional.”

“Like I said, I don’t care anymore.”

“Honestly, neither do I. But I’m a guest in your parents’ home. I’m not planning to embarrass either me or them.”

“We won’t.” He retrieved his hat and settled it on his head. “But this isn’t over.”

“I hope not, but I’m a stranger in a strange land. I need a guide.”

“Right.” He paused. “The first thing you should know is that Mom put you in the room next to mine.”

“Oh, geez.”

“That might have been an accident but it might not. She could have done it because she was upset with me for being a jerk when you arrived. But I also feel obliged to warn you that when it comes to her boys, she’s a matchmaker.”

Geena gulped. “But she barely knows me.”

“And that may not figure into her thinking at all, but I might have mentioned you a few times on the phone. That could be enough to set her in motion.”

“Oh.” Knowing he’d talked to Rosie about her was flattering but she wasn’t crazy about being the target of a matchmaking scheme, even if the proposed match was between her and Mr. Hotter-than-a-jalapeño.

“I’m really not sure what she’s thinking. But she knows that you want the best for me, which is a big deal for her. I’m sure she appreciates your interest in the academy, too. You’ve made a good first impression.”

“I’m glad, but let me be clear. After that dynamite kiss I’m eager to get even friendlier, but it’s way too early to be picking out china patterns. Considering my background, I’m not sure that will ever be in the cards.”

“I’ll call your background and raise you mine. Not to mention the lousy odds of any Hollywood couple lasting more than a few years.”

She grimaced. “Isn’t that the truth? But it’s good that we’re on the same page, even if your foster mom has other ideas.”

“You know, I shouldn’t assume she wants to marry me off just because she has that reputation with her boys. She knows how important my career is, how much I want to make it as an actor. So forget what I said. For sure she wants us to get along for our mutual benefit, but that might be the extent of it.”

“Even though she put us in adjoining rooms?”

“Yeah, she did.” He shrugged. “I’m not sure what she had in mind when she did that, but in any case, it won’t work for me. I’ll take a bedroll down to the barn.”

“Is that a veiled invitation to join you there?”

“No, ma’am, it isn’t.”

“Getting it on in the barn has a certain ring to it.”

“Been there, but with country girls. I’m not subjecting you to that.”

She looked him in the eye. “What if I want to be subjected to it?”

His reaction was all she could have hoped for. His eyes darkened and his chest heaved. But he didn’t give in. “Maybe before you leave, but not the first time. For all you know you’re allergic to hay. Or horses. Hear me out on this and don’t get crazy on me.”

“I’m already crazy, and it’s your fault because you kiss like no man I’ve ever known.”

“So I’ve been told.”

She groaned. “You could have warned me! I wasn’t the least bit prepared!”

“Oh, Geena.” Moving closer, he pulled her into his arms. “We’ve started this thing between us and I promise we’ll finish it. I bought a ranch, and I’m thinking that maybe we—”

“A ranch? A whole ranch?”

“I’m hoping it’s a whole ranch. I’d hate like hell to buy half a ranch.”

That made her laugh. “So, where is it?”

“Right down the road.” He rubbed the small of her back. “I vaguely remember the place from when I lived at Thunder Mountain but I’ve never been inside the house. Rosie and Herb looked it over for me and said it was a good buy, although it needs work. I want to go see it tomorrow, so if you’d like to ride along, you’d be most welcome.”

“I’m way ahead of you. I accept your invitation to visit your ranch.”

“Excellent.”

“Now, let me go or I’m liable to drag you into my SUV and drive you over there tonight.”

He backed away. “You’re good for my ego.”

“You ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”

His gaze swept over her. “We need to get back inside before I change my mind about the barn.”

“I’m not allergic to hay. Or horses. I just remembered that I’ve been exposed to both at Disneyland. I’m good with goats, too.” His laughter made her smile. “Well, I am. They came right up to me wagging their little tails.”

“I’ll bet they did. But please don’t come down to the barn tonight. It’s not an appropriate venue for what I have in mind, and anyway, I didn’t anticipate this so I don’t have supplies.”

Supplies. He really was a gentleman. “Okay. I’ll respect your wishes.” She put on her glasses and tucked a few strands of hair back into place.

“Besides, you should get a good night’s sleep after what you’ve been through today.”

“What about you, bedding down in the barn? Surely you won’t get a good night’s sleep.”

“Actually, I will. I love listening to the horses moving around in their stalls, munching on hay, making snuffling sounds. It’s comforting. I used to do it all the time when I lived here. I’d pretend I was John Wayne, banished to the barn by Maureen O’Hara.” He took a deep breath. “Ready to go in?”

“Do I have a choice?” Now she wished that nature had given her red hair so she could be Maureen O’Hara to his John Wayne.

He shook his head. “We’ve already been out here long enough to raise suspicion. And you must be exhausted.”

“I used to be.” She glanced at him. “But thanks to you, I’m all revved up again.”

“Sorry about that.”

“Are you really?”

He grinned. “No, ma’am.”

“I didn’t think so. When I first arrived and saw your face, I thought I’d made a terrible mistake by coming here. But it wasn’t a mistake, was it?”

He met her gaze and his eyes crinkled with laughter. “If it was, I hope you keep on makin’ ’em.”

Dear Lord, his kiss had been enough to seduce her without adding country charm to the mix. Apparently being in this setting highlighted all his considerable attributes. She could hardly wait for tomorrow’s trip to his ranch so she could sample every one of them.

The woman was hotter than the griddle at a Chamber of Commerce pancake breakfast. Matt was forced to call on his acting skills in order to appear in control as he walked back into the living room with Geena. He was congratulating himself on his smooth entrance when he tripped over a footstool and barely saved himself from a face-plant.

“I saw that!” Cade smirked at him. “It was totally the stool’s fault.”

His face heated. “I was...uh...”

“Distracted?” Lexi gave him an innocent smile.

“Poor guy’s worried about Briana.” Geena’s color was high and she avoided looking at him.

“That’s the truth.” He appreciated her attempt to excuse his clumsiness but he could tell the rest of them weren’t buying it. Even his dad, usually the last to catch on, wore a knowing expression.

His mom stood. “Briana’s lucky I don’t live in her town. Miserable woman.” She turned to Geena. “I’m sure you’re ready to crash. Let me show you where everything is. Your bathroom’s down the hall and the shower has some idiosyncrasies you’ll need to know about.”

“I appreciate that, because I would love to take a shower before I go to bed.”

Great. Now he’d picture her naked in the shower in the bathroom they’d be sharing during this visit.

“I’m going to turn in, myself,” his dad said. “See everybody in the morning.”

Once all three had left, Matt sank down on the sofa and blew out a breath.

Cade pushed back his hat and gazed at him. “I don’t know if it was good or bad, but whatever happened out there sure has you going, bro.”

“It was obviously significant,” Lexi said. “You’re one of the most coordinated guys I know. You took fencing lessons, for God’s sake. You don’t trip over footstools.”

Matt rubbed the back of his neck. “I kissed her.”

Cade nodded as if he’d expected to hear that. “Judging from the glazed look in your eyes, she kissed you back.”

“Yes.”

“Ah.” Lexi chuckled. “What a wealth of information is contained in that one little word. So is it okay for the rest of us to like her, now that you’re kissing each other? Because we all pretty much do.”

“Yeah, sure.” He had trouble collecting his thoughts when his brain had been hijacked. “Do you think Mom’s matchmaking?”

“Good question.” Cade scratched his chin where the shadow of a beard was starting to show. “Normally I would say yes, but I don’t get that vibe from her. We talked about Geena while you two were out there smooching, but—”

“It was one kiss.”

“Then it must have been a dandy.” Cade studied him. “I’m happy for you.”

“Me, too,” Lexi said. “Earlier tonight, before she showed up, I got the impression from the conversation that you haven’t been dating anyone in the past six months or so.”

“I haven’t. After auditioning for every commercial in the world, it seemed, I was finally in demand, which was great but kept me really busy. Then this bonanza hit, but a role like that takes a hell of a lot of prep work.”

“I’ll bet.” Compassion shone in her eyes. “You looked strung out when you arrived, but you’re a lot perkier after stealing a kiss from your PR rep.”

“As well you should be,” Cade said. “Geena’s great. I regret the nasty things I said about her before.”

“But you don’t think Mom’s up to her usual tricks?”

“I don’t think so.” Cade turned toward Lexi. “Do you?”

“Why do I get the feeling you three are talking about me?” Rosie walked into the living room looking more amused than upset.

“Guilty.” Lexi spoke up immediately. “We were wondering if you were matchmaking between Geena and Matt.”

“I’m not.” Rosie claimed her favorite chair before gazing at him. “I came out to tell you that I moved her to the room down by us. That way she can have her own bathroom.” She paused. “And you won’t be neighbors.”

He was very likely blushing. “Okay.” He calculated whether the added distance would help him sleep any better. Probably not.

“Should’ve done that in the first place, but I was feeling a little put out with you, so I thought it would serve you right to have her next door. I figured sharing a bathroom might force you to be more civil.”

Cade snorted. “I don’t think that’ll be a problem anymore.”

“I can see that.” She smiled at Matt. “I don’t want to torture you, son. Or her, either. She confessed the strong attraction between you two but said she would never take advantage of my hospitality.”

“She said that, straight out?” He gaped at her.

“You sound surprised,” Lexi said. “Don’t you know people tell Rosie everything? I’ve never met anyone who inspires people to spill their guts the way Rosie does. It’s a gift.”

“They don’t tell me everything.” Rosie surveyed the group. “For example, nobody has bothered to mention why Briana Danvers orchestrated that photo op. It was clearly planned and executed for a reason. Appears to be the work of an angry woman, if you ask me.” She speared Matt with a look. “I’m sure you have noble intentions, but she doesn’t deserve considerate treatment after the way she’s behaved.”

“That’s what I said when he—” Cade groaned. “Sorry, Matt.”

Rosie nodded as she studied the two of them. “As I suspected, it all came out on the drive from the airport.” She turned her attention to Matt. “Well?”

He shook his head. “Sorry, Mom.”

“You don’t trust me to keep it to myself?”

“Of course I do.” He sent a pleading glance in Cade’s direction, but Cade only spread his hands in bewilderment.

“Maybe you don’t trust me,” Lexi said.

“I’d trust both of you with my life. Trust isn’t the issue.”

Rosie leaned forward. “Then what is the issue? I want to help you get out of this mess but I feel handicapped because I don’t know the whole story. I assume Geena doesn’t know it, either.”

“No, she doesn’t.”

“She probably should. It might be extremely important.”

“I can’t tell you what happened unless you promise that you won’t take any action against Briana.”

“Action?” Rosie blinked. “What kind of action would I take?”

“I don’t know, but you both have to promise not to try and harm her by word or deed.”

“Wow,” Lexi said. “This is getting intense. Want us to sign something in blood?”

Matt sighed. “Your word is good enough.”

“All right,” Rosie said. “Lexi and I promise not to harm that horrible woman.” She paused. “Or hire someone to do it for us.”

Cade choked on his beer.

Rosie waited until he’d settled down before turning back to Matt. “What happened?”

As Matt described Briana’s behavior, his mom grew very still, but her fists clenched and her eyes glittered with an unholy fire.

He finished the story and took a deep breath. “It’s safe to say she’s after revenge.”

Rosie looked at him and her voice sounded deceptively calm. “I could strangle her with my bare hands.” The even tone coupled with the ring of certainty was a chilling combination. She didn’t get angry often, but when she did everyone knew to take a step back.

He cleared his throat. “Mom, you promised not to—”

“And I won’t. She’s not worth going to jail for. I wouldn’t dirty my hands on that piece of trash. But poor Cliff.”

“He’s the one I’m protecting, not her.”

“Just realize you won’t be able to protect him forever. I doubt you’re the first and you won’t be the last. He’ll find out sooner or later. Probably sooner now that everyone and his dog is online.”

“But Matt doesn’t want to be the bearer of bad news,” Lexi said. “I get that. Cliff Wallace seems like a great guy.”

“From what I’ve read about him, he is.” Rosie leaned back in her chair. “But I think he has a weakness for bad women. I should have known this one would be no different. She won’t last, but in the meantime, she’s caused problems for one of my own.” She glanced at Matt. “There must be some way to put a hitch in her giddyup.”

“Don’t I wish,” he said, “but I’m fresh out of ideas.”

“We’re all too tired to think about this now.” His mom stood. “We’ll tackle it tomorrow. But thanks for trusting me with the info.”

“It wasn’t about trust.” He got up to give her a good-night hug. “Cade and I were worried the mama grizzly might fly to LA and do a number on Briana.”

“And wouldn’t I love to! But I won’t.” She hugged him back. Then she said good-night to Cade and Lexi before walking back down the hallway.

“I think that went okay,” Cade said after she left. “Sorry I slipped up, though.”

“No worries.” Matt continued to gaze at the darkened hallway as he debated whether his mom’s room-juggling trick changed anything. “Once we got into the conversation about Briana, I knew she’d find a way to dig it out of me.”

“Like Lexi said, it’s her gift.” Cade stood and came over to sling an arm around Matt’s shoulders. “I notice how you’re focused on that hallway and who’s sleeping at the end of it.”

“Just thinking.”

“I know how that goes. I don’t want to get all up in your business, but—”

“Yeah, you do.” Matt turned to smile at him.

“Let’s just say that Mom’s maneuver with the room switcheroo is well meant, but I doubt it’ll lower your stress level. I suggest an alternate plan. Lexi and I have a comfy sofa you can use tonight. That should keep you out of trouble for the time being.”

“And we’d be glad to have you as our guest,” Lexi added.

“Thanks, but I think I’ll just head down to the barn and make up a bedroll in an empty stall.”

Cade nodded. “That works, too. I remember you used to like doing that, getting into your John Wayne persona.”

Matt lowered his voice and moved closer to Cade. “Buddy, this is awkward as hell, but I have a problem if things heat up in the next day or two. I don’t have—”

“Say no more,” Cade murmured.

His color high, Matt glanced over at Lexi. “Don’t listen.”

“Can’t hear a thing.”

“Got you covered,” Cade said quietly.

“Thanks.”

“All righty, then.” Cade clapped him on the back. “We’ll shove off. See you in the—well, hello, sunshine.”

Matt glanced toward the hallway.

Geena stood there rubbing her eyes. Her glossy brown hair tumbled in waves over her shoulders and she wore a bright blue sleep shirt with a Captain America shield on the front. She put on her glasses and peered at them. “Why is everybody still up? I thought we had to be awake at dawn.”

“We’re in the process of leaving,” Cade said. “Why are you up?”

Matt was grateful for Cade’s response because he was incapable of making one. His tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth as he noticed the drape of her sleep shirt and concluded she wasn’t wearing a bra. That could mean she didn’t have on panties, either. The ends of her hair were still damp from the shower.

“I was thirsty and needed a glass for water.”

Lexi started for the kitchen. “I’ll get you one. There’s a pitcher of cold water in the fridge. You’d probably rather have that.”

“Thanks, I would. I’ll come with you. I need to know where things are.” Her bare feet whispered over the hardwood floor as she followed Lexi.

Matt gazed after her, still at a loss for words. She was supposed to be tucked in her room with the door closed, not out here roaming around in a Captain America sleep shirt with nothing underneath but warm, sensuous, freshly showered woman.

“You poor slob.” Cade regarded him with sympathy. “There’s no way I could slip you those raincoats tonight. Want us to hang around for a few, make sure she goes back to her designated area?”

“That’s okay. I can handle it.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of.”

Chapter Six

The hum of conversation in the living room had traveled through the air ducts to Geena’s room. She hadn’t been able to make out any of it, which had been maddening. For sure she was missing something and it might be important.

She’d been dying to know what they were talking about, specifically what Matt was talking about. What if he’d decided to reveal the backstory that had led to Briana’s stunt? Damn it, now she wasn’t the least bit sleepy.

She mostly blamed Matt’s kiss, although to be fair she was still on California time and she never went to bed this early. But it was after eleven here and people were still in the living room talking, even though Rosie had said they generally weren’t night owls. That meant something special was going on and she wanted to know what it was.

When she couldn’t stand it another minute, she’d come up with an excuse to go out there. She would have put on a robe, but she’d packed so quickly this morning that she hadn’t thought to bring one. The sleep shirt was cotton, opaque and reached to midthigh. It covered everything important and she didn’t consider it seductive.

At least, she hadn’t until she’d noticed Matt’s expression once she put on her glasses. He’d looked as if someone had blinded him with a strobe light.

Sadly, she seemed to have caught the tail end of the party. After Lexi poured her a glass of water from the fridge, the two of them walked back to the living room. Geena had hoped that everyone would sit down and continue the discussion, but although Cade seemed ready to stay, Lexi insisted on leaving.

After they were gone Geena was alone with Matt. She realized that might not be the best combination, considering how Matt was looking at her. She should take her water and go, but she wanted to know what that conversation had been about and she believed in seizing the moment. “Part of the reason I couldn’t sleep is that I heard you guys talking out here.”

That startled him. “You did?”

“Through the air ducts. But I couldn’t understand what you were saying.”

“Oh. Yeah, I forgot about the air duct thing. Sorry if we kept you awake.” He didn’t look particularly sorry. The gleam in his eyes returned.

“If it’s private family stuff, then never mind.”

“It kind of was.” His expression said clearly that he’d like to drop the subject and move on to other things, like maybe kissing.

She wouldn’t object, but she had a point to make first. “Matt, if you were giving them the scoop on your history with Briana, then I deserve to hear it, too. We’re in this together.”

“Nice to know.” He took a step closer and there was no mistaking the intent in those blue eyes.

The huskiness in his voice fired her blood and fogged her glasses, but she recognized a delaying tactic when she saw one. “As long as we’re working together, your reputation is connected with mine.” She took off her glasses and used her shirtsleeve to clean them. “If I let you go down in flames that won’t look good for my firm. I don’t want to make this all about me because my investment in the problem isn’t nearly as big as yours. But I do have a stake in it.”

“I hadn’t thought of that.” Taking off his hat, he ran his fingers through his hair.

After yesterday, she recognized the gesture as a sign of nervousness. He didn’t like talking about this and he’d already been through it once tonight. “I’m sorry if this is difficult, but I need to know.”

“I understand, but the more people I tell, the more likely it’ll come out and I don’t want that.”

“You’re my client. I won’t betray your confidence.”

He studied her for a moment and a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“What?”

“Can’t doubt the sincerity of someone wearing a Captain America shirt.” He used his hat to motion her toward the sofa. “We might as well sit.”

She took one end and he claimed the other, leaving at least three feet between them. It wasn’t enough. She could feel the air crackling in that empty space every time she looked into his eyes.

He laid his hat, brim side up, between them.

She glanced at it. “Is that the neutral zone?”

“Yes, ma’am.” His wink gave her goose bumps.

“I promise not to attack you.”

“I can’t make that promise.” His gaze swept over her. “Not when you come out here looking like that.”

“Sorry. I forgot to bring a robe.”

“I’m not complaining, just stating the facts.” His attention settled on the Captain America shield again. “I take it you’re a fan?”

“Sure. He’s an all-American good guy. Like you.”

“Thanks for the reminder. It’ll help me stay on my side of the hat.” He pointed to the glass she held. “You’re not drinking your water.”

“The water was an excuse to come out here to see what was going on.”

He sighed. “All right. Let’s get this over with.” Glancing away, he cleared his throat. “You probably won’t be surprised to hear that Briana propositioned me.”

She sucked in a breath.

“So you are surprised.”

“I shouldn’t be, but damn her.” The news made her sick to her stomach. The woman was a predator if she’d take advantage of a guy who’d just gotten his first big break.

“I’d hoped she was kidding around, but when I tried to make a joke out of it she set me straight real fast.”

Geena’s stomach churned. “That explains everything. You know what they say. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.”

“I did not scorn her.” He tunneled his fingers through his hair again and swore. “God knows I wanted to. I was furious, but I was also humiliated. I wanted her to like and respect me for my acting, but you know what? I wonder if she was jealous of the attention I got. Maybe she thought that if we had sex she’d have some leverage, some power over me.” He glanced over. “Does that make sense?”

“Unfortunately it makes perfect sense.” Her heart ached for the loss of his idealistic dreams. Briana had ruined what should have been special.

“I knew that yelling would make things worse so I tried to be nice. I had to think of something that didn’t sound insulting, so I made up a personal rule—never get involved with a costar. I don’t have any damned rule like that. It sounds stupid and anal, especially coming from somebody as green as I am, but I tried to make it sound believable.”

“But you still rejected her.”

“I had to! But I swear I wasn’t mean about it.”

“Doesn’t matter. Once she made a move, she put you in a no-win situation.”

“Are you saying I can’t win this fight?”

“No, I’m definitely not saying that.” She considered telling him that he had all the ammunition he needed right here on this ranch—his background as a foster kid, his bond with his foster brothers, his amazing foster parents and his scholarship plan to support the new venture. All he had to do was turn her loose on this PR bonanza and everyone would forget about the stupid scandal as they soaked up Matt’s touching past.

But she could predict his response to that idea, especially after a long and emotional day. Timing was everything. “We’ll figure this out, and I’m grateful to you for taking me into your confidence. Obviously it’s a painful episode and we don’t have to bring it up again.” She stood.

He got to his feet, too. “You can see why I don’t want this to come out, right?”

“Yes, I do. Besides, it would be tacky and pointless to accuse her of trying to seduce you. That could really backfire on us.”

“And it would hurt Cliff.”

She sighed. “You’re gonna have to let that one go. He married a toxic woman. That decision will come back to bite him eventually, and everyone who knows and loves him will hate seeing it happen. But it can’t be helped.”

“Rosie said basically the same thing.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “He was in Utah with us for a couple of weeks. He was great, always complimenting me on my work and encouraging me whenever I struggled with a scene.”

“I’ll bet Briana hated that. I’m guessing his primary job is telling her she’s fabulous. No wonder she propositioned you. She could gain power over you and punish her husband at the same time.”

“Guess so.” He looked destroyed. “And now, if he believes Briana’s lies, which he has to since he loves her, he must hate my guts.”

She closed the gap between them. “Matt, I’m so sorry. We’ll fix it.”

“I hope so.” His troubled gaze searched hers. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me, too.” She reached up and stroked his cheek. “It’ll be okay. I promise.”

He muttered an oath and drew her close. “I shouldn’t be doing this. But God, you smell good.”

“I shouldn’t be doing this, either.” She slid her arms around his waist and nestled against him. Sure enough, her glasses misted and she couldn’t see him. “Wait. I need to take off—”

“Don’t. Once I see you naked I won’t be able to stop.”

“I meant my glasses.” She pulled them off and held them in her hand.

“Oh. I could work around those.”

“But they fog up whenever we...whenever I...”

“I’m not surprised.” His gaze roamed her face. “We generate a hell of a lot of heat.” He shuddered. “I need you, Geena. One kiss. Just one.” And his lips came down on hers.

She held tight as his big body trembled with the force of his powerful emotions and his attempt to keep them in check.

His tongue thrust deep as he lifted her hips to meet the hard ridge of his erection. He pressed forward with an urgency that tightened her core as moisture gathered between her thighs. She whimpered, yearning for that connection that he promised with each stroke of his tongue but ultimately would deny her, at least for tonight.

And then, as if a storm had passed, he gently eased away. Keeping his hands at her waist to steady her, he raised his head and gulped for air. “Enough.”

Breathing hard, she looked into eyes that glittered with passion. “Is it?”

“For now.” He paused and took a breath. “It has to be.” He let go of her and stepped back. “I shouldn’t have started that. But I...it helps when I can hold you.”

“I’m glad.”

“But this isn’t the place or the time. I’m going to the barn.”

“Me, too.”

Smiling faintly, he glanced down at her bare feet. “I think not.”

“You can carry me.” She felt safe saying that because of all his lovely muscles.

“Lady, you are temptation personified.” He swallowed. “But I want you to stay here.” He reached out and stroked her cheek with the tip of his finger. “Please. I’d rather not take a chance that we’d get so involved that a member of my family would find us in the morning, all tangled up together and naked as the day we were born.”

“I guess you’ve had enough embarrassment for a while, huh?”

“Actually, I was thinking of your embarrassment.”

A surge of warmth moved through her, warmth that had little to do with sex. “Thank you, Matt.”

“Don’t give me too much credit. I was this close to pulling off your sleep shirt a moment ago, despite what I said.”

“But you didn’t.”

“You whimpered as if I was being too rough. That was enough to bring me to my senses.”

“For future reference, I wasn’t whimpering because you were being too rough.”

“You weren’t?”

“When I make that little noise it means I’m frustrated beyond belief and I’m hoping you’ll take care of the issue immediately.”

“Oh.”

“Just FYI.”

He picked up his hat and settled it on his head. “Probably a good thing I didn’t know that.” He touched the tips of his fingers to the brim. “See you in the mornin’.” And he walked out the front door.

Geena’s questions had been answered by the interlude with Matt, even if her libido hadn’t been satisfied. Apparently answers were more important than orgasms right now because she slept soundly until her phone chimed at five in the morning. Dawn would break in fifteen minutes.

Obviously the birds outside her window hadn’t gotten the memo. They chirped and chattered as if the sun had come up an hour ago. Must be the early birds determined to get that worm. Which was a gross image, now that she thought about it.

Ten minutes later, her hair in a ponytail and wearing a tiny bit of makeup because she’d be seeing Matt, she put on a pair of beige linen pants and a green silk blouse. Until Rosie coughed up some cowgirl duds, it was the best she could do. Her open-toed slides didn’t seem appropriate, either, but at least she wouldn’t go prancing down to the barn in four-inch heels.

As she walked through the living room she heard Rosie rattling pans in the kitchen, but she didn’t stop to chat. She’d promised to be down at the barn by five fifteen and she would, by golly, honor that promise. Anticipation curled in her stomach the way it used to on Christmas morning when she was little. Those mornings might be the only times she’d been up at dawn.

Despite her mother’s many failings as a parent, she’d always made a big deal about Christmas. She and her boyfriend du jour would be standing at the foot of the stairs, their arms loaded with gifts. Another big pile would be waiting under the tree.

On some level, Geena had known the truckload of presents stemmed from her mother’s guilt because the rest of the year she’d left Geena in the care of Beatrice, the nanny. Beatrice had always spent Christmas with her family, so the holiday had been all on Geena’s mom. When it came to extravagance, her mother had written the book.

But as Geena stepped out on the front porch, the commercial splendor of her childhood seemed tawdry compared to the scene spread before her. The ground sparkled as if diamonds had been scattered there, and she finally realized it was dew touched by sunlight. And, oh, the mountains! She’d driven in after dark and she’d been too worried about getting lost to notice the dim bulk of the range that stretched as far as she could see.

Shadows chased by the rising sun moved gently downward from peaks still tipped with snow. If she lived here she’d never get anything done. She’d spend all her time on the porch in an Adirondack chair watching the light shift on the mountain slopes.

A horse whinnied. She’d left her prescription sunglasses in her room, so she shaded her eyes with her hand as she glanced in the direction of the sound. The barn doors slid open with a soft rumble and Matt walked out to gaze up at the house. He was looking for her!

Her pulse raced at the sight of him framed in the doorway of the barn. He had on a white T-shirt, possibly the same one he’d worn the night before. After all, he’d slept down there. She waved and started toward him.

He waited for her, and she found that incredibly sweet. He could have ducked back in to help with the chores, but instead, he’d made welcoming her a priority. Too bad she couldn’t get there faster, but her open-toed shoes weren’t happy with the uneven terrain. She’d rather not embarrass herself by falling down on her way to the barn.

When she drew close enough, he called out a greeting. “You look great!”

“Not exactly Western wear.”

“Doesn’t matter.” He walked to meet her. “You climbed out of bed and made it down here for feeding time.” He hadn’t shaved, and his rakish grin made him look like a certified bad boy.

If he had a rebellious streak, he kept it firmly in check. But last night she’d caught an exciting glimpse of his wild side. She liked it.

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “I like the ponytail. Sassy.”

“Thanks.”

“You impress me, Geena Lysander.”

“That makes it mutual.” If she could wake up to the sight of Matt in a snug T-shirt and jeans every morning, she’d have no problem becoming an early riser. He would inspire any woman to sacrifice a little sleep. “But I don’t want to interrupt your work.”

“Since I slept down here, I had some of it done before my dad and Cade came. They sent me out to see if you were on your way. And here you are.”

“I hope I didn’t miss everything.”

“Oh, no. I shoveled stalls instead of feeding. I knew you wanted to watch that part. Let’s go let them know you’re here and then I’ll introduce you around.”

“But I already know Herb and Cade.”

“I meant introduce you to the horses.”

“Oh! Then I’d be delighted to meet them. I don’t think I’ve ever been personally introduced to a horse. Like I said yesterday, I have no experience with them.”

“Then we should change that. They’re amazing animals.” Matt paused before heading down the wooden barn aisle. “She’s here!”

“Excellent!” Cade poked his head out of one of the stalls.

“Hey, Geena!” Herb walked toward them. “Come on back. I was about to feed Lucy and Linus.”

“Then let’s start with them,” Matt said. “I promised to introduce her to everybody. She’s never met a horse face-to-face.”

Herb chuckled and reached into his pocket. “Then it’s a good thing I brought carrots.” He handed her six chunks. “Give them three apiece. Those two love their carrots.”

She put the pieces in the pocket of her pants and decided not to worry if they left a stain. She’d have fun explaining it to the dry cleaner.

“I’d start with Lucy,” Herb said. “She gets her nose bent out of shape if her son gets treats before she does.” He motioned toward the last stall. “That’s Lucy.”

A golden horse with a white streak down her nose put her head over the stall door and whinnied.

“She’s gorgeous!” Geena gazed at the sleek animal. “She looks just like Roy Rogers’s horse!”

Matt glanced at her in surprise. “I thought you didn’t know horses.”

“I don’t, but I know movies. My mother has a collection like you wouldn’t believe.” Then she noticed another horse, nearly identical, peeking out from the neighboring stall. “Two of them! Lucy and Linus. I see the family resemblance.”

Herb folded his arms and beamed. “Amazing, isn’t it? You don’t always get a palomino foal just because you have a palomino mare, let alone one with a blaze that’s almost identical. Linus just had his first birthday. He was born here last May.”

“Wow.” Geena stared at the young horse. “He looks pretty big to me. They must grow fast.”

“He’s big,” Herb said, “but he’s not nearly filled out yet. And he’s still a kid at heart. You can go ahead and give Lucy her carrots whenever you want.”

“Okay.” She approached Lucy, who looked extremely interested in the hand she’d shoved in her pocket. “How do I do it?”

“One piece at a time and rest it on your palm.” Matt walked up to stand beside her. “Hold your hand flat, like this.” He straightened out her fingers. “Perfect.”

He’d only touched her fingers, yet she felt a zing in every cell of her body. “So, I just hold out my hand and she’ll take it?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She was growing very fond of his country manners. Shoot, she was growing very fond of him. If they’d been in LA she might not have allowed herself to give in to this attraction, but circumstances had changed. She expected the dynamic to reverse when they went back. Once again he’d be in a goldfish bowl and they’d need to rethink their arrangement.

Then Lucy began to nuzzle her palm in search of the carrot, and she forgot all about what would or wouldn’t happen in a week or so. A horse was eating from her hand. It tickled, making her giggle. She pulled out another carrot and repeated the process. “Matt, I love this.”

His soft laughter danced along her nerve endings. “Knew you would.”

Chapter Seven

Watching Geena feed carrots to Lucy and Linus caused a major shift in Matt’s thinking. She wasn’t dressed for hanging out in a barn, but despite that, she looked as if she belonged here. He’d figured she’d like the horses and he’d been right about that. Her uninhibited delight as she interacted with them for the first time was touching.

But until this moment he’d thought of her as a city girl getting a taste of country living. She might enjoy the visit, but without any prior experience to draw on she’d be a fish out of water. Not so. She already fit in, even without the right clothes or any knowledge of horse behavior.

Cade wandered down to join the group and then took her over to meet his sleek black gelding, Hematite. The horse had good manners, thanks to Cade’s training, but Hematite didn’t warm up to everyone. He warmed right up to Geena, though, leaning into her hand as she scratched his neck the way Cade had shown her.

Herb came over to stand next to Matt. “She seems to be having a good time.”

“Yep.”

“That incident with Briana is unfortunate and I wish it had never happened, but at least it brought us Geena.”

“True.” It brought us Geena. Like she was a gift. He was beginning to think she was.

“I like her, son. She’s welcome anytime.”

“I’m sure she’ll appreciate knowing that.” So did he. Over the years, he’d learned to trust his dad’s instincts regarding people. His mom was no slouch in that department, either. Many times in the three years he’d lived in LA he’d wished one or both of them had been on hand to size up a situation.

Geena finished loving on Hematite, and she and Cade started back down the barn aisle. “Cade says it’s time to turn them out into the pasture but he thinks I should meet Navarre and Isabeau first.”

“Absolutely.” Matt glanced at his dad. “Do you want to do the honors of introducing them?”

“You go ahead. In fact, if you and Geena could turn out all the horses when you’re finished, that would be a big help. Cade and I have to go fiddle with the automatic watering system.”

“Cade’s going to help you?” Matt wondered if this was a joke. His brother had many talents, but dealing with mechanical malfunctions wasn’t one of them.

“I know it sounds crazy,” Cade said, “but I’ve developed a basic understanding of this pain-in-the-ass watering system.”

“That said, I’m still planning to replace it.” Herb grimaced. “Darn thing is always acting up. If you decide to put one in over at your new place, don’t get this brand.”

Matt laughed. “Okay. But I’m a long way from installing a watering system in the barn. I haven’t bought a horse, yet.”

“Just warning you in advance that this outfit manufactures lemons. Come on, Cade, maybe you can jerry-rig that confounded hose one more time.” Herb started toward the back of the barn.

“I’m at your service.” With a tip of his hat to Matt and Geena, Cade followed Herb.

“You’ll have a horse on your ranch?” Geena’s eyes lit up.

“At least two.” Now that his brother and his dad were at the other end of the barn, he felt more comfortable putting his arm around her as they walked over to Navarre’s stall.

“You must be planning to take people out riding. That sounds like fun.” Her comment sounded wistful, as if she’d like that.

“You’re invited anytime.”

“I’ll remember that.”

“But, to be totally honest, that’s not the main reason I’d buy two. Horses get nervous if there’s only one of them. They’re herd animals.” He stopped in front of Navarre’s stall and clucked to the dark chestnut. “Hey, boy. Come on over and meet Geena.”

“Look at you, Navarre,” she crooned. “You’re a handsome guy, just like your namesake.” She reached out to stroke the nose that Navarre poked over the stall door.

“I take it your mom owned Ladyhawke, too.”

“She did, but I bought my own copy. I watch it every year or two. Now when I do, I’ll think of this beautiful horse.”

He hoped she’d think of him, too. No guarantees on that, though. A crisis had thrown them into close contact, but once the crisis was over, who knew what would happen? Maybe she’d fall in love with Wyoming and want to spend more time here with him, and maybe she wouldn’t.

He gave her shoulder a squeeze. “Ready to meet Isabeau?”

“Sure. And there she is, right there waiting for us.” She moved closer to the stall door. “Hi, Isabeau, sweetheart.” She stroked the mare’s glossy neck. “You’re a dainty girl, aren’t you?” She looked up at Matt. “Why aren’t they in the same stall?”

“I doubt they’d want that.” He tried not to smile because she was adorably serious with that question.

“Navarre and Isabeau don’t like each other?”

“They do, but that doesn’t mean they want to share a stall. As you can see, that would be close quarters. They enjoy having their own space.”

“Were they ever in the same stall?”

“Truthfully, I doubt it. They might not mirror the Ladyhawke movie script, but they like each other. I’d go so far as to say they’re devoted to each other. They’re a good choice to take out for a two-person trail ride. If there’s time, maybe we could...oh, wait. Lexi offered to give you a lesson. That’s probably a better idea, to start with her. She’s an excellent teacher and I want you to have a good experience.”

“Are you offering to take me on a trail ride?”

“I was, but then I remembered about Lexi. And I’m sure your time here is limited. When do you fly back?”

“When we’ve figured out how to deal with Briana.”

He stared at her as he processed the meaning of that statement. “You didn’t buy a round-trip ticket?”

“Nope. We need a game plan and I don’t see the point in flying home without one. I can’t predict how long it will take to come up with something, so I didn’t buy a return ticket yet.”

“That makes no sense. You have other clients. You can’t hang out with me in Wyoming and ignore them.”

“I won’t ignore them. I’ll check in with Larissa on a regular basis. She’s in charge while I’m gone, but I intend to keep tabs on things by phone and email. She’ll let me know if anything major happens.”

“I suppose most things can be handled that way.”

“Most things.” She gazed at him. “But not this issue.”

“Because I turned off my phone. I’m surprised you haven’t yelled at me for doing that.”

“How could I? You turned it off because I wasn’t being helpful. Cutting off communication forced me to dig a little deeper and figure out why you didn’t want to talk to me. I knew we had to work it out in person, so here I am. The more time we can spend doing that, the sooner I can get back.”

Now, there was a challenging puzzle. The more they were together, the less time she’d be here. “So a trail ride with me would suit you?”

“I’d love it, especially if I can take my phone to keep tabs on the office.”

“Absolutely.”

“You were right about horses being incredible animals. There’s no doubt Lexi has a lot to teach me, but I’ll bet I could sit on a gentle horse and ride down the trail without falling off.”

“I’m sure you could. I want to put in some time cleaning cabins first thing today, but we might be able to pack a lunch and go out around noon.”

“I’ll help with the cabins. We can brainstorm while we’re cleaning.”

“Yeah, no.” Laughing, he shook his head. “Not happening.”

“Why not? Scrubbing and thinking go great together.”

“I could be wrong, but I don’t think my mom’s going to let you muck out cabins. Just a guess.”

“I know how to clean. My nanny, Beatrice, used to let me help her. It was fun, although Beatrice made me swear I wouldn’t tell my mother.”

“I’m sure you’re amazing with a mop, but you’re a guest.”

“Uninvited guest.”

“Trust me, nobody thinks of you that way now. You won’t be allowed to clean.”

She frowned at him. “I didn’t come here to sit around like some princess while everyone else works.”

“You feel strongly about this.”

“Yes, I do. Your family needs us to help, not hinder.”

“Then maybe we can work out a compromise with my mom. We’ll offer to tackle a few jobs together in the morning, and then as a reward we’ll pack a lunch and take off on a trail ride. She might go for that, especially if you tell her you like to clean.”

“All right. We’ll try that approach.”

“Great. Now, let’s get these critters out to the pasture.”

“Will I get to see them run?”

“Linus will run, for sure. Sometimes he convinces Hematite to play chase with him. But let’s start with Navarre and Isabeau. Want to help me lead ’em out?”

“Yes!”

So he fetched a couple of lead ropes from the tack room. She took to the process as if she’d been doing it her whole life. When all the horses had been turned out, he leaned shoulder to shoulder with her at the gate as they watched Linus and Hematite kick up their heels.

She followed their movements, laughing as they bucked and spun, gold and ebony coats gleaming in the sunlight. “So beautiful.”

He studied her profile—the high, intelligent forehead, deep-set eyes and determined chin. She’d chosen to wear glasses instead of contacts, and he thought that suited her straightforward personality. Her smile dimpled her cheek and a breeze coaxed strands of her hair out of her ponytail to curl at her nape. “Yes, ma’am,” he murmured. “Beautiful.”

She glanced over at him, her green eyes filled with happiness. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

“It’s not flattery. It’s the truth.”

“Thank you, Matt. I feel beautiful when you look at me like that. I also want to kiss the living daylights out of you.”

“I’d be fine with it if I didn’t see my dad and Cade coming out of the barn.”

“I thought they might be, which is why I didn’t lay one on you.” She pushed away from the gate. “Let’s go have some of that breakfast Lexi’s so keen on. Where is she, by the way? I can’t imagine her sleeping in.”

Matt took her hand as they walked back to the house. “Cade said she’s updating her website. She never seems to find the time, and she’s added some new features to her riding clinics.”

“Clinics, huh? Obviously there’s more to her job description than just riding teacher.”

“A lot more. She gives clinics all over, even out of the state. Sure you don’t want to take a lesson from her before we go on a trail ride?”

“Let’s do the trail ride as planned. If she’s so busy she doesn’t have time for her website, she might have trouble working me in.”

“She’ll make the time.”

“I know she will. She doesn’t seem like the type who reneges on a promise, but a simple trail ride sounds easy enough unless you think I can’t handle it.”

“You can and it’ll be fun.” His body warmed with anticipation. She might be focused on discussing their PR problem on that trail ride, but he had some ideas that had nothing to do with business. Cade had brought a box of condoms down to the barn this morning. Matt had hidden it in the tack room behind some old blankets, but not before he’d pocketed a few.

He’d planned to take her over to his ranch, but he didn’t know what he’d find there. Last night, desperate for private time, he’d thought a trip to his recently purchased ranch would be perfect. In the light of day he couldn’t picture making out in dusty, empty rooms.

A trail ride had all kinds of things going for it, though—fresh air, wildflowers and grassy meadows. If he wanted to do a subtle sales job on Wyoming, a trail ride to a picturesque clearing he knew about and a picnic on a soft blanket should do the trick.

“I don’t know how to explain it,” she said, “but being around horses feels very natural to me. Maybe that’s because of all the movies I watched, although somehow I never imagined that I could ride. My life was crammed with lessons aimed at making me a performer. My mom would have considered riding a hobby, like knitting or scrapbooking. I didn’t have time for hobbies.”

“How about now?”

“What a thought! I’ve been concentrating on building my business, but why not have some hobbies?” She glanced at him. “Do you have any?”

“Not yet. But I figure my ranch will qualify once I get everything set up.”

“Oh, it will. I imagine it as a place to de-stress and get back to basics.”

“That’s exactly my vision. You just nailed it.”

“Matt, I have the best idea.”

“What?”

“Your ranch is nearby, right?”

“Yes, ma’am. I wanted to be close to my folks.”

“That’s perfect, then! We can ride to your ranch and have lunch there. Your first meal in your new home. Can we do that? I really want to see it.”

“Uh, okay, but I don’t know what shape the place will be in. The house is empty of furniture, far as I know, and I’ll bet there’s dust an inch thick on—”

“I don’t care about that. We can open the windows to let in fresh air. I’ll bet Rosie has a dustpan and whiskbroom we could take along. We’ll clear a spot and spread a blanket on the floor. I would be so honored to be the first person you entertain at your ranch.”

“And I’d be honored to have you.” So much for his picnic in the meadow, but maybe this would be better.

“I think everyone needs a place to get away from the pressures of a job, but judging from my experience, actors may need it more than most.”

“I wouldn’t have thought so, but now I do.”

“Do you regret getting into the business?”

“Never. I had some bad moments after the story broke, but it’s my life. I love what I do.”

“I’ve never asked why you chose this kind of work.”

They’d reached the steps and he paused to glance at her. “No, you haven’t.”

“Is it the wrong question to ask? I can withdraw it.”

He could smell bacon and coffee. He was hungry and wanted nothing more than to head on inside to enjoy the breakfast Rosie had prepared. But he and Geena were making a connection, and this would come up eventually.

“No, don’t withdraw it.” He held her gaze. “Just know that none of this can ever go in a press release.”

“I would never repeat something you told me without your permission.”

“Then I’ll make it short, and then we won’t have to talk about that anymore, either.”

“Okay.”

He took a deep breath. He hadn’t told this story in a while. None of his new friends in LA had a clue he was a foster kid. “I never knew who my dad was and my mom didn’t enjoy having me around.”

Her green eyes clouded. “That’s hard to imagine.”

“Don’t worry. Rosie got me counseling and I’ve accepted that it wasn’t my fault. I was in the way of her delusional plan that a guy would come along and sweep her off her feet. Maybe it happened. One day she was supposed to pick me up from school and she never showed.”

“Oh, Matt.”

“I finally got a friend’s mom to give me a ride home and I found a note that said she’d gone to look for a better life. She left the phone number for the foster care division of the town’s social services and I called it. Rosie was still working in that department then, and she offered to take me. End of story.”

Geena swallowed. “Have you ever heard from your mother?”

“No, ma’am, and I’d rather not.” He tugged the brim of his hat lower. “At this point, by her standards, I’m rich and she might think she could cash in.”

“I’d like to see her try!”

Geena’s protectiveness made him smile. It also made him glad he’d told her. “Thanks for that.”

“Maybe you should give me her name in case she has the nerve to contact you through me.”

“Mindy’s her first name, but no telling what her last name is now. It could have changed six times since then.”

“If anybody named Mindy comes looking for you, I’ll let you know.” She gazed at him. “And I had the audacity to whine about my childhood.”

“Money doesn’t make everything okay. You had it tough, too. Don’t forget that I ended up with Rosie and Herb, plus all my brothers. The way I look at it, my birth mom did me a favor. She went looking for a better life, and thanks to her I found one.”

“I suppose, in a way, she did the right thing. She wasn’t a positive influence.”

“Except she was the reason I got into acting. Whenever the school put on a play, I was the first to stick my hand in the air. It was my favorite escape, a chance to pretend I was someone else.”

“But when you came here, you didn’t give it up. That much I do know about you from your résumé. You were in a ton of high school productions.”

“By then I was hooked. If I could make an audience laugh or cry, or even get mad, I was thrilled. Now I’ll have to go to my own movies to get that buzz.”

“Or take a shot at live theater.”

“Maybe.”

She stood on tiptoe and brushed a kiss over his cheek. “Thank you for trusting me with your story. It won’t go anywhere.”

Pushing back his hat, he took her by the shoulders and gave her a quick, fiery kiss. Then he noticed that her glasses were fogged and began to laugh. “I see what you mean about steaming things up. Let me help.” He gently took them off and pulled a bandanna out of his back pocket. “I hope I end up doing this a lot.” He cleaned the lenses and carefully slid the glasses back into place. “In fact, I’d kiss you again right now, but it’s almost time for breakfast.”

“Can I have a rain check?”

“Lady, you can have anything you want from me.”

Chapter Eight

She could have anything she wanted from Matt. Geena wished she believed it, but she knew his comment didn’t extend to whatever she had in mind for his goodwill campaign. He’d made it clear that his foster-kid story was off the table. Now that he’d told her the details, she understood why.

As she tucked into what was possibly the best breakfast she’d ever eaten, she reviewed the situation. Before hearing that his mother had abandoned him, she’d hoped he’d consent to a heartwarming article or video interview about how Rosie, Herb, his foster brothers and this ranch had shaped his life. She’d discovered that trying to refute bad publicity never worked, but replacing it with good news almost always did.

Unfortunately, she couldn’t use the Thunder Mountain angle. Once she opened that door, celebrity gossip magazines would dig for the story behind the story. An enterprising reporter might find his mother. Or his mother would contact him. Since he didn’t want that, they’d have to take a different approach.

She had no idea what that would be, but the conversation at the breakfast table had shifted from the weather to what everyone planned to do after breakfast. That was her cue to propose the cleaning plan. She glanced across at Matt, who gave her a subtle nod.

Somehow, in the midst of taking seats at the round table, they’d ended up on opposite sides. Herb and Rosie sat on her right and Lexi and Cade were on her left. She focused on Rosie and went into her spiel.

Rosie listened politely as she sipped her coffee. At the end of the speech she put down her mug. “That’s a wonderful offer, but here’s the deal. I didn’t expect either of you to be here during this time, so we have it covered. Matt needs a break and you probably have calls to make. I doubt your business has come to a screeching halt because you flew to Wyoming.”

“No, but I’ll check in with my office before we start. If I have issues to handle I might have to retract my offer, but nothing was critical when I talked with my assistant yesterday. And I really do want to help.”

“I can see that.” Rosie beamed at her. “But you and Matt are both excused from cleaning duty.”

Matt looked at Geena, his lifted eyebrows clearly saying I told you so.

But she wasn’t giving up. “You didn’t expect us, but here we are, consuming food and taking up space. I’m sure I speak for Matt when I say that we’d feel a whole lot better about our unplanned visit if you’d let us do something for the cause. It won’t be a chore for either of us to scrub down a cabin or two. If we hop right on it, maybe we can finish up all four this morning.”

“Whoa, there, Geena, ma’am.” Cade took off his hat and settled it more securely on his head. “Back up the bus. You gotta leave something for the rest of us. My lady purely loves watching me operate a vacuum cleaner.”

Lexi sighed dramatically. “I’ll admit it. Nothing’s sexier than a man running a vacuum.” She fanned herself. “Oh, baby.”

“I’d never want to deprive you of that.” Geena focused on Lexi, figuring she’d understand the situation even if Rosie balked. “Can we split the job, two cabins for you guys and two for us?”

“Sure, why not?”

“I like it.” Matt lifted his coffee mug in Rosie’s direction. “Over to you, Mom, but I hope you’ll throw in the towel. And the mop and the broom while you’re at it.”

“Matthew Edward.” Rosie frowned at him. “Young women who come to visit Thunder Mountain are welcome to help out a little bit because that’s being mannerly. But they’re not supposed to wash windows and mop floors.”

“Oooh, she said your whole name, bro.” Cade rolled his eyes. “Either she’s touched or annoyed. It could go either way.”

“I’m both.” Rosie pulled a tissue from her pocket. “But mostly I’m touched.” She dabbed at her eyes and gave them all a teary smile. “When I listen to the four of you arguing for the privilege of cleaning the cabins, it gets to me.”

“I’ll just bet it does,” Cade said. “You’re probably remembering all the years we tried to argue our way out of doing it.”

Rosie laughed and dabbed her eyes some more. “Yes, you certainly did. Very creatively, too.”

Cade looked over at Matt. “We were rotten, you know?”

“I know. We should have been more grateful, more willing to—”

“Now, hang on,” Herb said. “We’re talking about normal boys, here, right?” He put an arm around Rosie. “We would have worried if you’d all gone about your chores with a smile on your face and a song in your heart.”

Cade chuckled. “Yeah, that would have been kind of sickening.”

“I loved it all,” Rosie said. “The arguing, the pranks, the roughhousing. The handpicked bouquets.” She winked at Cade.

“Who knew that was poison ivy?”

Herb shook his head and sighed. “Everybody but you, son.”

“So many great memories.” Rosie looked at Matt. “I’ll never forget when you had the lead in Oklahoma!”

“Yeah, that was epic,” Cade said. “Lining up outside the auditorium an hour early to make sure we sat in front and threatening the younger guys with death if they goofed off during the performance.”

“Instead, they were mesmerized,” Rosie said. “So was I.” She reached over and squeezed Matt’s arm. “I knew then you’d make it. I’m pretty sure I told you so.”

“Yes, ma’am, you did.” Matt’s voice was gruff with emotion as he held Rosie’s gaze. “Always remembered it.”

“Okay, okay.” Cade pushed back his chair. “We need to break this up before I start bawling. You don’t want to see that, Geena. It gets ugly. So, Mom, is Geena cleared to be part of the cleaning crew?”

“Oh, all right.” Rosie got up from the table. “But not in that outfit. Come with me, Geena. While the rest of this bunch tidies up the kitchen, I’ll find you some knockabout clothes.”

Geena followed Rosie through the living room and down the hallway. Rosie made a comment about the unseasonably warm weather expected that day and Geena responded to that, but she was more interested in the family pictures lining the hall. A quick glance revealed that most of them were group photos of teenage boys. An older one of a couple in wedding attire had to be Rosie and Herb, but nearby hung a recent wedding picture featuring the couple Geena had met the night before, the ones with the baby.

Rosie looked over her shoulder and paused. “That’s Damon and Philomena. They have a baby girl now.”

“I know. I met them last night...sort of.”

“What do you mean, sort of?” Rosie walked back to stand with her in front of the photograph.

“I was waiting in the driveway debating whether to go up and knock on the door when they came out. They were friendly until they found out who I was. Then they politely offered to escort me back to town.”

“Oh, dear. I suppose he was trying to protect Matt. They do stick up for each other. By the way, I called Damon this morning, told him you were staying here and that you were a very nice woman.”

“Thank you, Rosie.” Geena impulsively gave her a hug and then wondered if she should have. “You’ll have to excuse me if that was overly familiar. I just—”

“I love getting hugs.” Rosie smiled at her. “The more the better.” She gestured to the wall of pictures. “My boys are all good huggers. Some of them came here with the idea that it was unmanly. They got over it.”

“I wish I could have seen this place back then. It must have been something.”

“I have videos. Maybe while you’re here we could have a movie night.”

“I would love that.” Geena gazed at the two smiling people who’d been so suspicious of her last night. “Do you have videos of little Sophie?”

“My first grandchild?” Rosie’s blue eyes glowed with pride. “You know I do! I’m supposed to get a studio picture for this wall any day now, too.”

“I guess you could end up with a lot of baby pictures, couldn’t you?”

“I hope so. I’ll start a new wall somewhere else in the house if I need to. Now, let’s go find you something cool to wear. It’ll be a scorcher today.” She led the way into a master bedroom containing furniture that was probably as old as the marriage. It wasn’t a fancy room, but the bed was neatly made with a white chenille bedspread and the surfaces looked freshly dusted.

“This is my stash of hand-me-downs.” Rosie slid back the doors of a large wall closet tightly packed with jeans and shirts hanging from the rod and boots lined up along the floor. “Some kids leave stuff and friends donate things. Sometimes I shop at the thrift store. It’s all washed and mended.”

“This is amazing, Rosie.”

“Thanks.” She gave Geena an assessing glance. “I could let you go through them, but it’ll be faster if you let me pull some things out. By now I’m pretty good at knowing what will fit and look good.”

“All I care about is the fit. Looking good isn’t a priority.”

Rosie laughed. “Oh, yes, it is. Everyone functions better when they like the way they look. That was one of the first things I learned when I worked in social services. Get someone a decent outfit or two and their entire attitude changes.” She quickly chose three shirts and three pairs of jeans. “Not that I think you need an attitude change. Yours is excellent.”

“Why, thank you.” Geena flushed with pleasure. “What a nice thing to say.”

“I know quality when I see it.” Rosie handed over the clothes. “Go into the bathroom and try those on while I sort through the boots. That’s trickier. Are you about an eight?”

“Nine. I really appreciate this, Rosie.”

“I appreciate you going the extra mile.” She hesitated. “Nobody likes to be falsely accused, but Matt’s more touchy than most. His birth mother used to blame him for all kinds of things he didn’t do.”

“I’m not surprised. Any mother who can walk away and leave her kid...”

“Did he tell you about that?”

“This morning.”

“Good. Then he must trust you, because he doesn’t share that with many people.”

“I completely understand that he’s a very private person. But I’m desperate to find a way to improve his image. I was hoping to use his background, but he doesn’t want that for many reasons. Reporters aren’t the only ones who could show up here asking questions.”

Rosie nodded. “Right. There’s Mindy. I’ve been worried about her ever since he landed that role. She could already be trying to find a way to contact him, but no point in making it easy for her.” Rosie patted Geena’s arm. “I know this is a knotty problem, but give it a little time. You’ve only been here since last night.”

Geena laughed. “Funny, but it seems much longer. I feel as if I’ve known you for years.”

“That’s a lovely compliment.” Rosie held her gaze. “I’m going to help you figure this out. Like I said, give it time.”

Geena drew a deep breath. “Okay.” She chose not to mention that time wasn’t their friend. Even as they stood there discussing the problem, Briana’s PR machine was spewing out garbage about Matt. The longer he stayed in hiding, the more likely people would believe all those hateful lies.

After Geena changed into her borrowed clothes, she checked in with Larissa and took notes for the calls she’d make after she finished cleaning. The hour’s time difference would be a bonus. Matt, Cade and Lexi had gathered the supplies and were heading to the porch by the time she left her bedroom.

She’d taken everything Rosie had chosen and put on the outfit she liked best. Rosie had also come up with a straw Western hat to keep the sun out of her eyes during the walk to the meadow. Geena had twisted her hair on top of her head and shoved the hat over it.

The boot-cut jeans were a little snug on her, but they were soft and amazingly comfortable. So were the boots Rosie had found. The button-front green plaid shirt was designed to tie at the waist, which gave it a sassy feel. A quick glance in the mirror confirmed that she was finally wearing something that fit the occasion.

Matt’s wide smile told her she passed muster. “You look great.”

“Thanks.” She noticed he’d taken time to shave, which could mean there were kisses in her future. The thought warmed her all over and she worried that her cheeks were pink. Couldn’t be helped. “What should I carry?”

“How about a bucket and a mop?” Cade handed them to her and then divided up the rest of the supplies. He was clearly the person in charge.

While Geena had been trying on clothes she’d asked Rosie to fill her in on Cade, whose function wasn’t clear to her. It turned out that besides being the ranch foreman and primary student chaperone, he also taught an academy class in horse psychology. He and Lexi lived in a new log home near the meadow and the pasture, and Rosie had said they couldn’t manage without him.

As they all started down toward the meadow, Cade put a hand on Matt’s shoulder. “Have you provided Geena with any background on these historic log cabins, bro?”

“He has not,” she said. “For one thing, I didn’t know they were made of logs. And there are four?”

“Now there are,” Cade said. “But originally there were only three. Damon and Phil built the fourth one last summer, so technically only the first three are historic. Especially the first one.” He glanced at Matt. “Is it okay if I tell her about the brotherhood?”

“Go for it.”

“I should hope you can tell her,” Lexi said. “She volunteered to clean cabins, for pity’s sake. She’s working hard to save Matt’s reputation. Geena’s aces in my book.”

Geena flashed Lexi a smile. “Thanks.”

“So, the story of the brotherhood.” Cade adjusted his grip on a second mop he carried on his shoulder like a rifle. “The first three guys Rosie brought home were Damon Harrison, Finn O’Roarke and me. Damon’s—”

“I know who Damon is,” she said. “And Finn’s the guy who brews the beer we drank last night.”

“Exactly. So we created the Thunder Mountain Brotherhood. We had a blood-brother ceremony in the woods where we swore to be straight with everyone, protect the weak and be loyal to one another for life.” He stated the pledge without a trace of mockery. He’d obviously believed in the concept then and he believed in it now.

Geena’s throat tightened as she imagined three homeless boys pledging to stick together through thick and thin. “That’s very cool.”

“We thought so, too, but unfortunately we were kind of exclusive. We claimed the first cabin and although it sleeps four, we wouldn’t let anybody else in.”

Matt shook his head. “Tell me about it. You acted like you were royalty.”

“I know. We were obnoxious. But we finally grew up and realized that every guy who shared the experience of living here with Rosie and Herb should be a part of the brotherhood, so now it’s official. Everybody’s in.” He reached over and punched Matt lightly on the arm. “I hope you weren’t too traumatized by being excluded for a while, big guy.”

“Nah. There’s always the cool crowd and then the rest of us.”

“Yeah, but today I’m just a lowly cowhand and you’re a famous movie star.”

Matt grinned at him. “Bite me.”

“And get sued by your studio for damaging the goods? No, thanks.” He turned back to Geena. “Anyway, that was life in the cabins. Never a dull moment.”

“Yeah, and I loved it,” Matt said, “despite being lorded over by three megalomaniacs. I used to pretend we were all living on the frontier.”

“Which wasn’t so far from the truth, considering we had to hike down to the bathhouse in the middle of the night to take care of business. Speaking for myself, I felt like Davy Crockett every time I made that journey.”

Geena blinked. “You’re kidding, right?”

“No, he’s not.” Matt looked over at her and grinned. “There’s no running water in the cabins.”

“Really? How could you manage without indoor bathrooms?”

“Oh, we had indoor bathrooms,” Cade said. “We just had to go outdoors to get to ’em. Rain or shine, sleet or snow, down the path we would go.”

“Sometimes we had to shovel first, like if we had six feet of snow,” Matt said.

“And that was if you could get out your door to shovel.” Cade shifted his mop to the other shoulder. “Once the snow was so deep we couldn’t pry the doors open. I don’t think you’d arrived yet, Matt. Dad dug us out or we would’ve had to climb out a window. I’ll bet we had a good ten feet that year.”

She couldn’t imagine, but then she was a California girl. “I suppose there are bathrooms in the cabins now, though, for the academy students.”

“Nope.” Matt shook his head.

“No?”

“They have to do the same thing we did. It’s tradition. Toughens them up.”

She held out the bucket she was carrying. “So, you’re saying in order to mop the floors we have to haul water from the bathhouse?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Wow, this will be more of an adventure than I thought!”

“You really don’t have to do this.” Lexi came over to put an arm around her. “Offering to help was a nice gesture, but I’m starting to feel bad about having you do manual labor on your business trip. The three of us can handle it.”

“Nice try, but there’s no way you’re getting rid of me now. I was the kid who never went to camp. I would have loved to—” She stopped in her tracks as the semicircle of four cabins came into view. Nestled in a grassy meadow, they did look as if a family of settlers might have constructed them. Tall pines ringed the meadow and wind sighed through the top branches, making a sound that was hauntingly familiar.

Benches surrounded a fire pit in the middle of the cabin area and the lingering scent of charred logs blended with the aroma of pine. She longed to sit on one of those benches, roast marshmallows and tell ghost stories. Then she’d pile into a cabin with her friends and zip herself into her very own sleeping bag.

“Like it?” Matt’s question brought her out of her daydream.

“I don’t just like it. I love it.” She realized everyone was watching her with a bemused smile. “This may sound ridiculous, but seeing this meadow is like finding something I didn’t know I missed. I can’t hear traffic noises or sirens or jackhammers. Maybe I’ve always needed a place like this in my life. I just didn’t know it.”

Chapter Nine

Matt had been bowled over by Geena’s transformation from city girl to country girl thanks to Rosie’s magic closet. Then she’d made those heartfelt comments as she’d stood gazing at the log cabins where he’d spent the happiest years of his life. She’d reacted to the meadow exactly as he had the first time he’d laid eyes on it. She was rapidly turning into the girl of his dreams.

Now he really wanted to take her over to his ranch so she could picture herself going there with him next time he came home. He wouldn’t let himself plan too far into the future because that would be foolish. But if he’d found a woman who loved both the film industry and the rural beauty of Wyoming, they could have some fun together.

Once she’d finished exclaiming over the rustic beauty of the cabins and their setting, Cade handed out directions. “We only have one vacuum so we’ll have to trade that back and forth. You two can take it first and we’ll wash windows until you’re done. Then you can wash windows and mop floors while we vacuum. We’ll reverse the process for the next two.”

“Got it.” Matt said.

Cade settled his hat more firmly on his head. “You need to flip the mattresses and look for any items they left behind. After the fall semester we found somebody’s credit card.”

“Aye, aye, sir.” Geena gave him a snappy salute.

Cade’s eyes sparkled with laughter. “You’ll do, recruit. See you in a few.” He and Lexi headed off.

“Nice salute.” Matt carried the vacuum cleaner, and Geena took the bucket and mop.

“Learned it in an acting class in case we ever had an audition for a military role. Did you take any classes or are you just a natural born talent?”

“I took community college courses while I was here and enrolled in a couple of acting studios once I hit LA. That was expensive, though, so mostly I watched Westerns because I knew that’s where I could shine.”

“Lots of John Wayne.”

“Yes, ma’am. Plus Steve McQueen, Lee Marvin and every Western Cliff Wallace made. The man can act with his back to the camera. Brando could do that, too. Impressive.” He hustled up the steps ahead of her so he could open the door.

“Thank you.” She took off her hat and hung it on a hook by the door. “Nice setup.”

“It is.” Adrenaline pumping, he followed her in and closed the door because he knew from experience it was easier to vacuum that way. Yeah, right. That’s why he’d closed the door, so they could clean more efficiently.

Now they were alone, more alone than they’d ever been. The intimacy teased him with possibilities as he stood behind her, trying to breathe normally. Wisps of hair that weren’t long enough to fit into her updo curled against the tender skin of her nape. God, how he wanted to kiss her there. Other places, too. Lots of other places. But they had a job to do and there was no telling how fast Cade and Lexi would finish up and come over here.

So he did what most guys did when they couldn’t decide whether a move would be appropriate. He babbled about nothing. “Last year I managed a quick visit home after Damon and Phil added the built-in loft beds and desks. We just had regular bunk beds when I was here. This is better. Everybody gets a top bunk and their own private area.”

“It’s a great idea.” She pulled her phone out of her pocket and laid it on the nearest desk. “So we’re supposed to vacuum, flip mattresses and look for stray items. Does that cover it until we move into the next phase?”

“Yes, ma’am.” She still had her back to him. He thought he’d detected a faint shiver and her shoulders seemed tense, but he could be imagining things. If she was determined to go straight into work mode, so would he.

She swallowed. “Do you want to kiss me first or—”

He put down the vacuum and spun her around so fast she squeaked. “I want to kiss you more than I want to breathe.”

“I see.” Her green eyes simmered with heat. “Then I won’t be needing these.” Slowing removing her glasses, she perched them on top of her head where they nestled against her glossy hair.

His heartbeat picked up speed. Shoving back his hat, he pulled her close. Her full lips parted on a sigh. He could almost taste their velvet softness “This is risky.”

She wound her arms around his neck. “Is it?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He slid his hands over the warm denim covering her backside. For someone so slender, she perfectly filled his cupped hands. His breathing hitched. “Once I start kissing you, I’m liable to forget about cleaning.”

She pressed her sweet body against his. “I’ll remind you.”

“You do that.” He took her mouth with the desperation of a starving man. He’d only had a few chances to kiss her, but it seemed that was enough to make him addicted to the supple movement of her lips and the erotic dance of her tongue.

She caught fire immediately and he dove into the richness that was Geena’s mouth. His hat fell to the floor. He left it there. He might yearn for a peaceful meadow, but he craved this, to be engulfed in a passion that made him forget his problems, forget everything but the heat of her body and the sound of her moans.

He’d told himself to go slow, but they were alone in this cabin and he wanted...more. Heart pounding, he untied her shirttails and worked his way up the row of buttons. He gave her time to object, but instead she deepened the kiss.

When he’d breached the barrier of her shirt, he discovered the front catch of her bra. What a terrific invention. Anticipation made him clumsy but eventually he flipped open the clasp.

She gasped as his hand closed over her breast.

Breathing hard, he lifted his mouth a fraction from hers. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No.”

That one word traveled like a flame along a fuse. Cupping her warm breast, he supported her with his arm and leaned down. His tongue grazed her nipple and she whimpered. Now he knew what that meant.

Slowly he drew her in and listened to the wild sound of her breathing as he hollowed his cheeks and created a rhythm with his mouth and tongue. Her soft whimpers turned into nearly incoherent words.

He lifted his head again. “What?” he murmured. “Tell me.”

“I want you so much,” she wailed. “But we have to clean!”

Clean. His passion-soaked brain struggled with the concept and finally delivered the bad news. He might have a bed available, although they’d have to climb a ladder to get there, which lacked class. He might have an erection as rigid as the logs used to build this cabin. He might even have a condom in his jeans pocket.

Didn’t matter. Instead of making sweet love to Geena, he had to vacuum floors and flip mattresses. Life wasn’t even remotely fair.

With a resigned sigh, he released her soft, inviting breast. He didn’t dare let go of her completely, though. If she was anywhere near as jacked up as he was, she might lose her balance. He wasn’t entirely confident that he wouldn’t lose his.

She gulped in air. “I shouldn’t have started this. I should have known we couldn’t just kiss each other without...”

“Right.” He swallowed. “But don’t take all the blame. I had a hunch things could get out of control in no time.”

“You did?”

“Yes, ma’am. But I was willing to take the risk because kissing you is my new favorite thing.”

“Kissing you is mine, too.” She took a shaky breath. “Okay, you can let me go. I’m reasonably steady and I should put myself back together so we can get to work.”

He did as she asked and edged away. But he couldn’t stop looking at her, although he definitely should because his package strained against his fly. Her creamy breasts trembled with each breath and her nipples, the rich color of burgundy wine, remained taut and eager for his mouth.

Then she gathered all that bounty into the white lace cups of her bra and fastened the catch, depriving him of that particular view. But he still had the tantalizing sight of her unbuttoned blouse and the inviting shadow of her cleavage. He willingly suffered continued pain in his crotch.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she buttoned her shirt and tied the tails in a loose knot. Last of all, she retrieved her glasses from the top of her head and put them on. “All done.” She took another deep breath. “Do you want to vacuum or flip mattresses?”

“Neither. I want to strip off all your clothes. Then I want to kiss you until we’re both crazy with anticipation. Then I want to make love to you for as long as it takes for both of us to be so satisfied that we can’t imagine wanting even one more orgasm.”

A fire burned in her green eyes. “That sounds amazing. And we’ll do that eventually, I’m sure. But right now, we have to—”

“Clean cabins. I know.” He sighed. “I’ll flip the mattresses. I’ll be done first so I’ll haul water and put it on the front stoop for later.”

“But I want to haul water.”

That made him smile. Apparently she really did look upon this as an adventure. He clenched his hands into fists so he wouldn’t reach for her again, because she was just that appealing. “Okay. Want to split some kindling while you’re at it?”

“Could I? That would be awesome!”

“Don’t see why not.” He picked up his hat from the floor and dusted it off. “In fact, there’s a dead tree about fifty yards into the forest that Dad wants to cut down.”

“There is?” Her eyes widened.

“Yes, ma’am.” He stroked a hand over his face so she wouldn’t notice his grin. “He mentioned it yesterday. When I fetch the ax from the barn, I could also gas up the chain saw. That way you could—”

“Now you’re making fun of me.”

“Just a little.” He settled his hat on his head. “The thing is, if I don’t tease you I’ll just have to kiss you again. A woman who’s excited about hauling water and chopping wood is tough to resist.”

“So is a certain cowboy who took the time to shave before coming out here to clean cabins. I expected you’d still have the scruff.”

“And I expected to steal kisses, so the scruff had to go. I don’t like giving ladies whisker burn.” He backed away. “But I’m staying out of the temptation zone until we get something accomplished. FYI, there’s an outlet under each desk.”

“Does this happen to be your cabin?”

“It was, in fact, although the built-ins change the look so it feels a lot different. But the outlets stayed the same. Oh, and the vacuum’s old and cranky, but everybody’s used to it so Mom keeps getting it repaired instead of buying a new one. It’s sort of an heirloom.”

“I like that.” She leaned down and gave the canister vac a pat. “Don’t worry, sweetie. I’ll treat you with the respect you deserve.”

He figured she was kidding, but as he turned over the mattresses and checked for anything tucked in corners and crevices, he noticed that she used the vacuum efficiently but gently. She didn’t bang it against the furniture or drag it by the cord. Every minute he was finding more reasons to like her, more reasons to make her a part of his personal life as well as his professional one.

The mattresses didn’t take long and he only found some gum wrappers, a couple of small purple hair clips and a crumpled picture of a popular boy band. Obviously girls had been living in this cabin. Although he’d known all along that the academy was coed, he hadn’t grasped the concept that girls might occupy the same cabin where he’d spent his pivotal teenage years. That was more of a shock than the loft beds.

Geena shut off the vacuum. “I found a gold anklet. At least I think it’s an anklet.” She dangled it from one finger. “Could be a bracelet. I’m glad I didn’t suck it up. Her name’s engraved on the little gold heart, which means Rosie can mail it back to her.” She tucked the delicate gold chain in her jeans pocket.

“I don’t think these are worth mailing, though, even if Mom found out who lost them.” He showed her the hair clips.

“Nope. Those are easily replaced, but I’ll take them. Rosie might want to add them to her stash. I don’t know if she has hair doodads, but she might keep some on hand in case the girls lose theirs.”

Matt handed them over. “I’ll bet she gets a kick out of having girls around for a change.”

“She and Herb never considered taking in foster girls, too?”

“Not that I know of. I think when they started with boys, it might have been simpler to stick with that.”

“Probably.” She shoved the clips in her other pocket and gazed at him. “You know...” Then she blew out a breath. “Never mind. I should go get the water.” She gestured to the vacuum. “Your heirloom awaits. I finished the left side of the room so the right side is all yours. Be right back.”

“Wait. You obviously had something to say.”

“There’s no point. You won’t like it.”

“I might. You never know.”

“Yeah, I do, but I might as well finish my thought. Finding that engraved gold chain brought it home to me that there were teenage girls living here last semester, girls who would go wild if they knew Matt Forrest had been on cleanup duty in the very cabin where they stayed.”

A yellow caution light went on in his brain. “Maybe.”

“No maybe about it. I realize you hate the negative publicity being generated, but—”

“Don’t you hate it, too?”

“Yes, absolutely. I’d much rather see positive promo out there for all my clients. But the negative stuff’s accomplished one thing. I guarantee most everyone knows who you are, including the teenage girls who lived in this cabin. They’d be super excited to discover you were here in the same space they so recently vacated.”

“Even if they think I’m the kind of guy who would seduce a married woman?”

“Like I said before, bad boys are popular, too.”

His gut tightened. “I don’t want that kind of reputation.”

“I know you don’t. But I doubt you’d agree to a cute little story about the hot movie star who volunteered his time to clean cabins used by the students of Thunder Mountain Academy.”

“You’re right. I wouldn’t agree to that.”

“I can promise you the girls would be over the moon and even the guys might relish the idea that they had a connection to a celebrity, especially one who can ride and rope.”

“They might, but I don’t want reporters on this ranch invading Mom and Dad’s privacy. Or Cade and Lexi’s, for that matter.”

“I understand.” Her gaze was filled with compassion. “But you might end up having to make a choice. If you’re determined to protect everyone’s privacy, you may be stuck with the bad boy reputation.”

The tightness in his gut turned into a slow burn. “I thought you said this was winnable.”

“It is, but you may not be willing to do what’s necessary to turn this thing around.”

Bile rose in his throat. “I won’t sacrifice my family for personal gain and that’s final.”

“I know. I’ll be back soon with the water.” She put on her straw hat, picked up the bucket sitting beside the door and left.

He turned on the vacuum because then he could swear as loud as he wanted. He’d arrived at the ranch at the age of twelve with a fair number of colorful words in his vocabulary. After hanging out with his foster brothers, he’d added quite a few more. None of the guys used that kind of language around Rosie and Herb, but down in the meadow late at night they used to turn the air blue and laugh like fiends.

This problem was no laughing matter, but swearing still felt like a cleansing activity. He worked his way through his entire repertoire before he started vacuuming. He didn’t want to lose his temper with the machine after Geena had treated it with such loving care.

Maybe her assessment of his situation was wrong. But she was smart and she was capable. Except for her initial reaction to the crisis, he’d been impressed with her grasp of the situation. Unfortunately that might mean she was right about his two choices. Too bad they were sucky and suckier.

Chapter Ten

Cade was on his way over to pick up the vacuum as Geena trudged back carrying the five-gallon bucket that she’d filled about two-thirds full. He didn’t notice her and she was happy about that. The bucket was heavier than she’d expected, but she didn’t want Cade to figure out that she was struggling and take it off her hands. Matt had given her credit for being strong enough, and she didn’t want to admit she wasn’t.

Now that she thought about it, chopping wood might not be as easy as she imagined, either. Much as she longed to be a country girl, she was still a city girl playing at country living. That didn’t mean she’d have to stay that way, though.

Lugging the water had demonstrated that she was soft. She’d slacked off on her workouts at the gym, but that would change now that she had motivation to develop more upper body strength. She loved this place and wanted to spend more time on this ranch or one like it.

On the way down to the bathhouse, when she hadn’t been burdened with a bucket of water, she’d had time to wonder about her visceral reaction to the meadow and the cabins. She couldn’t be positive, but she had a vague memory of being in such a place with her father. She would have been less than three, because by that age her mother had taken over her schedule and packed it with activities to mold her into a superstar.

Sometime around then her dad had died while piloting his small plane. Prior to that he might have flown them to some remote spot for a vacation that she barely remembered. Apparently it had made a soul-deep impression on her, though, because she’d felt a connection to these log cabins from her first glimpse of them.

She was grateful for that epiphany and the trip to Wyoming that had made it possible. But her awakening to the beauties of ranching country didn’t do anything for Matt’s dilemma and she’d come here to help him. She’d had more thoughts about that but wasn’t sure how to approach him with her ideas—or whether to approach him at all.

At breakfast, Rosie had talked about all the support she and Herb had received for the academy project. Matt’s star power could contribute to the success of the school, perhaps really put it on the map, but reporters would have to be involved. He’d said he didn’t want them invading his foster parents’ privacy.

But she had no idea how Rosie and Herb felt about it. What if they’d gladly trade a little privacy for the publicity they’d get by aligning themselves with Matt’s celebrity status? And what if they were reluctant to ask that of him because they didn’t want to risk jeopardizing the privacy he found by coming here?

If it turned out that Matt was protecting Rosie and Herb while they were protecting him, it was enough to give her a migraine. Or it should have been. But in this setting she couldn’t imagine ever having a headache again. The air was blissfully smog-free and she didn’t have to endure the cacophony of honking horns and the rhythmic thump of audio systems set to stun.

Los Angeles seemed a million miles away. She’d make those phone calls after this cleaning gig but she wasn’t looking forward to talking with the client who’d thrown a tantrum because he hadn’t been mentioned in People this week. Dealing with Matt wasn’t easy, but she’d rather coax someone into the limelight than have to drag a client offstage with a shepherd’s crook before they made a complete ass of themselves.

Cade was leaving the cabin with the canister vac in hand as she approached. He put it down and walked to meet her. “Here, I’ll take that back for you.”

“Thanks, I’ve got it.” She pulled the bucket out of reach so fast she sloshed water on her jeans. Felt kind of good, actually.

His brows lifted. “A little possessive of that bucket, aren’t we?”

“Yes. Yes, I am.” Sweat trickled down her back. “I carried it all the way here and I intend to finish the job by myself.”

“You have grit, Geena Lysander. I like that.”

“Thank you.” She lowered her voice. “Let me ask you something.” She put the bucket down and swallowed a groan of relief.

“Sure.”

“Has it occurred to you that linking Matt’s name to the academy could be a good thing for business?”

His expression grew wary. “It might have.” He moved a step closer and spoke quietly. “But he needs this place as an escape and that could ruin it for him.”

She decided not to address that particular assumption. It could be true, but maybe not if she planned her strategy in advance. “So the thought that Matt could be a draw has crossed your mind.”

“Yes, ma’am, but we dismissed it immediately. I hope that’s not the road you’re heading down.”

She noticed his use of we. “I’m not heading down any road. I’m still trying to read the map. Matt says he doesn’t want your privacy invaded, meaning all four of you—Rosie, Herb, Lexi and you. According to what I’m hearing from him, it’s not about his need for privacy. It’s about yours.”

“See, that’s the way he is, always looking out for the people he cares about. Which means we need to look out for him. This situation has made him think that he’d be more of a hindrance than a help.”

“But that’s not necessarily true.”

Cade tugged on the brim of his hat. “No, ma’am, but as long as he thinks it is, then Thunder Mountain can continue to be his sanctuary. Which is fine with us.”

“When you say us, do you mean the four of you?”

“Uh, there’s a few more than that involved.”

“Who?”

He hesitated.

“If you don’t mind my asking.”

“Guess not. You’ve been trustworthy so far.”

“Cade, I care about Matt. I’d never do anything to hurt him.”

He met her gaze and seemed to be evaluating what to say. Finally he nodded. “Okay. Ever since Matt got this part, we’ve recognized his potential to help the academy. The primary group on site includes Mom, Dad, Lexi and me, plus Damon and Phil. Then there’s Ben Radcliffe, who teaches saddle making for us, and his wife, Molly, who set up the curriculum. Finn’s wife, Chelsea, is in marketing, so she immediately saw the possibilities, but she also knows that Matt’s a private guy who cherishes this ranch. The upshot is that no one’s said a word to him about helping to publicize the academy.”

“So you guys are miles ahead of me. I had no idea.”

“And now you know.”

“I do. Thanks for trusting me with this.”

“You can’t tell him.”

“I won’t.”

He smiled. “And now you’d better take that water where it belongs before he sends out a search party.”

“Aye, aye, sir!” She snapped him another salute and picked up her bucket. She was pleased that he chuckled as she walked away. Cade was one of the good guys. In fact, they all sounded terrific and she wished she could meet the rest of the brotherhood.

When she reached the cabin, she left the bucket on the cement stoop and opened the door.

Matt had taken off his hat and had his back to her as he vigorously cleaned the inside of a window. He didn’t turn around. “I was about to go looking for you.”

“It was more of a challenge than I thought.” But watching his tight buns flex inside well-washed denim and his back muscles shift beneath his white T-shirt was reward enough.

“Did you find the outside faucet?” He leaned over to rub a spot near the bottom of the window.

Lordy. “I did.” She paused to clear the lust from her throat. “After I figured out that getting water from one of the sinks or from the shower wasn’t practical, I went looking for a better alternative.”

“Should’ve known you would.” He gave the window one last swipe and turned around. “Did you run into Cade? He just left a bit ago with the vacuum.”

“Yep, I saw him.” She hoped her expression didn’t give anything away.

“The windows over there were a lot dirtier than these, apparently.” He gazed at her. “Which is lucky for us or Cade would have shown up a lot earlier to fetch the vacuum.”

“You mean early enough to catch us...kissing?” Matt had done a lot more than kiss her, and she wouldn’t mind having him repeat the process now that they were alone again.

“Yes, ma’am. Sorry about that. I forgot he’s amazingly fast at windows.”

“You also were looking proficient at the window-cleaning gig when I walked in here.” She still had a buzz going. “How fast is Cade at vacuuming?”

His eyes darkened. “Too damned fast, I’m afraid.” He tossed down the towel he’d been using on the window and came toward her. “Especially when you look at me like that. But I don’t dare grab hold of you. I know what will happen.” He reached out and brushed a damp strand of hair from her cheek and sucked in a breath. “There’s something so sexy about a woman who’s been outside getting sweaty.”

She laughed, although her heart was pounding. “I can’t imagine what.”

“Can’t you?” He brushed his knuckles lightly over her throat. “Your skin’s already nice and warm, plus it’s damp, which makes it so easy to slide my hand—”

“All right, I get it.” She gulped and stepped back.

“Your glasses are fogged up again.”

“I know.” She quickly cleaned them on the tail of her shirt. “You’re right, we can’t do this. Cade and Lexi will show up and find us rolling around on the floor.”

“Rolling? Really?” His smile had a definite touch of wickedness. “I don’t know about you, but I find it’s a lot nicer if you stay put.”

She groaned. “We need to start mopping this floor before I say to heck with what Cade and Lexi find us doing. Are you finished with the windows?”

“I’m finished with the inside. If you’re willing to mop, I’ll go take off the screens and do the outside.”

“I’d rather have you do me.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He winked at her before scooping up the towel he’d dropped and snagging the spray bottle of window cleaner. “So would I.” He went out the door, transferred the bucket from the stoop to the inside, and left her to work out her frustrations with some vigorous mopping.

Matt vowed that he’d concentrate on the windows. He’d taken off the screens without once looking inside the cabin. Then he’d washed an entire window while managing to ignore whatever was happening on the opposite side of the glass. Feeling noble and in control, he’d decided it wouldn’t hurt to take a quick peek inside to see how Geena was coming along with her mopping.

He was still watching her when Cade clapped him on the shoulder, causing him to jump and drop the spray bottle. Luckily it was plastic. When he turned to confront a grinning Cade, he discovered Lexi was there, too, looking highly amused.

Matt glared at both of them, but mostly at Cade for startling him. “You shouldn’t sneak up on a guy with a loaded spray bottle in his hand. I could’ve hit you in the face with a blast of window cleaner. That stuff has to be bad for your eyes.”

“Couldn’t resist, bro. But I regret to inform you that most women don’t go for the Peeping Tom routine. If she catches you doing it, I guarantee she’ll think it’s creepy that you’re staring in the window while she’s mopping the floor. You’ll lose points, bro, major points.”

“But she’s not just mopping. She’s tap dancing while she does it.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“Nope. Take a look.”

Cade moved to the window. “I’ll be damned. C’mere, Lex. This reminds me of those old black-and-white movies Mom likes.”

Lexi walked over and stood on tiptoe. “I can’t really see.”

“Okay, here you go.” Cade crouched down. “Get on my shoulders.”

“You know, I don’t think—”

“Do it. This is worth the price of admission.”

“I hope she doesn’t glance our way and see this.” Lexi climbed on Cade’s shoulders and he slowly got to his feet. “Oh, wow. She really is tap dancing. In cowboy boots, no less, and wearing her hat! I wonder if she has music. I can’t hear anything. Maybe she has music on her phone.”

“Maybe.”

“Well, that’s just cool. Look at her go! She’s—uh-oh. She saw us. Now she’ll probably quit.”

Matt expected that, too. But after giving them a smile and a wave, she continued with her routine as she worked her way toward the cabin door. When she finished, she spun back toward them and bowed. They all applauded and Matt whistled through his teeth.

“Let’s meet her at the door.” Lexi hopped down and they walked around to the front of the cabin.

Geena came out holding the bucket with the mop handle sticking out of it. She was breathing hard and her cheeks were bright pink. Matt couldn’t remember ever seeing a prettier sight, and he’d spent three years in the land of gorgeous women.

They all clapped and cheered, which made her roll her eyes and laugh. Setting down the bucket, she executed another little dance step on the concrete stoop and swept off her hat in a dramatic gesture, dislodging the pins in her hair. It tumbled out of its arrangement.

“That was awesome,” Lexi said. “No wonder you caught on to the dance moves so quickly last night. You’re a pro!”

“Sadly, I’m not. I haven’t tapped in a while, so I’m pretty rusty and so out of shape.”

Matt picked up the bucket and mop. He was willing to argue that point. He loved her shape. And her hair, which hung in glorious waves to her shoulders. He longed to comb it back with his fingers, cup her head in both hands and tilt it so he could kiss that smiling mouth.

“Would you please hold this for a sec while I fix my hair?” She handed him her hat.

“Sure.” He felt like telling her to leave it down because it looked sexy that way. He thought better of saying that out loud.

Drawing a deep breath, she retrieved the scattered pins and used them to anchor her hair on top of her head again. “The mop reminded me of a number we put together when I was taking dance. We combined moves from the Gene Kelly mop dance and Fred Astaire’s routine with a broom. You may not have seen either of those since they’re from really old movies.”

“I have,” Cade said. “So have Damon and Finn. When we first came to the ranch, before the cabins were built, we used to sit in the living room and watch those musicals with Mom. She’s crazy about them. She’d go nuts if you did a tap number for her.”

“I’d probably be too self-conscious to give a planned performance. I don’t even have the right shoes.” She took back her hat and put it on.

“That’s what made it so impressive,” Lexi said. “You weren’t wearing tap shoes. Did you have music playing?”

“Just in my head. I thought nobody was watching. Then I saw you guys at the window and my training kicked in. My dance teacher drummed into us that you never stop in the middle of a number when you have an audience. No matter what, the show must go on.”

“I’m glad you didn’t stop.” Matt had been smitten before, but after that dance routine he was completely dazzled. He could manage a two-step and a waltz without a problem, but he didn’t have the dedication to learn something as complicated as tap. Consequently, he admired the hell out of someone who’d had the determination to get good at it.

He had to laugh when he thought about the earnest conversation he’d had with Geena on the porch last night. They’d both announced that now was not the time to have a serious relationship. He’d been of a similar mindset when he told Cade and Lexi he didn’t want Rosie launching into matchmaking mode.

On paper, the timing of his sudden interest in Geena couldn’t be worse. His career was finally off to a promising start, but the film business was notoriously unstable. An actor could go from fame to obscurity in the blink of an eye.

Asking someone to share the ride when the journey was wildly uncertain wasn’t fair. His head knew that, but his heart wasn’t listening. He was falling for this amazing woman at an alarming rate and getting serious sounded like a terrific idea. If Rosie had any advice on how to turn a temporary fling into something more permanent, he was ready to hear it.

Chapter Eleven

The four of them ended up working together on the last two cabins, which was fine with Matt. He got a kick out of the way Geena interacted with Cade and Lexi, as if she’d known them forever. They treated her the same way. Apparently they recognized qualities in each other that made friendship easy.

Besides, he’d given up the idea of more sexy interludes with her during this cleaning gig. Too much risk of being interrupted and he was feeling increasingly grubby. Before he held her again he needed a shower and a closer shave than he’d managed early this morning.

On the way back to the house Cade got into a conversation with Geena about old movies, and that gave Matt a chance to mention the upcoming trail ride to Lexi.

“Should be fun.”

“I’ve never taken someone out who hasn’t been on a horse. Is that a stupid idea? You were planning to give her a lesson and I don’t want to jump the gun if you think she needs a lesson first.”

“Cade mentioned that she seemed really comfortable with the horses this morning. I’m not saying a lesson wouldn’t be helpful at some point, but greenhorns take trail rides all the time without any prior experience.” Lexi smiled. “She has to be coordinated or she wouldn’t be able to tap dance.”

“What’s that?” Geena called over to them. “Are you two talking about me?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Matt glanced at her. “I wanted to get Lexi’s opinion on our trail ride plan. She thinks it’ll be fine.”

“Good, because I think so, too, especially if we meander over to Matt’s ranch and meander back.”

Cade laughed. “Considering you’re taking Navarre and Isabeau out in the middle of a warm day, you won’t get them to do anything but meander.”

“And that’s perfect for a beginner like me. If Lexi and I can find the time for a lesson while I’m here, great. After I know more I’ll try going a little faster.”

Lexi pulled out her phone and consulted the screen. “How about first thing tomorrow morning? I don’t have anything scheduled until ten.” She grinned. “And now that you’re used to getting up at dawn, we could work in a quick lesson before breakfast.”

“That would be great. Thanks.”

“Lexi’s phone reminded me of something,” Cade said. “Geena, you’d better take yours on the ride.”

“I would, anyway, in case my assistant needs to get in touch.”

“That’s good, because last I heard, hotshot here stowed his in the bottom of a dresser drawer.”

“No worries, bro.” Matt looked over at him. “I’d already planned to unearth it for the ride.”

“Well, good. Is the battery charged?”

Matt sighed. “Yes, Cade, the battery’s charged.”

“I’m delighted to hear it, because a gentleman would never take a lady on a trail ride without bringing his fully charged phone in case of an emergency.”

“You won’t have an emergency,” Lexi added quickly. “But it’s always good to be prepared.”

“Have either of you seen my new place?” He didn’t want to spoil the ambience by taking Geena to see peeling paint and rotting wood.

“Sorry, bro.” Cade shook his head. “Haven’t had the time. Mom and Dad said it has a lot of promise and that you got a good price on it.”

“Is that code for it’s a dump but with a ton of work it’ll be reasonably okay?”

“I don’t think it’s a dump,” Lexi said. “They wouldn’t have let you buy it if they thought that. But I wouldn’t expect it to look like a page out of a guest-ranch brochure, either.”

“No worries,” Geena said. “It’s exciting that you bought a ranch, regardless of what it looks like.”

“Yeah, it is.” He hadn’t cared what it looked like, either, until he’d invited her over there. But he wouldn’t worry about it. How bad could it be?

“I have a question,” Cade said. “Assuming you get it fixed up and maybe buy yourself a couple of horses, who’s gonna take care of the place while you’re in Hollywood being famous?”

“I’ll need to hire someone. Got any ideas?”

“I might. Let me give it some thought.”

“I wouldn’t mind having somebody lined up before I go back.”

“And when will that be?”

“Not sure yet.”

“Don’t forget you have that appearance for Preston’s Revenge next week,” Geena said.

“Right.”

“And I booked you into two morning talk shows after that.”

He nodded. “They’re on my calendar.” At one time he’d been excited about those publicity gigs.

“Don’t worry.” Her voice softened. “We’ll schedule some coaching sessions before you do any of it. But I’ll need my video equipment to do it right. I’d like you back in LA by Monday, at the latest.”

“No worries,” Cade said. “We can locate a caretaker for the ranch before then.” He turned to Geena. “Can you stay until Monday?”

“I can if I absolutely have to, but I’d hate to think this issue will drag on that long. Surely we’ll find a way to put a cork in it soon.”

Matt blew out a breath. “Or I could just accept my new image as a bad boy and move on.”

“Whoa, what?” Cade stopped walking and stared at him.

“It’s an option. I don’t have to apologize because that kind of guy wouldn’t. If I give up worrying about my white hat image, I also don’t have to put my family in front of a camera to testify that I’m some kind of paragon. Like I said, it’s an option. I’m thinking about it.”

Cade shook his head. “Well, you can stop thinking about it. We’re the Thunder Mountain Brotherhood.” His eyes took on a steely glint. “When someone attacks, we don’t just roll over.”

“We also don’t put our loved ones in harm’s way.” Matt held his gaze. “If you think that by staying silent and taking the rap I’ll be dishonoring the brotherhood, then I’ll resign from—”

“Aw, hell, I didn’t mean that! I’m asking you not to give up, okay? I swear we’ll find a way out of this that will work for everybody.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know yet. But remember that you’re not alone and I’m not just talking about the folks, Lexi and me. The brotherhood is with you, all of us, and I’m thinking we may not have tapped into that firepower like we should be doing. Let me make some calls, see if we can set up a Skype thing tonight.”

Emotion clogged Matt’s throat and he had to clear it before he could speak. “That...that would be...”

“Fun?”

“That, too.” He smiled. “Thanks. Even if nothing comes of it, I—”

“Something will come of it.” Cade took a deep breath. “But I’d love for you and Geena to take a nice ride over to your new ranch and forget all about it for a few hours. Think you can do that, cowboy?”

Matt looked into his brother’s eyes and saw a strength and determination that gave him more hope than he’d had in days. “Yeah, we can do that.”

An hour later, Geena had made her phone calls and dealt with the prima donna. Although he was difficult to work with, he was a popular actor and gave her fledgling company a lot of street cred. Matt had the potential to do the same thing, which was why she’d agreed to work with him. And, bonus, he wasn’t a prima donna.

She envisioned great things for him in the future, which would be good for both of them. Having a personal relationship added an element of risk, though, and she wasn’t blind to the danger. If they developed issues, that would affect their business arrangement. She’d decided to think positively on that score.

For now, their personal relationship was uppermost in her mind because she was on her way to his ranch and riding a horse for the first time in her life. Except something about that felt familiar. Watching Isabeau’s ears flick back and forth, and listening to the creak of the saddle triggered a memory.

They’d left the ranch property single file but now rode side by side down a dirt road that Matt had told her belonged to the Forest Service. Tall pines shaded a strip along the edge, but the sun was directly overhead. She felt it on her back and shoulders, but she was a California girl who was used to it.

She’d worn another pair of the jeans Rosie had loaned her, but she’d decided her white stretch tank would work for the ride if she slathered on sunscreen. She was also glad for the straw hat.

Lexi had given her a few pointers when she’d mounted up. She was supposed to keep her heels down and her back straight. Although she held the reins loosely in one hand, she had Lexi’s permission to hang on to the saddle horn with the other as much as she wanted if it gave her a sense of security.

It did. At first the sensation of sitting astride a large animal had been unnerving and she’d hung on for dear life. Gradually, though, she’d become used to the rocking motion and she’d relaxed her grip on the horn.

As they rode, Matt described the scene in winter when everything was covered in a blanket of snow. Last semester the academy students had reconditioned an old sleigh under Phil’s supervision, and now sleigh rides had been added to the list of activities. A white Christmas wasn’t guaranteed in Wyoming, but Matt was hoping for one this year, and time off so he could spend the holiday at Thunder Mountain.

Geena loved hearing details like that and secretly hoped he would invite her along on such a trip. But she suspected he was making small talk because he’d promised to banish negative thoughts for the rest of the afternoon. Cade hadn’t made her promise, but she’d do her best, too.

Cade’s plan to rally his brothers brought tears to her eyes every time she thought about it. No matter what happened as a result, she’d never forget the love and pride in his voice as he’d reminded Matt that the Thunder Mountain Brotherhood had his back.

“You’re looking good over there,” Matt said. “How does it feel?”

“Believe it or not, like I’ve done this before.”

“But you said you’d never ridden.”

“I haven’t, not like this. But Isabeau’s head bobbing in front of me is very familiar.”

“A pony ride, maybe?”

“No, I wasn’t sitting on the horse. I was in somebody’s lap.” She glanced over at him. “You know what? I’ll bet when I was very little, like, maybe two and a half, my dad held me while we went riding. I think the two of us might have taken a vacation together. I’m guessing there were log cabins and horses. That would explain the déjà vu.”

“Where is he now?”

“He crashed his private plane when I was about three. No survivors.”

“Damn.”

“It’s sad, and I sure wish it hadn’t happened, but the truth is I barely remember him. He and my mom had already divorced by then. I’d love to ask her if he and I went on that kind of vacation, but she gets weepy when his name comes up.”

“So, she still misses him.”

“Yep. Once I went in her closet to try on her shoes and found an old love note from him tucked in the toe of sparkly red heels I’d never seen her wear. It’s cool to know they were once in love, even if they didn’t stay together.”

“That is cool.”

She heard the wistfulness in his voice and regretted having mentioned it. He didn’t know who his father was, let alone whether his mom and dad had been in love. Likely not. Time to leave the past and concentrate on the present. “I have to say you’re looking quite manly mounted up on your trusty steed.”

“Oh?” He seemed to mentally pull himself back from wherever her story had sent him. “Thank you, ma’am.” He winked at her and touched the brim of his Stetson. “Mighty kind of you to say so.”

Her heart lurched. He was such a great guy. She’d never forgive Briana for making a move on him and creating this horrible scenario.

“Something wrong?” Matt’s voice cut through her thoughts.

“No, why?”

“You’re scowling.”

She slowly breathed out and relaxed her facial muscles. So much for honoring Cade’s wish that they could forget the problems and enjoy the afternoon. “Sorry.”

“Care to tell me what you were scowling about?”

She turned to him with a sunny smile. “No.”

“Okay.”

He probably knew what she’d been thinking. What a waste. The day was beautiful and she was riding alongside a gorgeous cowboy who truly deserved to wear a white hat, even though currently his was brown. He’d showered and put on a clean white T-shirt and jeans. She suspected, from the scent of cologne drifting her way and the nick on his square jaw, that he’d shaved again.

“How much longer is the ride?”

He laughed. “Is that a version of Are we there, yet?”

“Kind of. I have a strong urge to kiss that little spot where you cut yourself shaving.”

“Only that one spot?”

Just like that, he’d managed to jump-start her libido with a single teasing question. “Um, now that you mention it...”

“If you hadn’t been so keen on seeing my ranch, we’d be making out on a picnic blanket this very minute.”

“Where?” The eagerness in her voice was embarrassing, but she couldn’t help it.

“A grassy meadow I know about. We passed it a ways back.”

She glanced over her shoulder.

“No, ma’am, you can’t see it from here and we’re not heading back. We’re closer to my ranch than we are to the meadow, and I have some special places I want to kiss once I get the chance. Wanna hear where they are?”

“Better not.” Whew. She squirmed in the saddle and Isabeau snorted. “Hey, cowboy, you’d better dial back the sexy before I swoon and fall right off this horse.”

Matt’s low chuckle sent shivers down her spine. “You started it.” He looked over at her and smiled. “It won’t be long now. The back entrance is up yonder.” He pointed to a weathered gate between two thick posts.

“I see it.” Up yonder. She didn’t remember him using phrases like that in LA. Being here really brought out the country in him and she loved that, too. “So we’re going in the back way?”

“That’s the best route for horses. If you’re driving you take the paved road to the front gate. Either way, it’s not too far from Thunder Mountain.”

“Who knows you bought this place?”

“My family, you, the bank and the real estate agent. I’m guessing some other people in town know because word gets around when a ranch is bought or sold.”

“You didn’t tell any of your friends in LA?”

“Nope. They’re still struggling financially, like I was six months ago. Mentioning that I’d bought a ranch seemed like bragging. I didn’t bring it up.”

That was so like him, thinking of someone else’s feelings instead of his excitement about a major purchase.

“It’ll be a while before I’m ready to invite anybody here, anyway.” He halted Navarre in front of the sagging gate and swung down from the saddle. “Let’s hope the house looks better than this gate.” He took a key from his pocket and opened the padlock on a thick chain wrapped around both the gate and the post.

He gently pushed the gate inward as the hinges squeaked and the wood groaned. Then he stepped back and motioned her forward. “After you.”

She nudged Isabeau in the ribs the way Lexi had shown her and the mare slowly trudged through the opening. Then she looked back at Navarre and whinnied. “She’s not liking this,” Geena said.

“I know she doesn’t. Hey, Izzy, it’s okay. We won’t leave your boyfriend behind.” Matt led Navarre through and closed the gate.

“See? You do think of them as a couple.” Geena turned in her saddle so she could watch him mount up. So smooth. She’d love a video but her phone was in her saddlebag and he wouldn’t want her to take one, anyway.

“Hard not to think of them as a couple with those names. But as you can probably tell, Izzy’s not a very liberated lady. Now that we’re headed down a one-lane path, she’ll want Navarre to lead.”

“Fine with me. You should get the first look at your ranch house, anyway. You must be excited to finally see it.”

He pulled alongside her and tipped back his hat. “Not nearly as excited as I am about what’s going to happen when we get there.”

She gulped. “Careful. I might swoon.”

“In a few minutes you can do that all you want. I’ve been thinking about how this will likely play out.”

“I thought...” She drew in a quick breath. “I thought we’d decided to clean off a spot on the floor and put down the blanket.” It was tied behind his saddle and she’d been extremely aware of it the entire ride.

His hot glance traveled over her, igniting fires wherever it touched. “Let’s be honest. We’ll never make it into the house, let alone have the presence of mind to sweep the floor and lay down a blanket.”

“Oh.” Her brain turned to mush. “So what...what should we do?”

“Tie the horses, take this blanket—” He gave it a quick pat. “And find a nice patch of grass.”

“Out...outside?”

“No one will be there but us.” His gaze searched hers. “But if you don’t want to—”

“Yes.” She was very nearly panting and could barely speak. “I want to.”

Chapter Twelve

Matt almost pulled her off her horse so they could execute the plan right then and there. But that would lack significance. He wanted her desperately, but this wasn’t just about sex.

He gave the brim of his hat a determined downward tug. “Then let’s go.” He tapped Navarre with his boot heels. Snorting, the horse set out at a brisk walk, and Matt looked over his shoulder to see how Geena was handling the faster pace. “You okay?”

“Never better!” She’d tightened her grip on the saddle horn but she hadn’t lost either of her stirrups. Some of her hair had escaped from under her hat and her skin was flushed a becoming shade of pink. She was smiling.

He co uldn’t stop looking at that smile. Emotions crowded his chest until he wondered if it would break wide open from the pressure. Even when he faced forward again so he could see where the hell he was going, her smile stayed with him. He thought of what was about to happen and his hands began to shake.

It seemed he was nervous. As the leading man in a major motion picture, he’d made pretend love to a big-time movie star in front of a stage crew and several cameras, but he was afraid he’d mess this up. He’d also made love for real with several women since losing his virginity at seventeen, but he’d never felt as if his whole future depended on it. Maybe taking her on a blanket outside wasn’t a good idea.

Maybe he should wait for a bed, clean sheets and a cool breeze through curtained windows. Because when it was all over, he needed to see that smile. He wanted that more than anything he’d ever wished for in his entire crazy life.

He was so absorbed in his inner debate that he rode right past the fence enclosing a pasture before he realized what he was looking at. Not much of the fence was still standing, so maybe he could be excused for missing it.

At that point the horse trail ended and he rode into an open space between the barn on his right and the house about thirty yards away on his left. His house. He’d never owned anything of value except an old pickup he’d sold before he’d left for LA.

He pulled Navarre to a halt and pivoted the horse in order to watch Geena coming toward him on Isabeau. Damn, that woman was so beautiful it made his throat hurt. And there was that heart-stopping smile again, one that he returned because, just like that, his doubts were gone.

What happened in the future didn’t matter anymore. She was here today, and as eager to be his lover as he was to be hers. That was more than some men were given in a lifetime. His heart pounded and heat rushed to his groin. Debate over.

Her green eyes sparkled. “Just think, Matt. This is your land.”

“Hard to believe.”

“The barn looks sturdy.”

He laughed. “Nice way to put it.” He angled his head toward the house and turned Navarre back in that direction. “Let’s go see if the house looks sturdy, too.” Along the way they passed some clumps of weeds but so far not much in the way of grass. He hoped they’d find some in the front yard. Although he’d seen grass growing in the pasture, that wasn’t the ambience he was after.

“I’m sure the house is sturdy,” she said. “Like Lexi said, your folks wouldn’t let you buy a place that had major structural flaws.”

“And it wasn’t like I could afford a showplace. Not if I wanted acreage to go with the house and barn.”

“How many acres do you have?”

“Almost twenty-five.”

“That sounds huge!”

“Not by Wyoming standards. But it’s fine for me and a couple of horses.”

“And whoever you hire to watch the place while you’re gone.”

“True.” If he wanted horses, someone would have to live on the ranch year-round. Funny how he’d imagined bringing her back here in a few months for some private time, but unless he asked his hired hand to take off for a couple of days, he and Geena wouldn’t be alone, after all.

They were now, though. Except for the birds chattering and the low sigh of a breeze, the place was quiet. Intimate. He looked over at her and she was looking right back. Her throat moved in a slow swallow.

“Nervous?”

“Some. Mostly excited.”

“Me, too.” As they approached the house from the side, he could see the large tree in front near the porch. In the picture it had been leafless, but now it was budding out in response to the warm weather. And, hallelujah, under the tree was a nice little patch of spring grass that might not have been there a week or two ago.

He spared a quick glance for the house, which looked fine, as Geena had predicted. It had been painted recently, but mustard yellow wouldn’t have been his first choice. Didn’t matter. Paint was cheap.

He rode up to the side railing of the porch and dismounted, anticipation making him stumble slightly. Navarre looked back at him. “Yeah, I know. Pathetic.”

He turned to Geena, who’d pulled Isabeau to a stop. “You can park her next to Navarre. I’ll help you down.” He looped Navarre’s reins loosely around the railing.

“I can get down by myself.”

“Yes, ma’am, I know you can.” He walked around to Isabeau’s left side, took the mare’s reins and wrapped them around the railing. “But you might need me to steady you a little bit, in case you’re shaky.” What a laugh. If anyone was shaky, he was. He needed to touch her. The sooner he could do that, the sooner his world would start making sense again.

“You could be right about that.” She held tight to the saddle horn and swung her leg over Isabeau’s rump.

Spanning her waist with his hands, Matt guided her descent until she had both feet on the ground. Then he didn’t want to let go.

“Matt, I’m okay. You can—” She gasped as he spun her around.

“To hell with the blanket.” He scooped her into his arms and carried her over to the grass. Her hat fell off somewhere along the way, but she didn’t seem to notice.

Instead, she wound her arms around his neck. She was breathing fast, and little puffs of warm air tickled his throat. He couldn’t look down to see if she was okay with this because in his current state he might run smack into the tree trunk.

Somehow he managed to lay her on the fragrant grass without injuring either of them. He was coiled tight as a buckboard spring, but as he looked at her lying there, he realized he should find a safe place for her glasses. Leaning over her, he gently removed them, took off his hat and dropped her glasses inside.

“Thanks.” Her voice was husky.

“Anytime.” Setting his hat aside, he looked into her eyes. “If you—” He paused to suck in some air. “If you want me to get the blanket, or if you want anything to be different, you’d better tell me now.”

“I want you.” She grasped his face in both hands and pulled him down for an open-mouthed kiss that fried what was left of his brain.

Operating solely on instinct, he pushed up the stretchy cotton of her tank and found another front-catch bra under there. Instead of taking anything off, he simply moved the material aside. Then he broke away from her kiss so he could savor her beautiful breasts.

She moaned and arched into his caress, and at last she begged for more. She was very specific about what she wanted and he loved that she was so bold, loved that her hunger matched his. His cock swelled in response.

First her boots had to go. Next he pulled off her jeans and panties in one smooth motion. Earlier, caught in the frenzied dance of anticipation, he’d fumbled the simplest tasks, but now he was extremely focused.

His gaze swept over her as he knelt in the grass. He wanted the bra and tank top out of the way, too. “Lift your arms.”

Holding his gaze, she raised them over her head and he removed the last of her clothes. She lay there panting as the scent of crushed grass and arousal flowed around them. Sunlight filtered by the new leaves created a dappled pattern on her smooth skin—pale where the sun’s rays had been blocked by her swimsuit and golden where the sun had been allowed to kiss her.

“You look...like a goddess.”

“I feel like one.” Her green eyes glowed with passion. “And I command you to strip down, cowboy.”

Wordlessly he reached back, grabbed his T-shirt with both hands and pulled it over his head. The slight breeze felt good on his bare chest.

She brushed her fingers over his chest hair. “They didn’t make you shave.”

“No.” His heart thudded wildly. How had she guessed he was sensitive there? “They were going for—” He gasped as she gently pinched his nipple. “Historical accuracy.”

“I’m glad. I like this look.” She ran her fingertips down the strip of dark hair that disappeared under his belt buckle. “But you’re still overdressed.”

“I can fix that.” Soon his boots and socks were history and he shucked his jeans and briefs in record time. But he remembered to take that all-important item from his pocket before he tossed his pants aside. He tore open the packet and rolled on the condom.

At last. Moving over her, he flattened his palms on the cool grass and settled between her thighs. His voice was tight with the strain of keeping himself in check. “You probably think I’m crazy.”

“Not crazy. Creative.” Her voice trembled, but her hands were steady as she caressed his shoulders and the tense muscles of his back. “You turn me on, Matt.”

“Lucky me.” He eased forward.

“Lucky us.” She welcomed him with liquid heat and delicious friction that made him groan with pleasure.

His first impulse was to hide his reaction to the intense feeling of connection as he slid into her. He was good at hiding his emotions. Usually it was the safest course of action.

But this time, when she so obviously trusted him, it seemed wrong. Looking into her eyes, he masked nothing as he slowly began to stroke.

Neither did she. He drank in the passion, tenderness and joy shining in her gaze. And, ah, she was so eager. Her soft moans of pleasure told him that she wanted this with every fiber of her being. Gradually he picked up the pace.

Her fingertips dug into the muscles of his back as she rose to meet him. “Matt... Matt.”

“I’m here.” He pushed in tight and paused, his gaze locked with hers. “Right here.”

“I know.” Her body grew taut. “I know.” She began to quiver and her eyes darkened, but she held his gaze as her climax swept through her. Gasping his name, she arched upward as if inviting him to plunge deeper.

His control snapped. With a roar of triumph, he thrust hard into her pulsing channel and welcomed an orgasm that electrified every muscle from his scalp to his toes. He nearly blacked out from the force of it.

Panting, he fought to keep himself braced on his outstretched arms. Gradually his vision cleared enough that he could see her face again. His wish had been granted. She was smiling.

In Geena’s experience, happiness was difficult to pin down. No more. Happiness was looking into Matt’s blue eyes and seeing the wonder of their shared climax reflected there. Happiness was feeling soft, damp grass against her bare skin and a gentle breeze brushing her heated cheeks. Happiness was realizing that today, in this place, with this man, she’d discovered a human connection so strong that she’d never again settle for less.

“I love it when you smile like that.” He traced her lower lip with the pad of his thumb. “I almost hate to kiss you and give up my view of that smile.” He leaned closer. “But I will.”

“Please do.” Oh, yes, and happiness was kissing someone who put his heart and soul into it. She did the same, which made for a kiss that was long, satisfying and...arousing? Incredibly, she wanted him again. Judging from the evidence, he would be happy to comply.

Lifting his head, he gazed down at her. “You’re powerful medicine, lady. I feel like I’m seventeen again.”

“Not me. I never had this much fun when I was seventeen.”

“Come to think of it, neither did I. I was clueless.”

“I’m here to tell you that’s no longer the case.”

“Thank you, ma’am. Is that a green light?”

“That’s a hell yes.”

“Hallelujah.” He brushed a quick kiss over her mouth. “Don’t go away.”

“Not a chance.” After he left she watched the tender green leaves above her dancing in the sunlight. She hadn’t felt like dancing since she’d quit at eighteen. Until today. Until Matt.

Then he was there, moving between her thighs, his gaze warmer than the sun.

Her pulse rate shot up. “That was a fast turnaround, cowboy.” Stroking both hands down his back, she cupped his firm buns.

“I was highly motivated.” He nibbled on her mouth. “Didn’t want you to get bored and leave.”

“Like that was going to happen.”

“You never know. But it’s too late now.” He entered her with one swift thrust. “Gotcha.” Then he captured her low moan of surrender with an open-mouthed kiss.

The first time had been wonderful. She’d doubted that he could improve on something so perfect, but she hadn’t stopped to think that he’d have more staying power the second time around. Lordy, did he know how to use staying power.

He drove her to the brink of insanity and then slowed the pace, teasing her with a leisurely yet erotic motion that kept her at a fever pitch without sending her over the edge. When she began to beg, he finally ramped up the action and she was enveloped in a whirlpool of pleasure. She expected him to follow her there, but instead he kept going.

“Matt?” Gasping, she looked up.

“You’re amazing.” His breathing was labored but his smile was filled with joy. “I’m having...the time of my life.” He gulped for air. “Wrap your legs around me. You’re going to come again.”

She followed his directions, and sure enough, she swirled into another orgasm. Then he claimed his release, shuddering as a cry rose from deep in his throat. His chest heaved and his biceps trembled, but he remained braced on his outstretched forearms.

Tightening her hold on him, she tugged gently. “Come here.”

He shook his head but there was no mistaking the yearning in his eyes. “I don’t want to crush you.”

“You won’t. Lie with me.”

A hint of vulnerability flashed in his eyes, but he eased down until he was nestled against her. Sighing, he laid his head on her shoulder. “Tell me if I’m too heavy.”

“You’re not.” She combed her fingers through his damp hair. “You’re perfect.”

“You are, too.”

She listened to his breathing as it slowly evened out. She had no idea what came next in what seemed to be turning into an actual relationship. Sure, making love always changed the dynamic. But she hadn’t expected it to change her entire view of the future. Now she couldn’t imagine hers without Matt.

Chapter Thirteen

As they lay together, sated and relaxed, Geena’s stomach growled.

Matt chuckled. “I heard that. I’ll fetch our lunch.” Easing away from her, he made short work of the condom and stood, six feet three inches of sculpted manhood.

Despite their recent activities, the sight had the power to dazzle her. She worked regularly with gorgeous movie stars. But she didn’t get naked with them. She sat up and looked around for her clothes. They were scattered everywhere.

She untangled her panties from the wad of denim that was her jeans. “We should get dressed and eat lunch in the house.”

“Let’s not get dressed and eat right here.”

“And then what?”

He winked. On Matt, a wink looked really good. “We’ll have dessert.”

“Are you by any chance putting off the moment when you walk into the house you bought?”

“I’m putting off the moment when you get dressed.”

She got to her feet and stood facing him. “Flattering as that is, I can’t shake the feeling that you’re reluctant to go inside.”

“After all the great things that happened out here, the inside of the house has lost its appeal.”

“I get that, but you have to take a look sometime. Your family will expect to hear your thoughts on the place.”

He shoved his fingers through his hair. “The idea of buying a ranch sight unseen sounded like a bold move back in LA, especially when Mom and Dad gave it their approval. But what if I hate it?”

“Then you renovate. Aren’t you expecting to do that, anyway?”

“I am. Damon and Phil are all set to do the work. But I’ve never bought a house, let alone figured out what needed to be done with it.”

“That’s all the more reason to go inside. I don’t pretend to know anything, either, but we can’t talk about what we haven’t seen. You have to start somewhere, get a general idea. Then you can bring Damon and Phil over and work out the specifics.”

“Okay.” He started pulling on his clothes. “That’s another thing I have to decide. They’re refusing to charge for labor. Just materials. I need to come up with a way to compensate them that doesn’t involve giving them a check.”

“How about tickets to the premiere?” She dressed quickly. She’d always been eager to see the house but Matt had been a powerful distraction.

His laughter had a bitter edge. “Yeah, right.”

“Why not? That’s a huge gift, especially if you fly them over.”

“Is it? Months ago I set aside a bunch of money so I could treat anybody who wanted to be there. That was before this nastiness happened. Now I wonder if anyone will want to come or even if they should.”

“Of course they’ll want to come.” Her heart broke for him, but this wouldn’t be the only time he’d have to face ugliness. Hollywood was filled with gossip and innuendo. She spoke softly. “Matt, I know this is awful, but unfortunately it’s part of the job.”

“I know. I just didn’t expect it first time out of the gate when my family is so excited for me. Eventually I’ll get used to the way things are. They will, too. But I hate that it’s spoiled something that was so shiny and new.”

“Are you sure it has? I haven’t been here long but I’ve already seen what the people in your family are made of. They won’t let something like that keep them from celebrating your big moment. I’ll bet nothing’s spoiled in their minds. They love you.”

Sighing, he picked up his hat and walked over to her. “You’re right.” He grimaced. “You’d think by now I’d believe in their loyalty.” Handing over her glasses, he put on his hat. “Thanks for reminding me.”

She hadn’t meant to chide him but he’d taken it that way. Stepping closer, she touched his arm. “You’ve been sabotaged by someone you respected, someone you trusted. That would mess with anybody’s head, but when you’ve dealt with something similar in the past, it has to be even more devastating.”

He gave her a long look. “Yes, ma’am, that about sums it up.” His gusty sigh of impatience was followed by a quick shake of his head. “But my past is no excuse. I’ve had the counseling. I spent more than ten years living at Thunder Mountain Ranch. Everything that was broken has been fixed. At least, I hope to hell it has. Otherwise I have no business...”

“What?” The haunted expression in his eyes made her stomach churn.

“I have no business wanting to be with you.”

“I want to be with you, too.” Her grip tightened on his arm. “I love how I feel when we’re together. And I’m not just talking about the sex.”

“Neither am I. You’re...you’re magic.” His jaw tensed. “But I’m starting to see a pattern. When I’m focused on you, everything’s fine. Then I think about the injustice of it all, I lose my cool. That’s not a good sign. Maybe I’ve been kidding myself. Maybe I’m still the same screwed-up kid I used to be.”

She fought panic. “I’m sure you’re not.”

“Easy for you to say when you don’t know what I was like. Any little thing would set me off. If somebody even suggested I’d made a mistake, or that I’d taken what wasn’t mine, I lashed out.”

“But you haven’t lashed out.”

“No, because I switched from lashing out to shutting down.” He paused. “Does that ring a bell?”

She remembered the moment in her office when suddenly there was an invisible wall between them. “But you had a reason. I wasn’t being—”

“Doesn’t matter whether I had a reason. It’s a bad coping mechanism and I’m supposed to be over it. I caused a problem for you by reacting that way. You had to make this whole damn trip because of my behavior.”

“And I’m not the least bit sorry I flew out here! Are you?”

“No.” His gaze softened. “I probably should be, but I guess I’m pretty selfish. What we’ve had together has been incredible. I’m glad you ran after me.”

“Me, too. And I wish you weren’t making it sound like what we’ve had together is going away.”

He cupped her face in both hands. “I could be a bad bet, Geena.”

“Let me decide that, okay?”

“Not so easy.” He brushed his thumbs over her cheeks. “You’d need a hell of a lot more background in order to make an informed decision.”

“Then fill me in, catch me up.”

“Don’t know if that would work. Whenever I’m with you I’d rather kiss than tell.”

“Okay by me.” She sensed that the telling would be hard for him. “A lot of kissing, a little telling.”

“Considering what happened today, I’d want to go way beyond kissing.”

“So would I. I don’t see a problem here.”

“The sex is really good.”

“Still no problem.”

“It’s likely to interfere with your judgment.”

She met that comment with silence, unwilling to admit he had a point.

“See? You know I’m right. That means I should back off, at least until I know whether or not I have my act together.”

“What if I don’t feel like backing off? This is a two-person activity, you know.”

“Are you threatening to seduce me?”

“I believe so, yes.”

“Then you’ll probably succeed and that won’t get us anywhere.”

“That’s your opinion. I maintain it gets us all kinds of places, paradise being one. I like it there.”

He held her gaze for several seconds and the struggle in his blue eyes was obvious.

“Tell you what,” she said softly. “Let’s go look at the house. We’ll have lunch. We’ll talk. And then...we’ll see.”

He took a shaky breath. “Okay.”

Matt opened the front door and ushered Geena into the entry hall of his house. “This feels weird, like I’m trespassing.”

“You’ll get used to it the longer you’re here.” She walked straight ahead through an arch into the dim living room, where olive-green drapes covered a window. “Let’s check out your view.” She reached for the cord on the drapes and paused midmotion. “You should open them.”

That made him smile. “This isn’t the opening of a Broadway show. Go right ahead.”

She pulled the cord and the drapes slowly parted to reveal a smudged picture window with a view of the Bighorns. “Bingo! I thought you might have a view of the mountains from this side of the house. The window’s old as the hills, which is why there’s so much dust on the floor. Look, you can see our footprints.”

Sure enough, there were his large ones and her smaller ones. But not dainty. There was nothing fragile about Geena, and he needed to remember that. She’d survived living in Hollywood with an overbearing mother and she’d come out of that determined to do her own thing. She wouldn’t allow him to selfishly mistreat her. That was a comforting thought.

Next they explored the side of the house that contained three kid-sized bedrooms and a small bathroom tiled in pink with green fixtures. The grout was stained and the faucets were corroded. Geena went in and barely had room to turn around. She glanced at Matt. “Any ideas?”

“A few. Most of them involve a sledgehammer.”

She grinned at him. “See? Now you’re getting the idea. Destroy the bathroom and start over. Enlarge it. Maybe knock out a wall between two of the bedrooms and put in another bath.”

He nodded as he envisioned the changes. “That would make a big difference. Right now it seems cramped and dated.” Worse yet, it reminded him of the kind of crummy places he’d lived in with his mother.

“Plus it would feel more like yours because you’d be putting your stamp on it.”

“True. Okay, let’s go see the other side. Maybe it’s better.”

It was. The kitchen appliances needed updating but he liked the black and white tile on the counters. Creating an arch between the kitchen and dining areas would open up that space. Finally they walked into the master bedroom and adjoining bath.

“This is nice.” She turned in a slow circle in the middle of the bedroom. “You have views of the mountains through the west windows and a shade tree on the east side in case you want to sleep in.”

“If I have horses I won’t sleep in.” But if he had Geena in bed with him, he’d have a conflict. Without a doubt he’d wake up wanting her.

“Right. Up at dawn, in bed before ten.”

Yeah, something would be up at dawn, all right. The early bedtime appealed to him, though. With a woman like Geena, he might suggest they climb in around nine. “That schedule must seem really strange to you.”

“It would in LA, but not here. This morning was gorgeous, and having animals depending on you is a great reason to swing your feet over the edge of the bed at dawn. It’s a lot more exciting than fighting rush-hour traffic.”

“Or catching the four-forty-five bus to the studio for a five o’clock makeup call.”

“You could afford a car service now, Matt.”

“I know.” He gave her a crooked smile. “Old habits die hard and the bus feels familiar. I can afford a better apartment, too, but moving takes time and I haven’t had much to spare. When I get back I’ll look into hiring a car service, though. It would be more convenient, especially at that hour in the morning.”

“I don’t know how you can deal with those early calls. Either you or the makeup artists.”

“It goes with the territory. I love acting, and if it can pay enough to maintain this ranch, I’ll be a very lucky man.” But the ranch wouldn’t be much fun unless he had someone who’d enjoy it with him. He’d never craved solitude, maybe because he’d spent so much time alone in the first twelve years of his life.

The idea that he’d be living here by himself, or at best with a hired hand, hadn’t occurred to him. He’d impulsively decided that a small ranch would be both a good investment and an excellent getaway. Yes, he could invite his family over, but he might end up spending most of his time at Thunder Mountain.

“Why the frown?”

Geena’s question penetrated the fog of his increasingly negative thoughts. He looked up and his first instinct was to stonewall. Oh, boy. He took a deep breath and vowed to say what was on his mind. “I was thinking that buying this ranch could be a mistake.”

She studied him for a moment. “Why?”

“For one thing, it’s a lot of house for one person. Or even for two, taking into account the hired hand. If Damon and Phil do the renovations you and I just talked about, it’ll be a very nice house, too.”

“Yes, it will.”

“What if, after all that, I don’t really want to be here?”

“Where would you want to be instead?”

He shrugged. “Over at Thunder Mountain. That’s home.”

“I know.” Her gaze gentled. “I’ll bet very few people walk into a vacant, unfurnished house, especially one that hasn’t been lived in for months, and feel like it’s home.”

“I guess.” Damn, but he wanted to hold her. She was sexy as hell but she also offered comfort. He wanted big helpings of both. He was about to take a step toward her when her stomach growled so loud it made her laugh.

“Sorry. I was about to say that if you just give it time, your feelings about the house might change.”

“They might, but let’s drop the subject and eat our lunch. We were supposed to bring it in here and we didn’t. I’ll go fetch it.”

“Would you please bring my phone in, too?”

“Sure thing.” As he headed out of the room, he vowed to get a grip on his emotions. Although her kindness and understanding made him want to wrap her in his arms, he really shouldn’t do that until he had a better handle on what he was all about.

He retrieved her phone first and tucked it into his pocket. Then he pulled a lunch tote and two stainless steel water bottles out of Navarre’s saddlebags and remembered that Rosie had put some chunks of carrot in there for both horses. So he fed them carrots and discussed his misgivings about continuing a relationship with Geena. Although they were great listeners, they didn’t offer any solutions.

Even so, he felt more in control when he walked back into the house carrying lunch plus the blanket he hadn’t bothered with earlier. Now it could serve as their tablecloth.

The minute he came through the door he heard a rhythmic clicking sound. When he realized what it was, he smiled. Sure enough, when he arrived at the double doors leading into the master bedroom, Geena was humming to herself while she danced around the perimeter of the room.

He leaned in the doorway, tipped back his hat and watched her. This house wouldn’t be too big if she lived in it. Her sunny personality would fill every corner of every room.

She stopped when she noticed him.

“I thought you were supposed to keep dancing when you have an audience.”

“That’s the general rule, but in this case the audience is bringing lunch and I’m starving.”

“I apologize.” He handed over her phone. “We should have eaten a long time ago.”

“Not if that meant skipping all the fun stuff.” She glanced at the blanket.

“I brought this in so we’d have a tablecloth.”

“Okay.” She gave him a sunny smile. “If you don’t mind, I’ll check my messages while you set things up.”

“Absolutely.” He spread out the blanket.

“Well, that figures.” She sighed.

“What?” He set the tote and water bottles on the blanket.

“One of my clients doesn’t think we’re getting him enough attention in the press. I thought I had it handled this morning, but apparently the reporter I contacted hasn’t followed through.”

“Do you need to follow up?”

“I’ll have Larissa do it.” She keyed in a reply to her assistant before sitting cross-legged on the floor next to the blanket. She laid her phone nearby. “Let’s eat.”

“Gotcha.” He chose the opposite side, unzipped the tote and took out both sandwiches. “We have cookies for dessert.”

“Yum.”

“Mom never packs a lunch without putting cookies in it.”

“Speaking of her, I’ve decided that if she’d enjoy seeing me dance, I’ll do it. That’s why I was practicing just now. Well, that and the fact that you were taking forever. I thought you’d be right back.” She unwrapped her sandwich and bit into it. “Mmm.”

That little moan had a predictable effect on his package. He took a deep breath and concentrated on unwrapping his sandwich. “Mom added some carrot pieces so Navarre and Isabeau could have a snack.”

“Aw. That’s adorable. If I’d known that I would have come out with you.”

“I didn’t remember until I opened the saddlebags. Anyway, I think dancing for her is a great idea. She’ll love it.”

“Good. Then I’m committed to making that happen.” She finished another bite of her sandwich and put it down so she could open her water. “Just FYI, today is the first time I’ve danced in almost ten years.”

“I never would have guessed.”

“A professional would be able to tell in a minute. But I can feel it coming back, which is gratifying. I only mention the long layoff because you’re the reason I felt like trying a few steps.”

“Me?” He stared at her in surprise. “Why?”

“My mother’s expectations sucked out the joy of dancing for me, which is why I quit the minute I had the guts to tell her I wasn’t going to follow her plan for my future. Now do you understand?”

“No, not really. Unless you’re saying because of me you’ve decided to go pro, after all.”

“Not even close. I never want to become a professional dancer or singer. But being with you brings me joy. Dancing is my way of expressing that.”

He stared at her. “No one’s ever said something like that to me before.”

“I thought you should know.”

His throat tightened. “Thank you. That’s...special.”

“Yeah, it is.” She smiled at him and picked up her sandwich. “Your turn to talk.”

“About what?”

“Tell me about your mother.”

Chapter Fourteen

Geena had expected the wall to come up between them, and it did. The process was both fascinating and sad. In the blink of an eye, Matt went from open and vulnerable to closed off and protected.

She ate her sandwich and waited to see if that would change. He continued to eat, too, and she wondered if they’d finish the meal in silence and ride back to the ranch without talking. She hadn’t asked him to tell her about his mother. She’d practically ordered him to.

But fair was fair. He’d said she needed more background info, so she’d made up her mind not to discuss superficial things during their very private lunch. If she couldn’t eat her sandwich off his six-pack abs, an image she’d cherished ever since they’d planned this trip, then she might as well search for a crack in the wall.

“Looking back on it, I realize she must have been an addict.”

Geena had her water halfway to her mouth, but she put it down and glanced over at him. He wasn’t looking at her, though. She doubted he was seeing anything in this room.

For a split second she wished she hadn’t asked this of him. It was obviously very difficult. But if they were ever going to have a future, he had to start talking.

“She was always frazzled, distracted, not quite there.” He heaved a sigh. “The day she didn’t pick me up from school I thought she’d just forgotten. It had happened before.” He paused to drink. His throat moved in several long swallows.

She longed to go to him and wrap an arm around his shoulders, but she didn’t dare. That might stop the flow of words in favor of something that was easier for him—touch, physical pleasure. “Did she have a job?”

“She had jobs, or I guess she did. She was gone a lot. She got money somehow.”

Geena immediately thought of prostitution but she wasn’t about to say so. No doubt Matt had thought of it, too.

“There was never enough food in the house. She’d buy a loaf of bread and tell me not to touch it, so I wouldn’t. Then half would be gone and she’d accuse me of eating it. She’d eaten it, but she’d been high and couldn’t remember. Good thing I got free lunches at school, although in the summer...”

“You went hungry.” Grief for that desperate little boy warred with white-hot anger directed at his mother.

“Yes, ma’am. But that wouldn’t have been so bad if she’d only...” He turned toward her, and the pain reflected in his eyes took her breath away. “She didn’t like me much.”

“But she was an addict. She didn’t even like herself, so how could she—”

“I know. The therapist said that, too. My mother wasn’t capable of loving or even liking me. When she blamed me for everything and accused me of stuff I didn’t do, that was her issue, not mine.”

“Right.”

“Damn it, Geena.” He took off his hat and tunneled his fingers through his hair. “I’ve been through all this.” Cramming his hat back on, he pushed himself to his feet. “I thought I was done with it.”

She stood and watched as he began to pace like a caged animal. “I’m no therapist, but I can take a guess at what might be going on.”

He turned to face her. “All right.”

“You worked all this out and accepted that not everyone was like your birth mother. In fact, you haven’t run into anyone remotely like her until you landed this movie role.”

“I don’t buy it. Briana’s nothing like my mother. She’s rich, successful, has a great husband. Maybe she drinks a little too much but she’s not an addict. I’d have figured that out after working so closely with her.”

“She may be more accomplished than your mother. Life has obviously given her more advantages. But from what you’ve told me, they have one big thing in common. They are completely focused on themselves. People they’re in contact with are either an asset or a liability.”

He gazed at her as if letting that sink in. “I was a liability to my mother.”

“Absolutely. You required attention and resources and you were too young to bring anything to the table.” Geena thought of her own mother. “If she’d operated in the environment where I grew up, she would have exploited your looks and talent. She would have made you a child star.”

“So, you’re saying I was lucky?”

“No.” She hesitated to move any closer because this was important and shouldn’t get tangled up in their physical attraction. “If you’re lucky, then you have one, maybe even two parents who love you for yourself, not for the glory you bring to the family unit.”

“Then I definitely was lucky because I ended up at Thunder Mountain. Mom and Dad are happy that I’ve made it this far, but they’re happy for me, not because they’ll get something out of it.”

Dear Lord, she hadn’t thought of that. Rosie and Herb couldn’t ask Matt to help publicize their academy because he might think they were exploiting him. His link to them was pure, without commercial value.

She admired the hell out of the concept but it made her job that much harder. “You’re really fortunate to have Rosie and Herb in your corner.”

“And you.”

“It’s not the same. You pay me for my services.”

“Do I pay you enough to suffer through that long layover in Denver?”

She smiled. “Point taken.”

“Face it, Geena, this entire trip to Wyoming has been a bust. You can’t justify it on a spreadsheet except under the heading Client Rescue Missions.”

“I don’t always think in terms of spreadsheets.” She wasn’t thinking of them now, for sure.

“That’s one of the many things that makes you special.” His gaze was warm at first, friendly and appreciative. Then gradually it darkened. The space between them seemed to shrink and the air grew still and hot.

The fire in his gaze made her burn with longing. They’d talked this through, so what could be the harm in using that blanket for its original purpose?

She reached for him just as her phone chimed with a text from Larissa.

He backed up a step. “Your phone.”

“I’ll get it later.”

“Get it now. See if it’s important.”

“Okay.” With an impatient sigh, she turned and scooped up her phone. Then she let out a groan.

“What is it?”

“She can’t get in touch with the reporter and the client is threatening to leave the agency if we don’t make something happen in the next twenty-four hours. I’d let him leave but he’s high profile and the agency’s new enough that we really can’t afford to lose him.”

“Can you fix it?”

“Yes, but I’ll need my laptop with my files to figure out where I can call in a favor.”

“Then let’s go back.”

They talked about the renovations to the house on the return trip and she hoped he hadn’t given up on keeping the place. No wonder he was worried about whether he’d made a mistake by buying it, though. After living for years with a critical woman who’d falsely accused him at every turn, he was sensitive to being judged for his personal decisions.

Fortunately for his career, he could take criticism directed at his acting ability. But Briana had attacked his character. With the unerring instincts of a bully, she’d hit him where he was most vulnerable.

When they arrived back at the barn, Cade happened to be coming out of it. “Hey, good timing. Just turn the reins over to me and scoot inside.”

Matt objected because he obviously took his cowhand responsibilities to heart. It made Geena smile to watch the two brothers argue over who would take care of the horses.

Matt glanced at her. “You need to get going, though.”

“I do, or I’d get in on this and help with the horses.” She looked at Cade. “A client’s throwing a hissy fit and I have to intervene.”

“Will it take long?”

“I hope not. Why?”

Cade shoved back his hat. “Damon and Phil will be here in about an hour or so for our Skype powwow,” he said.

“I should be finished by then.”

“Great. You’re gonna love this get-together. We’ve got us a Thunder Mountain think tank.”

“Sounds good.” She turned to Matt. “I’ll be working in my room. Fingers crossed I can handle this quickly, but in case I’m still in there when people start arriving, would you please come get me?”

“Be glad to.”

“See you both then.” She gave Matt’s arm a quick squeeze before starting for the house. On the way there she called Larisssa, who sounded a little panicky. “Don’t worry,” she said. “I’m at the ranch now and I’m on it.”

Nearly an hour later, she shut down her laptop with a sigh. Disaster averted. She stood and stretched while she tried to decide whether to take her makeup case into the bathroom.

Matt’s tap on her door answered that question. “Be right there.” She quickly put on lipstick and ran a brush through her hair. Good enough. She hurried over to the door and opened it.

Matt stood there, eyebrows lifted. “Success?”

“Yes, thank God. He’s being interviewed even as we speak and it’ll run this weekend. He’s thrilled and he’s promised to recommend the agency to everyone he sees.”

Matt laughed. “That’s a little over the top.”

“He won’t do it, but at least he won’t badmouth us, either, which is a relief.”

“That’s great news.” He paused. “Ready for the next event? Damon and Phil are here.”

“Okay. Good.” Remembering her last meeting with Damon gave her an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach.

“I hope you don’t blame him for the way he acted last night.”

“Of course not. He was protecting you. In fact, I envy that. My mom kept me so overscheduled I didn’t make lifelong friends who’d stick with me through thick and thin. My mom isn’t the protective type, either, so I’ve been pretty much on my own.”

“Well, you’re not anymore.”

She glanced at him in surprise. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve spent the last hour down at the barn grooming and feeding horses. Gave me some time to think. I don’t know if I’m destined to be your lover, but I’ll damned sure be your friend because you’ve been one hell of a friend to me. I’ll always have your back, Geena.” His gaze held hers. “Always.”

“Thank you.” She swallowed. “No one’s...no one’s ever said that they...anyway, thanks.” She felt silly getting choked up about it, but he’d given her something she hadn’t realized she’d been missing.

“You’re welcome.” His voice was low and tender. He likely hadn’t expected such an emotional reaction from her, but his expression indicated that he understood why. “Let’s go.” He held out his hand.

“You want to walk in holding hands?”

“Yes. I want Damon and Phil to know that I...” He paused as if uncertain how to finish the thought given what he’d just said.

“That you have my back?”

He smiled. “Exactly.”

“In that case, I’ll be proud to hold your hand.” She slid her fingers through his and the contact traveled through every part of her. She looked into his eyes. “Do you feel that?”

“If you’re asking whether I get a buzz whenever I touch you, the answer is yes.”

“Then maybe we shouldn’t hold hands.”

He gave her fingers a light squeeze. “Yes, we should.” Then he grinned. “Unless you won’t be able to control yourself.”

Ah, how she’d missed that grin. “I can if you can.”

“Then let’s do this.”

When they walked into the living room, everyone glanced in their direction and then, almost in unison, they looked down at Matt’s hand linked with hers. It sent a powerful signal.

Rosie and Herb gazed at each other and smiled. Lexi gave Geena and Matt a subtle thumbs-up. Damon and Phil came straight over as if determined to set things right immediately. Phil carried their redheaded baby, who wore a shirt and shorts today.

“My apologies, ma’am.” Damon touched his fingers to the brim of his hat. “I wasn’t very hospitable last night.”

“No apologies necessary.” Geena absorbed the innate kindness in his brown eyes. “I showed up uninvited and you were protecting Matt.”

“Yes, ma’am. But I was so focused on Matt’s situation that I didn’t even introduce Phil. I mean, Philomena.”

Phil propped the baby on her hip and smiled at Geena. “Please call me Phil. Sophie’s in a much better mood than she was last night, so this is a better meet and greet, anyway. Sophie, this is Geena Lysander, Uncle Matt’s friend.”

Geena gazed into the baby’s wide blue eyes. “Hello, Sophie.”

The little girl studied her with great interest as if trying to decide if this new person was someone she wanted to know. Apparently the answer was yes, because she held out both chubby arms and leaned in Geena’s direction.

Phil laughed. “I guess you’ve made a friend, but you don’t have to take her if you don’t—”

“I’d love to hold her.” She let go of Matt’s hand and gathered the sweet-smelling baby into her arms. “But just to warn you, I don’t know a thing about babies.”

“That’s what you said about horses, too.” The affection in Matt’s voice was unmistakable, which was both gratifying and embarrassing. Tipping back his hat, he beamed at her. “Turns out you’re a natural.”

“I’m guessing babies are harder to figure out than horses.”

“Definitely,” Phil said. “We didn’t know anything about them, either. Rosie and Herb weren’t baby savvy and neither was my stepmother. My dad ended up giving us all a crash course, since he was the one who’d raised me.”

“Somehow we’ve managed, but sometimes it gets ugly.” Damon grimaced. “Sophie loves her bath but she’s slippery as an eel. Picture Phil soaked to the skin while she tries to keep the baby in the little bathtub. Meanwhile, I’m on the phone asking my father-in-law about diaper rash. Oh, and now Sophie’s teething, which is a whole new circle of hell.”

Matt clapped him on the shoulder. “Builds character.”

“I’ll remind you of that when you’re getting up for feedings at two in the morning.”

“Yeah, you would, too.”

Geena doubted that anyone else had seen Matt’s first reaction to Damon’s teasing remark. The flash of anxiety in his blue eyes had been momentary, but she’d caught it. She could also guess why Damon’s comment had hit a nerve. Matt didn’t know if he was fit to be a husband, let alone a father.

Damon was too focused on his daughter to notice Matt’s subtle mood swing. “She keeps us hopping.” He paused to reach over and stroke her cheek with one finger. “But I love this little bugger.”

During the conversation Sophie had been trying to grab Geena’s glasses. Tucking the baby securely against her side, she managed to get them off and hand them to Matt. When she turned back to the little girl, Sophie grabbed a fistful of Geena’s hair and yanked hard.

“Ooh, that smarts.” She managed not to yell, or worse yet, swear.

“Uh-oh,” Phil said. “Here, let me—”

“I’ve got it.” Matt took Sophie’s tiny fist and dropped mini kisses on it while he gently uncurled her small fingers. “Come see your uncle Matt,” he crooned as he lifted her away from Geena’s hair and into his arms. “See if you can pull my hair. Betcha can’t.”

Sophie must have sensed a challenge in his words, because she immediately knocked off his Stetson.

“That’ll teach you, bro.” Damon scooped it up and dusted it off. “But I’ll have a talk with her about the sacred nature of a cowboy’s hat. Otherwise she’ll get herself in trouble messing with the Stetson.”

“Ah, doesn’t matter.” Matt settled her in the crook of his arm. Keeping his attention on the baby, he reached for Geena’s glasses, which he’d hooked in the neck of his T-shirt, and gave them back to her while he continued his conversation with the little girl. “Like your daddy said, I dared you and you took me up on it. You’ve got game, Sophie. I predict a bright, shiny future’s in store for you.”

Those baby blues gazed at him as if mesmerized.

Sophie wasn’t the only one caught in a net of adoration. Geena put on her glasses so she could more fully enjoy the sight of this tall, muscular cowboy sweet-talking an adorable baby. It was PR gold, but that wasn’t why her breath caught and her pulse raced.

If someone had asked her five minutes ago to describe her perfect dream of the future, she wouldn’t have been able to say what it was. But now she’d seen it.

Chapter Fifteen

“So, what about the house?” Damon looked at Matt and Geena as he asked the question. “Do you have a handle on what needs to be done?”

Geena decided to keep her mouth shut. She had no idea how Matt felt about the house at this point.

“I’m not sure I’m ready to answer that.” Matt tickled Sophie’s nose and she laughed.

“No worries,” Phil said. “It might take several trips over there to think it through. If you want us to go with you next time, we’d be glad to.”

Matt glanced up. “No rush. In fact, I’m wondering if I should have bought it in the first place.”

Inwardly, Geena groaned. Matt was pulling back, reevaluating his dreams. Not good.

“You are?” Damon’s eyes widened in surprise. “Last night you were all about the ranch. You couldn’t wait to go see it.”

“I know, but I’ve been rethinking the concept. I’d hate for you and Phil to invest time in it when I’ll only be able to enjoy the place sporadically. Besides, when I come back, I’ll want to be here, not sitting over there by myself.”

Both Damon and Phil looked confused, and Geena understood why. He’d walked in holding her hand, a clear indication they were a couple, and now he was talking about being alone in that house. His behavior wasn’t making any sense but that wasn’t surprising. His thoughts must be in turmoil.

He was saved from having to give them a better explanation when Ben and Molly Radcliffe arrived. Geena was delighted for the interruption. Matt was liable to dig himself into an even deeper hole if he kept talking about a future that was obviously unclear to him.

He introduced her to the newcomers and she liked them both on sight. Molly taught at the community college and had set up the academy curriculum. Ben was a saddle maker who offered academy students a chance to learn the basics of his trade. Molly talked Matt into giving up Sophie, and soon afterward, Cade announced the Skype call would begin in ten minutes.

Matt recaptured Geena’s hand before they started toward Rosie and Herb’s office. “I hope this works.”

“I have a good feeling about it. It’s your brothers, after all, and they only want the best for you.”

“Good point.” He took a deep breath and they walked down the hall.

She’d never peeked into the office, but she doubted it looked this way normally, with the computer connected to a large flat-screen and chairs grouped in two rows in front of it. Matt continued to hold her hand and Cade positioned them both front and center, with Rosie and Herb on one side, and Damon and Phil on the other.

“We’re not key players,” Damon said. “We don’t need to be in front.”

“Yeah, you do.” Cade gestured to Sophie. “Everyone wants to see the baby. Before we address the problem, we need to let them go nuts over your kid.” Then he turned to Geena. “I can introduce you first, though, since you’re the guest—”

“Not necessary.” She laughed. “It’s an old Hollywood saying—never work with animals or kids. They’ll upstage you every time. Let Sophie have her moment.”

Cade nodded. “Good call. Has Matt briefed you on the folks we’ll be talking to?”

“I know Finn’s the Seattle brewer and Chelsea’s the marketing guru he’s in love with, and she likes to use interesting colors in her hair. But I have no info on the other couple you mentioned.”

Matt glanced at the digital time on the screen. “We have a couple of minutes. I’ll fill you in.” He quickly told her about Ty Slater, his foster brother with the photographic memory who’d become a successful lawyer in Cheyenne, and Ty’s wife, Whitney, a talented barista who managed a local coffee shop.

“It’s time,” Cade said. “Here’s our agenda.” He passed out sheets of paper to everyone.

“Agenda?” Damon laughed. “Seriously?”

“Seriously, bro. We need to stay on track. We’ll have Sophie time for five minutes and then I’ll ask Matt to introduce Geena and explain the situation. After that we’ll throw it open for brainstorming.”

“He gets this drill sergeant attitude from working with teenagers all day,” Lexi said. “I’ve learned that once he’s in this mode, it’s best to just go along.”

“I’m happy to.” Geena was quickly becoming a Cade Gallagher fan. Obviously he’d taken on a leadership role and seemed to have a talent for it. He’d been right about providing some Sophie time. She was the first child born to a member of the brotherhood and she’d always occupy a place of honor because of that. She’d also have a passel of adoring uncles. The thought made Geena smile.

Sophie acted as if she already knew that she was a lucky girl. While everyone exclaimed over how cute she was and how big she’d grown, she waved her arms and bounced on Damon’s lap as if welcoming the spotlight.

True to his word, Cade broke in on the baby party after five minutes to announce that they had to get on with the agenda. He took some more flak for his dedication to a timetable, but he stuck to his guns.

Matt introduced Geena and gave a brief overview of the PR issue they were working with. “Basically, what I’m looking for is a way to combat the negative publicity without creating a tabloid nightmare for anyone else, especially Mom and Dad.”

Ty’s wife, Whitney, a blonde with classic features, was the first to speak. “Like everybody here, I’ve been following the news about you ever since you got the part. I think it’s wonderful that you landed it and I hate this for you, even though we don’t really know each other.”

“Thanks, Whitney. Rosie’s told me so much about you, I feel like I know you.”

“Same here.” She smiled. “But I have a question. In all the stuff I’ve read or seen, no one’s mentioned that you were a foster kid or that you lived in Wyoming, let alone at Thunder Mountain. Was that on purpose?”

Geena’s breath caught. Apparently Whitney wasn’t part of the inner circle and didn’t realize that was a loaded question.

Matt wasted no time in answering her. “Yes, ma’am, it was definitely on purpose. I figured it was nobody’s business. I didn’t even tell Geena. And now I really can’t bring it up even if I wanted to. Fans will think it’s a bid for sympathy.”

“I cherish my privacy, too.” Ty put his arm around his wife. “Whitney will testify to that. But when I ended up on the academy’s promo calendar two years ago, my story was out there for all to see. That made me really uncomfortable. But since then a lot of foster kids have told me they were inspired because I overcame the odds.”

“Same here,” Damon said. “I was asked to give a talk at the high school on that very subject. I had a couple of emails after that from kids who said they weren’t going to think of themselves as victims anymore.”

Matt nodded. “I can understand why talking to you would help them. I’ll admit I never considered that angle. I will from now on.”

“But you’re right about bringing the info to light now.” Chelsea tucked her hair, streaked with various shades of green, behind her ears. “So, Geena, what are your thoughts? I’m sure you’ve been thinking about how to fix things.”

“I have.”

Chelsea’s expression grew animated. “Great! Whatcha got?”

Geena hesitated. Was there any point in laying out a plan that Matt would hate? But, judging from her conversation with Cade earlier today, everyone else might go for it. She could be pitting him against his family.

“This is a brainstorming session.” From his position in the second row, Cade reached over and laid a hand on her shoulder. “We need to hear all the ideas.”

She turned to Matt. “You won’t care for it.”

His gaze was steady. “Like Cade said, anything goes in a brainstorming session.”

Technically that was true, but he could consider her suggestion a betrayal, especially if the others jumped on board and he became the one dissenting voice.

Matt knew exactly why he’d agreed to this Skype session. Cade had invoked the Thunder Mountain Brotherhood code. In high school Matt had stood by his brothers whenever some guy with spaghetti for brains decided to make fun of the foster boys who lived at Thunder Mountain. Apparently their loyalty to each other bothered certain types of people, mostly bullies.

Now Matt was the one being threatened by a bully and his brothers were here to support him and make sure he didn’t back down. He appreciated their support, but he trembled to think what kind of scheme Geena had dreamed up. She’d forewarned him that he wouldn’t like it and so chances were good he’d hate it.

But he couldn’t ask Geena to withhold her idea. Ultimately she couldn’t force it on him, anyway. He was still the client.

“Okay, here goes.” Geena sat up a little straighter. “What if Thunder Mountain Academy makes a promotional video during this break between semesters, and the story we put out is that Matt flew here specifically so he could be in it?”

Matt groaned. “That’s—”

“Brilliant!” Chelsea said. “I love it! Instead of looking as if you ran away to dodge bad publicity, we show that leaving LA had nothing to do with that.”

“That’s the idea.” Geena gripped his hand tighter.

“Matt, this could really work.” Chelsea’s expression was animated. “Fans will love that you’re donating time to promote your family’s enterprise. Make the video tomorrow and finish it by sundown. The video is released along with press about it, providing great publicity for the academy and wholesome PR for you. It’s genius.”

“Except making that video with me in it will destroy Mom and Dad’s privacy.” Letting go of Geena’s hand for the first time since they’d sat down, Matt turned to them. “This place is special. You don’t want reporters knocking on your door, asking invasive questions. You don’t want—”

“Son.” Rosie put her hand on his arm and looked into his eyes. “I’m not sure where you got this notion that privacy is important to us. We used to have up to twelve boys at a time living on this ranch, but after we retired we had more privacy than you could shake a stick at. We hated it.”

“Yeah, we did,” said Herb. “We’ve never worried about opening our home to others. When we ran a foster care facility we had to have the premises inspected regularly. After we got a reputation in the state for our work with kids, we were featured several times on TV.”

“You were? I don’t remember that.”

“They interviewed us when you were all in school. Identifying any of you would have been an invasion of privacy because you were underage.” Herb’s voice gentled. “But now that we’re running the academy, we’re actively seeking publicity, so making a video is a great idea. But you don’t have to be in it if that makes you uncomfortable.”

“But would you even want my name attached to the academy with all the negative stuff that’s been said about me this week?”

Rosie squeezed his hand. “We’re not worried about that. But we’d never want to exploit your fame for our benefit. That’s not—”

“Wait. You’re worried about using me?”

She nodded.

“We’ve all worried about that,” Damon said. “Lots of times when people get famous their relatives take advantage. That’s not who we are.”

Sophie picked that moment to start fussing and Damon stood. “Sorry, everybody. I think Sophie’s done with this Skype thing.”

“Yep, it’s dinnertime for her.” Phil got up, too. “Hate to run. Great seeing you guys!”

Everyone on the screen called out goodbyes, and the baby was distracted by that and stopped fussing long enough for Damon and Phil to make a more leisurely exit. They’d all be seeing each other in August for Cade and Lexi’s wedding, and while that event was being discussed, Matt had a chance to sort through what he’d just been told. Gradually the truth sank in, and as it did, he felt lower than a snake’s belly.

He hadn’t been protecting his family. He’d been protecting himself and his vision of retreating from the craziness of LA to the idyllic privacy of his home at Thunder Mountain. Talk about selfish.

If he’d been thinking about his folks instead of himself, he would have realized that the academy was a business like any other. Geena had tried to tell him he could help out when she’d mentioned the girls who’d stayed in the cabin they’d been cleaning earlier. He hadn’t listened.

Oh, his motives had seemed so noble, but now they looked totally self-serving. He needed to get over himself and concentrate on being an asset to his parents’ business. Teenagers liked movie stars. He’d idolized his share when he’d been that age. He hadn’t cared if they got in a little trouble now and then. It made them human.

But he hadn’t been willing to admit how much he could contribute to the cause because he’d been focused on his need for privacy. And why was that? A cold chill ran down his spine as the answer came to him. His mother. He could hide from her in LA, no problem. Not here.

His gut told him she wasn’t that far away. She’d probably stayed in Wyoming all these years, where she knew the public assistance programs inside out and the cost of living was reasonable. If he made the video tomorrow and left town before it was released, he likely wouldn’t have to deal with her.

But Rosie and Herb might. They could handle her, of course, but they shouldn’t have to. She’d been nasty fifteen years ago and he doubted she’d changed. According to what he’d learned about her personality type, she was probably worse.

“Matt.”

He turned to look at Geena. “It’s okay.” He hated seeing the anxiety in her green eyes, especially knowing he’d been the one who’d caused her to worry. “I’ll do the video. Even more important, I want to.”

She sighed and her shoulders relaxed. “Okay. That’s good.”

“But just so you know, my birth mother could see the video and contact the ranch looking for me. I’ll alert Rosie and Herb.”

“I’m sure they’ll run interference for you.”

“That’s just it. I don’t want them to. I’ll stay an extra two days after the video goes live to give her plenty of time to make the call. If she does, I’ll take it and invite her to the ranch.”

Chapter Sixteen

Geena had no time to respond to that startling announcement because Sophie grew restless again and Damon and Phil left for real. That turned everyone’s attention back to Matt and the prospect of a video being made within the next twenty-four hours.

“I’m absolutely doing it,” he said. “Assuming it’s even possible to get something like that together in a hurry.”

“We mostly need a videographer.” Geena turned in her seat to look at Cade, Lexi, Molly and Ben. “Any ideas?”

“Yes.” Molly fairly crackled with energy. “One of the instructors at the community college, Drew Martinelli, would be perfect if she hasn’t left on vacation yet.” She pulled her phone out of her purse. “I’ll text her now.”

Lexi jumped on the idea. “This is serendipity. Cade and I need someone to video our wedding, so if she works out for this, maybe we could hire her for August.”

“She’d be great.” Molly typed quickly. “I just hope she’s still in town.”

“We need to have a potential script,” Chelsea said from the screen. “Finn has to head back to O’Roarke’s but I can stay on the call if you need my help.”

“Yes, please.” Geena turned to give her a quick smile.

“Whitney and I have to sign off, too,” Ty said. “We’re having dinner with her folks. But if you need anything, holler, and text or email us when it’s up.”

“Will do.” Cade glanced at the screen. “Thanks for being here, both of you. See you in August. Lexi and I are expecting a really big present.”

Ty laughed. “We’re getting you a very expensive kitchen gadget, bro, now that you’re such a gourmet cook.”

“Can’t wait.” Cade grinned. “Hey, thanks for being here.” Cade walked over to the computer. “So, it’s Chelsea and Geena on this project so far. Who else is volunteering to work out a script?”

“I will,” Rosie said.

“I’ll help, too,” Lexi said. “I’ve commissioned a few videos of my riding clinics, so I know a little about the process.”

Geena decided somebody needed to take charge of the project and she was the logical one. “If we have Chelsea, Rosie, Lexi and me, that should be enough.”

“And me,” Matt said. “I’ve had some experience with scripts.”

She gazed at him. “Yes, you have, and thanks for the offer.”

“It’s the least I can do.”

His smile tugged at her heart, but now wasn’t the time for a private conversation about how he was handling this turn of events.

“There’s Drew.” Molly grabbed her phone and glanced at the incoming text. “She’s available all day tomorrow.”

“Excellent.” Geena took that as a positive sign that the video was meant to be. “I know this is a lot to ask, but if she can show up before dawn, she’ll get some amazing footage.”

“Let me see what she says.” Molly typed in the request and waited. “Yes! In fact, she’d thought of that herself. She’ll be here before five tomorrow morning.”

“Good. Thank you, Molly. That’s huge.”

“Call if you need anything else.” Molly left with Ben.

“Looks as if you have everything under control,” Cade said. “I leave the project in your capable hands.” He glanced at Lexi. “See you at home.”

“You will. Fabulous job, cowboy.”

“Thanks.” He touched the brim of his hat and left with Herb.

“Okay, then,” Chelsea said. “Where do we start?”

Geena knew where that should be. She just didn’t think the man sitting beside her would go for it. “The video will publicize the academy, but let’s get real. Matt’s our biggest draw. We should start the video with him.” She glanced in his direction. “Does that work for you?”

He met her gaze with surprising calmness. “Yes, it does. I should probably narrate the thing. Since we have the videographer committed to arriving before dawn, the script should begin with an exterior shot as the sun’s coming up. Then pan to the barn, tight focus on the barn door and head inside to where I’m doing something.”

“Something manly,” Chelsea said, as computer keys clicked. “Like pitching clean hay into a stall. Keep talking. I’m writing all this down.”

“Are the horses out or in?” Lexi moved up to the front row and sat next to Geena.

“Out in the pasture,” Geena said. “More dramatic. It would be great if we could get them to race around a little.”

“I have an idea.” Matt leaned forward as if he actually might be enjoying the process. “Put Cade out with the horses. Have him grab a handful of mane and swing up bareback on Hematite. That’s always a crowd pleaser. Once he gets Hematite moving, Linus will follow and the others might, too.”

“I can just picture it.” Rosie’s face glowed. “It’ll be wonderful. Oh, I know what else we need in this video! We could use some roof repair on Cabin Three. Let’s get Damon up there and film him doing it.”

“Nice.” Chelsea kept typing. “Stetson, snug T-shirt, jeans and a tool belt. Damon rocks that look.”

“Before we go any further, I want to say something else.” Rosie looked around at the group. “Phil deserves to be up on that roof as much as Damon. Lexi, you have every right to ride bareback along with Cade. I don’t mean to be sexist, but—”

“The video needs to be about the brotherhood,” Lexi said. “I figured that out right away. We know what we want to accomplish and putting great-looking cowboys in each shot is the way to go.”

Geena nodded. “It is. We’ll want a scene with Rosie and Herb, but other than that, it’s all about the Thunder Mountain Brotherhood.” Geena glanced over at Matt. “Are you comfortable talking about that connection?”

“You bet. Until Ty mentioned it, I never considered that our story might help other foster kids. And I should have. I wish that I’d—”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself,” Geena said. “We’ve all known celebrities who milked their tragic past to get attention. You didn’t want to be that person.”

He gave her a distracted smile. “Thanks.”

“That’s what will be so great about this video,” Chelsea said. “We have a talented actor narrating it. I predict this thing will go viral in no time.”

“Hallelujah!” Rosie threw both hands in the air. “I’ve always wanted a viral video!”

“Me, too.” Chelsea said. “We need to nail down the rest of the scenes so we can turn Matt and Geena loose on the dialogue. I figure you two are the movie people, so you’re the logical ones to handle it.”

Matt nodded. “No problem.”

After everyone agreed on the order of scenes, Chelsea emailed her notes to Geena and signed off.

Lexi glanced at Geena and Matt. “I’ll leave you to it. Writing dialogue is so not my area.”

“Not mine, either,” Rosie said. “I’ll rustle up your dinner and bring it in here so you can keep working.”

After Rosie walked out the door, Geena gazed at Matt. She didn’t have the words to express her admiration or her frustration. The two emotions were hopelessly tangled up in her mind, so instead of saying anything, she grabbed him and kissed him with enough force to knock off his hat.

He obviously wasn’t expecting it and he froze.

Lifting her mouth a fraction of an inch, she took a quick breath. “Steam up my glasses, damn it. You know you want to.”

With a groan, he pulled her close and his mouth came down on hers.

Oh, yes. She surrendered completely to the pleasure of kissing Matt. This was what he should be doing instead of worrying about whether he was the right guy for her. How could he doubt it when these moments of shared passion were so amazing?

Breathing unevenly, he pulled back. “We have to stop.”

“I know. Rosie will—”

“Be here any minute.” And he recaptured her mouth.

So sweet. So hot. She couldn’t imagine living without his kiss.

He lifted his head again. “Enough.” Blowing out a breath, he released her and stood. “I told myself I wouldn’t do this.”

“You didn’t. I did.” She gulped for air. “Not your fault.”

“I could have said no.” He located his hat on the floor and picked it up.

She smiled as she took off her glasses and polished them on her shirt. “I don’t think so. I’m irresistible.”

“Yes, ma’am, you sure as hell are.” He ran his fingers through his hair and took a deep breath. “Before Rosie comes back, I need to clarify something I said earlier. Although I’m staying a couple more days, I don’t expect you to.”

“If you’re staying, I’m staying.”

He shook his head. “Let me put it another way. I’d rather you didn’t.”

Wow, that hurt. She was prepared to stick by him during a difficult time and he wanted her gone. She struggled to regain her composure. “Assuming your birth mother actually shows up, I won’t be shocked by her, if that’s what you’re worried about. I have a fair idea of what to expect.”

“How can you, when I don’t? She was pretty messed up the last time I saw her. If she decides to come here, there’s no telling what she’ll be like. You don’t need to experience that.”

“What if—” She paused to clear her throat. “What if I want to?”

“Geena, I’m asking you to head back to LA.” He put on his hat and tugged down the brim. “Please.”

“Why?”

His voice was tight. “Maybe I should let you stay so you can see where I came from.”

She clutched her denim-clad knees to keep her hands from shaking. “I know where you came from and it doesn’t matter. No, I take that back. It does matter. Knowing your background makes me admire you that much more.”

“Admire me? You’ve got to be kidding.”

“Of course I admire you! You could have let your past define you. Instead, you set an ambitious goal and achieved it.”

“All because my past does define me. Haven’t you been paying attention? I’m as selfish as my mother!”

She gasped. “You are not! How can you say such a thing?”

“Look at the evidence.” His bitter tone sent a chill through her. “I insisted that Rosie and Herb needed privacy when I really wanted privacy for me. I rejected your idea that I could help publicize the academy because it would louse up my precious retreat plans. It’s always been about my needs, not theirs.”

She had trouble breathing, but she forced the words out as best she could. “Matt, it happens to everyone. We think we’re doing something noble and it turns out our motives were self-serving. But you figured it out and now you’re doing the right thing.”

“Or maybe I see a way to save my own hide and I’m taking it.”

“No! You see a way to set everything right. You benefit and the academy benefits. It’s a win–win!”

“Even if it turns out that way, and I hope it does, that doesn’t change anything. I clearly have the ability to block out everything except what I want. I lived with that woman for twelve years. I’ve kidded myself that I escaped who and what she was, but—”

“I guarantee that you have.”

His gaze was shuttered. Not completely closed, yet, but it wouldn’t take much for the wall to come up. “I wish I could believe that, but I can’t.”

“Then why wait for your mother? What’s in it for you? If she does come here, I doubt it will be pleasant. You could leave before the video release and lock her out of your life forever. You could surround yourself with enough security that she’d never get through.”

He looked as if he wanted to pace but the room was cluttered with furniture. He turned a chair backward and straddled it so he was facing her. “Once again, selfish motives. I told myself I had to stay and protect Rosie and Herb from having to deal with her, but that’s not the real reason.”

“Why can’t it be one of the reasons? I’m sure they’d appreciate having you here if she comes calling.”

“They probably would, but my main reason for staying has nothing to do with them. I want to find out if there’s any trace of regret for what she did. But more than that, I need to know if I’ll look at her and see myself.”

“There’s bound to be some resemblance, Matt. She gave birth to you.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

“I know. I’ve done the same with my mother. I like to think I’ve taken after my father.” Then she wished she hadn’t said it. Matt couldn’t use that strategy.

“Doesn’t apply.” His expression gave nothing away. The wall had come up.

“Dinner’s served!” Rosie came bustling in with Herb right behind her. Both were carrying trays. Matt jumped up immediately to help and Geena followed suit.

As they cleared a place on the desk to set the plates of food and bottles of O’Roarke’s Pale Ale, Rosie’s and Herb’s forced cheer suggested that they’d heard at least part of the argument. The concern in Rosie’s eyes as she glanced at Matt confirmed it.

Geena considered asking them to stay so they could bring the issue out in the open. But she might make the situation worse and she was a guest who’d been here less than forty-eight hours. Forcing an intervention seemed disrespectful.

After they left, she looked at Matt. “Are you going to be able to work on dialogue with me?”

“Yes. It needs to be done.”

Of course he’d be able to do it. He was a professional. So was she. “I’ll get my computer.”

Chapter Seventeen

Matt knew he was behaving like a jerk and yet he couldn’t stop himself, which was proof that he wasn’t the guy for Geena. It was now clear as a bell to him, so he wished she’d accept it, too. The sooner she left town, the better, but everyone would expect her to stay until the video was finished and she would insist on it out of professional pride.

That meant she couldn’t leave until the day after tomorrow, because of limited flights out of Sheridan. Which left a hell of a lot of hours to endure, especially when every time he looked at her he longed to pull her into his arms and kiss those full lips. More proof that he was a selfish bastard.

She reappeared with her laptop and he fought the urge to take it out of her hands and apologize for every terrible thing he’d said. He’d told her to leave when he desperately needed her to stay. He’d said they were wrong for each other when every time he held her it felt so right he wanted to shout for joy.

But that was his selfish side talking, the part he’d inherited from his screwed-up, narcissistic mother. For Geena’s sake, he couldn’t listen to that voice. He had to continue to push her away until she finally got the message.

They plunged into the dialogue project like the pros they were. They didn’t eat much but they drank all the beer. In Matt’s current frame of mind, another couple of bottles would have been welcome. But he wasn’t going back to the kitchen to get them. Rosie would waylay him, for sure. He’d seen the look on her face when she’d brought the food. She knew something wasn’t right.

Writing the dialogue under these circumstances was a tough slog, but he and Geena pulled it off. She emailed the finished product to Drew, who’d use it to plan the sequence of shots.

At last she closed her laptop and stood. “That does it.”

He got to his feet, too. “Yes, ma’am, it does.”

Irritation flashed in her green eyes. “If you’re such a heinous person, why bother with the gentlemanly behavior?”

“Maybe it gets me what I want.”

Her jaw tightened. “Are you implying that you used that yes, ma’am routine to get me out of my clothes?”

He could tell she was tired and pushed to the limit. The more obnoxious he was, the quicker she’d dump his sorry ass. “It worked, didn’t it?”

She slapped him so hard it brought tears to his eyes. Good. He deserved it.

“This is not who you are.” Her voice was choked with fury. “If you were really that rotten, Rosie and Herb wouldn’t love you.”

“They see what they want to see.”

She growled in frustration and started out of the room. “I’ll be back for the dishes. I’m sure Rosie and Herb have gone to bed by now and we need to clean up our mess.”

“Don’t worry about the dishes. I’ll take care of them.”

“Okay. Great.” She paused in the doorway and turned around. “Feel free to sleep in your room tonight. My door will be locked, so no temptation there.”

“Thanks for the thought, but I’ll sleep in the barn again.”

“Why do that? You and I are so done.”

“That’s not what your eyes say.” He’d keep it up until she hated him.

“I don’t give a damn what my eyes say. My mouth says we are done, cowboy. I’m locking my door.”

“In that case, I probably should warn you there’s something else I learned from my worthless mother.”

“What?”

“I can pick locks.”

“Then I should warn you of something I learned from my mother.”

“Oh?”

“How to deliver a well-placed knee to the groin.”

In spite of everything, that made him smile, but he ducked his head so she wouldn’t see. Dear God, how he loved her. Then he went very still as the insight played in a slow motion loop in his head. He loved her? Well, yeah, of course he did. Otherwise he wouldn’t be so determined to sabotage any feelings she’d developed for him.

He kept his head down until he heard her huff of anger and her retreating footsteps. Hiding his smile was about maintaining a consistent message. Hiding his love was about survival.

Anger fueled an adrenaline rush that carried Geena through her bedtime routine as she took a shower, and washed and dried her hair. Then she lay in the dark, eyes open, and prayed for him to come through the door. She hadn’t locked it, had never intended to. Not that they would make love in this room, not with Rosie and Herb sleeping nearby.

But if he’d come to her and taken back all those mean things he’d said, they could escape to the barn and put things right between them. She longed to rewind the clock to this morning when he’d been so wild for her he’d risked being discovered by Lexi and Cade, or this afternoon when they’d made sweet love on a cool patch of green grass.

This evening, with the help of his folks, and his brothers and their wives, they’d created a potential solution to his PR disaster, but at what cost? He’d begun to doubt himself before the Skype call, and the revelations from that phone meeting had left him shattered. Another person might reluctantly acknowledge their self-serving behavior and vow to do better. Not Matt. He was drowning in the shame of thinking he was just like his mother.

She thought of her own mother, who had, in fact, taught her the knee-to-groin move. Although Geena liked to believe she took after her late father, she had many of her mother’s traits, including fierce determination, which could easily become stubbornness.

Her mom had force-marched her through years of performance training, which had taught her self-respect and discipline. Her mom had been absent a lot, but she’d never completely abandoned the field. Geena had become self-reliant out of necessity, but that wasn’t a bad quality.

Without the upbringing her mother had provided, she might not have had the guts to follow Matt to Sheridan. She definitely wouldn’t have had the discipline to knock out a video script despite the tension that had ricocheted around the room the entire time. And the person she’d become would not lie staring at the ceiling until dawn, either.

Climbing out of bed, she put on her glasses. Then she located the boots Rosie had loaned her and the flashlight tucked in the bedside table drawer in case of a power outage. Once again she’d play the role of uninvited guest. He might turn her away. In fact, he probably would. But she had to try.

Rosie and Herb hadn’t bothered to lock up, so she was able to slip out easily while carrying her boots and flashlight. Locked doors seemed to be a rarity in the country, which made her earlier comment to Matt all the more ludicrous. She wasn’t sure her bedroom door even had a lock.

Cool air greeted her as she stepped out on the porch and sat in one of the Adirondack chairs to put on her boots. The ranch looked different at night, a little bit alien with only the dusk-to-dawn lights illuminating the circular drive and the barn several yards away. She descended the steps. The crunch of her boots on the gravel drive seemed unnaturally loud in the stillness. When a cricket chirped in the bushes beside the porch she jumped.

Placing a hand over her racing heart, she paused to take several deep breaths. She could do this. The barn wasn’t that far away. She started out, putting her feet down carefully so her boots on the gravel wouldn’t sound so much like somebody chewing potato chips.

No one was out here, so it might not matter, but she didn’t want to attract attention from...anything. Belatedly she remembered that Wyoming was filled with wildlife. She’d heard that making a lot of noise would frighten animals away, but she wasn’t sure that was true of really big creatures like bears.

Okay, now she was scaring herself. Time to calm the heck down. Once she’d passed outside the glow of the first yard light, she lifted her head to look at the stars. Oh, my. They covered the navy-blue sky like spilled sugar. She’d never seen so many.

Then she heard something. Glancing wildly around, she saw a shadow near the barn door. A pretty big shadow, like a bear on its hind legs would make. She tried to yell but only managed a tiny squeak. She was so stupid to come outside by herself! And now a bear would eat her and she’d never get to tell Matt that she—

“Geena?” Matt stepped into the light hanging over the barn as his long strides quickly eliminated the distance between them. “What in God’s name are you doing out here?”

“I—I...wh-what are you doing out h-here?” Her teeth chattered as relief washed through her, leaving her weak and trembling. “I thought y-you were a b-bear!”

“Ah, Geena.” He gathered her close and rested his cheek on the top of her head as he rocked her gently back and forth. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Is th-that a rhetorical question or d-do you want an answer? Because I c-can give you some ideas if you n-need any.” She held on to his solid warmth and gradually the quivery feeling subsided.

His body started to shake and eventually she realized he was laughing. He’d muffled the sound in her hair, which was probably a good idea because maybe a bear really was lurking nearby. She’d seen grizzlies on TV. Two people, even one built like Matt, were no match for a grizzly.

Even so, she felt a thousand percent safer in his arms than she had walking through the dark alone.

Finally he cleared his throat and gazed down at her. “What sort of ideas would you like to offer me?”

“Could we discuss this in the barn? I’m worried about bears.”

“There aren’t any bears around.”

“How do you know?”

“The horses would get agitated.”

“Oh. Well, good, but I’d still like to have this conversation inside, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course I mind.” But as he said it, he drew her closer, which revealed that a certain significant part of him didn’t mind at all. “I came down here to get away from you, and then you show up in your Captain America shirt and your boots, and you must have washed your hair because it smells amazing.”

“I did wash it.” She began to quiver for a different reason altogether. “And I admit I did that for you. I thought maybe you’d come to my room and we could...talk.”

“Talk. Right.” He rubbed her back, moving gradually lower until he cupped her bottom and pulled her in tight. “I thought you were planning to lock your door.”

Her body warmed as his fingers flexed, creating an arousing massage. “Does it even have a lock?”

“No.” And he started laughing again. “We’d better head for the barn before this gets any hotter and we wake up the folks. In the summer they like to sleep with their windows open.” Looping an arm around her shoulders, he guided her toward the big double doors. “I should be walking you back to the house, but I can’t seem to make myself do that.”

“I’m glad. I really...the way we left things was...”

“It was awful. That’s why I was outside, just looking up at the stars and thinking. I kept wondering if I should go back to the house and at least apologize, but then I knew you’d be in bed wearing that sleep shirt and the inevitable would happen.”

“It wouldn’t have.”

“You would have rejected me?”

“No, I would have insisted we come down here, away from the house.”

He looked at her and smiled. “You knock me out, you know that?”

“Yes, because you knock me out, too, which is why—”

“Nothing’s changed. We’ll go into the barn and make love because I can’t stand not to, but after that...”

“I have an idea. Let’s not think about what happens after that.”

He took a deep breath. “Good thinking.” He ushered her into the dim interior, lit only by small lights along the aisle between the stalls. “Wait here.” He ducked into a room just inside the barn door.

She breathed in the scent of hay, horses and oiled leather while she listened to various snorts and soft groans, the clunk of a hoof against a floorboard and the rustle of straw. She loved being here because this was Matt’s territory, one he could share with her if only he would. The possibility of that didn’t seem very high at the moment.

But she’d suggested to him that they should forget about both the past and future, and concentrate on the present. Good advice. She ought to take it.

He reappeared, a blanket under his arm. “This way.” Grasping her hand, he led her down the wooden aisle to an empty stall.

The door was open, and now that her eyes had adjusted, she could make out mounds of straw inside. “Is this where you slept last night?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He unfolded the blanket and laid it out on the straw.

“Can you do something with these?” She handed her glasses to him.

“We’ll hook them over the stall door latch.” He made sure they were secure, draping his hat over them. “That should do it.” He turned to her, his hands on his hips. Then he sighed. “You know what? This is nuts. I’m taking you back to the house. Making love again will only—”

“Don’t you dare back out now, cowboy.” Launching herself at him, she nearly knocked him over.

He staggered when he caught her but he managed to keep them upright. “Geena, come on. This is crazy.”

“Shut up and kiss me.” She grabbed him around the neck and pulled his head down. If she could get him in a lip-lock, he’d be toast.

“It’s a mistake.”

“We’re doing it anyway.”

He groaned. “Looks like it.” And when his mouth found hers, there was no doubt. He kissed her with the hunger of a man barely in control. He broke away only long enough to pull the sleep shirt over her head and toss it down. Then he lowered her to the blanket and began tasting every inch of her.

Gasping, she writhed on the blanket. “My...boots.”

“I’m leaving ’em.” He kissed his way from her breasts to her navel. “I’ve never made love to a woman wearing boots.” He planted soft kisses along her trembling thighs. “I’m guessing you’ve never made love to a man while wearing them, either.”

She moaned. “Good guess.”

“I’m all wrong for you.” He blew gently on her damp curls. “But I’m selfish enough to want you to remember me.” And he settled into the most intimate kiss of all.

She’d remember him, all right, whether she kept the boots on or took them off. A woman didn’t easily forget a man who gave her more pleasure than she’d ever dreamed possible. Her climax arrived with such force that she pressed the back of her hand to her mouth to keep from yelling.

After bestowing a few more tender kisses in strategic places, he moved away and began stripping off his clothes. As she lay on the soft blanket, sprawled in reckless abandon, she wished they had more light because he was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen and this might be the last...no, she wouldn’t think about that. Worrying about the future robbed her of precious time with him tonight.

Her body hummed with anticipation. Before long they’d once again experience that magic connection and they’d share the joy of...wait a minute. He hadn’t expected her to walk down here. “Matt, do you have a condom?”

“Yes, ma’am.” His breathing was a little ragged.

“How could you, when you weren’t expecting me?”

“Pure luck.” Foil crinkled. “I left the rest of the box hidden in the tack room this morning. After our conversation today, I didn’t figure I’d have a use for them.” He lowered himself to the blanket, propped himself on his outstretched arms and settled between her thighs. “You changed my mind.” His face was in shadow as he leaned down and brushed his mouth over hers.

“I’m encouraged that I can do that.” She ran her hands up his muscular chest and savored the tactile thrill of springy hair beneath her palms.

“Don’t be encouraged. It’s temporary.” He nibbled on her lower lip.

“Oh, Matt, I wish—”

“You’re thinking about the future. You told me not to.”

“I know.”

“Don’t think, just...feel.” He slid in smoothly, effortlessly.

Sighing, she lifted her hips to bring him closer. “Like that?”

Muttering a soft oath, he held very still. “Yes, ma’am.”

“It does work.”

“What?” His voice sounded strained.

“Those cowboy manners.” She explored the manly terrain of his broad shoulders. “To get me naked.”

“That was a stupid thing to say. I didn’t mean it.”

“I know.” She stroked lower and pushed her fingertips into his impressive back muscles.

He sucked in a breath. “I wanted you to be mad at me.”

“I was, but I’m sorry I slapped you.”

“I deserved it.” He feathered a kiss over her lips. “But right this second, I have a problem.”

“What?”

“I desperately want to start moving, but I don’t have much control. I’m liable to get a little crazy. Can you handle that?”

Her heartbeat kicked into high gear. “Uh-huh.”

“Then hang on.”

He wasn’t kidding. It was the wildest few minutes of her life, and the most thrilling, too. His intensity triggered an orgasm before she expected it, but he kept going, urging her on as he stroked faster, and faster yet.

“Again.” He changed the angle and she gasped, on the brink of a second climax.

He bore down and she came. Jaw clenched, he stifled a deep groan as he surrendered to his own release. He shuddered in the grip of his orgasm then he slowly lowered his body and allowed it to rest lightly against hers.

She stroked his sweaty back. “Relax,” she crooned. “Let go.”

At last he did, nestling his body against hers. The tension slowly drained away and she thought he might be asleep, or at least dozing.

She might never have a better chance to say what was in her heart. “I love you,” she murmured softly.

He didn’t stir. He probably was asleep, and that was okay. She’d needed to say it and now she had.

Chapter Eighteen

After Geena drifted off to sleep, Matt eased away from her, took care of the condom and set the alarm on his phone. Then he gathered her into his arms and held her as he savored the words she’d spoken. He’d never forget that she’d said them, even though he wouldn’t be building dreams based on her words of love.

She might believe what she’d said, but she’d glossed over his failings because she was generous that way. Incredible sex had a way of affecting a person’s judgment. It certainly had affected his. Until the Skype call he’d thought he might have a future with her.

But he could see the situation clearly now, even if she couldn’t. He was still too mired in his toxic past to be with anyone, and letting her go was the most loving gesture he could make. Maybe someday she’d understand that he’d helped her avoid a gigantic mistake.

Exhaustion claimed them both and they slept until the alarm woke them at four. He threw on his clothes as fast as he could, but she still had to wait for him. She stood there quietly, obviously half asleep. Arms around each other, they made their way back to the house. They pulled off their boots before slipping inside and he walked her to her room.

“You’d better not come in,” she murmured.

So true. The chilly morning air had swept away his grogginess and he’d become very aware that he had a half-naked Geena beside him. “I won’t.” Silently lowering his boots to the floor, he pushed back his hat and cupped her face in both hands. “Thank you.” Before she could say anything, he kissed her gently, angling his head so he didn’t bump her glasses. He kept his passion in check as he released her.

A night-light shining in the hall bathroom revealed that he’d fogged her lenses, anyway, probably for the last time. He wanted nothing more than to follow her into that room and confess the love that made him ache in ways he’d never thought he could ache. Instead, he picked up his boots and walked away.

At his door, he glanced back to discover that she hadn’t moved. She stood exactly as he’d left her and he memorized how she looked in her Captain America sleep shirt because he’d never see her wearing it again. Slowly she raised her hand in farewell. He touched the brim of his hat. Then she turned, walked into her room and closed the door.

He knew then that she’d accepted his decision that they should end it. And why wouldn’t she? Thank you wasn’t exactly a declaration of undying love. More like good manners, and he certainly had those in spades. Her trip to the barn had been her Hail Mary pass, a final attempt to break him down.

No doubt she thought she’d failed, but she’d succeeded beyond her wildest dreams. He loved her with every ounce of his being. And she would never know.

More than once during the shooting of the video that morning, Geena mentally thanked her mother for teaching her the value of discipline and self-reliance. Inheriting some of her mother’s stubbornness hadn’t hurt anything, either. Although she’d notified everyone except Matt that she planned to leave the ranch after the video was uploaded, she wouldn’t get on a plane yet. Not until she knew he was okay.

Fortunately Drew Martinelli was a crackerjack videographer. During the filming Geena learned that the slim brunette had been a hockey star in high school because she could anticipate where the puck would be. That skill gave her a unique advantage as a videographer because she was always ahead of the action instead of following it.

Her dynamic images should accomplish exactly what Geena had hoped for, great PR for Matt and more visibility for Thunder Mountain Academy. Before the afternoon was over, Lexi and Cade had hired Drew to film their wedding. Damon and Phil had debated whether to get a professional video of Sophie at the crawling stage or wait until she was walking. They’d ended up choosing to do both and Rosie had immediately put in an order for copies.

Drew did her edits in Rosie and Herb’s office to make sure the final cut met with everyone’s approval. That created a standing-room-only situation by the time she’d finished and uploaded the video to the internet.

Later that night, Rosie had champagne and glasses ready for a celebratory toast. As the good cheer flowed around her, Geena soaked it up and reminded herself that, when it came to Matt, it wasn’t over until it was over. Scanning the crowded room, she discovered he was working his way toward her.

When he finally made it, she touched her flute to his. “Good job.” Taking a sip from her glass, she dared to look him straight in the eye for the first time since they’d started this long day. The depth of emotion she found there took her breath away. That was love, damn it, even if he’d never said so.

He continued to hold her gaze as he took a quick swallow and lowered his glass. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

She managed a smile. “True.”

“And it was generous of you to offer to be here if my mother shows up. Instead of being appreciative I was rude. I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted.”

“But the thing is...” He paused. “I really do need to handle it by myself.”

“Which is why my overnight bag is packed and ready to go.”

“Does Rosie know you’re about to leave?”

“Everybody does.” Rosie had insisted she keep the outfit she was wearing and the boots. She’d been offered a place to stay tonight at both Damon and Phil’s house and Molly and Ben’s. She’d been touched but had politely declined and chosen a hotel in Sheridan, instead. She wasn’t feeling her usual social self right now.

He gave her a long look. “Are you okay?”

“Yes.” She was more okay now that he’d allowed her to see how much he cared. For a man who was used to disguising his true feelings, that was huge. “Are you?”

“I wouldn’t say that. If my birth mom’s been following my career online, she’s probably seen the video by now and will jump on the opportunity.” He took another swallow of his champagne. “Waiting to find out is...”

“Hell?”

“Pretty much.”

Geena noticed Rosie walking toward them. “The wait might be over. Here comes Rosie and she looks as if she just bit into something nasty.”

Matt sucked in a breath and set down his champagne flute. “Hey, Mom.”

“Mindy’s on the line. You can take the call in the kitchen.” Rosie’s cheeks were flushed and her eyes glittered with anger. “I was polite because you asked me to be, but it was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.”

“Thank you.” Matt gathered her close. “Love you, Mom.”

“Love you, too, son.”

When he released her, he looked over at Geena. “You aren’t going to leave right this minute, are you?”

“I’ll wait until you get back.”

“Thanks.” Giving the brim of his hat a decisive tug, he left the room.

His foster mom gazed after him. “Inviting that woman here may be exactly what he needs to do, but I don’t have to like it.”

“You certainly don’t.”

“When are you flying out?” Rosie glanced up at her. “In all the confusion I can’t remember if you told me.”

“I didn’t because I’m not flying out tomorrow.”

“Oh?”

“I’ll be staying in town for a couple more days. I won’t tell him, but if at some point you think he might want to know...”

“Got it.” Rosie sighed. “That boy is crazy about you.”

“That’s what gives me hope. And I’m crazy about him, which is why I’m not going anywhere just yet.”

Approval shone in Rosie’s eyes. “I knew I liked you.”

“Same here, Rosie. I’ll never forget how you—wow, that was quick. He’s coming back already.” Her heart ached as she watched him cross the room, his back ramrod straight as if preparing himself to face a firing squad.

All light and warmth had left his expression. He’d locked his emotions away, and when he reached them he spoke with a chilling lack of inflection. “She’ll be here in the morning.”

Matt didn’t sleep much that night. He chose the barn again, which wouldn’t make sense to anyone but him. Being there sharpened the pain of Geena’s absence, but it also brought him comfort because she’d confessed her love while lying with him on this bed of straw. Saying goodbye to her had been really tough.

Wide-eyed, he waited for dawn and considered the various strategies he’d planned for dealing with his mother. So much depended on her behavior when she arrived. When the sky lightened to the color of rich cream, he saddled Navarre, left a note tacked to Navarre’s stall and rode over to his ranch. He could have asked her to meet him there instead of polluting Thunder Mountain with her presence, but instinct had warned him not to let her know about this place.

Tying Navarre to the railing again, he walked over to the grassy spot where he and Geena had made love. The grass was wet with dew and the crushed blades had mostly recovered. Even so, he imagined he could see the outline of her beautiful, naked body as she’d welcomed him into her warm embrace.

Her hairpins glinted in the soft light. He gathered them up and shoved them into his pocket. He’d decide later if returning them would be insensitive. Probably.

Next he climbed the porch steps and unlocked the front door. Two days ago he’d come through this door to the sound of Geena practicing a tap-dance routine in the master bedroom so she could perform for Rosie. Between the Skype call and working on the video, that hadn’t happened. She’d never had her riding lesson with Lexi, either.

As he roamed the empty house remembering how they’d discussed the improvements Damon and Phil could help him make, he came to a decision. He would keep this ranch because Geena believed in his ability to make a home here. Maybe someday he’d accomplish that and be the man she thought he was.

His dad and Cade were in the middle of feeding when he came back to Thunder Mountain, so he gave Navarre a quick rubdown before taking him inside for his grain and flake of hay. The ride had soothed him and he was able to return the cheerful greetings sent his way as he pitched in to do his share.

He made a quick call to Ty down in Cheyenne before breakfast. There was a legal issue concerning his mother that he needed clarified before he saw her, and Ty was able to give him a quick answer.

Being with his family helped calm him even more. He ate a little and participated in the breakfast-table conversation. Lexi had brought Ringo down to see him and Ringo had graciously agreed to sit in his lap and keep two strips of bacon from going to waste. A purring cat turned out to be a terrific stress reducer. Nobody mentioned his mother’s visit.

But later, after he’d showered and shaved and gone to wait for her on the porch, Rosie came out, although she didn’t sit down.

Immediately he stood. Rosie had taught him never to remain seated when a lady was standing.

She gazed at him, sympathy in her blue eyes and compassion in every line of her plump body. “Do you want to invite her in? I just need to know if we should clear out of the living room.”

“Mom, I don’t want her here at all, so I’m definitely not inviting her in. At one time I thought about meeting her in town, but a public place didn’t seem right. I don’t know what she’ll be like or what she’ll do.”

“I know you don’t, son. Just remember we’re here if you need backup for any reason.”

“Thanks, Mom.” He gave her a tight hug. “Love you.”

“Love you, too.” She patted his cheek. “You’ll be fine.” Then she went back inside.

He didn’t feel fine. He wished he’d taken up whittling so he’d have something to do with his hands, although in the shape he was in he’d likely maim himself with the knife.

The sound of a vehicle coming down the ranch road sent his pulse into the red zone. The engine sputtered and coughed as if it might not last long enough to make the journey. Eventually a dented pickup with a faded blue paint job pulled up in front of the ranch house.

Matt got to his feet as the passenger door opened and an overweight woman with dull brown hair slowly climbed down. He didn’t recognize her. Maybe his mother was driving the truck and this was a friend.

Then the woman took off her sunglasses and peered at him. “Matty? Is that you?”

His mother’s voice. A chill swept over him even though it was a warm day. “Yes, ma’am.” He came down the steps toward her but stopped before he was within touching distance and shoved his hands in his pockets.

He’d wondered if he’d have the urge to hug her. Nope. He might as well be meeting a complete stranger. The person he remembered had been proud of her figure and her glossy black hair. She’d been in her midthirties then, so now she’d be around fifty, but she looked much older.

Her face was puffy, which made her eyes seem smaller. They’d been dulled by age and whatever drugs she’d ingested over the years. She’d piled on the makeup, though, which only made her look worse. “Yes, ma’am, is it?” Her comment was delivered with an unbecoming sneer. “Who taught you that?”

“My mother.”

“The hell I did! You were raised to be a tough smartass! None of this yes, ma’am and no, ma’am crap.” She looked around, her avid gaze taking in the ranch house and the barn. “Looks like you had it pretty good here, though.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He felt a twinge of pity. She really was pathetic.

“Oh, cut it out, Matty. I’m not impressed. You and me, we’re poor white trash, so don’t go putting on airs. You said on the phone that you had something to discuss with me.”

“I do.”

“You implied that it involves money and I hope it does. I’m between a rock and a hard place and since you have plenty, I figure you can give your poor mother a—”

“It does involve money.” Not only was she pathetic, she was greedy. He might have made some self-centered decisions recently, but he’d never been greedy. He’d never expected a handout, either, and yet she obviously felt entitled to one.

“Okay, now we’re talkin’.”

Had she turned out to be different, he would have adjusted his plan, but after this brief exchange he knew what needed to be done. She’d given him life and he would permanently settle that debt. He was about to buy his freedom. “I’m prepared to give you a lump sum with a condition attached.”

She licked her red lips. “How much?”

He named a figure that made her eyes widen. “But, like I said, there’s a condition.”

She shrugged. “I don’t care.”

“I never want to hear from you again.” As he said it, he felt self-respect flowing back into his body.

“Matty!” Her mouth dropped open. “That’s mean.”

“No, it’s drawing boundaries. It’s self-preservation. It’s realizing that I don’t have to be defined by my past and I certainly don’t have to stay in touch with you. That’s my condition. Do you accept?”

“Sure.” But her little smile said otherwise.

“It’s important that you keep your word, because if you do try to contact me, I’ll have you arrested for child abuse.”

“That’s a laugh. You can’t—”

“Turns out I can. According to one of my foster brothers, an excellent lawyer by the way, there’s no statute of limitations in Wyoming. So stay away from me or end up in jail. Your choice.”

“You are a cold person, Matty.”

“No, ma’am, I’m not. A cold person would want revenge. A cold person would have lured you here with the hint of giving you money and instead he’d have cops waiting with a warrant.”

Her gaze shifted to the front door. “You don’t have cops here, do you?”

“No. Give me your address and I’ll send you a cashier’s check.”

“Hang on.” She went back to the truck, said something to the driver and returned with a scrap of paper and a pen. She wrote the information down and handed him the paper. “I need to get going. Lenny’s tired of waitin’ on me.”

“Under the circumstances you’d think he’d put up with the inconvenience.”

She sidled close, bringing with her a whiff of cigarette smoke. “He won’t be getting a dime. Once that check arrives, I’m leaving him. There’s better out there than Lenny.” She put on her sunglasses. “So long, Matty.”

“So long.” He couldn’t bring himself to call her anything. Not Mom, for sure, but not Mindy, either. She was nothing to him.

For years she’d been a shadowy memory, a person who might have turned out to have some redeeming qualities, things he hadn’t remembered. Not really. In a world full of amazing people like his foster family and Geena, why would he waste another second on someone he was only connected to by an accident of birth?

He watched her climb laboriously into the pickup. Then he continued to stand there as the truck wheezed and clattered around the drive and onto the ranch road. He kept listening until he couldn’t hear it anymore. Gone. He sagged with relief.

On the heels of that emotion came a powerful surge of joy. He wasn’t like her at all. Instead, he was a proud member of the Thunder Mountain Brotherhood and the lucky son of Rosie and Herb Padgett. If he hadn’t completely messed things up with Geena, he might...no, that was getting ahead of himself. Anyway, because he’d asked her to leave, she’d be on a plane to Denver by now.

Heart thumping, Geena drove up to the ranch house and climbed out of the rental car. Rosie had sounded like an excited teenager on the phone.

She must have been watching for the car, because she hurried out onto the porch and down the steps. “I sent him to the barn to muck out stalls.” She put a hand on her chest and took a quick breath. “He was driving us crazy.”

“How?”

“Going on and on about what an idiot he’d been to insist you go back today. We had to agree. But of course he didn’t know I’d already called you.”

Geena smiled. “You could have told him I didn’t leave.”

“It’s better if you appear and explain it to him. The shock of seeing you when he thinks you’re gone might finally convince him that this is true love we’re talking about.”

Geena’s throat tightened. “Yes, it is.”

“Have you been online this morning?”

“Of course. I’ve been fielding requests for interviews from people eager to talk to Matt about Thunder Mountain. All the negative stuff is old news. We did it, Rosie.”

“Mostly you did it. Now, get on down there before he takes a notion to come back to the house for some reason and ruins the dramatic moment.”

“Okay.” Geena figured that if Rosie had grown up in Hollywood she’d have become a director.

“I can guarantee you maybe thirty minutes of privacy. Herb’s in the office doing paperwork and Cade’s staying in his cabin until I give him the all clear. He mentioned calling one of his brothers about the caretaking job at Matt’s ranch.”

“So, Matt wants to keep it?”

“Honey, he wants it all, you included. After he sent that woman packing he was a changed man. The realization that he’s nothing like her was exactly what he needed, but he had to see her to believe it. Now, go on so you can make a grand entrance.”

Geena gave her a quick hug. “Thanks, Rosie.”

“You’re welcome. It’s what I do.”

Yes, it certainly was, Geena thought as she walked down to the barn wearing the boots Rosie had given her. Her pants and blouse were clothes she’d brought from LA, but at least she was making this trek in Wyoming-worthy boots. On her way she glanced over at the pasture to admire the horses grazing in it.

After such a short time, the ranch felt like home. But Matt’s ranch would feel that way, too, once Damon and Phil made some changes and the place had furniture and a couple of horses in the barn. She yearned to be part of creating that ambience.

Matt had never had a place of his own, but then, neither had she. She’d postponed buying anything in the city and maybe this was why. She envisioned a no-maintenance rental in LA with plenty of room for two. When she was ready to kick back and relax, she belonged on a ranch in Wyoming. With Matt.

Rosie had assured her that he felt the same, but that didn’t stop the butterflies from swarming in her stomach as she walked inside the cool interior of the barn. The rhythmic sound of straw being shoveled into a wheelbarrow directed her to a stall near the back of the barn.

Although her boot heels clicked on the wooden aisle, he kept shoveling so he probably hadn’t heard her. The wheelbarrow nearly blocked the aisle next to the stall where he was working, but she managed to maneuver around it so she could look in.

He’d pulled off his white T-shirt and tossed it over the open stall door. His back and chest glistened with sweat as his impressive muscles flexed with each movement of the shovel. She almost hated to interrupt him.

Almost. She waited for the brief moment of silence between dumping one load into the wheelbarrow and scooping up another. “Matt.”

He wheeled toward her and stood there clutching the shovel. “Geena?”

“I didn’t leave today.”

He swallowed. “Obviously.”

“I didn’t leave because I love you.”

For one long moment he stared at her. Then he chucked the shovel in the straw and closed the distance between them. But when he was about two feet away he came to an abrupt halt. “I’m sweaty.”

“I don’t care. Hold me, Matt! Kiss me and tell me you love me as much as I love you, because if you don’t, then—”

“I do!” He swept her into his arms. “I love you, Geena.” He held her gaze. “I didn’t think I had the right, but now everything’s different in my mind. That woman is out of my head and out of my life. Which leaves room for us.”

“I love the sound of that word. Us.”

“Good, because you’ll be hearing it a lot.” He smiled down at her. “You stayed. I told you to leave but you stayed. How great is that?”

“Yeah, well, when you love someone, you stick around.”

“I sure hope so, because I want you to stick around forever, pretty lady. I want you to make love to me in the grass and practice tap dancing in our bedroom.”

“Our bedroom?”

“I thought of it that way from the minute we walked in.”

“Me, too.” She looked into blue eyes shining with love. “Now fog up my glasses, cowboy.”

Epilogue

Zeke Rafferty hadn’t counted on tearing a rotator cuff. Disability insurance was a pricey proposition, so he hadn’t taken out a policy. The surgery had wiped out his savings and now he had weeks, maybe even months, before he could go back to trick roping.

So when his foster brother Cade Gallagher called with a job offer that he could do with one arm out of commission, he thanked his lucky stars. “I can absolutely take care of Matt’s ranch for a few months,” he said. “But I have to be honest with you, bro. I plan to go back to roping as soon as my shoulder heals. If he’s looking for a permanent caretaker, I can’t in all good conscience take the job.”

“Here’s how I see it, Zeke. When I heard that you were laid up, I—”

“How did you hear about it, anyway? That’s a mystery to me.”

“You were in Cheyenne when it happened, right?”

“I was.”

“And while you were recovering from surgery you went into Rangeland Roasters for a cup of coffee.”

“Several times. They have an excellent brew. Okay, I get it. I talked to Whitney. She’s real friendly, which is perfect for someone managing a coffee shop. I’ve been so busy on the rodeo circuit I haven’t kept up. Didn’t know ol’ Ty was married.”

“Luckily Whitney mentioned you to Ty, who called Rosie, who gave me your number. When the planets align like that, I figure you should take the job and we’ll worry about finding a replacement later. Besides, if you move back for a few months, you can come to my wedding in August. I would have sent you an invitation but I didn’t have an address.”

“You and Lexi?”

“Me and Lexi.”

Zeke smiled at the pride in Cade’s voice when he said that. “Congratulations. You two were always meant to be together.”

“Fortunately she finally saw that, too. So, can I tell Matt you’re on board? That’ll be one less thing he has to deal with.”

“By all means, tell him I’m on board. And also tell him I always knew that scandal nonsense was bogus. The Thunder Mountain Brotherhood doesn’t pull crap like that.”

“Indeed we don’t. Listen, I just realized I have no authority to offer you a salary, so who knows what Matt will pay you. He’s a straight shooter, though, so it’ll be a fair wage.”

“Don’t worry about it. A free place to stay and a little money for food is all I’ll need. I’m obliged, Cade. I didn’t know how I’d navigate the next few months.”

“Yeah, and that reminds me that we shouldn’t have had to find this out by the back door. You should have contacted Rosie and Herb right away when you ran into a spot of trouble.”

“I feel like they did enough when we were there.” Zeke exhaled. “I’m not the kind of guy who goes running back home to—”

“Hey, we’re the brotherhood, remember? We stick together and we look out for our own.”

“That’s...that’s good to hear. Really good. See you soon, bro.” Zeke disconnected the call. He’d been a lone wolf all his life, even while he was a foster kid at Thunder Mountain. He’d vowed that once he was capable of living on his own, he’d make sure he never needed anybody.

But the torn rotator cuff had punched a big hole in that plan. For the time being, he’d take the job offered to him and be grateful, even if it chafed that he’d been brought so low that he required help. In the future he’d plan better so that wouldn’t happen again.

Hollywood Baby Affair

Anna DePalo

For DeLilah & Bob,

thanks for the support & encouragement

One

Actress and Stuntman Lovefest! More Than Movie Pyrotechnics on Display.

The gossip website headline ran through Chiara Feran’s head when it shouldn’t have.

She clung to Stunt Stud’s well-muscled shoulders, four stories up, wind blowing and helicopter blades whipping in the background—trying to act as if her life depended on it when the truth was that only her career did. After all, a gossip site had just written that she and Mr. Stunt Double were an item, and right now she needed the press distracted from her estranged father, a Vegas-loving cardsharp threatening to cause a controversy of his own.

She tossed her head to keep the hair out of her face. She’d learned Stunt Stud’s first name was Rick when they’d rehearsed, but she thought insufferable was a better word for him. He had remarkable green eyes...and he looked at her as if she were a spoiled diva who needed the kid-glove treatment.

I don’t want you to ruin your manicure.

Thanks for your concern, but there’s a manicurist on set.

They’d had a few brief exchanges over the course of filming that had made her blood boil. If the world only knew... True, his magnetism was enough to rival that of the biggest movie stars, so she wondered why he was content with stunt work, but then again, his ego didn’t need any further boosting. And the rumors were that he wasn’t who he seemed to be and that he had a shadowy, secretive past.

There was even a hint that he was fabulously wealthy. Given his ego, she wouldn’t be surprised if he’d put out the rumors himself. He was a macho stuntman ready to save a damsel in distress, but Chiara could save herself, thank you. She’d learned long ago not to depend on any man.

She opened her mouth, but instead of an existential scream, her next line came out. “Zain, we’re going to die!”

“I’m not dropping you,” he growled in reply.

Chiara knew his voice would be substituted later with her costar’s by the studio’s editing department. She took perverse satisfaction in calling him by her costar’s character name. And since Rick was pretending to be her costar, and her costar himself was just acting, she was two steps removed from reality.

And one long fall away from sudden death.

Even though both she and Rick had invisible harnesses, accidents could and did happen on movie sets. As if on cue, more explosions sounded around them.

As soon as this scene was over, she was heading to her trailer for coffee and maybe even a talk with Odele—

“Cut!” the director yelled through a bullhorn.

Chiara sagged with relief.

Rick barely loosened his grip as they were lowered to the ground.

She was bone-tired in the middle of a twelve-hour day on set. She didn’t dwell on the other type of tired right now—an existential weariness that made it hard to care about anything in her life. Fortunately filming on this movie was due to wrap soon.

Action flicks bored her, but they paid the mortgage and more. And Odele, her manager, never stopped reminding her that they also kept her in the public eye. Her Q score would stay high, and it would keep those lucrative endorsement deals flowing. This film was no exception on both counts. Pegasus Pride was about a mission to stop the bad guys from blowing up the United Nations and other key government buildings.

As soon as her feet hit the ground, she ignored a frisson of awareness and stepped away from Rick.

His dark hair was mussed, and his jeans clung low on his hips, a dirty vest concealing his tee. Still, he managed to project the authority of a master of the universe, calm and implacable but ready for action.

She didn’t like her reaction to him. He made her self-conscious about being a woman. Yes, he was all hard-packed muscle and latent strength. Yes, he was undoubtedly in top physical shape with washboard abs. But he was arrogant and annoying and, like most men, not to be trusted.

She refused to be intimidated. It was laughable really—after all, her bank account must dwarf his.

“Okay?” Rick asked.

His voice was as deep and rich as the hot chocolate she wished she had right now—damn him. It was a surprisingly damp and cold early April day on Novatus Studio’s lot in Los Angeles. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” Dozens of people milled around them on the movie set. “All in a day’s work, right?”

His jaw firmed. “This one is asking for more than usual.”

“Excuse me?”

He looked at her quizzically. “Have you spoken to your manager recently? Odele?”

“No, why?”

His gaze moved to her trailer. “You may want to give it a go.”

Uh-oh.

He fished his cell phone out of his pocket and showed her the screen.

It took a moment to focus on the newspaper website’s headline, but once she did, her eyes widened. Chiara Feran and Her Stuntman Get Cozy. Is It More Than High Altitudes That Have Their Hearts Racing?

Oh...crap. Another online tabloid had apparently picked up the original gossip site’s story, and worse, now Rick was aware of it, too. Heat rushed to her cheeks. He wasn’t her stuntman. He wasn’t her anything. Suddenly she wondered whether she should have sent that first story into internet oblivion when she’d had the chance by denying it. But she’d been too relieved they were focusing on a made-up relationship rather than the real pesky issue—her father.

At Rick’s amused look, she said abruptly, “I’ll talk to Odele.”

He lifted her chin and stroked her jaw with his thumb—as if he had all the right in the world. “If you want me, there’s no need for extreme measures like planting stories in the press. Why not try the direct approach?”

She swatted his hand away and held on to her temper. “I’m sure there’s been a mistake. Is that direct enough for you?”

He laughed at her with his eyes, and said with lazy self-assurance, “Get back to me.”

As if. In addition to her deadbeat father making news, she had to contend with burgeoning rumors of a relationship with the last stuntman on earth she’d ever walk the red carpet with.

She turned her back on Rick and marched off. The man sent a red mist into the edges of her vision, and it had nothing to do with lust. She clenched her hands, heart pounding. Her jeans and torn tee were skintight—requisite attire for an action movie damsel in distress—and she was aware she was giving Rick a good view as she stomped away.

At her trailer, she banged through the door. She immediately spotted Odele sitting at a small table. The older woman lifted her head and gave Chiara a mild look from behind red glasses, her gray bob catching the light. If Chiara had learned anything during her years with her manager, it was that Odele was unflappable.

Stopping, Chiara touched her forehead. “I took pain medication for my headache an hour ago, and he’s still here.”

“Man problems have defied pharmacology for decades, honey,” Odele replied in her throaty, raspy voice.

Chiara blurted out the gossip about her and Rick, and the stuntman’s reaction. “He thinks he’s God’s gift to actresses!”

“You need a boyfriend,” Odele responded cryptically.

For a moment, Chiara had trouble processing the words. Her mind, going sixty miles an hour, hit the brakes. “What?”

She was one of those actresses who got paid to be photographed sporting a certain brand of handbag or shoes. She glanced around her trailer at the gleaming wood and marble countertops. She had more than she could possibly want. She didn’t desire anything, especially a boyfriend.

True, she hadn’t had a date in a long time. It didn’t mean she couldn’t get one. She just didn’t want the hassle. Boyfriends were work...and men were trouble.

“We need to retain a boyfriend for you,” Odele rephrased.

Chiara gave a dismissive laugh. “I can think of many things I need, but a boyfriend isn’t one of them. I need a new stylist now that Emery has gone off to start her own accessories line. I need a new tube of toothpaste for my bathroom. And I really need a vacation once this film wraps.” She shook her head. “But a boyfriend? No.”

“You’re America’s sweetheart. Everyone wants to see you happy,” her manager pointed out.

“You mean they want to see me making steady progress toward marriage and children.”

Odele nodded.

“Life is rarely that neat.” She should know.

Odele gave a big sigh. “Well, we don’t deal in reality, do we, honey? Our currency in Hollywood is the stardust of dreams.”

Chiara resisted rolling her eyes. She really needed a vacation.

“That’s why a little relationship is just what you need to get your name back out there in a positive way.”

“And how am I supposed to get said relationship?”

Odele snapped her fingers. “Easy. I have just the man.”

“Who?”

“A stuntman, and you’ve already met him.”

A horrifying thought entered Chiara’s head, and she narrowed her eyes. “You put out the rumor that Rick and I are getting cozy.”

OMG. She’d gone to Odele with the rumor because she expected her manager to stamp out a budding media firestorm. Instead, she’d discovered Odele was an arsonist...with poor taste in men.

Odele nodded. “Damn straight I did. We need a distraction from stories about your father.”

Chiara stepped forward. “Odele, how could you? And with—” she stabbed her finger in the direction of the door “—him of all people.”

Odele remained placid.

Chiara narrowed her eyes again. “Has he said anything about your little scheme?”

“He hasn’t objected.”

No wonder Rick had seemed almost...intimate a few minutes ago. He’d been approached by Odele to be her supposed love interest. Chiara took a deep breath to steady herself and temper her reaction. “He’s not my type.”

“He’s any woman’s type, honey. Arm candy.”

“There’s nothing sweet about him, believe me.” He was obnoxious, irritating and objectionable in every way.

“He might not be sugar, but he’ll look edible to many of your female fans.”

Chiara threw up her hands. It was one thing not to contradict a specious story online, it was another to start pretending it was true. And now she’d discovered that said story had been concocted by none other than her own manager. “Oh, c’mon, Odele. You really expect me to stage a relationship for the press?”

Odele arched a brow. “Why not? Your competition is making sex tapes for the media.”

“I’m aiming for the Academy Awards, not the Razzies.”

“It’s no different from being set up on a date or two by a friend.”

“Except you’re my manager and we both know there’s an ulterior motive.”

“There’s always an ulterior motive. Money. Sex. You name it.”

“Is this necessary? My competition has survived extramarital affairs, DUIs and nasty custody disputes with their halos intact.”

“Only because of quick thinking and fancy footwork on the part of their manager or publicist. And believe me, honey, my doctor keeps advising me to keep my stress level to a minimum. It’s not good for the blood pressure.”

“You need to get out of Hollywood.”

“And you need a man. A stuntman.”

“Never.” And especially not him. Somehow he’d gotten his own trailer even though he wasn’t one of the leads on this film. He also visited the exercise trailer, complete with built-in gym and weightlifting equipment. Not that she’d used it herself, but his access to it hadn’t escaped her notice.

Odele pulled out her cell phone and read from the screen: “Chiara Feran’s Father in Illegal Betting Scandal: ‘My Daughter Has Cut Me Off.’”

Oh...double damn. Chiara was familiar with yesterday’s headline. It was like a bad dream that she kept waking up to. It was also why she’d been temporarily—in a moment of insanity—grateful for the ridiculous story about her budding romance. “The only reason I’ve kept him out of my life for the past two decades is because he’s a lying, cheating snake! Now I’m responsible not only for my own image, but for what a sperm donor does?”

As far as she was concerned, the donation of sperm was Michael Feran’s principal contribution to the person she was today. Even the surname that they shared wasn’t authentic. It had been changed at Ellis Island three generations back from the Italian Ferano to the Anglicized Feran.

“We need to promote a wholesome image,” Odele intoned solemnly.

“I could throttle him!”

Rick Serenghetti made it his business to be all business. But he couldn’t take his gaze off Chiara Feran. Her limpid brown eyes, smooth skin contrasting with dark brows and raven hair made her a dead ringer for Snow White.

A guy could easily be turned into a blithering fool in the presence of such physical perfection. Her face was faultlessly symmetrical. Her topaz eyes called to a man to lose himself in their depths, and her pink bow mouth begged to be kissed. And then came the part of her appearance where the threshold was crossed from fairy tale to his fantasy: she had a fabulous body that marked her as red-hot.

They were in the middle of filming on the Novatus Studio set. Today was sunny and mild, more typical weather for LA than they’d had yesterday, when he’d last spoken to Chiara. With any luck, current conditions were a bellwether for how filming on the movie would end—quickly and painlessly. Then he could relax, because on a film set he was always pumped up for his next action scene. In a lucky break for everyone involved, scenes were again being shot on Novatus Studio’s lot in downtown LA, instead of in nearby Griffith Park.

Still, filming wasn’t over until the last scene was done.

He stood off to the side, watching Chiara and the action on camera. The film crew surrounded him, along with everyone else who made a movie happen: assistants, extras, costume designers, special effects people and, of course, the stunts department—him.

He knew more about Chiara Feran than she’d ever guess—or that she’d like him to know. No Oscar yet, but the press loved to talk about her. Surprisingly scandal-free for Hollywood...except for the cardsharp father.

Too bad Rick and Chiara rubbed each other like two sheets of sandpaper—because she had guts. He had to respect that about her. She wasn’t like her male costar who—if the tabloids were to be believed—was fond of getting four-hundred-dollar haircuts.

At the same time, Chiara was all woman. He remembered the feel of her curves during the helicopter stunt they’d done yesterday. She’d been soft and stimulating. And now the media had tagged him and Chiara as a couple.

“I want to talk to you.”

Rick turned to see Chiara’s manager. In the first days of filming, he’d spotted the older woman on set. She was hard to overlook. Her raspy, no-nonsense voice and distinctive ruby-framed glasses made her ripe for caricature. One of the crew had confirmed for him that she was Odele Wittnauer, Chiara’s manager.

Odele looked to be in her early sixties and not fighting it—which made her stand out in Hollywood. Her helmet hair was salt-and-pepper with an ironclad curve under the chin.

Rick adopted a pleasant smile. He and Odele had exchanged a word or two, but this was the first time she’d had a request. “What can I do for you?”

“I’ve got a proposal.”

He checked his surprise, and joked, “Odele, I didn’t think you had it in you.”

He had been propositioned by plenty of women, but he’d never had the word proposal issue from the mouth of a Madeleine Albright look-alike before.

“Not that type of proposition. I want you to be in a relationship with Chiara Feran.”

Rick rubbed his jaw. He hadn’t seen that one coming. And then he put two and two together, and a light went off. “You were the one who planted that story about me and Chiara.”

“Yup,” Odele responded without a trace of guilt or remorse. “The press beast had to be fed. And more important, we needed a distraction from another story about Chiara’s father.”

“The gambler.”

“The deadbeat.”

“You’re ruthless.” He said it with reluctant admiration.

“There’s chemistry between you,” Odele responded, switching gears.

“Fireworks are more like it.”

Chiara’s manager brightened. “The press will eat it up. The stuntman and the beauty pageant winner.”

So Chiara had won a contest or two—he shouldn’t have been surprised. She had the looks to make men weak, including him, somewhat to his chagrin. Still, Odele made them sound like a couple on a C-rated reality show: Blind Date Engagements. “I’ve seen the media chew up and spit out people right and left. No, thanks.”

“It’ll raise your profile in this town.”

“I like my privacy.”

“I’ll pay you well.”

“I don’t need the money.”

“Well,” Odele drawled, lowering her eyes, “maybe I can appeal to your sense of stuntman chivalry then.”

“What do you mean?”

Odele looked up. “You see, Chiara has this teeny-weeny problem of an overly enthusiastic fan.”

“A stalker?”

“Too early to tell, but the guy did try to scale the fence at her house once.”

“He knows where she lives?” Rick asked in disbelief.

“We live in the internet age, dear. Privacy is dead.”

He had some shred left but he wasn’t going to go into details. Even Superman’s alter ego, Clark Kent, was entitled to a few secrets.

“Don’t mention the too-eager fan to her, though. She doesn’t like to talk about it.”

Rick narrowed his eyes. “Does Chiara Feran know you approached me?”

“She thinks I already have.”

All right then.

He surmised that Odele and Chiara had had their talk. And apparently Chiara had changed tactics and decided to turn the situation to her advantage. She was willing to tolerate him...for the sake of her career at least. He shouldn’t have been surprised. He’d already had one bad experience with a publicity-hungry actress, and then he’d been one of the casualties.

Still, they were in the middle of the second act, and he’d missed the opening. But suddenly things had gotten a lot more interesting.

Odele’s eyes gleamed as if she sensed victory—or at least a chink in his armor. Turning away, she said, “Let me know when you’re ready to talk.”

As Rick watched Chiara’s manager leave, he knew there was a brooding expression on his face. Odele had presented him with a quandary. As a rule, he didn’t get involved with actresses—ever since his one bad episode—but he had his gallant side. On top of it, Chiara was the talent on his latest film—one in which he had a big stake.

As if on cue, his cell phone vibrated. Fishing it out of his pocket, Rick recognized the number on-screen as that of his business partner—one of the guys who fronted the company, per Rick’s preference to be behind the scenes.

“Hey, Pete, what’s going on?”

Rick listened to Pete’s summary of the meeting that morning with an indie director looking for funding. He liked what he heard, but he needed to know more. “Email me their proposal. I’m inclined to fund up to five million, but I want more details.”

Five million dollars was pocket change in his world.

“You’re the boss,” Pete responded cheerfully.

Yup, he was...though no one on set knew he was the producer of Pegasus Pride. He liked his privacy and kept his communications mostly to a need-to-know basis.

Right. Rick spotted Chiara in the distance. No doubt she was heading to film her next scene. There was someone who treated him more like the hired help than the boss.

Complications and delays on a film were common, and Rick had a feeling Chiara was about to become his biggest complication to date...

Two

“Hey.”

It was exactly the sort of greeting she expected from a sweaty and earthy he-man—or rather, stuntman.

Chiara’s pulse picked up. Ugh. She hadn’t expected to have this reaction around him. She was a professional—a classically trained actress before she’d been diverted by Hollywood.

Sure, she’d been Miss Rhode Island, and a runner-up in the Miss America pageant. But then the Yale School of Drama had beckoned. And she’d never been a Hollywood blonde. The media most often compared her to Camilla Belle because they shared a raven-haired, chestnut-eyed look.

Anyway, with her ebony hair, she’d need to have her roots touched up every other day if she tried to become a blonde. As far as she was concerned, she spent enough time in the primping chair.

She figured He-Stuntman had gotten his education in the School of Hard Knocks. Maybe a broken bone or two. Certainly plenty of bumps and bruises.

Rick stopped in front of her. No one was around. They were near the actors’ trailers, far away from the main action. Luckily she hadn’t run into him after her talk with Odele two days ago. Instead, she’d managed to avoid him until now.

Dusk was gathering, but she still had a clear view of him.

He was in a ripped tee, jeans and body paint meant to seem like grease and dirt, while she was wearing a damsel-in-distress/sidekick look—basically a feminine version of Rick’s attire but her clothes were extratight and torn to show cleavage. And from the quick perusal he gave her, she could tell the bare skin hadn’t escaped his notice.

“So you need a boyfriend,” he said without preamble.

She itched to rub the smug smile off his face. “I don’t need anything. This would be a completely optional but mutually advantageous arrangement.”

And right after this conversation, she was going to have another serious talk with her manager. What had Odele signed her up for?

“You need me.”

She burned. He’d made it sound like you want me.

“I’ve been asked to play many roles, but never a stud.”

“Don’t get too excited.”

He grinned. “Don’t worry, I won’t. I have a thing for the doe-eyed, dark-haired look, but since Camilla Belle isn’t available, you’ll do.”

The flames of temper licked her, not least because he was clued in as to her Hollywood doppelgänger. “So you’ll settle?”

“I don’t know. Let’s kiss and find out.”

“If the cameras were rolling, it would be time for a slap right now,” she muttered.

He caught her wrist and tugged her closer.

“This isn’t a movie, and you’re no actor!” she objected.

“Great, because I intend to kiss you for real. Let’s see if we can be convincing for when the paparazzi and public are watching.” He raised his free hand to thread his fingers through her hair and move it away from her face. “Your long dark hair is driving me crazy.”

“It’s the Brazilian-Italian heritage,” she snapped back, “and I bet you say the same thing to all your leading ladies.”

“No,” he answered bemusedly, “some of them are blondes.”

And then his mouth was on hers. If he’d been forceful, she’d have had a chance, but his lips settled on hers with soft, tantalizing pressure. He smelled of smoke from the special effects, and when his tongue slipped inside her mouth, she discovered the taste of mint, too.

She’d been kissed many times—on-screen and off—but she found herself tumbling into this one with shocking speed. The kiss was smooth, leisurely...masterful but understated. Rick could double for any A-list actor in a love scene. He touched his tongue to hers, and the shock and unexpectedness of it had her opening to him. As an unwritten rule, actors on-screen did not French kiss, so she was already in uncharted territory. The hard plane of his chest brushed against her, and her nipples tightened.

Think, Chiara. Remember why you don’t like him.

She allowed herself one more second, and then she tore her mouth away and stepped back. For a fleeting moment she felt a puff of steam over his audacity. “All right, the screen test is over.”

Rick curved his lips. “How did I do?”

“I don’t even know your last name,” she responded, sidestepping the question.

“I’ll answer to anything. ‘Honey,’ ‘baby,’ ‘sugar.’” He shrugged. “I’m easy.”

“Clearly.” This guy could charm his way into any woman’s bed. “Still, I’d prefer your real one for when the police ask me to describe the suspect.”

He grinned. “It’s Rick Serenghetti. But ‘darling’ would add the appropriate air of mystery for the paparazzi.”

Serenghetti. She knew an Italian surname when she heard one. “My last name was originally Ferano. You know, Italian.”

His smile widened. “I’d never have guessed, Snow White.”

“They used to call me Snow White, but I drifted,” she quipped. “Not suitable for the role.”

“No problem. I’m not Prince Charming. I’m just his body double.”

She wanted to scream. “This is never going to work.”

“That’s why you’re an actress.” He looked curious. “And, Odele mentioned, a beauty contestant. Win any titles?”

She made a sour face. “Yes. Miss Congeniality.”

He burst out laughing. “I won’t ask what your talent was.”

“Ventriloquism. I made my dummy sing.”

“‘Some Day My Prince Will Come’?”

“Nothing from Snow White! I was also Miss Rhode Island, but obviously that was on the state level.” She’d gone on to be a finalist in Miss America, which was where she’d earned her title of Miss Congeniality.

“Rhode Island is the smallest state. Still, the competition must have been fierce.”

“Are you mocking me?” She searched his face, but he looked solemn.

“Who, me? I never mock women I’m trying to score with.”

“Wow, you’re direct. You don’t even like me.”

“What’s like got to do with it?”

“You have no shame.” When it came to sex, she was used to men wanting to bed anyone in sight. This was Hollywood, after all.

“Is it working?”

“Nothing will work, except Odele convincing me this is a good idea.”

Rick frowned. “You mean she hasn’t already?”

It took Chiara a moment to realize he wasn’t joking. “Please. She may have persuaded you to go along with her crazy scheme, but not me.”

“I only went along with it because I thought you’d said yes.”

Chiara watched Rick’s dawning expression, which mimicked her own. “I believed you’d agreed.”

“Stuntmen are made of sterner stuff.” He threw her attitude right back at her.

Chiara realized they’d both been tricked by Odele into believing the other had agreed to her plan. Rick had dared to kiss her because he thought she’d already signed up for her manager’s plot. “What are we going to do?”

Rick shrugged. “About the gathering media frenzy? We’re already bickering like an old married couple. We’re perfect.”

Chiara’s eyes widened. “You can’t tell me you’re seriously considering this? Anyway, we’re supposed to act like new lovebirds, not a cantankerous old married couple.”

“If we’re already arguing, it’ll make our relationship seem deeper than it is.”

“Skip the honeymoon phase?” she asked rhetorically. “What’s in this for you?”

He shrugged. “Have some fun.” He looked at her lingeringly. “Satisfy my fetish for Snow White.”

Chiara tingled, her breasts feeling heavy. “Oh, yeah, right...”

“So what’s your take?”

“This is the worst storyline to come out of Hollywood.”

For the second time in recent days, Chiara banged open the door of her trailer and marched in. “I can’t pretend to be in a relationship with Rick Serenghetti. End of story.”

Odele looked up from her magazine. She sat on a cushioned built-in bench along one wall. “What’s wrong with him?”

He was too big, too macho, too everything—most of all, annoying. She still sizzled from their kiss minutes ago, and she didn’t do vulnerability where men were concerned. But she sidestepped the issue. “It’s the pretending part that I have trouble with.”

“You’re an actress.”

“Context is everything. I like to confine my acting to the screen.” Otherwise, she’d be in danger of losing herself. If she was always pretending, who was she? “You know I value integrity.”

“It’s overrated. Besides, this is Tinseltown.”

Chiara placed her hands on her hips. “You misled me and Rick into thinking the other one had already agreed to this crazy scheme.”

Odele shrugged. “You were already open to the idea. That’s the only reason it even mattered to you whether he was already on board with the plan.”

Chiara felt heat rise to her face, and schooled her expression. “I’m not signing up for anything!”

Her conversation with Rick had had no satisfactory ending. It had sent her scuttling, somewhat humiliatingly, back to her manager. Chiara eyed the shower stall visible through the open bathroom door at the end of the trailer. If only she could rinse off the tabloid headlines just as easily.

“Fine,” Odele responded with sudden and suspicious docility, putting aside her magazine. “We’ll have to come up with another strategy to distract the press from your father and amp up your career.”

“Sounds like a plan to me.”

“Great, it’s settled. Now...can you gain twenty pounds?” Odele asked.

Chiara sighed. Out of the frying pan and into the fire. “I’d rather not. Why?”

She’d gained fifteen for a film role two years ago in Alibis & Lies—in which she’d played a convicted white-collar criminal who witnesses a murder once she’s released from jail and thinks her husband is framing her. To gain the weight, she’d indulged her love for pasta, creamy sauces and pastries—but she’d had to work for months with a trainer to shed the pounds afterward. In the meantime, she’d worn sunglasses and baggy clothes and had lain low in order to avoid an unflattering shot by the paparazzi. And she’d been disappointed not to get a Golden Globe nomination.

She wondered what movie project Odele had in mind these days... Usually her talent agent at Creative Artists sent projects her way, but Odele kept her ear to the ground, too.

“Last time I was heavier on-screen, I got a lot of backlash.” Some fans thought she’d gained too much weight, some too little. She could never please everyone.

“It’s not a film,” Odele said. “It’s a weight-loss commercial.”

Chiara’s jaw dropped. “But I’m not overweight!”

Odele’s eyes gleamed. “You could be.”

Chiara threw her hands up. “Odele, you’re ruthless.”

“It’s what makes me good at what I do. Slender You is looking for a new celebrity weight-loss spokesperson. The goodwill with fans alone is worth the pounds, but Slender You is willing to pay millions to the right person. If you land this contract, your DBI score will go up, and you’ll be more likely to land other endorsement deals.”

“No.” Her manager was all about Q scores and DBIs and any other rating that claimed to measure a celebrity’s appeal to the public. “Next you’ll be suggesting a reality show.”

Odele shook her head. “No, I only recommend it to clients who haven’t had a big acting job in at least five years. That’s not you, sweetie.”

For which Chiara would be forever grateful. She was having a hard enough time being the star of her own life without adding the artifice of a reality show to it.

“How about writing a book?” Odele asked, tilting her head.

“On what?”

“Anything! We’ll let your ghostwriter decide.”

“No, thanks. If I have a ghost, I won’t really be writing, will I?” Chiara responded tartly.

“You’re too honest for your own good, you know.” Odele sighed, and then suddenly brightened. “What about a fragrance?”

“I thought Dior just picked a new face for the brand.”

“They did. I’m talking about developing your own scent. Very lucrative these days.”

“You mean like Elizabeth Taylor’s White Diamonds?”

“Right, right.” Odele warmed up. “We could call it Chiara. Or, wait, wait, Chiara Lucida! The name suggests a bright star.”

“How much is an Oscar worth?” Chiara joked, because her idea of becoming a big star involved winning a golden statuette.

“Of course, an Academy Award has value, but we want to monetize all income streams, sweetie. We want to grow and protect your brand.”

Chiara sighed, leaning against the walnut-paneled built-in cabinet behind her. There’d been a time when movie stars were just, well, movie stars. Now everyone was a brand. “There’s nothing wrong with my brand.”

“Yes, of course.” Odele paused for a beat. “Well, except for the teeny-weeny problem of your father popping up in the headlines from time to time.”

“Right.” How could she forget? How could anyone fail to remember when the tabloids followed the story breathlessly?

“How about a lifestyle brand like Gwyneth Paltrow or Jessica Alba has?” Odele offered.

“Maybe when I win an Academy Award or I have kids.” Both Alba and Paltrow had had children when they’d started their companies.

At the thought of kids, Chiara had an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of her stomach. She was thirty-two. She had an expiration date in Hollywood and a ticking clock for getting pregnant without spending thousands of dollars for chancy medical intervention. Unfortunately the two trains were on a collision course. If she was going to avert disaster, she needed to have a well-established career—er, Oscar—before she caved in to the public clamor for her to get a happily-ever-after with marriage and children.

Of course, she wanted kids. It was the husband or boyfriend part that she had a problem with. Michael Feran hadn’t set a sterling example for his only child. At least she thought she was his only child.

Ugh. Her family—or what remained of it—was so complicated. It wouldn’t even qualify as a Lifetime movie because there was no happy ending.

Still, the thought of a child of her own brought a pang. She’d have someone to love unconditionally, and who would love and need her in return. She’d avoid the mistakes that her parents had made. And she’d have something real—pure love—to hold on to in the maelstrom of celebrity.

“So,” Odele said pleasantly, “your other options aren’t too appealing. Let me know when you’re ready to consider dating Rick Serenghetti.”

Chiara stared at her manager. She had the sneaking suspicion that Odele had known all along where their conversation was heading. In all probability, her manager had been set on showing her the error of her ways and her earlier agreeableness had just been a feint. “You’re a shark, Odele.”

Odele chuckled. “I know. It’s why I’m good at what I do.”

Chiara resisted throwing up her hands. Some actresses confided in their personal assistants or stylists. She had Odele.

“So what’s got you down?”

Rick figured he needed to work on his acting skills if even Jordan was asking that question. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

They were sitting in his kitchen, and he’d just handed his brother a cold beer from the fridge. He grabbed opportunities with his family whenever he could since he spent much of his time on the opposite coast from everyone else. Fortunately, since his current movie was being filmed on a Novatus Studio lot and nearby locations around LA, he was able to get to his place at least on weekends—even if home these days was a one-bedroom rental in West Hollywood.

“Mom asked me to check on you.” Jordan shifted his weight on the kitchen barstool.

“She always asks you to check on me whenever we’re in the same city. But don’t assume the reconnaissance runs one way. She wants me to keep an eye on you, too.”

“My life hasn’t been that interesting lately.”

Jordan was in town because his team, the New England Razors, was playing the Los Angeles Kings at the Staples Center. He was the star center player for the team. The youngest Serenghetti brother also had movie star looks, and hardly ever let an opportunity pass without remarking that their parents had attained perfection the third time around.

Rick followed hockey—family loyalty and all—but he wasn’t passionate about it like Jordan and their older brother, Cole, who’d also had a career with the Razors until it had ended in injury. Rick had been a wrestler in high school, not a hockey team captain like his brothers.

The result was that he had a reputation as the family maverick. And hey, who was he to argue? Still, he wasn’t intentionally contrary—though Chiara might want to argue the point.

An image of Chiara Feran sprung to mind. He’d been willing to tease her about playing a couple, especially when he’d thought Chiara was going along with the idea. After all, it was nice, safe, pretend—not like really getting involved with an actress. And it was fun to ruffle Chiara’s feathers.

If he was being a little more serious, he’d also acknowledge that as a producer, he had a vested interest in the star of his latest film maintaining a positive public image despite her problematic family members—not to mention staying safe if she really had a would-be stalker.

Still, being a pretend boyfriend and secret bodyguard, if Odele had her way, was asking a lot. Did he have enough to overcome his scruples about getting involved with a celebrity? Hell, even he wasn’t sure. He’d been burned once by an aspiring starlet, and he’d learned his lesson—never stand between an actress and a camera.

For a long time, he’d counted actors, directors and other movie people among his friends. Hal Moldado, a lighting technician, had been one of those buddies. Then one day, Rick had run into Isabel Lanier, Hal’s latest girlfriend. She’d followed him out of a cafe and surprised him with a kiss—captured in a selfie that she’d managed to take with her cell phone and promptly posted to her social media accounts. Unsurprisingly it had spelled the end of his friendship with Hal. Later he’d conclude that Isabel had just been trying to make Hal jealous and stay in the news herself as an actress.

The saving grace had been that the media had never found out—or cared—about the name of Isabel’s mystery man in those photos. It had been enough that Isabel looked as if she were cheating on Hal, so Rick had been able to dodge the media frenzy.

Ever since, though, as far as he was concerned, starlets were only interested in tending their public image. And up to now Chiara had fit the bill well—even if she hadn’t yet agreed to her manager’s latest scheme. After all, there was a reason that Chiara had partnered with someone like Odele. She knew her celebrity was important, and she needed someone to curate it.

But Odele had increased the stakes by referring to a possible stalker... It complicated his calculations about whether to get involved. He should just convince Chiara to get additional security—like any sane person would. Not that sanity ranked high on the list of characteristics he associated with fame-hungry actresses.

Jordan tilted his head. “Woman in your thoughts?”

Rick brought his attention back to the present. “Anyone ever tell you that you have a sixth sense where the other sex is concerned?”

His younger brother smiled enigmatically. “Sera would agree with you. Marisa’s cousin is driving me crazy.”

Their brother Cole had recently married the love of his life, Marisa Danieli. The two had had a falling-out in high school but had reconnected. Marisa’s relatives were now an extension by marriage of the Serenghetti clan—including Marisa’s younger cousin Sera.

Apparently that didn’t sit well with Jordan.

“I’m surprised,” Rick remarked. “You can usually charm any woman if you set your mind to it.”

“She won’t even serve me at the Puck & Shoot.”

“Is she still moonlighting as a waitress there?” Rick had had his share of drinks at Welsdale’s local sports bar.

“Off and on.”

He clasped his brother’s shoulder. “So your legendary prowess with women has fallen short. Cheer up, it was bound to happen sometime.”

“Your support is overwhelming,” Jordan replied drily.

Rick laughed. “I just wish Cole were here to appreciate this.”

“For the record, I haven’t been trying to score with Sera. She’s practically family. But she actively dislikes me, and I can’t figure out why.”

“Why does it matter? It won’t be the first time a family member has had it in for you.” Jordan had come in for his share of ribbing and roughing up by his two older siblings. “What’s to get worked up about?”

“I’m not worked up,” Jordan grumbled. “Anyway, let’s get back to you and the woman problems.”

Rick cracked a careless smile. “Unlike you, I don’t have any.”

“Women or problems?”

“Both together.”

Jordan eyed him. “The press is suggesting you have the former, and you look as if you’ve got the latter.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Who’s the starlet on your latest film?”

“Chiara Feran.”

His brother nodded. “She’s hot.”

“She’s off-limits.”

Jordan raised his eyebrows. “To me?”

“To anyone.”

“Proprietary already?”

“Where did you get this ridiculous story?”

“Hey, I read.”

“Much to Mom’s belated joy.”

Jordan flashed the famous pearly whites. His good looks had gotten him many modeling gigs, including more than one underwear ad. “Gossipmonger reported you two have been getting cozy, and the story has been picked up by other websites.”

“You know better than to believe everything you read.” If the gossip had reached Jordan, then it was spreading wider and faster than Rick had thought. Still, he figured he shouldn’t have been surprised, considering Chiara’s celebrity.

“Yup. But is it true?”

Frankly, Rick was starting not to know what was true anymore, and it was troubling. “Nothing’s happened.”

Except one kiss. She’d tasted of peaches—fruity and heady and delicious. He’d gotten an immediate image of the two of them heating up the sheets, his trailer or hers. She challenged him, and something told him she’d be far from boring in bed, too. Chiara was full of fire, and he warmed up immediately around her. The trouble was he might also get burned.

Jordan studied him. “So nothing’s happened yet...”

Rick adopted a bland expression. “Unlike you, I don’t see women as an opportunity.”

“Only your female stars.”

“I’m done with that.” Isabel had been the star of Rick’s movie when they’d been snapped together. The fact that they’d both been working on the film—he as a stuntman and secretly as a producer, and she as an actress—had lent an air of truth to the rumors.

Jordan looked thoughtful. “Right.”

Rick checked his watch because he was through trying to convince his brother—or himself. In a quarter of an hour, they needed to head to dinner at Ink, one of the neighborhood’s trendy restaurants. “Just finish your damn beer.”

“Whatever you say, movie star,” Jordan responded, seemingly content to back off.

They both took a swill of their beers.

“So, the new digs treating you well?” his brother asked after a moment.

The apartment had come furnished, so there wasn’t a hint of his personality here, but it served its purpose. “The house is nearly done. I’ll be moving in a few weeks.”

Jordan saluted him with his beer bottle. “Here’s to moving up in the world in a big way.” His brother grinned. “Invite me to visit when the new manse is done.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll tell the majordomo not to throw you out,” Rick replied drily.

Jordan laughed. “I’m a babe magnet. You’ll want me around.”

Privately, Rick acknowledged his brother might have a point. These days, the only woman he was linked to was Chiara Feran, and it wasn’t even real.

Three

For two days, Rick didn’t encounter Chiara. She and Adrian Collins, the male lead, were busy filming, so today Rick was hitting the gym trailer and working off restless energy.

So far, there’d been no denial or affirmation in the press that he and Chiara were a couple. As a news story, they were stuck in limbo—a holding pattern that kept him antsy and out of sorts. He wondered what Chiara’s camp was up to, and then shrugged. He wasn’t going to call attention to himself by issuing a denial—not that the press cared about his opinion because for all they knew, he was just a stuntman. They were after Chiara.

After exiting the gym trailer, Rick made his way across the film set. He automatically tensed as he neared Chiara’s trailer. Snow White was a tart-tongued irritant these days—

He rounded a corner and spotted a man struggling with the knob on Chiara’s door.

The balding guy with a paunch was muttering to himself and jiggling the door hard.

Frowning, Rick moved toward him. This section of the set was otherwise deserted.

“Hey,” he called, “what are you doing?”

The guy looked up nervously.

All Rick’s instincts told him this wasn’t a good situation. “What are you doing?”

“I’m a friend of Chiara’s.”

“Does she know you’re here?”

“I’ve been trying to see her.” This time there was a note of whininess.

“This is a closed set. Do you have ID?” Rick didn’t recall seeing this guy before. He was within a few feet of the other man now. The guy stood on the top step leading to the door of the trailer. Rick could see perspiration had formed on the man’s brow. Was this the creepy fan Odele had referred to?

Rick went with his gut. “I’m her new boyfriend.”

The other guy frowned. “That’s impossible.”

Now that he was closer, Rick could see the other man was definitely not the glamorous or debonair celebrity type that he would expect an actress like Chiara to date.

In the next second, the guy barreled down the trailer’s steps and shoved past him.

Rick staggered but grasped the trailer’s flimsy metal bannister to keep himself upright.

As Chiara’s alleged friend made a run for it, Rick instinctively took off after him.

The man plowed past a crew member, who careened back against a piece of lighting equipment. Then two extras jumped aside, creating a path for the chase.

The guy headed toward the front gate of the studio lot, where Rick knew security would stop him. Rick could only guess how the intruder had gotten onto the lot. Had he hidden in the back of a catering truck, as paparazzi had been known to do?

Gaining on Chiara’s admirer, Rick put on a final burst of speed and tackled the guy. As they both went down, Rick saw in his peripheral vision that they’d attracted the security guards’ attention at the front gate.

The man struggled in his grasp, jabbing Rick with his elbow. “Get off me! I’ll sue you for assault.”

Rick twisted the man’s arm behind his back, holding him down. “Not before you get written up for trespassing. Where’s your pass?”

“I’m Chiara’s fiancé,” the guy howled.

Rick glanced up to see that two security guards had caught up to them. “I found this guy trying to break into Chiara Feran’s trailer.”

“Call Chiara,” her alleged fiancé puffed. “She’ll know.”

“Chiara Feran doesn’t have a fiancé,” Rick bit back.

Someone nearby had started filming with his cell phone. Great.

“We’re together. We’re meant to be together!”

Nut job. Rick was in great physical shape due to his stunt work, so he wasn’t out of breath, but Mr. Fiancé was no teddy bear, either; he continued to put up a struggle.

Suddenly the trespasser wheezed. “I can’t br-breathe! Get off me. I have asthma.”

Great. Rick eased back and let one of the security guards take over while the other spoke into his radio.

Things happened slowly but methodically after that. Police were summoned by the studio’s security, and Chiara’s special fan—who’d given his name as Todd Jeffers—was led away. Eventually Rick was questioned by a police officer. Chiara materialized soon after and was similarly prodded for details by the officer’s partner.

Before the police left, Rick gleaned that Chiara’s overly enthusiastic fan would be charged with criminal trespass, disorderly conduct and harassment. Well, that’s something. But by the time Rick had finished talking about the incident to Dan, the director, Chiara had holed up in her trailer.

Rick eyed Chiara’s door, twisted his mouth in a grim line and made his way to the trailer for some answers.

He didn’t bother knocking—chances were better for a snowstorm in LA right now than for her rolling out the red carpet for him—and simply marched inside.

He came up short when he found Chiara sitting at a cozy little table, a script in front of her.

She was memorizing her lines? He expected her to be rattled, upset...

He looked around. The trailer was a double-decker, and with walnut paneling, it was swankier than his own digs, which were done in a gray monochrome and had no upper level.

When his gaze came back to rest on Chiara, she tilted her head, and said, “People weren’t sure when you tackled him whether it was a stunt, or if you were rehearsing a scene from the movie.”

“You’re welcome.” Leaning against a counter, he folded his arms, like a cop getting ready for an interrogation. He wanted answers only she could provide, and after getting into a fight with her admirer, he was going to get them. “Luckily you weren’t in your trailer when he got here.”

“I was rehearsing. We’re shooting a difficult scene.”

Rick figured that helped explain why she was sitting with a script in front of her, though he imagined her concentration was shot.

“I can only imagine the press coverage that today will get.” A horrified look crossed her face, and she closed her eyes on a shudder.

So she wasn’t as unaffected as she seemed. In fact, Rick had already dealt with suppressing the video of him tackling Jeffers. The person who’d been taping had turned out to be a visiting relative of one of the film crew. But even if those images didn’t become public or weren’t sold to the tabloids, the media would get wind of what happened from the police report and show up for Jeffers’s court hearing. Then, of course, Jeffers himself might choose to make a public statement...

“Hey, at least it’ll take attention away from your father’s latest losses at the gambling tables.” He wondered if Chiara appreciated just how close she’d come to danger. It had been dumb luck that her overly enthusiastic fan hadn’t found her earlier.

She opened her eyes and raised her head. “Yes, how can I forget about my father? How can anyone?”

“So you have a stalker.” He kept his tone mild, belying the emotions coursing through him. Damn it. Chiara was slender and a lightweight despite her mouth and bravado. His blood boiled just thinking of some jerk threatening her.

“Many celebrities have overly enthusiastic fans.” She waved her hand, and Rick could practically see her walls going up. “But my property has a security gate and cameras.”

Rick narrowed his eyes. “Have you dealt with this Todd Jeffers guy before? What kind of unstoppable fan is he? The sort who writes you pretty letters or the type who pens twisted ones?”

She shrugged. “He tried to scale my property fence once, but he was spotted by a landscaper and shooed away even before he got within view of the security cameras. I haven’t heard from him in the months since.”

So today’s guy was the same person who’d shown up at Chiara’s house once, and yeah, she wasn’t understanding the risk... Still, Rick strove for patience. “How do you know it was Jeffers at your house that day?”

She hesitated. “He wrote to me afterward to say he’d tried to see me.”

“He wrote to you about an attempted criminal trespass?” Rick let his tone drip disbelief. “Have you gotten a temporary restraining order?”

Chiara sighed. “No. He’s never been a physical threat, just a pest.”

“Just because he only tried to jump the fence doesn’t mean that’s what he’ll settle for doing in the future. There’s often an escalation with these nut jobs once they figure out that plan A isn’t working.”

Chiara raised her chin. “He’s probably a lonely, starstruck guy. Plenty of fans are.”

“Probably? I don’t deal in probabilities. Your run-of-the-mill serial killer often starts out torturing animals before moving to the big time. As I said, escalation.”

“Like A-list stars starting out in B movies?” she asked snippily.

“Right,” he said, his voice tight even as he ignored her flippant attitude. “Listen, Snow White, there are villains out there aside from the Evil Queen.”

Rick raked his fingers through his hair. He could understand why this guy was besotted with Chiara. Unfortunately Chiara herself wasn’t appreciating the gravity of the problem. They were like two trains on parallel tracks. “You’ve got a stalker. It’s time you acquired a boyfriend. Me.”

He’d been mulling things over, his mind in overdrive ever since he’d tackled Jeffers. If he pretended to be Chiara’s boyfriend, he could stick close and keep an eye on her. Maybe once this guy realized Chiara had a supposedly real boyfriend, he’d back off. Odele may have been onto a good idea.

Chiara opened and closed her mouth. “You’re not in the protection business.”

“I’m appointing myself right now. Besides, I’ve got the right background. I used to do security.” He’d worked as a guard at an office building during his college days and beyond in order to earn extra cash. He’d been a good bouncer, too. His parents had instilled the value of hard work in their children even though they’d been well-off.

Chiara slid off her seat and stood. In the confined space, she was within touching distance. “You can’t unilaterally decide to be my protector.” She spluttered as if searching for words. “I won’t agree to it.”

“You could solve two problems at once. The bad press from your father, and the issue of your stalker and needing security. Don’t quibble.”

“I’ll get a restraining order.”

He took a step forward. “Damn straight, you will.”

“So I don’t need you.”

“You need physical protection, too, unless you have seven dwarves hanging around, because a court order is just a piece of paper.” He didn’t want to think about how many news stories there’d been concerning an order of protection being violated—and someone getting hurt or killed.

She looked mutinous. “I’ll hire professional security.”

“It still won’t solve the problem of your father and distracting the press.”

Chiara threw up her hands.

“Don’t worry. I’ll always be a step behind you, like a good prince consort—I mean, bodyguard.”

“Hilarious.”

“I’ll make sure to hold an umbrella open for you in the rain,” he added solemnly.

“What’s in this for you?”

“Let’s just say I have a vested interest in the star of my next blockbuster staying safe until the end of filming. Everyone working on this movie wants to see it finished so they can get paid.”

“I thought so. Well, my answer is still no.”

He’d given her the wrong answer, and she’d responded in kind. “Do you just act contrary, or is this your best side?”

“How can you say that about the damsel in distress you helped save from a helicopter?” she asked sweetly.

“Exactly.”

They were practically nose-to-nose, except because she stood several inches shorter than his six-foot frame, it was more like nose-to-chin. But then she raised her face to a stubborn angle, and he abandoned his good intentions about keeping himself in check during this conversation.

Hell, here goes nothing.

He tugged her forward and captured her mouth. It was just as good as before, damn it. There was a little zap of electricity because they were differently charged, and then he was kissing her in earnest, opening that luscious mouth and deepening the kiss.

She smelled faintly of honeysuckle, just like Snow White ought to. He caressed her cheek with the back of his hand. She was petal-soft, and he was getting hard.

After what felt like an eternity, she pushed him away.

Her chest rose and fell, and he was breathing deeply with arousal.

She touched her fingers to her lips and then shot fire at him with her eyes. “That’s twice.”

“Are we getting better? We’ve got to be convincing if we’re going to pull this off.”

“We’re not practicing scenes, but if we were, try this response on for size.” She stretched out her arm and pointed to the door of the trailer, giving him his marching orders.

It was a proverbial slap in the face, but Chiara was wrong if she thought he was backing down. “Let me know when our next scene is scheduled for filming. It might be time to throw a plate or break something. For real, not pretend.”

After this parting shot, he turned and headed to the door, almost laughing as he heard her bang something behind him.

“She doesn’t want to get extra security.” Rick ran his hand through his hair. “She’s stubborn.”

“Hmm.” Odele nodded. “And I’m her manager, so I don’t know this?”

“And reckless, too.” They were sitting in Novatus Studio’s commissary having coffee before lunchtime. Rick had asked to meet and had told Odele not to mention it to Chiara. “How long has this guy Todd been hanging around thinking he’s her special friend?” Or fiancé.

Odele shrugged. “Several months. I had staff look at Chiara’s fan mail after he showed up at her house. He’d sent an email or two, and my assistant says he’s cropped up on social media, too. Then he started a fan club and wanted autographed photos.”

“And now he’s moved on to believing he’s her fiancé.”

Odele sighed. “Some people buy into the Hollywood celebrity stuff a little too much.”

Right. Rick leaned back in his chair. “Besides trying to scale the fence at Chiara’s house, has he made any other moves?”

“Not until yesterday. At least not that I know of.” Odele took a sip from her cup. “I’ve already instructed Chiara’s attorney to go for a restraining order.”

“You and I both know it’s only a piece of paper, but she doesn’t want to consider additional physical security. Not even if I appoint myself.” Rick didn’t hide the frustration in his voice. Damn it. Who was he kidding? Chiara would resist, especially if it was him.

“So you’re considering my idea of being a pretend boyfriend? You need to move in.”

Rick shook his head in exasperation because Odele was a bulldozer. “If she doesn’t want a fake relationship and won’t tolerate a bodyguard, she definitely won’t have someone living in her house.”

If he and Chiara lived under one roof, they’d drive each other crazy. He’d alternate between wanting to shake some sense into her and take her to bed. And she’d... Well, she’d just rage at him and deny any sparks of a simmering attraction.

It was a recipe for disaster...or a Hollywood movie.

Odele gave him a mild look. “It’s all a matter of how it’s presented to her. If you’re going to distract the press as her new boyfriend, the story will play even bigger in the media if you move in. There’ll be more opportunities for the two of you to be photographed together.”

“Pretend boyfriend.” Everyone needed to be clear on the fake part, including and particularly him, if he was going to get involved with another actress.

Odele inclined her head. “Leave convincing her to me. I won’t say anything more about having you function as a bodyguard. But believe me, the press attention surrounding her father is really upsetting her.”

In Rick’s opinion, Chiara should be spending more time worrying about her stalker than about her estranged father. Still... “Tell me about Michael Feran.”

Odele set aside her coffee cup. “There’s not much to say. Chiara’s parents divorced when she was young. Chiara and her mother were in Rhode Island until Hollywood beckoned. Her mother died a few years ago. She developed sepsis after an illness. It was a shock for everyone.”

“But her father continues to make waves.”

“Last year, he accepted money from a third-rate weekly to dish about Chiara.”

Rick cursed.

Odele shot him a perceptive look from behind her red glasses. “Yes, Chiara felt betrayed.”

So Chiara’s was far from a fairy-tale upbringing. No wonder she was prickly around him, and no doubt distrustful of men.

“Take it from me. Be the good boyfriend that she needs and keep an eye on her. Just don’t bring up the bodyguard part to her.”

“A pretend boyfriend.” Pretend being the operative word there. He wasn’t sure if he was reminding himself or Odele, though.

“Right.”

Right.

Chiara took Ruby out of her box and perched her on her knee. The dummy wore a sequined gown, and her hair and face were worthy of a Vegas showgirl.

Chiara sat at the writing desk occupying one corner of her master bedroom. There’d been a break in filming for the weekend, and she was happy to retreat to her sanctuary. She needed time away. First her father, then Rick and finally a stalker had frayed her nerves.

Still, even though it was a beautiful and sunny Saturday afternoon, and she should have been in a great mood, she...wasn’t. She was irritable and restless and anxious. She’d been having trouble memorizing her lines ever since the attempted break-in at her trailer. Pegasus Pride was an action flick, so the script wasn’t heavy, but there was still dialogue that she had to be able to say without prompting.

Frustrated, she’d finally resorted to using Ruby to help her relax. She hadn’t taken the dummy out in months, but ventriloquism kept her in touch with her former life—and at moments like these, let her deal with her present concerns.

Chiara searched the dummy’s face. “What am I going to do?”

Ruby tilted her head.

“I must be out of my mind to be talking to a dummy by myself.”

“You’re not alone if you’re having a chat with someone,” Ruby responded in her singsong voice. “I just help you figure things out, sugar.”

“I thought that’s what Odele is for.”

Ruby waved her hand. “You already know where Odele stands. She’s on the hunk’s side, and frankly, I don’t know why you aren’t, too.” Ruby tossed her hair—because rolling her eyes was out of the question. “He’s delicious.”

“Annoying. You’re reading too much gossip.”

“I have to, it’s about you,” the dummy chirped. “Anyway, it’s time you let someone under your skin, and back into your bed. And Rick...that body, that face, that kiss. Need I say more?”

“You are saucy and naughty, Ruby.”

“And you wish you could be. Let your hair down, sugar.”

Chiara’s gaze fell to the laptop at her elbow. “I have too many responsibilities...and plenty of problems.”

The headline on the computer screen spoke for itself: Chiara Feran’s Father Thrown Out of Casino.

Maybe now that he couldn’t gamble because he’d been caught counting cards, Michael Feran would stay out of trouble. But Chiara knew that was wishful thinking.

The public thought she had an enviable life—helped by Odele’s relentless image craftsmanship. But the truth...

She’d never thought of herself as a beauty queen, for one. Oh, sure, she’d been blessed with good genes—a nice face and a fast metabolism that meant it wasn’t impossible to adhere to Hollywood standards of beauty. But she also considered herself an outsider. She’d been raised by an immigrant mother, grown up enduring cold New England winters and would have still been doing theater but for a quirk of fate and Odele risking taking her on as a client.

She liked her privacy, her best friend was a smart-mouthed talent manager ripe for caricature and her sidekick was a doll made of wood. Obviously Todd Jeffers was crazier than she gave him credit for if he couldn’t pick a better-credentialed starlet to stalk. And now she had a rumored boyfriend—a muscle-bound stuntman who looked as if he could enter a triathlon.

She’d already ignored a text from Odele about the latest headline, but Chiara knew her manager was right—they needed a distraction fast...

Her lawyers were due in court in the coming days to get a temporary restraining order—so there’d be more unwanted press attention because of her unpleasant fan.

Still, Rick Serenghetti? Argh.

Her cell phone buzzed again, a telltale ringtone, and this time Chiara knew she couldn’t ignore it. With an apologetic look, she propped Ruby on a chair and took the call. “Hello, Odele.”

“Enjoying your time off?”

“Define enjoy. I’m memorizing my lines.” Among other things. She cast Ruby a hush-hush look.

“Rick needs to move in if we’re going to make this fake relationship work. It’ll help believability.”

“No.” The refusal fell from her lips without thought. Rick in her house? They’d throttle each other...if they weren’t jumping into bed. And the contradiction of trying to make a fake relationship work was apparently lost on her manager.

Odele sighed. “We need to move quickly. I’m going to tell my assistant to break the story on social media accounts so we can control the initial message. I took an amateur shot with my cell phone of you and Rick seemingly engaged in an intimate conversation on the Novatus Studio lot.”

“Of course you did.”

“It looks great. Really like the two of you having a tête-à-tête,” Odele added, warming to her subject and ignoring the sarcasm.

“Did it also look as if I was going to kick him in the shins?”

“And I’ve already set up a print interview for the two of you with a trusted reporter,” Odele went on as if she hadn’t heard.

“I’m not looking for a protector. And have you even done a background check on Rick Serenghetti? Maybe he’s the one I need safeguarding from!”

Rick was dangerous to her tranquility, but she didn’t care to delve into the reasons why. He had a way of looking at her with a lazy, sultry gleam that she found...annoying—yes, definitely annoying.

She’d done a quick search online for him—only for the purpose of satisfying herself that he didn’t have a criminal record, she told herself—and had come up with nothing. She supposed no news was good news.

“Who said anything about a bodyguard?” Odele said innocently. “This is to help everyone believe you two are an item.”

So Rick had backed off the part about offering personal protection? Somehow she had her doubts. “He doesn’t need to move in to do that. What ever happened to dating? We’re going from zero to sixty.”

“It’s Hollywood. Pregnancies last five months, and babies arrive right after the wedding. Everything is fast here.”

Chiara couldn’t argue. Celebrities were well-known for trying to hide their pregnancies from the press until the second trimester or beyond.

“Do I need to resend you the latest headline about Michael Feran?” Odele asked.

“I’ve already read it. I should have taken a different surname when I started my career.”

“Too late now, sweetie. Besides, the media would have found him anyway, and he’d still be giving you trouble.”

“Yes, but it would have made the connection between us seem less close.”

“Well, time to distance yourself by cozying up to a hot stuntman.”

“I know I’m going to regret this,” Chiara muttered.

“I’ll arrange for him to move in at the end of the week,” Odele responded brightly.

“The guest bedroom, Odele!”

Four

Rick roared up on his motorcycle.

Since he was in temporary digs, and most of his stuff was in storage, he didn’t have much to bring to Chiara’s house in the affluent Brentwood neighborhood. Instead, he’d had a taxi deposit his suitcases and duffel bags at the foot of Chiara’s front steps shortly before his arrival midafternoon.

Looking up, he eyed the house. It was a modest size by Tinseltown standards. Three bedrooms and three baths, according to the write-up on a celebrity gossip site. Reminiscent of an English cottage, it had white stucco walls, an arched doorway and a pitched roof with cross-gables and a prominent chimney. Lush gardening added to the atmosphere of a place that might be featured in Architectural Digest.

He’d taken Odele’s advice and planned to say nothing about being a bodyguard. As far as Chiara was concerned, he was here only as a pretend live-in boyfriend. He had no idea, however, how Odele had convinced Chiara to let him move in.

By the time he’d taken off his helmet, Chiara was standing on the front steps.

“Of course you’d ride a motorcycle,” she commented.

He gave an insouciant smile.

“I thought it was an earthquake.”

“I rock your world, huh?”

“Please.”

He looked at her house. “Nice digs. I should have guessed a typical English-style cottage for you, Snow. But where’s the thatched roof?”

“Wrong century,” she responded. “Where do you call home?”

He gave a lopsided grin. “Technically a small apartment in West Hollywood, but my heart is always where there’s a beautiful woman.”

“I thought so.”

He couldn’t tell what she meant by her response. Still, he couldn’t resist provoking her further. “Shouldn’t we kiss for the benefit of the paparazzi and their long-range lenses?”

“There are no photographers,” she scoffed.

“How do you know? One could be hiding in the bushes.”

She eyed his suitcases. “I’ll put you in the guest bedroom.”

“Relegated to the couch already,” he joked. “Are you going to do a media interview about our first lovers’ spat?”

The temperature between them rose ten degrees, and even the planted geraniums perked up—they apparently liked a good show as much as anybody.

“Hilarious,” Chiara shot back, “but it’s a perfectly fine bed, not a couch.”

“And you won’t be in it.”

She cast him a sweeping look. “Use your imagination. A make-believe relationship means pretend sex. But something tells me you have no problem with letting your dreams run wild.”

“Will you still awaken me with a kiss, Snow White?”

She huffed. “You’re hopeless. I don’t do fairy tales, modern or otherwise.”

“That’s obvious.”

“Don’t act as if you’re disappointed. Your forte is action flicks, not romantic comedies.”

“Then why do I feel as if I’m trapped in a romance?” he murmured.

“Go blow something up and make yourself feel better.”

“It’s not that type of itch that I need to scratch.”

She huffed and then turned toward her front door. “I’ll have you checked for fleas then.”

Rick stifled a grin. This was going to be one interesting stay.

After he got settled in the guest bedroom, he found Chiara in the large country-style kitchen. Warm beige cabinets and butcher-block countertops added to the warm atmosphere. Sniffing the air, he said, “Something smells delicious.”

She glanced up from a saucepan on the range, edible enough herself to be a food advertiser’s dream. “Surprised?”

“That you cook? Gratified.”

“Dinner is beef Stroganoff.”

“Now I’m surprised. You’re an actress who eats.”

“Portion control is everything.”

“Can cook. I’ll check that little detail off my list.”

She cast him a sidelong look, her cloud of dark hair falling in tantalizing waves over one shoulder. “What list?”

“The one that Odele gave me. A little quiz for the both of us...so we can get acquainted. Be believable as a couple.”

Chiara frowned, and then muttered, “Odele leaves nothing to chance. Next thing, she’ll have us convincing the immigration service that we’re not in a sham marriage for a residency card.”

“Because you need one...being from the Land of Fairy Tales?” He almost got a smile out of her with that.

“What do you—I mean, Odele—want to know?”

Rick consulted his cell phone. “What first attracted you to me?”

Chiara spluttered and then set down her stirring spoon with a clack. “This is never going to work.”

“Come on, there must be something that you can tell the reporters.”

She looked flustered. “Does she ask you the same question about me?”

He lowered his eyelids. “What do you think?”

As the question hung there, Rick’s mind skipped back to their stunts...the rehearsals...every single moment, in fact, that he’d become aware of her close by. The air had vibrated with sexual energy.

Chiara wet her lips. “I’ll take that as a ‘Yes, she did ask.’”

Rick gave her a seductive smile. “When you showed up for the rehearsal of our first stunt, I knew I was in trouble. You were beautiful and smart and had guts.” He shrugged. “My fantasy woman. The perfect match.”

Chiara blinked.

After a pause, he asked, “Sound good enough for an interview answer?”

She seemed to give herself a mental shake, and then pursed her lips. “Perfect.”

He focused on her mouth. Kissable, definitely. “Great.”

She slapped the lid on the saucepan and made for the kitchen door. “Things are simmering. Dinner will be ready in thirty minutes.”

“It’ll give you time to think of your own answer to Odele’s question,” he called after her, and could swear she muttered something under her breath.

But when she was gone, Rick acknowledged that much as he enjoyed teasing Chiara, the joke was on him. Because she was his dream woman. If only she wasn’t also a publicity-hungry actress...

Through dinner, he and Chiara trod lightly around each other. The beef Stroganoff was delicious, and he helped clean up—a little surprised she didn’t keep a full-time housekeeper even if she traveled a lot. Afterward, she excused herself and retreated to her room, announcing that she had to memorize her lines.

Left to his own devices, he took a quick tour of the house and grounds, familiarizing himself with its security...and possible vulnerability to intruders. Then, with nothing more to do, he headed to bed.

Passing Chiara’s door, he could see a light beneath, and shook off thoughts of what she wore to bed and how her hair would look around her bare shoulders above a counterpane... Still, in the guest bedroom, he found himself punching his pillow multiple times before he drifted off to sleep.

“Rick?”

He opened his eyes and saw Chiara’s shadowy silhouette in his bedroom doorway. His lips curved. Apparently she’d had a hard time sleeping, too.

She walked toward him, and he made no attempt to disguise his arousal—he’d been thinking about her. Her short slip with spaghetti straps hid little, her nipples jutting against the fabric. She had a fantastic figure. High breasts and an indented waist...softly curved hips. His fingers itched to touch her.

Instead, he propped himself on the pillows behind him.

She sat down on the side of the bed, and her hand brushed his erection.

He saw no prickliness—just need...for him.

“What can I do for you?” His voice came out as a rasp.

Chiara’s eyes glowed in the dim light afforded by the moon. “I think you know.”

She leaned closer. Her lips brushed his and her pretty breasts tantalized his bare chest.

He cupped the back of her head and brought her closer so he could deepen the kiss. His tongue swept inside her mouth, tangling and dueling with hers.

She moaned and sank against him, breaking the kiss just long enough to say, “Love me.”

He needed no further invitation. He pulled her down onto the mattress next to him and covered her body with his.

She responded with the lack of inhibition that he’d hoped for, arching toward him and opening in invitation, her arms encircling his neck as she met the ardor of his kiss.

His only thought was to get even closer...to sink into her welcoming warmth and find oblivion.

It would be sweet release from the restless need that had been consuming him...

Rick awoke with a start. He couldn’t tell what had jerked him from his fantasy, but the room was empty, and he was alone in his bed.

He was also frustrated and aroused.

He groaned. Yup. It was going to be torture acting as if he were Chiara’s boyfriend and hiding the fact that he was her protector.

The next morning, Chiara was up early for the drive to Novatus Studio. She donned jeans and a knit top. No use prettying up since she’d be sitting in a makeup chair at work soon enough. In fact, it was so early, she figured she might be able to get in a few minutes to study today’s lines of dialogue before the drive to the lot.

Concentrate, that’s what she had to do. But she hadn’t slept well. In bed last night, she’d stared up at the ceiling, very aware of Rick’s presence in her house.

What attracted her to him?

He was the epitome of rough manliness—cool, tough and exuding sex appeal. His green eyes were fascinatingly multihued, and even the hard, sculpted plains of his face invited detailed study by touch and, yes, taste.

A woman could feel safe and sheltered in his arms.

And there was the problem. She’d learned a long time ago not to rely on any man. Starting with her father, who’d disappeared from her life at a young age, and had become a gambling addict and reprobate.

She didn’t hear a sound from Rick’s room, so she tiptoed downstairs with script in hand.

When she reached the kitchen, she was taken aback to spot him sitting outside on the veranda, gazing at the sunrise, dressed in black denim jeans and a maroon tee. He looked peaceful and relaxed, so far from the constant motion and barely leashed energy that she was used to from him.

As if sensing her presence, he turned and met her gaze. Rising, he gave a jaunty salute with the mug in his hand and said, “Good morning.”

“I didn’t hear you,” she blurted as he entered through the French doors.

“We stuntmen can be stealthy.”

She lowered her lashes and swept him with a surreptitious look. His jeans hugged lean hips and outlined muscular legs. The tee covered a flat chest and biceps that were defined but not brawny. He had the physique and face for a movie screen, except there was nothing manicured about him. Rick had a rough male aura instead of polish.

She looked at the cup in his hands. “I didn’t even smell the brew.”

“It’s not coffee. It’s a vitamin power drink.”

Ugh. “For your superhero strength.”

“Of course.” He gave her a wicked smile. “Helps with the stamina. Sleep well?”

“For sure. And you?” She refused to give an inch, treating him with cool civility, even if that smile made her body tighten.

“Naturally.”

The truth was she’d lain awake and tossed around for close to two hours. She wondered how she was going to maintain this charade...especially since Rick was adept at provoking her. And she refused...refused...to dwell on his kiss.

“Nice story about your father in the news. I had time to catch up on the headlines while I waited for you to come down, Sleeping Beauty.”

Damn it. She should have gotten up even earlier. “My father?”

“Yeah, you know, the guy who shares a last name with you.”

“That’s all we have in common,” she muttered.

“Nice story about the card counting recently.”

“Maybe he’ll stay out of trouble now that he’s been barred from his favorite haunts.” Casinos were Michael Feran’s drug of choice.

“Is that what you’re hoping?”

“Why are we discussing this?”

He shrugged. “I figured we should talk about the reason we’re together.” A smile teased his lips. “It seems logical.”

So he wanted an extension of yesterday’s get-to-know-you? No, thanks. Not that last night’s question had haunted her sleep or anything. “We’re not together.”

“It’s what the tabloids think that matters.”

Argh.

“So Michael Feran is a sensitive topic.”

Chiara walked to the kitchen cabinets. “Only in as much as he’s a liar, gambler and cheat.”

“Hmm...must be hard to share the same surname.”

She got a glass and poured herself some water from the fridge’s water filter.

“Eight glasses a day?”

She glanced at him. “What do you think? It’s good for the complexion.”

“You’re very disciplined.”

She took a sip. “I have to be.”

“Because your father isn’t?”

“I don’t define myself relative to him.”

Rick’s lips twitched. “Okay, so you’re not your father.”

“Of course.”

“How old were you when he walked out?”

She put down the glass. “Nearly five. But even when he was there, he wasn’t really. He disappeared for stretches. Some of it was spent touring as a sax player with a band. Then he moved out for good a few days before my fifth birthday.”

“Must have been rough.”

“Not really. The party went on without him.” She remembered the pink heart piñata. Her first major role was putting on a smile for the photos when it was just her and her mother.

“Did he ever try coming back?”

“There were a few flyovers until I became a teenager.”

“Brief?”

“Very.” Either her parents would argue, or Michael Feran would quickly move on to his next big thing.

“Right.” Rick looked as if he’d drawn his own conclusions.

“Why are we talking about this?” she asked again, her voice sharp.

“I need to get the story straight so I’m not contradicting you when I speak.”

“Well, there’s nothing to tell.”

“That’s not what the press thinks.”

Yup, he had her there. Which was the crux of her problem. Straightening her shoulders, she grabbed her car keys from the kitchen counter. On second thought, she could have breakfast at the studio—there was always food around. “Well, I’m off. See you on set.”

“I’m coming with you,” Rick responded casually. “Or rather, you’re coming with me.”

She stopped and faced him. “Excuse me?”

“My car or yours?”

“Do you have an endless supply of pickup lines?”

“Do you want to find out?”

“No!”

“That’s what I thought you’d say.” He took a sip from his mug. “How can we be two lovebirds if we don’t arrive together?”

“We’re trying to be discreet at work.”

“But not for the press.”

“Anyway, you own a motorcycle.”

“Look outside. I had my car deposited here early this morning by a concierge service.”

Rats. He’d been up even earlier than she’d thought. She tossed him a suspicious look and then walked over to peer out the French doors. She spotted a Range Rover in the drive. “Lovely.”

“I think so.”

She glanced back at Rick with suspicion, but he just returned a bland look. Another of his sexual innuendoes? Because it was impossible to tell what he’d been referring to—her or the car.

Then she sighed. She had to pick her battles, and it was clear the drive to the office was not one worth fighting over.

Rick walked toward her, pausing to glance at a script that she’d left on the counter yesterday. “It’s early. Want me to quiz you on your lines?”

“No!” Not least because there was a scene were the leads got flirty.

Rick raised an eyebrow and then shrugged. “Suit yourself but the offer stands. Anytime.”

Yup, he was an anytime, anywhere kind of guy.

“What else are we supposed to do while we’re shacked up together?” he asked, his eyes laughing at her.

She raised an eyebrow. “Go to work?”

Within the hour, she and Rick pulled up to the gate to Novatus Studio in his car.

Rick rolled down his window in order to give his identification to security, and with a sixth sense, Chiara turned her head and spotted a hovering figure nearby. The flash of a paparazzi camera was familiar.

“Odele,” she muttered, facing forward again.

There was a good chance that her manager had tipped off a photographer so someone could snap her and Rick arriving together at the studio. Odele was determined to give this story her personal spin.

Rick gave an amused look. “She thinks of everything.”

Rick tried to be on his best behavior, but having some fun was oh-so-tempting...

The Living Room on the first floor of The Peninsula Beverly Hills was nothing if not a den for power brokers, so he supposed it was perfect for a print interview over afternoon tea with WE Magazine—which wanted the dishy scoop on Chiara’s new relationship.

Rick eyed the sumptuous repast set out on the coffee table before them: finger sandwiches, scones and an assortment of petite pastries. Arranged by Odele, of course, the afternoon tea in The Living Room was worthy of a queen. Of course, all of it went untouched.

This wasn’t about food, but business. Showtime in Hollywood.

When he and Chiara had arrived at Novatus Studio that morning, Odele had surprised them with the news that she’d arranged a friendly press interview for them later the same day. Chiara was already scheduled to have the cover of the next issue of WE Magazine in order to promote the upcoming release of Pegasus Pride, but Odele had deftly arranged for it to become a joint interview about her new relationship. He and Chiara had left work early, because Odele had already spoken to Dan, the director, about their appointment. Dan had been happy to oblige if it meant more positive ink ahead of the release of the film—everyone was banking on it opening big at the box office.

Rick had to hand it to Chiara’s manager—she wasted no time. But he knew what Odele was thinking—better to get ahead of the gossip by getting your own version of the story out there before anyone else’s. So he’d gone along with the whole deal.

Too bad Chiara herself didn’t want him here. But Odele had insisted, arguing his presence would make the relationship more believable. As Odele had put it, Readers inhale romance. Touch each other a lot. To which Chiara had responded, Odele, I’m not making out in public for the benefit of gawkers.

Now, at his sudden grin at the recollection, Chiara shot him a repressive look. She’d already told him she saw his role here as a yes-man supporting player. He figured he could bridge the gap between stuntman and Prince Charming easily enough, but if Chiara thought he’d toady to a gossip columnist, she had another think coming. He stretched and then settled one arm on the back of the sofa—because he knew it would drive Chiara crazy.

The couch was in a cozy and semiprivate corner. The interviewer, Melody Banyon—who looked to be in her late forties and was a dead ringer for Mindy Kaling—leaned forward in her armchair. “So was it love at first sight?”

From the corner of his eye, Rick noticed Chiara’s elbow inching toward him, ready to jab in case he made a flippant comment. But then Chiara just smiled at him before purring, “Well, I don’t usually notice the stuntmen on my movie sets...”

Rick glanced at the interviewer and a corner of his mouth lifted. “You could say Chiara’s manager played matchmaker. She thought we’d be perfect for each other.”

Chiara’s eyes widened, but then she tossed him a grateful look. “Yes, Odele is always looking out for my best interests...”

Melody gave a satisfied smile. “Great, just great.” Repositioning the voice recorder on the table before them, she looked back and forth between her interview subjects. “And I understand you two just moved in together?”

“Yup,” Rick spoke up, unable to resist. “Like yesterday.” It was also roughly when their whole “relationship” had started.

Chiara shot him a quelling look, and he tossed back an innocent one. He moved his arm off the sofa, gave her shoulder a squeeze, and then leaned in and nuzzled her temple for a quick kiss.

“Mmm,” Melody said, as if tasting a delicious story, “you two move fast.”

Rick relaxed against the sofa again, and responded sardonically, “You don’t know the half of it.”

He knew he risked Chiara’s wrath, and he was surprised to find himself relishing the challenge of sparring with her again. No doubt about it—they set sparks off in each other. And it would probably carry over to the bedroom.

He glanced at Chiara’s profile. She was a beautiful woman. Winged brows, pink bow lips, thick, rich chocolate hair and a figure that was hourglass without being voluptuous. She was also talented and tough enough to play a kick-ass action movie heroine and do her own stunts. He had to respect that—all the while being attracted as hell—even though he knew celebrity actresses like her couldn’t be trusted.

They were duplicitous—they had to be for the press. Like right now.

Chiara seemed chummy with Melody—as if they were friends, or at least acquaintances from way back. Melody asked a few questions about Pegasus Pride, and Chiara answered, while Rick threw in a few sentences at the end.

He wasn’t the star attraction here, and there was no use pretending otherwise. Sure, he had a lot riding on this film—money and otherwise—but he wouldn’t be why this movie succeeded, or not, at the box office. Chiara was the public face of Pegasus Pride.

After a few minutes, Melody changed the subject, mentioning the upcoming Ring of Hope Gala to Benefit Children’s Charities, for which half of Hollywood turned out. “So give me the scoop, Chiara.” Her voice dipped conspiratorially. “What will you be wearing?”

“I haven’t decided yet. There are two dresses...”

“Give me the details on both!” Melody said, her face avid with anticipation.

Rick suppressed a grunt. As far as he was concerned, a dress was a dress. He didn’t care what it was made out of—whether a pride of lions had to be sacrificed for the embellishment, or the designer used recycled garbage bags. His youngest sibling might be an up-and-comer in the fashion business, but it was all the same to Rick—or as his sister liked to say, Bless your style-deaf soul.

“There’s a one-shoulder pale blue column dress from Elie Saab. The other gown is a red chiffon—”

“Oh, I love both! Don’t you, Rick?”

If it wasn’t for Chiara’s significant look, Rick would have answered that naked was his first preference. Chiara had a body that invited fantasies even, or especially, if she was aiming verbal barbs at him.

He settled back. “I don’t know...isn’t pale blue the color for Cinderella?”

Chiara turned to him and smiled, even as her eyes shot a warning. “Wrong fairy tale.”

When Melody just appeared confused, Chiara cleared her throat. “Well, keep your eyes open on the night of the gala to find out which dress I go with.”

The reporter pressed Stop on her recorder. “So when am I going to see you again, Chiara? Girls’ night sometime at Marmont? Paparazzi snapped Leo there just last week.”

Rick raised his eyebrows. From the lack of a ring, Rick deduced Melody was divorced, widowed or had never married. “You ladies do go for the chills and thrills.”

Chateau Marmont was a trendy celebrity haunt. Some booked one of the hotel rooms for privacy, and others just went to party and be seen. But he preferred his thrills a little more real than a Leonardo DiCaprio sighting.

“I’d love to, Melody,” Chiara said, “but can I take a rain check? This movie is wearing me out—” she looked down demurely “—when Rick isn’t.”

Yup, strong acting chops.

Melody laughed. “Of course. I understand.”

When Melody excused herself a moment later in order to freshen up, Rick regarded the woman who’d been driving him crazy. “So... I wear you out?”

Chiara flushed. “Don’t look at me that way.”

“Mmm. The image of us and a bed is sort of stuck in my mind.”

Chiara shifted, and her skirt rode up her leg.

He focused on her calves. She had spectacular legs. He’d seen them encased in skintight denim on set, and in a barely there miniskirt in a photo that had circulated online. He imagined those legs wrapped around him as he lost himself inside her...

On a whim, he reached out and took her hand, and caressed the back of it with his thumb.

“What are you doing?”

Was it his imagination or did her voice sound a little uneven?

“Move closer,” he murmured. “There’s a photographer watching us from across the room.”

Her eyes held his. “What? Where?”

“Don’t look.” Then he leaned in, his gaze lowering.

Chiara parted her lips on an indrawn breath.

Rick touched his mouth to hers.

When Chiara made a sound at the back of her throat, he deepened the kiss. He stroked and teased, wanting more from her, craving more and not caring where they were. When she opened for him, he fanned the flames of their passion, cupping her face with his hand as she leaned closer.

When her breast brushed his arm, he tensed and stopped himself from bringing his hand up to cup the soft mound in public. He wanted to crash through her barriers, making his head spin with the speed of it.

As if sensing someone approaching, Chiara pulled back and muttered, “We have to stop.”

Rick spotted Melody walking back from across the room, a big grin on her face. Obviously the reporter had seen the kiss. Odele would be pleased. “Not if we’re going to pretend to be a couple.”

When the reporter drew near, she teased, “Did I say you two are fast? Now, that moment would have provided some photo op for the magazine!”

Rick settled back and forced a grin for the reporter’s benefit. “We’d be happy to give a repeat performance.”

“No, we wouldn’t,” Chiara interjected, but then she smiled for Melody’s benefit. “I’ll make sure you get plenty of good pictures for the cover story at the photo shoot tomorrow.”

“Of course,” Melody said politely, maintaining her perkiness as she sat down to gather her things.

Rick hadn’t gotten an invitation to the photo shoot—which was just as well. They were boring and went on for hours. Apparently, though, even Odele had drawn the line at a cozy tableau of him and Chiara with their arms around each other.

“Do you have a cover line yet for this article, Melody?” Chiara asked, her face suddenly turning droll. “Or has Odele already suggested one?”

Rick knew from his experience with movie promotions that the cover line was the front cover text that accompanied a magazine article: From Tears to Triumph, I’m Lucky to Be Alive, or even the vague but trustworthy standby, My Turn to Talk.

“No,” Melody said, “Odele hasn’t offered anything.”

“How about ‘Chiara Feran—True Love at Last’?” he offered drily.

Melody brightened. “I love it. What about you, Chiara?”

Chiara looked as if she was ready to kick him out of this interview, and Rick suppressed a laugh.

Oh, yeah, this was going to be a roller coaster of a relationship. Make-believe relationship.

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