Книга - Midwife Under The Mistletoe

Midwife Under The Mistletoe
Karin Baine


A kiss under the mistletoe…A family for Christmas?GP Fraser McColl longs to be part of a loving family, but past experience has taught him he’s better off alone. Only when he's thrown together with gorgeous yet guarded midwife Iona Munro, to care for two children at Christmas, he’s tempted to believe in miracles… After one passionate night together, can he persuade Iona that they deserve a lifetime of happiness—together?







A kiss under the mistletoe...

A family for Christmas?

GP Fraser McColl longs to be part of a loving family, but past experience has taught him he’s better off alone. Only, thrown together with gorgeous yet guarded midwife Iona Munro, to care for two children at Christmas, he’s tempted to believe in miracles... After one passionate night together, can he persuade Iona that they deserve a lifetime of happiness—together?

“Both the main characters were riveting...Ms. Baine has delivered a wonderful read where the chemistry between this couple was intense....”

—Harlequin Junkie on Their Mistletoe Baby

“Ms. Baine brings these two truly lovely people together and both learn that together they can conquer anything. A very moving story you will truly enjoy.”

—Goodreads on From Fling to Wedding Ring


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 (https://twitter.com/@karinbaine1), or visit her website for the latest news—karinbaine.com (http://www.karinbaine.com).


Also by Karin Baine (#u6142c713-cbd1-5409-9f02-dbe1f719002f)

French Fling to Forever

A Kiss to Change Her Life

The Doctor’s Forbidden Fling

The Courage to Love Her Army Doc

Falling for the Foster Mum

Reforming the Playboy

Their Mistletoe Baby

From Fling to Wedding Ring

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk).


Midwife Under the Mistletoe

Karin Baine






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


ISBN: 978-1-474-07546-6

MIDWIFE UNDER THE MISTLETOE

© 2018 Karin Baine

Published in Great Britain 2018

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.

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www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


For Catherine, Chellie, Julia and Laurie,

who helped me get this book into shape,

and a shout out to Aunt Sadie and Nigel.

A donation has been made to an ICP charity

on behalf of my sister Jemma’s ‘little itch’—Maisie.


Contents

Cover (#u68bc52d2-4503-5c4c-a25d-9ba86de62e8c)

Back Cover Text (#u2562ba43-74d4-5020-9986-509ca42b9c53)

About the Author (#u8e54020c-4277-57de-941d-27b12bfb1091)

Booklist (#uf3af413f-85e7-59d4-b23f-be8a3bb6bc24)

Title Page (#u7950095b-09e2-5300-b701-d90ee10af7bd)

Copyright (#u97e995cd-c310-5ff1-ac1d-266720f6a2cf)

Dedication (#u8b266810-7c76-51ac-b208-534a50cb5902)

CHAPTER ONE (#u22ace15f-aacb-5553-afcf-5cbba3f2daa9)

CHAPTER TWO (#u29c50cf0-742d-5ba9-a84b-7c68d2a60996)

CHAPTER THREE (#uabfaf3ba-3fa8-59b4-932b-e4cfff26f2d9)

CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)

EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)


CHAPTER ONE (#u6142c713-cbd1-5409-9f02-dbe1f719002f)

‘ANYONE WOULD THINK I had baby brain,’ Iona muttered as she retrieved her perfectly good pen from the bin, where she’d tossed it along with the wet paper towel.

‘Are you sure you don’t?’ Della, her heavily pregnant last appointment of the day, enquired with a grin.

‘I’m one hundred percent positive on that score.’ You needed to have had some sort of relations in order for that to happen and Iona had been a born-again virgin since moving to the tranquillity of the Scottish Highlands. A serious relationship was the last thing she wanted to get entangled in when she was just beginning to get her life together at last.

Although baby brain wasn’t an actual recognised medical condition Iona did believe the to-do list for mothers and mothers-to-be could easily push other thoughts from mind. Her lapses in memory today were more likely to be new-house brain. She’d received the keys to her first non-share, non-rented flat this morning and couldn’t wait to finish work and go home for the first time.

‘That’s a shame. I was hoping for a buddy to go to mother and baby club with at the church hall.’

‘Sorry to disappoint. Maybe when you’re planning baby number three we can co-ordinate our schedules.’

Iona took the teasing with a pinch of salt because a child of her own was never going to happen. She loved the innocence of a newborn and the pure joy they brought to families and had her personal experiences been different she would’ve loved to have been a mother herself.

Unfortunately, having a baby meant tying yourself to the father for the rest of your life, with no escape, and she wouldn’t trust another man enough to make that sort of commitment again. She’d seen her parents caught in that trap, persevering with a long-dead marriage for the sake of their child, until they’d ended up resenting each other. In her effort to escape the toxic atmosphere she’d attached herself much too young to the dashing Andy, marrying him straight out of school. Only to find herself in an abusive relationship that she knew she would never have left if children had been involved too. It had taken her long enough just to get herself out of it.

No, Iona was happy to remain on the spectator side of pregnancy as a midwife. She was keen to help and support mothers until their babies had been safely delivered and monitor them for as long as they needed it, but her obligation didn’t go beyond a medical capacity. At the end of the day the babies went home with their mothers and she wasn’t beholden to anyone but herself and her job. She hadn’t gone back to school and spent years retraining as a midwife to throw it all away for another man.

Della laughed, clutching her beachball belly. There was definitely a glow in the women who came to the clinic to see Iona and whilst she might experience a pang of regret she’d never get to go through the joys of pregnancy herself, she’d accepted it. Conventional motherhood dictated a lifestyle she wasn’t prepared to give up her newfound freedom for.

She dipped the test paper into her patient’s urine sample and checked it against the colour chart for analysis. ‘Hmm, there’s a slight trace of protein. Excess protein can be a sign of a urinary tract infection so we’ll have to keep an eye on that in future appointments and if you experience any other symptoms, let me know straight away. Other than that, I’d say pregnancy is agreeing with you.’

Protein in the urine could also be an indicator of kidney damage or other disorders, including pre-eclampsia, but since Della’s blood pressure was normal and this was the first sign of a problem, Iona didn’t deem it necessary to worry her. If repeat tests showed similar readings she would send a sample to the lab for testing.

She tossed the used stick in the bin and gave her hands another wash. After Dr Irvine’s retirement she’d been temporarily upgraded to using this room to treat her patients. Although she was glad of the extra space, she had been sorry to see him go. The senior GP partner—whom she suspected had been practising medicine when Highlanders had still roamed these hills—had made the decision to take her on here at the clinic permanently. It was a position for which she’d be grateful for ever when it had provided her with the financial independence she’d long dreamed about.

Jim, as he’d insisted she call him, had been a true gent with an old-school approach to treating his patients. He’d known everyone in Culcranna by name and had always had time for those who’d needed him. As a result, he’d been well loved and respected. Only time would tell about his replacement, Dr McColl, who’d taken over as senior partner now Jim was content to spend his retirement on the golf course.

Although Fraser McColl was closer to her age than his predecessor, there was a stern quality in his manner that put her on edge and had caused a few run-ins between them. The latest had been his decision to cancel the staff Christmas party usually held on the premises out of hours. He’d called it unprofessional, made noises about it not being covered by insurance and she’d fought him on the issue because she’d been so looking forward to experiencing the tradition she’d heard so much about. Her colleagues had made the annual shindig sound so much fun she’d imagined it would be the perfect way to mark her first Christmas in the village.

Fraser had refused to back down, probably because he’d never understand how much her new job and new home meant to her. By all accounts he came from a family of means, with land and a title to boot, so a tiny flat and a steady income were probably inconsequential to him when they were everything to Iona.

Despite her rallying cry to the rest of the staff to protest, Fraser had imposed so many restrictions on the celebrations they’d been forced into a staid dinner at the nearest restaurant instead. Iona thought his stance on the matter was more about him letting the power go to his head than any insurance issues and had told him so in a fit of pique.

Since then they’d had a few minor rows, more to do with their clash of personalities than to any professional discourse. Iona didn’t appreciate anyone imposing unjustified restrictions on her after enduring a lifetime of that with her ex, and apparently Fraser didn’t gel well with people who didn’t fall into line. Which was tough luck for him because she was no longer prepared to tailor who she was to suit the needs of others.

There was no doubting Fraser’s skills or popularity as one of the practice doctors but his tendency to take over certain situations wasn’t a character trait she was keen on these days. With his dark, wavy hair and piercing green eyes he certainly cut a dashing figure in the sleepy village that even Iona wasn’t immune to. Whilst he had some of the local ladies hot under their cardigans, he reminded her of the men in her past who’d tried to stunt her personal growth. There was too much apparent control freakery about him for her to drop her defences, or any item of clothing, and she hated herself for finding him remotely attractive.

Perhaps if he kept his mouth shut she could enjoy the view at least, without having her hackles raised along with her pulse.

‘You wouldn’t be saying that if you saw me in the wee hours of the morning, running to the loo every five minutes, or when my insides are on fire with heartburn.’ Della shuffled her bottom to the edge of the chair before attempting to get to her feet, trying to balance the extra weight she was carrying around her middle.

Iona gave her a hand rather than watch her struggle like a turtle flipped onto its back, trying to right itself.

‘Well, you haven’t long to go now. I’ll see you in a couple of weeks if you don’t go into labour before then.’ They’d discussed Della having to be induced if she went too far past her predicted due date but as this was her second pregnancy with no previous complications, Iona wasn’t expecting she would require medical intervention.

‘Thanks. I can’t wait to have this little bundle in my arms.’ That tender belly-rub every mother-to-be performed in here made Iona think about her own mum and the excitement she must’ve felt before her impending birth. A woman didn’t carry and protect her baby for nine months expecting they’d both end up trapped in a life neither of them wanted.

She swallowed the rising sob in her chest. They were both free from those soul-destroying relationships now. It was just a tragedy it had come at the price of her mother’s death.

‘Your daughter will be here soon enough.’ Iona handed Della’s antenatal notes back to her with a smile. This was supposed to be a happy time for both of them. She had her own baby to get back to—her shiny new flat—and since they were three-quarters of the way through December she’d even treated herself to some new Christmas decorations. Some might say she’d gone overboard but she had enough to brighten up this dreary place too and really mark her first Christmas in the village.

* * *

‘I need these bloods sent off to the lab, there’s a pile of hospital referrals that need to be chased up, and this is Mrs Robertson’s prescription. Her husband’s going to call in before closing. I’ve informed him we usually require forty-eight hours for repeat prescriptions and we can’t keep on doing this.’

‘But she is eighty-three and we have to make allowances,’ Sheila, Fraser’s secretary, reminded him as she took the stack of paperwork from him with a nod and set it on her desk.

‘It doesn’t mean I have to be happy about it.’ He had enough to do without these last-minute requests to deal with too.

Taking on the role of senior partner brought with it a lot of extra form filling and bureaucracy but it was a position he revelled in. It gave him an extra say in how the practice was run and that would make him infinitely happier in his work. Structure and boundaries gave him a sense of security, an assurance he was doing things right. It was when he strayed from the rules that things fell apart. Okay, so he was no longer that over-active little boy whose parents had sent him to boarding school so he wouldn’t disturb his sick mother, but he’d learned his lesson since then. If he played by the rules there was a place for him and things would work out fine. Now he simply had to get everyone else to fall in line with him.

Not all of Jim Irvine’s practices adhered with that idea of running a smooth clinic. Now, there was a man who hadn’t bothered too much about form filling or adhering to schedules. That kind of reckless approach had led to inevitable chaos and caused a run-on effect that could have seen the practice run into the ground if not for Fraser picking up the slack to keep the place afloat.

At least Sheila, his second-in-command, who’d been here since the year dot, appreciated how hard he was working to make these changes a success and could be relied on to keep on top of things. Sure, some of his forward-thinking ideas were going to rub a few members of staff up the wrong way. One particular community midwife with chestnut-coloured curls, who thrived on challenging his authority, sprang to mind, having made it clear she preferred his predecessor’s slap dash ethos to his.

When Iona had first started working at the clinic Fraser had been pleased they’d drafted in some new blood to bring some modern thinking into the outdated practice and lower the average age of the village population at the same time. There weren’t many single, young women in the vicinity but if he’d harboured any nonsensical ideas about finding someone else to settle down with again, Iona had put paid to that with her rebellion against his attempts to bring some structure to the practice.

She refused to attend his weekly meetings regarding the cleaning rota for the staffroom on the basis she ate her meals in her car and was solely responsible for its upkeep. Then there was the argument they’d had over the clutter Iona seemed to accumulate in her room. She’d told him in no uncertain terms that it was her territory and as long as it was clean and functional it was not Fraser’s concern.

It seemed Iona preferred to tackle problems as they came in rather than pre-empt them. He’d been there with Caroline, his last girlfriend, and wasn’t prepared to go through it again. Caroline had let him imagine they had a future together, planning that happy family with him he’d long been denied. Only she’d decided at the last minute it wasn’t what she wanted at all and had blamed him for apparently not being true to her, or himself. Whatever that meant.

So he’d ploughed all of his energy back into work instead of the domestic bliss he’d been promised. He wasn’t going to let another flighty woman steal his dreams from him when a new efficient way of working would better serve patients and staff alike.

Whether Iona Munro liked it or not, his new system was getting results. His last patient had been and gone and he was finishing for the day bang on time. Simply by sticking to the ten-minute time slots for each appointment, everything was running like clockwork. He’d say that was a resounding success and a score for all of the Type A personalities out there.

‘I’ll get on to these straight away, Dr McColl,’ Sheila called after him since he’d already left the main office to check all patients had left the premises. At this time of the evening, as the working day was winding down, the hubbub outside the treatment rooms had usually died down, but there were still a few voices ringing out from the reception area. Any out-of-hours emergencies now should have been referred to the hospital or the doctor on call for the area.

The notion that his perfectly executed schedule had been thrown into disarray ploughed grooves across Fraser’s forehead even before he was met with the debacle in the waiting area.

‘Lift your side up a little higher. Left a bit. How does that look now? Is it straight?’ Iona was balanced on a chair, trying to pin a gaudy gold-foil garland to the ceiling, with Victoria, the receptionist, as her partner in crime.

‘What the—?’ Fraser stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of Iona, barefoot and on tiptoe, breaking every health and safety rule in the workplace. He was in danger of hyperventilating as he did a quick risk assessment of the scene.

‘Oh, hi, Fraser. I thought we could brighten the place up and make it look less sterile in here.’ Unlike the rest of the staff, who quickly made themselves scarce, Iona carried on decorating as though she was perfectly entitled to do as she pleased. It was one thing managing her own caseload but she didn’t have any authority outside that.

‘It’s supposed to be sterile!’ Fraser didn’t want to lose his temper when that would be a sign he wasn’t in control. Although the garish garlands draped across every available space, transforming the beige room into an eyesore of gold and red, hinted he hadn’t asserted his authority here as much as he’d believed.

‘Lighten up, Fraser. It’s Christmas. If you’re worried about the cost, it’s coming from my own pocket, not yours.

‘Fraser.’ This was exactly why she rubbed him up the wrong way. Iona gave no thought for the rules or decorum in the workplace, or anywhere else for that matter. The patients loved her easygoing persona but for Fraser that free spirit vibe was unsettling, as was anything that didn’t fit into his idea of conformity. It upset that safe environment he was trying to set up here, and quite frankly he didn’t know how to handle it.

Fraser had mistakenly believed Caroline had been the one person who’d understood him when they’d made their plans to get married and settle down into quiet family life, but when his father had died and he’d inherited the family estate he’d discovered the truth. Once Fraser had the means to make those dreams a reality Caroline had confessed they’d been nothing more than an idea she’d been paying lip service to, not a legitimate option. That level of deception had ultimately ended their relationship and Fraser’s hope for the future.

This was different, though. Iona wasn’t a love interest, so her casual attitude to life shouldn’t bother him on a personal level, but she was a staff member and they had rules in place here for a reason.

‘I appreciate the gesture,’ Fraser said diplomatically, doing his best to remain calm. Iona didn’t know him personally so wouldn’t understand the issues he had with the whole palaver at this time of the year.

They’d never gone in for the whole over-the-top lead up to Christmas at boarding school and the death of his mother on Christmas Eve had cemented Fraser’s dislike of the season. It was a reminder of the childhood he’d lost and the family that had never recovered from the devastation of cancer. Now he dreaded that last week in December more than ever since it was also the anniversary of his break-up with Caroline.

He’d made the mistake of trying to embrace Christmas last year in an effort to make it special for her with an over-the-top marriage proposal, including a horse-drawn sleigh and carol singers serenading them along the ride. Only she’d turned him down on the basis that he was ‘being fake’. Fraser couldn’t win and was now even less likely to get caught up in the fuss, reverting back to his true Grinchy self, unwilling to be one of those people who lost their minds for the sake of one anti-climactic day.

On the rare occasions his parents had retrieved Fraser for the holidays it had been a non-event anyway. They’d gone through the motions without ever getting bogged down in the sentiment. Whilst he’d yearned for this infantile nonsense as a child far from home, he’d learned to live without it.

Iona carried on making her mark on the recently painted ceiling, humming Christmas carols and reminding Fraser what a very long month December could be when you weren’t in the festive spirit.

‘As I said, I appreciate the gesture but we can’t have all of this cluttering up the surgery.’ He would’ve told her that if she’d sought his permission in the first place.

‘I think the patients will love it. It gives them something to focus on other than their aches and pains.’

Sure. They’d all end up with tinsel blindness on top of everything else.

‘I’m sorry, it’ll all have to go. It’s a health and safety hazard.’ Fraser began to detach the string of fairy lights from the reception desk.

‘Okay, I’ll give you the lights. They haven’t been assessed by a registered electrician but they are bonny. Perhaps I could bung more tinsel there instead. I have some neon pink somewhere...’ Iona clearly wasn’t going to give this up without a fight and, as had become the custom, Fraser would have to get tough to have his opinion heard.

He ripped down the cardboard Father Christmas she’d stuck to the counter and hoped it wouldn’t leave any sticky marks behind. ‘It’s all going to have to come down.’

Iona stopped this time. ‘You’re kidding me, right?’

‘I don’t kid.’ He reached his hand up and tugged the large blue and silver foil star dangling from the ceiling until the tack holding it in place dislodged and pinged to the floor. This was exactly what he was talking about. One drawing pin in the wrong person’s foot and they could be facing a lawsuit. Luckily for them both he spotted the gold pin glinting on the dark carpet and retrieved it before it damaged more than his peace of mind.

‘What harm can a few decorations do?’ Iona faced him, her displeasure flaring in her big brown eyes and her full lips pursed into a tight line. It didn’t thrill him to note he was the one with the power to steal away the twinkling smile she wore for everyone else.

‘They’re a breeding ground for germs with so many sick people coming and going. Then there’s the dust. Think of how many asthma patients we have. Our appointment list is full enough without putting it under more stress.’ Deep down Fraser knew he was grasping for excuses but coming into the clinic every morning and being reminded of the worst days of his life was too much for him to bear.

‘Okay. Okay. I get it. I was only trying to do something nice. Talk about dampening the mood,’ she muttered as though he wasn’t there, and began dismantling her ceiling display.

‘I know, but perhaps next time you could check with me first instead of going rogue?’ Fraser understood her intentions had been good and would’ve preferred not to fuel this animosity between them, but Iona’s spur-of-the-moment actions were infuriating when they impeached on his carefully laid plans and tugged on emotions that needed to remain dormant for the remainder of this dreaded month.

‘Yes, sir.’ With her anger clearly still bubbling away, Iona yanked down the bunting she’d only finished hanging.

Fraser watched in horror as she tottered on the chair, clearly off balance, her arms freewheeling in the air as she fell.

With lightning-fast reflexes he rushed over and caught her in his arms before she hit the floor. Iona’s yelp softened to a gasp as he hooked a hand under her knees and one under her arms. Instinctively she latched her arms around his neck but that contact and the strong grip she had on him almost startled him into dropping her again.

The adrenaline rush was making them both breathe heavily and in that moment, holding her in his arms, their faces almost touching, it was easy to forget what they’d been fighting over, or even where they were.

She weighed very little, reminding him how delicate she appeared to be beyond the bravado. Despite her petite frame, she projected herself as a larger-than-life character but, with their clashing personalities stripped away for the time being, he was reacting solely as a man with an attractive woman pressed against him and was too stunned to do anything other than enjoy the sensation.

Iona blinked first. ‘You can put me down now. I think I’m safe.’

‘Sure.’ Fraser abruptly set her back on her feet and tried to compose himself. ‘Like I said, a health and safety nightmare.’

He ignored her tutting as she tore down the rest of the decorations, thankful that this moment of madness had passed, letting normal, tense service resume between them. It was easier to view her as a threat to his plans for a new, improved workplace than through any inappropriate romantic haze.


CHAPTER TWO (#u6142c713-cbd1-5409-9f02-dbe1f719002f)

AS SHE DID every morning, Iona arrived at the clinic with plenty of time to spare before she was officially on the clock. Due to the unpredictable nature of midwifery, scheduled meal breaks were impossible and she often had to eat on the road, if she managed to eat at all. So having a quick cup of tea and a bowl of porridge in the morning as she checked her schedule for the day ensured Iona had at least one proper meal in peace.

Today she was especially keen to get on the road as she’d booked the afternoon off. It was moving day and she was bursting with the excitement of transferring her belongings from her rental to her very own home. It wouldn’t take more than a few runs in the car with the meagre possessions she had, and some of her male colleagues had volunteered to give her a hand with the heavy lifting. The sooner Iona got around her patients, the sooner she’d get settled into her own place.

Except as she lifted her first spoonful of thick, oaty goodness to her mouth, a note in the blood results of one of her patients immediately threw her plans into chaos. Iona shovelled in her breakfast as quickly as she could while digesting the news that had come in.

At around five days old, babies were offered newborn blood spot screening, or a heel-prick test, where a small amount of blood is taken to screen for certain genetic disorders. In this case, the baby had tested positive for one of the listed conditions—phenylketonuria, or PKU for short. Although Iona had done some research into the illness during the course of her training, it was a rare metabolic condition she’d never personally come across before, with approximately only one baby in ten thousand in the UK a sufferer.

The genetic mutation for phenylketonuria was passed on by both parents who might not even have been aware they were carriers. PKU patients, unable to break down the amino acid phenylalanine, a building block of protein, could have a build-up of protein leading to brain damage without adherence to a strict low-protein diet. It was imperative the child be referred to the metabolic unit at the hospital as soon as possible to begin treatment and prevent any long-term damage.

Although modern advances thankfully kept the condition under control with the restricted diet and amino acid supplement to ensure normal development, Iona was aware the news would have a great impact on the family. Every new mum wanted to believe her baby was perfect and to be told otherwise could be difficult to accept and overwhelming.

She took a gulp of tea before pouring the rest down the sink and gave the dishes a quick rinse. There wasn’t liable to be a spare minute today but she had one more thing to do before she could hit the road and she wasn’t looking forward to it.

Every time she had thought about Dr McColl since last night her blood had boiled, sure his intense dislike of the season was to spite her. She’d made no secret of her desire to make this Christmas one to remember but Fraser seemed determined to thwart those efforts at every turn.

Iona told herself it was this battle of wills that made her react so passionately when she thought of him and nothing to do with whatever frisson she’d imagined when he’d caught her in his arms yesterday. She was no longer the kind of woman who let common sense be overridden by such a romantic cliché. It would take more than being swept off her feet and a handsome face for her to fall for another dominant male. Her sense of self was now defined by her home and her job, not by some fool idea of romance, love and that non-existent fairy-tale ending.

With a deep breath and a sharp knock on the door, she entered Fraser’s room out of courtesy rather than a desire to see him for the first time today. In too much of a hurry to waste time on pleasantries, she didn’t wait for him to acknowledge her.

‘I thought I should give you the heads-up on one of your patients, Marie Gillen. Her baby has tested positive for phenylketonuria.’

There was a slight rise of Fraser’s eyebrows before surprise was overtaken by furious typing on the computer keyboard.

‘Is this something you’ve encountered before?’ he asked over the sound of the printer whizzing into life.

‘Not first hand.’ The discovery of rare conditions always brought a range of emotion to the fore, with sympathy for the family at the top of the list. As a medical professional, though, Iona became curious to learn as much as she could to pass on to the parents so they were equipped to deal with whatever challenges were thrown at them. It had to be the same for the GPs who would go on to treat these patients, probably for the rest of their lives.

‘Nor me.’ Fraser ripped out a handful of printed pages, stapled half together and passed them to Iona, keeping the remainder for himself.

‘I’m going to speak to the metabolic unit before I see Mrs Gillen. She’ll need a referral straight away.’ Since Marie and her newborn were Iona’s patients, she would be the one to oversee the initial handover to the hospital.

‘This is some basic info on PKU you can give to her. I’m sure you have it all in hand but it will do us all good to reacquaint ourselves with the challenges ahead.’ The way Fraser said it made it sound as though he expected her to make a home visit straight away when she’d intended to wait until she’d spoken to a consultant.

‘You know I’m on a half-day? I’m only here until lunchtime because I’m moving house today.’ Iona didn’t know if he was aware of her time off so she gave him the benefit of the doubt that he wasn’t deliberately trying to antagonise her again.

‘You can see her first and put the rest of your appointments back. The family need to know and this kind of bombshell is best delivered in person.’ When Iona didn’t respond immediately, stunned that he was pulling rank on her, Fraser added, ‘You know this is a time-sensitive condition and we need to begin treatment as soon as possible.’

She knew he was right and if she hadn’t been so caught up in her moving plans she would have suggested the same. As the only midwife at the practice, she didn’t have anyone else to delegate to so the responsibility was solely hers to deliver the news to the family. That didn’t mean she couldn’t be irritated at losing her time off.

The slightest brush of his fingers against hers as he handed her the information started that prickling sensation beneath her skin she’d experienced for the first time last night when he’d held her in his arms just a fraction longer than necessary.

That spark of awareness in Fraser’s eyes said he’d felt it too but it only served to annoy Iona more. The GP who’d stolen Christmas was now dousing cold water on the plans for her afternoon off so she shouldn’t find anything remotely attractive about him.

‘I’m sorry for yesterday but, you know, we have to have a code of conduct in the workplace or all hell would break loose.’

She stared at him, unblinking, wondering if he was trying to justify nixing her time off by blaming her for making a move on him. Her cheeks burned all the more when she realised he was talking about her dalliance into interior decorating and she was the only one whose thoughts had strayed elsewhere.

‘It’s all sorted now. Don’t worry about it.’ Although Fraser deserved more flak over his over-the-top reaction to a few baubles, it would keep until she’d got over this bout of madness.

‘If you need an appointment for me to see Mrs Gillen, let me know and I’ll fit her into my schedule.’

There were a lot of things about Fraser that frustrated Iona no end but she couldn’t fault his devotion to his patients. Their mutual patients were a shared interest. Somehow that didn’t give her any more comfort. Iona greedily snatched at more reasons to dislike him to erase the memory of the tenderness she’d felt in his touch and the desire she’d seen in his eyes when he’d held her close.

In that brief moment she’d understood those defences she’d built up against this man were because she was afraid of liking him too much. She had enough physical and mental scars to be wary of any man, especially the bossy kind, but she worried even that mightn’t be enough to save her.

‘I’ll let you know. I guess moving day will just have to wait.’

Fraser nodded and with her last obligation here taken care of, Iona was able to make her escape from the claustrophobia of these four walls.

* * *

There was nothing akin to driving out on the open road, radio blasting and singing along at the top of your voice where no one could hear. Iona loved her job. Sure, it was challenging, the hours long with no discernible time for breaks, but it was rewarding. Not only did she get to accompany these women throughout their pregnancies and sometimes get to welcome their babies into the world herself, she was able to enjoy her independence on a daily basis.

She was free to drive out here in the beautiful Scottish countryside, often travelling for miles between each of her appointments. It gave her that sense of empowerment over her destiny, even though she was still technically an employee.

Her freedom was everything to her after her marriage, during which Andy had practically held her prisoner. She’d been blinded by love in those early days, unable to see how he was slowly isolating her from friends and family, insisting he was the only one she needed in her life. Cut off from anyone who could’ve helped her, she’d been at the mercy of his temper when it had shown itself. He’d used any excuse to lash out at her—if the dinner had been overcooked or she’d been wearing too much make-up—but towards the end he hadn’t even bothered making excuses to beat her it had become so commonplace.

Iona flinched, almost able to feel those blows raining down on her after all this time. It was then she had understood why her mother had endured her own loveless relationship for so long. She’d been worn down, cut off from the outside world with no means to support herself financially when she’d sacrificed everything for her family. It had been Andy’s talk of babies and her mother’s death that had finally galvanised Iona into action. She could never have brought a child into that toxic atmosphere when she’d grown up in similar herself and had followed the pattern into adulthood.

It had taken death to enable her mother to leave her own marriage and Iona hadn’t been prepared to wait for the same fate. The strength she’d found to walk out on Andy and file for divorce had carried her on to university and to carve out a whole new life for herself.

Placements during her training had seen Iona working in hospitals and birth clinics but that environment had been a conveyor belt of women passing through her hands with no room to get to know them on a personal level. Life as a community midwife gave her much more of an intimate connection, visiting the patients at home and being on hand as they settled into family life.

* * *

She took a bite of the pre-packed sandwich she’d bought at the garage on the way back from Mrs Gillen’s. Car picnics were Iona’s speciality, if not the hearty dinner she’d been hoping to have in her own place tonight. Now all she wanted was to get back and collapse into bed.

It had been a tough day all round with having to deliver baby Gillen’s diagnosis. The family had been rocked by the news and it would take some time to come to terms with what it meant for them but they had family close to provide a good support system.

With some liaising with the hospital team she’d managed to arrange a meeting for them tomorrow morning so hopefully that would ease their minds that their son would still live a full and active life with proper guidance.

She’d talked them through the basics of PKU, as outlined in Fraser’s printouts, leaving the experts to discuss the day-to-day realities. There had been no need to panic them by overloading them with information when they couldn’t do anything until they’d seen the metabolic consultant and dietician who’d be overseeing the treatment.

The circumstances, however, dictated Iona had stayed with the family much longer than she’d anticipated and she’d been forced to push the rest of her appointments back. It wasn’t something she was happy doing to people waiting in for her but given the cold weather her patients had assured her they’d no intention of venturing outside today. She didn’t blame them. Given half a chance, she’d have stayed indoors with a mug of hot chocolate and a cheesy Christmas film on the TV.

Of course, the extra time had meant not only had she missed out on her afternoon off but the surgery would likely be closed by now and she’d wanted to stop by to grab a few things for tomorrow.

After eight months in the village Iona knew the area pretty well but in the dark, with the first flurry of snow visible in the car headlights, these remote roads were daunting, to say the least. When she saw the lights on at the clinic ahead she breathed a sigh of relief that she’d made it back in one piece and she could stock up on supplies for tomorrow’s excursions.

It would be an early start tomorrow again in order to keep up to date with all of her patients and paperwork. Being a midwife required stamina and not for the first time she was glad she didn’t have to go home and go straight into wife and mother mode to keep others happy. As soon as she was done here she could go home and slip into the guise of knackered singleton guilt-free.

‘Hello. It’s Iona. Can you let me in?’ She rapped on the clinic window, hoping whoever was here, cleaning or catching up on last-minute paperwork, would open up.

‘I hope you’re not expecting overtime.’ Fraser’s dour tone almost tipped her over the edge into a rant about putting her patients above financial gain and her own plans, until she saw the tease playing on his lips. In her exhausted state Iona wasn’t sure she was prepared to deal with the sight.

‘I just want to restock with supplies for tomorrow morning.’ Iona didn’t rise to the bait, not willing to prolong her working day any longer than necessary. With his large frame filling the doorway, she chose to duck under his arm as he held the door open, rather than take the chance of touching him again by pushing past.

‘How is Mrs Gillen?’ Unable to take the hint that she didn’t want him near her, Fraser followed her into the stockroom. Iona should’ve known he’d want a full account to analyse if she’d handled the situation correctly, no doubt concerned he’d be the one to pick up the pieces if Marie fell apart.

‘Shocked, obviously, but reasonably calm. I passed on the printouts you provided.’ He could give himself a pat on the back that he’d participated in some way if that’s what he was interested in.

‘Good. Good. Would you like me to make an emergency appointment to discuss any concerns with her?’ With his arms folded and resting casually against the shelves, Fraser left scant breathing space in the small room. There really was no reason for them both to be crammed in here so Iona forced her way past into the corridor so she wasn’t suffocated by his spicy aftershave.

‘No, I’ve made arrangements for her at the metabolic unit. The consultant and dietician will take over from here.’

She doubted he’d be one hundred percent happy about being out of the loop but there were areas even out of his expertise.

‘They know best,’ he conceded politely.

‘How come you’re here so late?’ Usually you could set your watch by Fraser, who tried to keep office hours when he wasn’t on call. He’d never have made it as a midwife.

The idea of him in blue scrubs, tootling around the countryside in her small car, made her grin and she had to turn away so he wouldn’t see her amusement.

‘I thought I’d swot up on PKU while I was waiting for you.’

The admission made her do an about-turn. ‘Me? What on earth for?’

Their contretemps over the decorations immediately sprang to mind, along with that back-of-the-neck tingling sensation. Her pulse apparently thought she was in a sprint and other parts of her were reminding her it had been a long time since she’d been with a man and she should simply acknowledge this growing attraction for her colleague. If the opportunity arose to get close again, she couldn’t be certain common sense would get any say in the matter when her hormones were currently doing all the talking.

‘I thought you might need help moving in.’ The expression on Fraser’s face displayed concern rather than an intention to seduce her. He was the innocent party in the lurid fantasies her overtired mind insisted on conjuring up.

‘I’ll just have to reschedule for the next time I’m free. Whenever that might be.’ Her need for sleep now was more vital than assuaging Fraser’s apparent guilt that she’d been held up and she wished she’d never broached the subject with him. It put her in a no-win situation. Saying no to him wasn’t going to help their already strained relationship but letting him trespass into her private life wasn’t going to be comfortable for either of them.

‘Call it my apology for yesterday. I could’ve handled things better.’ Hands in pockets, he gave a shrug and appeared even less of a tyrant than ever. None of that was helping Iona maintain that wall of steel she tried to surround herself with at the merest hint of a too-alpha male. Sincere apologies and taking responsibility for anything weren’t traits often associated with such domineering personalities. She should know.

On this occasion Iona had to consider the possibility she might have been mistaken in her assessment of Fraser McColl. Then she could stop being so hard on herself for being drawn to him. Unfortunately this humble side of him decreed a compromise on her part lest she become the sort of obstinate-to-a-fault twit she despised.

‘Me too. I should’ve asked before I did my sugar-plum fairy act. I got a bit carried away.’

‘Really? I hadn’t noticed.’ There was that grin again and Iona wondered if it was reserved for the privileged few or it only made appearances out of working hours. It was unnerving that she even wanted to know what her relevance was to the rare sighting.

‘It’s my first Christmas in my own home, free from demanding family members, messy flatmates and fussy co-workers. Excuse me for being a tad over-excited.’ It spoke volumes that the first purchases for her new place had been an abundance of Christmas paraphernalia instead of essential household appliances.

‘I can’t say I understand the need for the fuss but each to their own as long as it doesn’t leak onto the premises again.’ Fraser verbally slapped the back of her hand but she’d had much worse from other men she’d inadvertently ticked off in the past.

‘What do you have against Christmas anyway?’ Since they appeared to have embarked on a truce, Iona thought it best to find out as much as she could about the elusive doctor before the clock chimed and he transformed back into his monstrous alter-ego.

She could see the inner struggle he was having as to whether or not to share the reasons behind his anti-Christmas stance in his hesitation to reply. He was watching her as though judging if she was trustworthy enough to keep his secrets.

Eventually Fraser sighed and said, ‘My mother died on Christmas Eve. I was six when they first discovered she had breast cancer. I haven’t really celebrated since, packed off out of the way to boarding school when she first became ill. Come to think of it, I don’t remember ever celebrating even before I associated her death with Christmas. It’s just not a point in my life I’m keen to relive every year.’

The heartfelt explanation shook Iona to her core—she had never expected such an honest and bleak insight into his background. As someone whose job was all about families and protecting young children, it was only natural Fraser’s story should get her choked up. She knew how traumatic it was to lose a mother but at such a young age he must’ve suffered dreadfully.

It explained a lot about his negative outlook on the season and she winced at how tactless her actions now seemed with hindsight. The shock of seeing those decorations would’ve brought those painful memories flooding back to him and it was no wonder he’d been angry at her. She was sorry that he’d been denied the joy in sharing Christmas with family but she didn’t want to pry too far into his personal life and jeopardise their ceasefire. It wasn’t as though she was keen to discuss Christmases gone by either.

‘I understand that and I’m really sorry for your loss but if you ever need someone to sprinkle a little Christmas magic, you know where to find me.’ It wasn’t a serious offer when it was probably too late to change his opinion on the subject but she did manage to get him to smile.

‘I certainly do but don’t let my hang-ups encroach on your obvious enthusiasm. You’re perfectly entitled to celebrate however you choose, in your personal life.’

‘It is a big deal for me this year,’ Iona said apologetically, understanding his point of view but also determined to go all out for herself.

‘In that case, we should start with getting you moved in properly.’ Fraser turned off the lights and ushered her towards the door so he could set the alarm.

Ready or not, her new best friend was coming home with her for the night.


CHAPTER THREE (#u6142c713-cbd1-5409-9f02-dbe1f719002f)

‘LET ME GET that for you.’ Fraser made a grab for the door while balancing a heavy cardboard box in his other hand.

‘It’s fine. I can manage.’ Iona, who could barely be seen over the top of the stacked boxes in her arms, insisted on doing it herself.

‘No problem.’ He took a step back so she wouldn’t think he was trying to crowd her. Iona was so independent Fraser always felt he was in her way somehow, even though she would never have managed to move all of this on her own.

None of this had been in his plans tonight. He had, instead, been anticipating another quiet night in with nothing but the clock chimes echoing through the house to disturb him. It had been his guilty conscience preventing him from walking away from the whole situation when he’d heard from other staff members how excited she’d been about moving in tonight.

Iona nudged the door open with her bottom but he wasn’t sure how they were going to manoeuvre her belongings up the narrow staircase leading to the flat above the shop.

‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to snap. It’s just...this is a milestone for me.’ The apology was as much of a surprise as the tears he could see making her eyes shine like glossy chocolate. It was clearly an emotional moment for her and probably for more than the reasons she’d given him. He’d experienced something similar when he’d taken over the family home after his father had passed away, believing it was going to be the start of his new life with a wife and children, surrounded by love for the first time. Before then, being on his own had been something he’d simply taken for granted because he didn’t remember life before it.

Even if he hadn’t had his hands full, Iona didn’t give him a chance to pry any further as she made her way upstairs. Clearly the sharing of personal information was only coming from one direction tonight. Fraser had surprised himself by telling her about his mother’s death. It wasn’t something he usually told people and certainly not those he had trouble getting along with. However, he did want to explain his behaviour surrounding the Christmas issue so she wouldn’t hate him too much. Since she hadn’t slammed the door on him, Fraser had assumed he’d made the right move.

He’d kept finding excuses to stay behind at the surgery tonight—paperwork, the weather, waiting for news on the Gillens—but as soon as Iona had arrived he’d realised he’d been waiting to see her again so he could make it up to her for spoiling her plans. He had been sure she would come back to make preparations for the next working day and he suspected his overtime had been driven partially by curiosity over that frisson between them last night. It had definitely been attraction on his part, unexpected and somewhat inconvenient since they were co-workers and not harmonious ones at that.

Wandering the empty corridors of his family home, Fraser had little else to focus on other than his work and now that it had become entangled in his personal life it was impossible not to spend the night thinking about Iona.

He didn’t know what he’d expected to come of seeing her after hours but he certainly hadn’t imagined going home with her. With their history he’d never thought she’d actually agree to let him help.

It wasn’t immediately obvious if her concession was for purely practical reasons or if she, too, was keen to explore that new chemistry between them. He wasn’t about to ask when any possible answer was sure to unsettle him more. A dalliance with a colleague was totally out of the question, too disruptive, too close to home, and it had disaster written all over it. He couldn’t afford to have his love life screwing things up at work when he was just beginning to get things the way he wanted.

‘I know what you’re thinking.’

Fraser nearly dropped Iona’s belongings at being caught having inappropriate thoughts about her.

‘What’s that?’ He aimed for a neutral ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about’ tone as he stacked his box on top of the ones she’d positioned on the floor. There was still a car full of bric-a-brac outside but he reckoned he could unload it into the hall in double-quick time if he incurred her wrath.

‘Why would I leave a pretty chocolate-box cottage for this only a few days before Christmas?’

Once it became clear his thoughts remained private, Fraser deemed it safe to engage in conversation again. ‘It’s none of my business.’

Since she’d pointed it out, the contrast between the homely bungalow he’d helped her empty to come to this shell of an apartment did raise questions.

‘I mean, Mrs Dunlop said I was welcome to stay as my rent is paid up until the New Year.’

‘But you’re excited about having your own place? I think you mentioned that.’ Fraser could tell how happy Iona was. Her smile was warm enough to heat the whole building—which was just as well because he doubted the central heating had been on since the last tenant had vacated the property.

Personally, Fraser couldn’t see the attraction but, given how Iona had no qualms about making her mark at the surgery, he was certain she’d quickly make it a home. As soon as she bought some furniture. Unless this was one of those futuristic, space-saving apartments where the fixtures and fittings popped up from the floor at the touch of a button, she really didn’t have any furniture of note.

Iona’s quirks were in danger of bringing Fraser out in hives, her inability to plan ahead making him itch. When he’d transferred his stuff from his bachelor pad to the family home he’d allocated a specific timescale for completion, with all his things boxed and labelled accordingly for the removal company. Iona had randomly chucked things into cardboard boxes and bin liners with no forethought given to how she expected to find anything again. Even if she hadn’t got caught up at work, there was no way she’d have managed to get things in order in the space of one afternoon.

‘I do have a bed, well, a mattress, and there’s a kettle here somewhere.’ She began rifling through everything, unwrapping the contents until the floorboards were littered with bits of newspaper and kitchen paraphernalia.

‘I’ll go and bring the rest in.’ Fraser couldn’t stand back and watch this level of chaos without wanting to fix it. Something he knew Iona wouldn’t appreciate. This wasn’t his mess or responsibility and he had to get used to the fact Iona had chosen to live this way.

By the time he’d lugged the rest of her trash chic luggage into the flat Iona had moved into the kitchen. It would be generous to call the space open-plan, it was more in keeping with a student bedsit or, in its current state, a squat.

He shuddered as he set the bags down in the one space he could find amongst the mess she’d already created.

‘If that’s everything, I’ll head home.’ Back to his pristine house, which didn’t look as though it had just been burgled.

‘Look what I found!’ Ignoring his plea to be released back into civilised society, Iona held up the elusive kettle and two mismatched mugs.

‘Great,’ Fraser muttered through clenched teeth, accepting his fate. It wouldn’t help relations between them if he declined her hospitality when she was trying to be friendly.

‘For a job well done.’ Iona clinked her mug to his once she’d completed her task, oblivious to his discomfort in the corduroy beanbag serving as his seat during their tea break. The chipped cartoon cat mug he was drinking from was a world away from his mother’s fine china he’d become accustomed to.

‘So, er, what are your plans for the place?’ The old outhouse, long forgotten somewhere on the family estate, was more inviting than these four bare walls, yet Iona was so pleased with it Fraser wondered what kind of place she was used to.

Iona shrugged and slurped her tea. ‘I’ll get some paint to freshen it up a bit for Christmas and I’ll pick up whatever bits and pieces I need along the way.’

Fraser snorted in disbelief at her laissez-faire attitude to being a homeowner. For someone so fastidious about her work and keeping track of her patients, Iona was very blasé about her own personal life.

‘We’re very different creatures, you and I.’ Fraser supposed she would be as ill at ease with his set-up—with the family heirlooms giving it that look-but-don’t-touch vibe that made people hover nervously—as he was here.

‘I thought we’d figured that out a long time ago.’ She was teasing, even though there’d been nothing funny about their previous arguments.

‘We’ve had our moments.’ This insight into Iona’s chaotic world, such a contrast to the one Fraser had created around himself, made sense of their feisty exchanges. They were completely different people and living up to that adage about opposites. Last night they’d finally recognised the attraction even if they hadn’t acted on it.

Somewhere across the room Iona cleared her throat and he knew her mind had ventured into the same dangerous territory as his.

Fraser drained the last of his tea. He’d become too comfortable in Iona’s company, if not her new dwelling. ‘Time to go.’

‘Thanks again for all your help.’

He struggled to clamber out of the shape-shifting cushion trying to swallow him whole, which didn’t help the growing sense of panic clawing at his chest. He had to get away from here, be somewhere safe and orderly where he wouldn’t be ambushed by the furnishings or unexpected emotions.

‘Perhaps I’ll start my purchases with a chair or two.’ Iona came to his aid, holding out her hand to hoist him out of the man trap.

‘Not on my account,’ Fraser insisted. He had no intention of coming back here and certainly not to relive those distracting feelings he kept experiencing around her. If only he’d stuck to his schedule, all of this could have been avoided. This kind of havoc was exactly what happened when he didn’t abide by his own rules.

‘You never know who’s going to drop in and, as I’ve just witnessed, not everyone’s used to slumming it on beanbags.’ Unlike his, Iona’s place was the sort people would be dropping into whenever the notion took them. She wasn’t the type to be governed by social etiquette outside work, which made her home so much more appealing than the formal invitation one would require to gain admittance to his. Fraser couldn’t remember the last time he’d even had a house guest but that isolation was part of the charm as far as he was concerned.

Fraser negotiated his way through the detritus on the floor, waved goodbye at the door, but for the entire journey home he couldn’t help worrying on Iona’s behalf about her lack of preparation for the move. Neither could he put out the thought of the contents of his own apartment sitting in storage now he had no use for them. Iona was so pleased with so little but she really deserved better, and with a small effort on his part he could provide it for her and have her think of him a tad more fondly. He didn’t know why her acceptance had suddenly become important to him but it might have had something to do with her smiling at him instead of the usual scowl he elicited.

It warmed him on the inside, reaching parts of him he’d thought frozen in time along with the contents of his family home.

Even though he was worn out after his impulsive house removal, he knew he’d be returning to that compact residence before the night was over. Whatever spell had been cast on him the minute he’d taken Iona in his arms Fraser couldn’t seem to stay away from her and that definitely didn’t fit in with his plans for a carefully organised life.

* * *

Iona sank back into her bubble bath and closed her eyes. This was just what she needed after such a fraught day. Okay, so she’d had to wait for a while for the hot water to come through but like everything else wrong in the flat she was happy to put up with it when she was now the proud owner of all she surveyed.

A secret smile played across her lips as she thought of Fraser’s reaction on seeing the place. The outright horror on his face had been comical and she’d admit to intentionally pushing his buttons by leaving everything lying around to see if he’d try to tidy her up outside work. Iona knew he preferred everything spick and span as he was forever rearranging things in the waiting room, but since he’d insisted on stepping into her personal life, this was her way of marking her territory, creating a boundary. There was a chance she’d also been trying to rile him so he would overstep the mark and criticise her so she could stop thinking of him as anything other than her tyrannical boss.

To his credit, he hadn’t risen to the bait, proving there was some restraint and positive qualities behind his fussy, bossy exterior. He’d been generous with his time and support for her tonight and, coupled with yesterday’s revelation that her urges towards him weren’t only of a violent nature, she was losing track of the reasons to give him a wide berth. At least he’d made it clear he wasn’t in a hurry to come back any time soon so she wouldn’t have to worry too much over the consequences of inviting another man into her life.

It was easy to recall the feel of Fraser’s hands, strong and capable as he’d cradled her after the fall, and imagine how they might feel on different parts of her body. Iona soaped a flannel up her arms and across her chest, startled that her thoughts of Fraser had turned so...carnal.

She let out a groan and covered her face with the cloth. It wasn’t as though she’d become a nun on leaving her abusive ex but she’d put her career ahead of any notions of settling down again after being bitten, and a relationship of any kind had been the furthest thing from her mind. As far as she’d discovered, they only brought pain and heartache to everyone involved and she’d had enough of that to know she was better off unattached.

Now she’d settled into her position here and got her foot on the property ladder, it seemed her neglected libido was making a bid for freedom too. Its untimely reappearance around a man with the uncanny knack of riling her temper was entirely inconvenient—a weakness in the armour she’d built around herself since her reinvention. This warrior queen no longer needed anyone to give her life meaning.

Iona ducked her head under the suds, letting the hot water envelop her whole body in a warm hug. It had obviously been way too long since she’d enjoyed the physical benefits of a relationship of any description when her mind was dragging her towards that riptide with the potential to pull her back under.

In her watery cocoon Iona thought she could feel a dull vibration coming from somewhere beneath the flat. She sat upright, listening to the rhythmic drip, drip, drip of the tap, which almost lulled her back down into the depths of soapy luxury until the shrill ring of the doorbell and more thumping noises downstairs prompted her to action. Someone was desperate for her attention.

‘I’m coming!’ she yelled, pulling on her dressing gown with no heed to the water sluicing onto the bathroom floor. There was no time to dry or dress if she was to get to the door before they left so she simply belted the robe around her naked body to protect her modesty.

Fraser was the last person she expected to find on her doorstep.

‘What’s wrong? Did you forget something?’ She couldn’t think of any other reason that would have brought him back again so soon.

‘No. I...er...thought you could use these.’ He glanced over his shoulder towards the stack of chairs Iona hadn’t noticed currently blocking the path.

‘And they couldn’t wait until tomorrow?’ Although it was a nice gesture, it hadn’t warranted an immediate return visit tonight. The impulsive act was so out of character she was thrown by his possible motive. Was this intended to impress her or an attempt to impose his authority in all areas of her life?

Iona folded her arms and did her best to make Fraser realise she wasn’t impressed that he’d interrupted her ‘me’ time for the sake of a couple of chairs so he wouldn’t get used to the idea of dropping in at will. It did the trick as he grimaced and gave her his best game-show-host impression in trying to sell her the quality of his wares with a flick of his hands.

‘I couldn’t bear to think of you here in this empty flat when I have a load of furniture sitting in storage.’ He gestured to the vehicle behind him, having apparently exchanged the practical car he drove to work for a gas-guzzling four-by-four packed with other household goods.

‘Really? This has absolutely nothing to do with you trying to fix me? I know you, Fraser, and how much my empty apartment was probably keeping you from sleeping.’ Her cynical eyebrow took on a mind of its own as she searched for a dark ulterior motive behind the selfless offer. He’d made it obvious he had issues with her laid-back approach to her interior décor but she hadn’t realised it was to the extent he’d empty the contents of his home to spruce hers up.

‘Sorry. I was trying to do you a favour. I probably should’ve asked first.’ Fraser took a step back, shoulders slumped with such dejection Iona may as well have told him never to darken her doorstep again. It was a trick she’d seen her ex use time and again to garner her sympathy and she’d always fallen for it, believing she’d been judging him too harshly and accepting an apology for whatever misdeed he’d committed against her. Only for him to exploit that weakness, lull her back into a false sense of security and strike even harder next time around.

She was less trusting these days but she had absolutely no obligation to Fraser so if he did overstep the mark in any way, she wouldn’t hesitate in bouncing him back down the path.

‘I’m not dressed for company, or furniture delivery.’ Standing here in the cold, face to face with the subject of her recent fantasies, made her aware that she was clad only in a layer of terry towelling.

‘No problem. If you want to put some clothes on, I can bring the stuff inside for you then I’ll get out of your hair.’ There certainly didn’t appear to be any sign of anything untoward going on behind his earnest expression and she could use the items he was offering. This would be no run-of-the-mill second-hand furniture either, having probably been vacuum packed in plastic wrap to prevent it being spoiled.

‘If you insist.’ She left the door open and scarpered back upstairs to put some clothes on. Things were awkward enough without hanging around him semi-naked and partially aroused.

Iona did take her time getting ready, going as far as drying her hair before venturing out of her bedroom again. Fraser deserved a hard time for trying to organise her life for her so she let him sweat for a while. Literally.

When she walked back into the living room he was breathing heavily, the sleeves of his once pristine shirt now rolled up and her flat looking as though someone actually lived in it.

Not only had he carted all the heavy furniture up a flight of stairs single-handed, he’d arranged it all and tidied up the mess she’d left on the floor earlier.

‘You really didn’t have to do this,’ Iona protested, tightening her grip on that theory Fraser was only doing it to exert some control over her. Yet, amongst the seats and the table he’d set up, there was also a small electric fire and a television solely provided for her comfort and not any obvious ulterior motive. Perhaps he deserved some credit for his thoughtfulness but that meant accepting she’d been on his mind tonight too and she certainly didn’t want to contemplate the implications of that.

‘I wanted to,’ Fraser said simply, and continued unpacking a bag onto her kitchen worktop.

‘What are you doing?’ As far as she was aware, she was the only one named on the mortgage and she hadn’t advertised for a lodger but here he was, making himself at home.

‘I didn’t think you’d had time to do a shop so I picked up a few essentials for you on the way over.’

Bread, bacon, butter, eggs, milk and a huge chocolate bar lined the counter as though he knew her shopping list off by heart. Although he was providing the means to christen her new home with all her favourites, Iona didn’t want him to think she was a pushover, someone who could be trained with titbits of chocolate. She was in charge of her life now and didn’t need anyone making decisions on her behalf. It would be easy to take all his efforts at face value, and as much as she wanted to believe he only had the purest of intentions at heart she had to protect herself by assuming the worst. Andy had made it impossible for her to trust anyone, especially handsome men who seemed too good to be true.

‘You really didn’t have to. I’m quite capable of going to the shop myself, thank you.’

‘I know. I just thought—I wanted you to feel more at home. Sorry.’ He started to pack the groceries back into the bag and the waver in his confidence about being there had guilt gnawing at Iona’s insides that she’d got him wrong. Perhaps Fraser was simply trying to do something nice for her after all. Learning to trust new people was a long and difficult journey every time, no matter how hard she wanted to speed up the process.

‘No, it’s okay. Leave them.’ Iona reached out and touched his hand to get him to stop and show him the gifts were appreciated. His sharp intake of breath and her reluctance to move back out of his personal space drew them back into that fizzing awareness of attraction to one another.

This thing between them was nothing either of them could control but she knew Fraser didn’t want to act on it any more than she did. They were complete opposites; they’d drive each other crazy.

Every nerve ending in her body was drawing Iona closer, telling her to submit once and for all. Yet, with Fraser refusing to succumb too, she held her ground. A rejection now would be humiliating every day for the rest of her working life here. If he declined her advances now, it would give him the perfect excuse to undermine her the next time they clashed at the clinic, blaming her hurt feelings for her next bout of stubbornness. A risk she wasn’t willing to take if it could jeopardise any future decisions regarding her patients’ welfare.

Eventually Iona forced herself to return to the less dangerous task of putting the groceries away in the cupboards.

‘How did you come to have so much spare furniture?’ She kept her tone casual, even though her heart was pounding with as much adrenaline and arousal as if they had kissed because she’d imagined it so vividly.

There were a few beats before she heard Fraser move away. As though it had taken him that time to shake himself out of the daze too. ‘My dad died a couple of years ago and I inherited the family home. I sold my apartment and moved back but I haven’t decided if it’s what I want on a permanent basis.’

Keeping hold of the contents of his place if he’d sold it didn’t make much sense to Iona, but she understood the death of a parent was such an emotional upheaval it brought about huge life changes. It had been her mother’s death that had prompted her to strike out on her own regardless of not having anywhere to go or anyone to help her.

‘Sorry for your loss.’ It was a sentiment she’d heard so often herself yet seemed so inadequate when it passed from her own lips. Those four words could never hope to comfort someone who’d suffered such a devastating event. She’d never known how to respond to it either. It wasn’t the done thing to burst into tears or go off on a rant about how unfair it was so she’d learned to graciously nod and thank people for their condolences.

‘We weren’t really close. Not since Mum died. Or ever, really.’ Fraser was disarmingly frank about his relationship with his father and Iona was shocked to discover they had more in common than either of them had realised.

‘I know the feeling. It’s hard to bond with a parent in those circumstances. Almost as though you’re being forced into a relationship you never had because the one you were closest to has gone for ever.’ In those early days after her mother’s death Iona had done and said all the right things expected of a dutiful daughter trying to make sure her dad wouldn’t feel the loss as acutely as she did, filling that role of caregiver left empty by the woman who’d sacrificed everything for her family. None of it had come naturally and she had soon come to realise it had been fear and grief fuelling her actions, not love. She’d rather be alone than submit to another man’s whim again.

Fraser was such a strong, confident individual she didn’t imagine he’d been in quite the same position with his family but it would explain that frostiness he exuded at times. She knew she’d erected a lot of barriers to keep herself safe when she’d moved away. It had taken a lot of time to make herself accessible to people again, and only because she’d wanted to work in such a people-friendly environment. She was still working on the walls she’d barricaded around her heart, which weren’t dismantled so easily. She wasn’t sure she’d ever be ready for them to come down again.

Fraser’s loss and the anger and sorrow that surely had been part of that were relatively recent and raw. Something he would have to work hard to get past. It wasn’t so unbelievable that it formed part of the reason he hadn’t moved in for that kiss when the opportunity had arisen. That lessened the sting slightly but also flashed more warning lights that this complex man was the last one she should set her cap at.

‘I can’t say I was really any closer to my mother but it’s all in the past. We’re supposed to be celebrating your future.’ Fraser smiled but there was a sadness behind it that touched her heart so deeply she couldn’t tell if she wanted to reach out and hug him or rip off his clothes.

His decision to move back to the family home rather than stay in his own place seemed all the more bizarre if it held such dark memories for him. Given the same opportunity, she’d prefer to slum it in her Borrowers-sized flat than move back to a house echoing with tears of the past. A clean break was the only way to leave those ghosts behind.

‘You didn’t think about selling up?’ A senior partner in a thriving GP practice with no discernible dependants that Iona knew of should’ve had the means to live wherever he wanted. Unless he had some debilitating addiction syphoning off his pay packet but she couldn’t picture Fraser with any vices that would have seen him spiralling into that kind of desperation.





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