She didn’t plan on celebrating Christmas…

Can he change her mind?

Nurse Harmony Kinkaid grabs the chance to spend Christmas working on a remote Scottish island. Without her beloved grandmother, the season won’t be the same. But her organized world is thrown off balance by her fierce attraction to daredevil Dr. Cameron MacRurie. He’s her complete opposite—she’d be foolish to fall for him. Yet as Christmas lights begin to shine, Cam becomes a temptation impossible to ignore…

ANN MCINTOSH was born in the Tropics, lived in the frozen north for a number of years, and now resides in sunny central Florida with her husband. She’s a proud mama to three grown children, loves tea, crafting, animals (except reptiles!), bacon and the ocean. She believes in the power of romance to heal, inspire and provide hope in our complex world.

Also by Ann McIntosh

The Nurse’s Pregnancy Miracle

The Surgeon’s One Night to Forever

Surgeon Prince, Cinderella Bride

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

The Nurse’s Christmas Temptation

Ann McIntosh

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-09025-4

THE NURSE’S CHRISTMAS TEMPTATION

© 2019 Ann McIntosh

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 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.

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For Tom, Vanessa and Patrick,

who’ve improved my life immeasurably.

You helped me grow up more than I helped you!

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

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

Extract

About the Publisher

CHAPTER ONE

AT HER FIRST sight of Eilean Rurie, or Rurie Island, rising like a granite fist from an angry, frothing sea, Harmony Kinkaid gave a satisfied nod.

Rugged black cliffs fronted dismal light green hills wreathed in mist, and the overcast sky was giving everything a sad gray tone. Mizzly rain pattering down on the ferry deck in fits and starts elevated the entire scene to the epitome of dreary.

After the year she’d had, it was the perfect place for her.

Set in the sheltered curve of a sea loch, Eilean Rurie was just far enough from the west coast of Scotland to give Harmony the sense of leaving everything behind. Of course, she had no idea what she was facing once she got there. Being on a somewhat remote island and not knowing anyone would be out of her comfort zone, but she was determined to be up to the task.

The job had come up suddenly, but at just the right time. And when Caitlin, a friend from nursing school, had called out of the blue, Harmony hadn’t been able to help thinking it was a sign.

“Hey, I’m in the hospital in Fort William, and I won’t be able to go back to work on Eilean Rurie. Can you take over for me until Dr. MacRurie finds a permanent replacement?”

“What’s wrong?”

“Preeclampsia. They’ve put me on bedrest for the duration, and the island’s too remote to make it feasible for us to stay there. I know you’re in between jobs, and I hoped you’d be willing to fill in for me.”

Caitlin was expecting her first child, and Harmony had heard the stress in her usually placid friend’s voice. But before she’d been able to reply, Caitlin had continued.

“It’s very different from working in London but Cam—Dr. MacRurie—is easy to work for, and there are only about two hundred and fifty people to tend to overall. It would mean being away for Christmas, though…”

Harmony’s fingers had tightened on the phone, and she’d hastily swallowed the lump in her throat and replied, “That’s all right. Of course I’ll do it. I could definitely use the money.”

And, even more importantly, it would mean not having to spend the holidays alone in a bare house that had used to be Christmas central.

Before Gran had died, and Mum had decided to take off to Yorkshire with her new man, Fred.

Oh, she wasn’t angry about Fred. He was a nice man, and Mum deserved to have a life after devoting hers to looking after Harmony and then Gran too. It had just felt horribly like a betrayal when Mum revealed her holiday plans.

“Fred’s got some time off over Christmas, and he wants to spend it with his children and grandchildren. It would be a good time for me to meet everyone, so I’ve agreed to go.”

Harmony had been so shocked and hurt she hadn’t even been able to reply.

Mum must have seen her reaction on her face, because she’d quickly added, “You’re welcome to come too.”

The worry in Mum’s tone had brought Harmony back to her senses. “No, Mum. You go and have a great time. I have a few applications out there, and I’m going to want to be on hand if anyone calls me to come in for an interview.”

Yet inside it had felt like the last straw in an awful year. First her two-year relationship with Logan had ended, and only a couple of months later Gran had passed away unexpectedly, leaving Mum and Harmony heartbroken. Her mother’s mother had lived with them since her dad had died, when Harmony was only six, and had been an integral part of their little family.

Then, as if those things weren’t enough, Harmony’s boss of six years had decided to retire. Although the staff had been assured their jobs were secure, one of the first things the new GP had done was let them all go.

When Mum had dropped her bombshell Harmony had been totally set adrift. She didn’t like change. Life had been fine the way it was, and now suddenly it was all upside down. The loss of their traditional mother/daughter Christmas in particular had left her in a tailspin.

She felt as though everyone and everything she cherished about the season was gone, and all she could anticipate was loneliness. Just thinking about it made her eyes watery.

But maybe saying to heck with Christmas and having the enforced alone time that was ahead was exactly what she needed. Getting away from the familiar to really think about where she wanted to go in life.

From all she’d heard and read about small communities like this one, she wouldn’t be surprised if it took a lot longer than she would be around for people even to warm to her. That suited her just fine. Peace and quiet were what she was looking for. Although it would be lonely living by herself for the first time, and in a new environment to boot, it would also be the best opportunity to contemplate her next move.

“Your first trip to Eilean Rurie?”

The deckhand’s voice pulled her out of her sour thoughts, and she blinked to chase away the silly tears before they fell.

“Yes,” she said, as the ferry rounded the end of the island and headed to what she assumed was the port.

“Bit drab looking right now, but it’ll be better in a few days.”

“What happens in a few days?” she asked. But he had already hurried off—no doubt to prepare for docking.

Other than a magical transportation of the island to a tropical location, Harmony couldn’t think of anything that would make it look better. The town and dock area continued the gray-on-gray theme, although she had to admit that had more to do with the overcast day than anything else. Most buildings were either whitewashed or cream-colored stone, and the overall effect was of a somewhat quaint, old-fashioned village.

The cry of sea birds and the sound of the wind along with the brisk, damp air was strangely invigorating, and Harmony felt a little surge of excitement. This peaceful place, far from the rush and noise of London, would surely be perfect for the quiet contemplation she needed to figure out her future.

The serene effect was shattered by a whoosh that was easily heard over the ferry engines, and the sight of a man rocketing up from the water. It took Harmony a couple of confused seconds to realize he was wearing a water jetpack, which had propelled him high into the air. As she watched he swooped down, then started twisting and turning close to the surface of the loch, doing stunts.

She couldn’t decide whether or not riding the contraption was crazier than going into the no doubt freezing water but, however she cut it, he was clearly out of his gourd. Horrified and fascinated all at once, she stood watching his performance as the ferry moved closer to shore.

He shot high into the air again and then, in an instant, plummeted toward the water. Harmony wanted to close her eyes, so she wouldn’t see him die, but couldn’t look away, covering her mouth to curtail the shriek of fear rising in her throat. Somehow, seemingly inches from the water, he got the spluttering jetpack back under control and rose again.

She turned away, her hands shaking, pretending to fuss with her luggage so no one would realize how scared she’d been.

Why did people do these daredevil things? Didn’t they realize how dangerous it was? That they could lose their lives doing that kind of nonsense?

Anger superseded her fear, and she mentally cursed the man who’d upset her just before she was supposed to meet her new boss. Her heart was pounding, her shoulders were up around her ears, and her stomach roiled. Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to relax as best she could.

Taking out her compact, she slicked on a little lipstick and, noticing the stress lines between her brows, forced herself to release as much tension as possible.

A little calmer as the ferry approached the dock, she glanced down at the shore, trying to see if she could pick out Dr. MacRurie. There was one elderly man there, but Harmony was sure he wasn’t the doctor, who Caitlin had said was in his thirties. Hopefully he hadn’t forgotten she was arriving today, although no doubt she could find her own way to the surgery and the apartment above it where she was staying. The village wasn’t that big, after all.

Glancing at her watch, she realized the ferry was actually a few minutes early. The doctor was probably on his way—unless there’d been a medical emergency somewhere.

Without thought she let her gaze track back to where the man with the jetpack had been, and found him wading out onto the shingles alongside the loch. Even from a distance she could see he was in amazing shape, with the wetsuit clinging to muscular thighs, bum, and torso.

Suddenly, as though sensing her interest, he turned and looked back at the ferry. It would be impossible for him to make her out from that distance, but still she ducked away, embarrassed for no good reason. Nothing wrong or illegal about admiring a man’s backside—especially when he couldn’t see you doing it. And she did love a good backside…

Hopefully he was just a visitor to the island and she wouldn’t have to interact with him. That way she wouldn’t be tempted to tell him how crazy she thought he was, doing what he’d been doing. Besides, even if she hadn’t been turned off by his daredevil stunt, good looking men were on her no-no list right now.

Her experience with Logan had been lesson enough. She’d thought him the perfect fit for her: a handsome yet staid and sensible Certified Public Accountant with a solid head on his shoulders. At least that was what she’d thought until he’d told her he was in love with an intern at his office and was giving up his job to move to Australia with her and start an Outback tour company.

She’d been totally gobsmacked, in equal parts desperately hurt and angry.

Her mum had seemed sympathetic, but unsurprised, while her gran had said, “He’s too boring anyway.”

But Logan’s lack of excitement was one of the things she’d liked best about him. The last thing she wanted in her life was someone like Dad, whose recklessness and need for adventure had gotten him killed on a mountain that, because of his health concerns, he should never have been climbing. She wanted someone safe, reliable, who wouldn’t break her heart or leave her to struggle on her own to raise their child the way her mum had had to.

Maybe she was better off on her own long term, anyway. Loving others just brought pain as far as she could tell.

As the ferry docked, Harmony put her baleful thoughts aside to heft her tote bag onto her shoulder, then pull up the handle of her wheeled suitcase. Taking another deep breath, she set off for the gangplank, ignoring the flutters of anxiety in her stomach.

Somewhere along the line she’d come to the conclusion that life went on, and that what happened was out of her hands. All she could control was how she faced it, and this new job, in this strange place, was to be met head-on, and with a certain amount of panache, to make up for her fear of the unknown.

Pausing to let an older lady go ahead of her, Harmony ran her hand over the faux fur collar of her favorite tweed trench coat, letting the softness of the fabric soothe her jangling nerves. She’d thought about wearing more casual clothes, but dismissed the impulse. Just because her new job was on an island it didn’t mean she wanted to arrive looking as though she didn’t take it seriously. Besides, she liked nice clothes; she felt more confident when she was well dressed.

With her head determinedly high, Harmony went down the gangplank to the dock. When no one stepped forward to meet her, she kept walking toward the building marked “Dock Master’s Office” for all the world as though she knew where she was going.

Suddenly four older ladies, whom she’d thought were there to meet the woman she’d let go down the gangplank ahead of her, surrounded her, bringing her progress to a screeching halt.

“Nurse Kinkaid?” one of them asked with a smile. “You are Nurse Kinkaid, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, wonderful! Isn’t it wonderful, girls?”

Unsure about what was so wonderful, Harmony made no comment, simply plastered a smile on her face as all the women seemed to be speaking at once.

“So lovely to have you!”

“Are you Scottish?”

“What a looker you are!”

“Do you craft?”

“How old are you?”

“I adore your coat!”

Stunned by the barrage, Harmony let go her suitcase and held up her hands, one of which had her umbrella in it. Three of the ladies fell silent and stepped back in unison. The fourth stood her ground, the smile on her face never faltering.

“Don’t mind those chatterboxes, Nurse Kinkaid. A bunch of magpies, they are.”

She held out her hand and Harmony instinctively took it, receiving a hearty handshake.

“I’m Eudora Moxley, but call me Dora. And these old bags are Ingrid, Sela and Kat.”

“Katherine,” the tallest of the others growled.

“Kat’s a little touchy about her name, but don’t let it worry you. It’s the English coming out in her.”

“For goodness’ sake, Eudora.” The other woman huffed. “I’ve lived here for nigh on thirty years. Don’t I merit being Scottish by now?”

“You got here thirty years too late for that, Kat,” one of the other women interjected, although whether it was Ingrid or Sela, Harmony had no idea. All the women except for Katherine tittered.

“That’s enough of that,” Katherine retorted. “The nurse is going to think we’re loopy.”

“Oh, but we are—and best she knows it from day one,” Dora retorted, giving Harmony’s fingers one last squeeze before finally releasing them. “We’re the Crafty Islanders, in charge of—well…almost everything here on Eilean Rurie. We wanted to be on hand to greet you and welcome you to the island.”

“Thank you,” Harmony replied weakly, still somewhat shell-shocked by what they called a greeting but felt more like a mugging. “Do you have any idea where I might find Dr. MacRurie?”

“Oh, he’ll be along any minute now. The Laird is always on time, and the ferry was early.”

“Laird?” Wasn’t that Scottish for some kind of a peer? Caitlin hadn’t mentioned anything about him being a peer.

“That’s just a nickname, dear,” Katherine said. “Although he does own most of the island, Cam’s not one to stand on ceremony. It’s not like he’s a duke or anything like that.”

“There you go. That’s why you’re not Scottish yet, Kat.” Dora smirked. “Laird is far better than Duke any day.”

“Tosh” was the testy reply. “You’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”

And they started in on each other again, leaving Harmony’s head swimming as insults and ripostes flew back and forth.

If these ladies really did run the place, how did they get anything done? Whether they would impact her ability to do her job was another question she really wanted answered too. As assisting nurse and office manager, she’d brook no interference in her work.

“Ladies,” she said, loudly enough to cut through the arguing, and was relieved when they all stopped and looked at her. “It was lovely meeting you, but if you would just point me in the right direction…?”

“No need,” Dora said, beaming at something behind her. “Here comes the Laird now.”

Instinctively Harmony turned, looked, but all she saw was the guy in the wetsuit coming up along the sea wall. No one else.

Then it struck her—hard.

Her new boss was the handsome jetpack daredevil with the nice bum.

Oh, no.

CHAPTER TWO

CAM WAS STILL buzzing with adrenaline from the jetpack as he made his way up from the beach along the path on the seawall. It had been such a rush he’d ridden it for longer than he’d planned, and had missed his chance to change before meeting the ferry. Hopefully his new nurse would be the easygoing type, and wouldn’t be fazed by meeting her new boss when he was wearing a wetsuit.

It was a shame he hadn’t been able to give Sanjit permission to offer water jetpack rides to visitors, but he’d had to nix the idea even though Sanjit had put up a good argument.

“It could be a new draw for visitors in summer, when we have our slump. Another activity to add to the website, making a trip here more attractive at times other than Christmas.”

“True, but the liability issue is one we can’t get away from.” He’d slapped the younger man on the shoulder, then reached for his towel. “It’s a lot of fun, but one major accident and the entire island would suffer the consequences.”

It was true. Because the MacRurie Trust owned most of Eilean Rurie, no matter what insurance Sanjit might purchase to cover operating a water jetpack rental, the trust—and Cam as its director—would still be considered liable should anything go wrong. One major lawsuit might break the bank, or at least severely deplete it. He considered the island to be entrusted to him for posterity, so protecting it and its inhabitants was his first order of business.

But, wow, it had been tempting to give Sanjit the go-ahead—if for no other reason than being able to ride the jetpack himself.

Approaching the dock, he saw the Crafty Islanders had beat him there, and had a well-dressed woman he assumed was his new nurse and administrator surrounded. She seemed to be fending them off with her umbrella—a sight which made Cam snort, as he tried to hold back laughter.

Not that he blamed Nurse Kinkaid in the slightest. The CIs en masse were a force to be reckoned with. There was no doubt in his mind they were peppering her with intrusive questions and firing off comments before she could even decide whether to answer or not. That was their usual modus operandi, and they could frighten the stoutest of souls.

“Please don’t scare off my lifesaver,” he muttered, picking up his pace, hoping to break up the interrogation before it got too bad.

Then the young woman looked over her shoulder, her thick, curly hair swinging away from her face as she did so. Her gaze tracked past Cam, then snapped back to him, and her eyes widened.

Cam, midstride, had to catch himself so he didn’t falter under what he could only describe as the glare she sent him.

But even with lines between her eyebrows and her lips pursed into a disapproving rosette, she was gorgeous. He had only a moment to register her high cheekboned face and skin like golden syrup mixed with cinnamon before she turned back around, but the effect lingered.

Something about the curve of her cheek and chin, the long line of her throat, gave him a jolt of adrenaline on top of the residue already keeping his nerves jangling. It had been a very long time since the sight of a woman had brought him to total awareness, filling him with curiosity and inciting the kind of physical interest he least expected, or wanted.

Since leaving his job with a refugee agency four years before, and taking over the management of Eilean Rurie, he had made the island his base. The transition to being in one place after travelling the world had been difficult, but in a strange way it had afforded him the chance to do more of the adventurous activities he enjoyed.

He had time to travel now, to climb, cave, to do whatever else he wanted, and he was having the time of his life. There was no room in his life for the kind of visceral fascination he felt with just one glimpse of this young woman.

It would be okay, he reassured himself as he finally neared the group. She wouldn’t be around for very long. He just had to get through the Christmas rush, and then he could find a permanent replacement. Ignoring this strange attraction wouldn’t be too hard.

“There you are—finally,” Dora said.

“You’ll be late for your own funeral,” Sela added.

“The later the better. But I’ll have you know I’m exactly on time,” Cam retorted, giving his watch a pointed glance before turning to the silent young woman and holding out his hand. “Nurse Kinkaid, I presume?”

“You presume correctly,” she replied, seeming to hesitate for a moment before taking his outstretched hand and giving it a brief, firm shake. “And I understand you’re Dr. MacRurie?”

Her eyes were gorgeous. Hazel, fringed with dark, tightly curled lashes, they matched her skin tone and gave her the look of a haughty lioness. Her watchful gaze, coupled with the low, husky voice made his toes curl.

Taken aback, especially by his reaction to her, all he could manage to say was “In the flesh.”

“You mean in the wetsuit, don’t you?” Ingrid asked, making all the CIs snicker.

Suddenly aware of his state of undress—which hadn’t bothered him in the slightest before—Cam frowned, making them all giggle harder. Nurse Kinkaid didn’t join in, but the little lines between her brows quickly came and went.

“Yes, well… If you’ll come with me to the Dock Master’s Office, Nurse Kinkaid, I’ll change and take you over to the surgery.”

“So, did you give Sanjit the approval to run his new business?” Katherine interjected, before he could make his escape.

“Unfortunately, no.”

“Liability?” asked Ingrid, who was a retired barrister, and Cam nodded.

“Got it in one.” Before any of them could get going again, he quickly added, “Let me take your suitcase, Nurse Kinkaid, and we’ll be on our way.”

As he matched actions to words the CIs chorused their goodbyes, peppered with lovely-to-meet-yous and we’ll-catch-up-soons, all aimed at the new nurse—who, wisely, exited their orbit with just a friendly wave and the slight upturning of her lips.

“Will we see you at the planning meeting this evening, Cam?” called Dora.

“Of course,” he called back, making sure not to break stride in case they took it as an invitation.

“Wow,” the nurse said, as soon as they were out of earshot. “They’re something, aren’t they?”

“That they are,” Cam said, but was suddenly protective of the women who often drove him bonkers. “But, despite being a pain in my rear most of the time, they’re invaluable to the island. With such a small population it’s good to have people willing to get involved and organize things.”

“I’m sure. However, I hope that doesn’t apply to your practice? I find I work best with only one boss. Causes far less confusion.”

“Good Lord, no.” Cam actually laughed at the thought of the CIs butting into his real work.

He opened the door to the Dock Master’s Office, and stood back for her to enter ahead of him.

“They’re involved with practically all other aspects of life on the island, though, just so you know.”

“I can see that being the case.”

She’d stepped through the door ahead of him and Cam found himself admiring her figure, which was full and curvy. Lush hips swayed with a siren’s rhythm as she walked, mesmerizing him until he caught himself and resolutely tore his gaze away.

Even more aware of the wetsuit, and feeling silly in the face of his new, rather formal nurse, Cam said, “If you’ll wait here, Nurse Kinkaid, I’ll get changed as quickly as possible and take you to your apartment.”

“Please, call me Harmony,” she said, while looking around the office. Seemingly without conscious thought, she straightened a pile of magazines on the table beside the door. “When I hear ‘Nurse Kinkaid’ like that, I instinctively look around for my mother.”

“Sure,” he said, seeing an opening to get to know her better but unable to take advantage of it. She completely unsettled him, making him want to get away and catch his breath, not to mention get out of his wetsuit. “I’ll remember that. Be right back.”

But as he shimmied out of the wetsuit he found himself wondering what she’d look like if she truly smiled. Something told him that rather prim mouth would turn sumptuous and appealing.

Become eminently kissable.

Cam cursed to himself.

She’s definitely going to be a problem.

He just had to make sure that, no matter what happened, the problem didn’t involve him.

The interest she stirred in him wasn’t something he’d ever consider acting on. Even if getting involved with an employee wasn’t tacky—which it was—he liked his relationships short and with no strings attached. No matter how quickly her tenure on the island would be over he’d have to work with her, and the chances of it all going sideways were large.

Finally dressed in his street clothes, he grabbed his jacket and went back out into the main part of the office. Danny Smith, the Dock Master, wasn’t there, so Harmony was still alone, standing in front of one of the myriad pictures on the wall. It was a painting of one of the rescue boats that used to be launched from the island in rough seas back in the early part of the twentieth century.

“That’s my great-grandfather in the prow of that boat,” he said, going to stand beside her. “They were probably going out to help with a sea rescue after a wreck—or at least that was what the artist was portraying.”

She sent him a brief glance, and once more he felt a zing of electricity when he realized her eyes were more green than gold. Getting used to them was going to take some doing.

“Do you still have a lifeboat station here?” she asked.

“I wish,” he said.

How many times had he stood staring at this painting, imagining himself on that boat, fighting the seas, on his way to save lives?

“Now the Coast Guard handles all the rescues. In the old days almost all the islands had manned boats, because it took the authorities much longer to get to the site of a wreck. Now, once someone radios the helicopters can be in the air in a matter of minutes. The private rescue units aren’t needed anymore. I think the last one was disbanded here in the nineteen-seventies.”

“Hmm.”

It was a noncommittal sound, and he figured the conversation was over. “Shall we head over to the surgery?”

“Sure,” she said, but she stared at the painting a little longer before turning away.

He led her out through the other side of the building, which took them onto the main street through the village. This time of the afternoon, there weren’t many people around, but he knew many of the residents were peeping out from behind their curtains. Everyone knew the nurse was arriving today. Everyone was curious.

As they walked he pointed out the Post Office, the grocery store, the pub, and Sanjit’s restaurant, thinking them the most important.

“The Ladies from Hades?” she said, obviously catching sight of the pub sign, with a kilted and armed Highlander painted on it.

“It’s a play on the nickname for a famous Scottish regiment.”

“The Black Watch,” she said, surprising him. “Must have been opened by an ex-military man. And you have a curry shop here too?”

He wanted to ask how she knew about the Black Watch and their World War I nickname, but left it for another time.

“We’re actually very lucky,” he explained, speaking a little louder than usual because of the sound of her suitcase bumping along behind him over the cobbles. He’d left the sliver of sidewalk to her and her high heels, since the last thing he needed was for her to twist her ankle before she even started working. “Eilean Rurie has attracted a variety of artists, farmers, and business people over the years, making our population rather more eclectic than some of the other islands.”

“Like the owner of the curry shop?”

“Exactly. Sanjit Gopaul came here on vacation with his parents and, for whatever reason, fell in love with the island. He came back and asked if I’d be willing to let him open a restaurant, and I said sure. That was five years ago. He’s been an amazing addition to the island and shows no signs of wanting to leave. In fact, he also runs a canoe rental and tour operation during the summer, and he’s always looking for new businesses to start.”

“Including that jet thing?”

There was no mistaking the disapproval in her voice, and his look at her profile found it echoed there in her pursed lips. It made Cam’s hackles rise a bit.

“Yes, like the water jetpack. I was sad to have to tell him no. It was a lot of fun. Wouldn’t you like to have a go?”

She gave him a bland look, all censure erased from her expression. “I should say not. I’m not into that kind of thing.”

Striving for a light tone, he teased, “What kind of thing? Having fun?”

Looking into the window of the shop they were passing, she replied, “More like stuff that’ll get you killed or maimed.”

“Ha! It’s safe as houses if you’re careful and know what you’re doing.”

The skeptical look she gave him scorched him to his toes.

“No wonder you didn’t give him permission to offer it to visitors.” Then, as if tired of the discussion, she changed the subject completely. “Your village is beautiful—although I’ll admit when I first saw the island from the ferry I thought it looked like something out of a very scary story.”

That made Cam chuckle, even though he still felt the sting of her retort about the jetpack. He knew the exact vista she was talking about.

“Eigg Point, no doubt—before you round the headland and see the village. That sheer black cliff with the sea foaming around its base does look like it belongs in a horror movie on a misty, overcast day like today. On a sunny day, though, when the hills are so startlingly green they look like they were drawn with crayon and the water is smooth and clear, it’s very different. There’s the surgery,” he added, pointing across the grassy village green to the three-story building beyond.

“That’s your surgery? It looks more like a fancy hotel!”

Cam chuckled. “My great-grandfather built it to try and attract a decent doctor to take up residence. I used to tease my grandfather that he only took up medicine so he’d be able to work in the second nicest building on the island. He didn’t deny it.”

“I don’t blame him,” she said.

The appreciation in her voice was pleasing.

“Normally I’d cut across the green to get to the surgery, but it’s pretty wet right now and your heels would sink in.”

“Thank you.”

She had a prim way of speaking he rather liked, and an intriguing way of pronouncing some words that gave unusual flavor to an otherwise very North London voice. Caitlin had mentioned that Harmony’s mother’s family had originally come from Jamaica, and he thought he could hear an echo of that migration in the nurse’s voice. It was so nice, especially with its husky tone, he was tempted to keep her talking so he could go on hearing it.

“Patients come in through either the front door or the one closest to the car park on the north side,” he told her as they approached the surgery. “But you have your own entrance on the other side.”

Cam led her around the building, and as they got to the door heard her give a little gasp.

“Oh! What’s that back there?”

She was looking up the hill through the trees, along the track he used every day.

“That’s the nicest building on the island—Rurie Manor.”

Big hazel eyes stared at him. “You live there?”

“Yeah,” he said, opening the outer door and holding it for her, once more pleased at her awestruck reaction to his home. “But only in a small part of it. Most of the Manor is a hotel now.”

Harmony turned back to stare at the Manor a moment more, before stepping through the door and into the entryway.

Cam glanced at his watch. Time to test his glucose levels.

Handing her the keys, he said, “There’s another door at the top of the stairs, and the door behind me leads into the surgery, so I sometimes come in this way, but otherwise you’ll be the only person using it. Go on up and check out your apartment, and I’ll bring up your suitcase in a moment.”

“Thank you.”

Her slightly stiff reply made him want to break the ice a little more. He was used to a relaxed atmosphere in his practice and hoped to establish that type of working relationship with her too. Even with his niggling suspicion he should actually keep her as distant as he could. Just standing in the small entryway she seemed too close, with her citrusy perfume warming the air between them and those golden eyes surveying him with solemn intensity.

“Hopefully life on the island won’t seem too tame and boring for you after living and working in London. At least Christmas should be exciting.”

His words stumbled to a halt, arrested by the flash of pain crossing her face.

“I’m looking forward to the quiet,” she said, turning toward the steps and hitching her tote bag higher. “And Christmas can pass me by and I won’t complain.”

Had he somehow put his foot in his mouth? He couldn’t see how. Everyone loved Christmas, didn’t they?

But even as he was trying to figure out what he’d said wrong he found himself staring once more at her delectable rear end, until it sashayed around the corner of the landing and disappeared.

CHAPTER THREE

HARMONY STOOD IN the middle of the apartment, not even taking in the space around her, annoyed at herself for being so curt with her new employer. Not to mention for the sarcastic comment she’d made to him earlier about the water jetpack.

It wasn’t really like her to be that way, but hearing him make light of her innate dislike of risky behavior had irked her—so, like her mother always said, she’d run her mouth, speaking before thinking.

But there was something about him that had put her on edge from the first time she’d looked him in the eyes. He was, she had to admit, a fine specimen. Handsome, in a rugged, outdoorsy kind of way, with brown hair just shy of ginger and blue-gray eyes, his looks alone made him a standout. Couple his face with a body that looked amazing even in a wetsuit, and Harmony knew he must make women’s heads turn faster than wheels on ice.

But it wasn’t his looks that were making her snarky. There was an air about him—an aura of confidence and ease that, conversely, made her tense and jumpy. And when he’d mentioned Christmas, just as she’d promised herself a hiatus from the entire season, it had brought all her pain flooding back.

For almost as long as she could remember Christmas had been a special time for Mum, Gran and Harmony. There was always a flurry of baking, both English treats and Jamaican. And a night specially planned to trim the tree while listening to a variety of holiday music or old movies.

They’d also watch Greetings from Yaad, an hour-long special filmed in Jamaica, in which people could wish their loved ones in England a Merry Christmas. Harmony had used to dislike the amateurishly filmed show, until Gran had said, “We may not know any of these people, but it makes me happy to hear the accents of my youth.”

That had always led to conversations about old times in Jamaica, and even how things had been for Gran when she’d first moved to England. She’d been part of the Windrush generation, coming from the colonies to help with the rebuilding efforts in the UK after World War II. She’d had to leave all her family behind, including Mum, but once she’d gotten herself a job and somewhere to live she’d started saving so she could send for her husband and daughter.

Grandpa had decided he didn’t want to live in England, so eventually Mum had travelled to the UK with her Uncle Shorty, Gran’s brother. Uncle Shorty, a perennial bachelor, had settled in Birmingham, but had come to visit every Christmas until he died, adding to the family fun. Harmony could still remember his plaid driving cap, his booming laugh and the way the scent of smoke and cologne clung to his clothes.

On Christmas Eve they’d have neighbors and friends in and out of the house, each one of them bringing a little gift, receiving goodies in return.

Until they’d passed away her other grandparents had come too, on Christmas morning, even after Dad hadn’t been there anymore, and all Harmony remembered was the joy and closeness. The laughter and sometimes a few shared tears too.

All that was gone now—and darn Dr. MacRurie for reminding her of what she’d lost this year.

But it wouldn’t do to start their working relationship off on a bad footing, and she wondered if it would be politic to apologize to him for her behavior.

Harmony considered that option, then dismissed it. Unless he brought it up, she wouldn’t either. Less said, soonest mended, right?

Suddenly realizing she was in danger of having the doctor come up and find her still standing there like a ninny, Harmony quickly took off her coat and shoes, stowing them in the entryway closet. Then she took a really good look around.

The apartment was a lot larger than she’d expected, with an L-shaped living and dining room and a kitchen almost as big as her mum’s. There were also not two but three good-sized bedrooms, all tastefully decorated with a combination of new and more traditional furniture. And the bathroom, with its deep soaker tub and a separate shower, made her coo.

The entire space had obviously been modernized, but whoever had done it had been careful to keep a lot of the original Victorian elements. The living room fireplace, which was lit, had the most amazing carved mantel and pillars, along with a tile surround and hearth. There were medallions on the ceiling, and intricately carved jambs around the doors. Even the door knobs were decorative, and Harmony found herself smiling as she palmed one of the floral patterned porcelain ovoids.

She staked out the bedroom she wanted, which had a sleigh bed and large windows that were letting in the last of the afternoon light. Outside was a tiny balcony, just big enough for a miniscule wrought-iron table and matching chair, and in the distance was Rurie Manor, sitting in solitary splendor on the top of a gently sloping hill.

It looked gorgeous, and she wondered if she’d get a chance to see the inside. Although if it had been turned into a hotel, she might be disappointed.

Hearing Dr. MacRurie coming up the stairs, she went back into the living area just as he came through the front door.

“Here you go,” he said, putting down her suitcase, seemingly not at all put out by her ill-mannered behavior. “Have you decided which room you want? I’ll put your case on the luggage stand for you.”

“Thank you. That one,” she said, pointing to the still open door, determined to put her best foot forward.

He wheeled the suitcase across the living area, speaking as he went. “I hope you’ll be comfortable here. Caitlin and her husband had a dog, so I gave them a cottage instead—for convenience. Knowing you’d have to be here over the holidays, I figured this place is big enough that if you have someone come for Christmas they can stay with you.”

There he went with the whole Christmas thing again!

“I won’t.” It came instinctively, pain pushing the brusque words out. Drawing herself up, and not wanting to sound as churlish as she felt, she added, “But thank you.”

“Oh.” He’d put her bag in the room and was standing in the doorway, his gaze sharp. But all he said was “Well, if that changes you’ll be all set. But if not at least you won’t be bored. This time of year is nice and busy.”

“This time of year? What’s so special about it?”

Giving her a surprised glance, he said, “Caitlin didn’t tell you?” Then he answered his own question. “Of course, she had other things on her mind. Eilean Rurie is famous for its Winter Festival. Well, it used to be called the Christmas Festival until the eighties, when my grandfather changed the name. We’re called the North Pole of Scotland, and we attract hundreds of people every year.”

Oh, come on.

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Nope.”

He gave her one of his killer smiles, and Harmony’s stomach fluttered, making her look away in case her reaction showed.

“Did you know that celebrating Christmas—well, really it was Yule back then—was banned in Scotland in the sixteenth century? Christmas Day wasn’t made a public holiday until 1958, and Boxing Day was only recognized in the seventies. My great-grandfather decided he wanted to make the holidays a big splash, and encouraged all the islanders to do it too, once the ban was officially lifted. It evolved into the Christmas Festival, and then the Winter Festival, and it’s grown with each year.”

Plunking herself down onto the squishy sofa, Harmony only just stopped herself from putting her head in her hands in disbelief. Hundreds of people, running around singing carols and doing who knew what else?

Just shoot me now!

Yet the smile on the doctor’s face told her there was only one of them in the room who viewed the upcoming festivities with horror. The happy anticipation on his face spoke volumes, and it made Harmony pull herself together once more, even while wondering how many other times this man was going to throw her off-kilter.

“How on earth do you accommodate hundreds of people here? The village doesn’t look big enough.”

“Well, the manor has a lot of rooms, and most of the villagers offer bed and breakfast services, using their spare rooms, or even small apartments attached to their houses. Most of the temporary staff are island kids coming back for winter break, but the others who don’t have a place to stay have dormitories behind the church. A couple of really entrepreneurial souls have even put up a few tiny houses on their properties, and rent those out to visitors. We also get quite a few daytrippers, and the ferry runs more frequently to accommodate them. Most of the residents benefit in some way from the festival. If they didn’t we wouldn’t bother. It’s a lot of work.”

Harmony shook her head in disbelief, still not sure he was telling the truth. “But there’s nothing going on. No one’s putting up lights or decorating.”

“It’s too early,” he said, somewhat cryptically, then added, “Poke around downstairs tomorrow, if you like, or just rest up from your trip. The surgery is closed on Saturday afternoon, and Sunday, although everyone on the island has my number and will call if they need me. I’ve made a list of numbers and left it on the hall table for you, in case you need anything, and the CIs have stocked the fridge—although, who knows what they put in there? Ingrid’s a vegan, and Katherine’s always on some kind of diet, Dora has a sweet tooth that won’t quit, and Sela is crazy for cheese.”

By the time he’d finished his recitation Harmony found herself chuckling. “I’m sure I’ll be able to make a meal of whatever they’ve left, and I’ll bless Dora forever if there’s a chocolate something in amongst the rest.”

Cam was grinning too. “I have no doubt there is, but if you feel up to it nip over to the pub too. They do a really great Scotch pie on Saturdays.”

“Maybe I will,” she said.

“Right, well… I have to go. Final planning meeting tonight, and it will no doubt be a fractious one. When we get to this time of year they usually are, because everyone is so frazzled and behind on everything. If you need anything give me a shout. I always have my phone on me.”

He paused halfway out through the door.

“Oh, and there’s an Armistice Day ceremony at the cenotaph on Monday, starting at ten. Come along, if you’d like.”

Then he was gone, clattering down the stairs, leaving her to wonder why, when she had been so determined to stay away from Christmas, she’d landed in the North Pole of Scotland. And why, having decided to ignore men, she found her boss so damned handsome.

Cam had been right about the meeting being contentious, but he couldn’t seem to keep his mind on the grumbles and arguments going on around him. Instead he found himself thinking about his new nurse. Her sometimes curt way of speaking, juxtaposed with her delightful throaty giggle as he listed the CIs eating habits, made her a fascinating enigma. And, yes, her delicious looks.

Even though he wasn’t interested in relationships he was still all-male—able and willing to appreciate a beautiful face and a lovely curvy figure. As long as he remembered he could look but not touch, it was all good.

“Melanie, the theme was decided back in February. It’s not our fault if you’ve not gotten on board with it.”

At the sound of Dora’s firm rebuttal Cam pulled his thoughts away from Harmony Kinkaid and back to the battle of wills going on in front of him.

“But it’s silly. We did Love as a theme before. Why do it again?”

Melanie was as stubborn as ever, and as one of Scotland’s best-known living potters always felt her word should be law. But Dora never fell in line with that concept.

“That was nigh on twenty years ago. And what better theme could we have for the Winter Festival than that? No matter the religion, or the holiday, love is at the center of them all, isn’t it?”

Cam intervened, before things got too heated.

“Melanie, you know full well it’s too late to change the theme, so either you’ve gone with it or not. The choice was yours.”

Then Hugh Jacobson had a complaint about the decision to extend the festival hours to ten at night. “The strain on the electricity grid will increase, along with the costs. I don’t subscribe to this.”

Cam doubted that was his real reason for complaining. Hugh was probably worried that the extra noise and lights would disturb his mother, but didn’t want to come right out and say so.

“Hugh, the new wind turbine provides more than enough power to cover the additional load, and the generators were serviced last month. The increased revenue for us all will more than offset any additional costs, so I’m sure we’ll be fine.”

“But the noise…the lights on until so late. It’s untenable.”

“I’ll buy you some blackout curtains when I go to the mainland next Wednesday,” Sela interjected, and although Hugh still looked unhappy the meeting moved on.

Afterwards Cam realized he wasn’t the only one thinking about Nurse Kinkaid—although, perhaps not in the same way.

“I thought your new nurse might have come to the meeting. She looks as though she’d be a good addition to the planning team” was Dora’s opening sally.

The last thing Cam wanted was to spend more time with Harmony Kinkaid than necessary. His unsettling reaction to her made keeping her at arm’s length a good thing. Besides, every time he’d mentioned Christmas she had withdrawn at the talk of the season.

But there was no way he was letting Dora and the rest of the nosy CIs know that. His nurse would get no peace until they’d ferreted out the reason for her aversion.

So, trying to protect her as best he could, he said, “First off, let her settle in a bit before you expect her to get into the middle of island life. And, secondly, she’s only going to be here for a short time. Why would you think she’d be interested?”

“Oh, I don’t know that she will be, but it’s always nice to have a fresh face and a new viewpoint in the proceedings. I’m hoping she’ll lend a hand once she finds her feet.”

Thankfully, before he had to think up another round of excuses as to why Harmony probably wouldn’t, Dora and the other ladies were departing with hugs and waves, according to their personal preference.

As he strode down Main Street Cam considered the unlikely friends, each so different and yet all completely devoted to the others. They were the soul and the backbone of the Winter Festival—a point Cam had to concede, despite being almost always annoyed with their attempts to interfere in his life too.

Their organizational skills alone were worth their collective weight in gold, but along with that they also contributed in so many other ways. Designing and sewing costumes, painting backdrops, deciding on the lighting for the public areas and the decoration of the green, making sure everyone who needed help got it… The list went on and on.

If they’d just accept the fact that Cam wasn’t the type to be controlled or tied down, and nor would he be guilt-tripped into things, they’d all get along much better. He’d had enough of that growing up—from his mother. The last thing he needed now was to have four more women fussing over him, trying to get him to do what they thought was best.

When he’d been diagnosed as a type 1 diabetic at the age of four, his mother’s reaction had been to coddle him, fearful of what might happen if he did any of the normal childhood activities. If it hadn’t been for his grandfather, taking him in hand at the age of eleven and teaching Cam how to control his disease, encouraging him to be more adventurous, Cam had no idea how he might have turned out.

Nearing the cemetery, Cam instinctively turned in, walking the familiar path to the spot under a gnarled and now bare oak where a number of his ancestors were interred.

“Evening, Grand-Da,” he said, reaching down to brush a couple of late-fallen leaves off his grandfather’s headstone. “Just left the planning meeting. All the usual nonsense for this time of year. I wonder if there’ll ever be a time where things run smoothly.”

The bench was cold, yet dry, and the evening breeze brisk, but Cam settled in for a little visit. Stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jacket, he looked up at the sickle moon.

“Got a new temporary nurse in today and I’m hoping she’ll work out okay.”

He was hoping more than anything else that Harmony Kinkaid wouldn’t turn the relatively stable island world upside down.

Wouldn’t turn his world upside down.

As long as she did her job, he shouldn’t care about anything else. He just needed to get through the winter rush with someone he could count on to keep the surgery going and his patients taken care of, along with aiding with any injuries. After that he’d have the time and head space to find a permanent employee.

All he could hope for was a certain level of professionalism and competence from Harmony Kinkaid. If she could produce that, all would be well.