LITMIR.BIZ

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wriggle, a squirm, and Rosie shrieked, ‘Nixon, have you seen the baby? Mummy won’t take me to see it and I want to hold her.’

      Emma’s mother stepped back, rubbing her ear. ‘Quieter, Rosie.’

      Emma ran her hand over Rosie’s curls. ‘That’s not what I said. Abbie’s feeding Grace so you have to be patient.’

      ‘That’s like asking a cat to ignore the mouse running across its paws.’ Nixon winked. ‘Especially with this one.’ He knew Rosie from the times she used to be dropped off at the department after pre-school on the days Emma was running late signing off. Her daughter had fallen under his spell in the flash of a chocolate bar and a wide smile. Easily bribed, her girl.

      Nixon moved up, leaned over and wrapped his arms around Emma. ‘You’re looking good for what you’ve been through.’

      A warm sigh trickled across her lips. This hug felt special. The perfect elixir for lurking emotions left over from handing the baby to Abbie. Emma leaned forward ever so slightly to rest against Nixon’s chest and breathed deeply, absorbing the man scent and strength. She lurched backwards. This was all wrong. They were pals, not lovers.

      There had been one time she’d said too much to him. At the end of a particularly hectic shift she’d been tired and achy, heavily pregnant and despondent, and when he’d walked out of the department with her and suggested a wind-down drink over the road at the café, she’d burst into tears. It had to have been the tea that loosened her tongue, or otherwise why had she spilled her guts to Nixon about her feelings over giving up the baby? The feelings she wouldn’t share with Abbie so as not to rattle her friend’s confidence that she would hand over Abbie’s baby.

      He’d listened without interruption as she’d explained her fear of not being able to let go the baby, which would break her friend’s heart along with her own. Not once did Nixon say it was her fault she was in that predicament. He’d shown another side to himself. He’d always been popular, but also somewhat wary, and known to be a focused, caring doctor. She doubted anyone at work had seen Nixon so thoughtful and considerate about something unrelated to work. Which made her wonder what else he was hiding behind his everyday face. And glad she’d turned him down for that date. She had enough of her own problems to be carrying on with, without taking on anyone else’s.

      Now he stepped back, those thoughtful eyes watching her too closely for comfort.

      ‘Mum, you haven’t met Nixon, have you? Nixon Wright, this is my mum Kathy Hayes. Nixon’s our emergency specialist,’ she added for clarity. No point raising her mother’s hopes that she’d found a man. How her mother could want her to get married again was beyond Emma. Not after her last fiasco. But then, all her family held onto some guilt over that. They’d fallen under Alvin’s spell too and had encouraged her marriage.

      ‘You’re not a local.’ Her mother shook Nixon’s hand, appraising the tall, strapping specimen before her as if she was about to interview him. Which, being her mother, was definitely on the cards. And her mum had nothing on her brothers or father. Emma wouldn’t put it past them to tie any man she might be interested in up to the fence and throw icy water over him while proceeding with an interrogation about whether he knew his hands were not made to be used against their sister and daughter.

      He gave a light smile. ‘I shifted here from Dunedin a year ago, so, no, most people don’t know what I like to eat for breakfast or what grades I got in school.’

      There were few secrets in Queenstown amongst the locals, for sure. Hurrying to cut her mother off before she got started on in-depth questions, Emma said, ‘Grace weighs three point seven kilos, has ten fingers and ten toes, and is cute as a button. Abbie’s besotted.’

      Nixon agreed. ‘I saw her in the nursery on my way here. I think we could have a Force Six earthquake and she wouldn’t notice.’ His smile dipped. ‘You’re all right?’

      The same loaded question her mother had asked. No doubt she’d hear it a few more times yet. ‘Yep.’

      He locked eyes with her, as if he was looking for more. But what could she say? Especially in front of her mother, who had had misgivings about the whole surrogacy thing from the day she’d told her family she was having Abbie’s baby. ‘I have no regrets. Okay?’

      ‘I didn’t think you would.’ Nixon looked away, and got caught in the beam of her mother’s stare. ‘You’ve got one tough daughter, Kathy.’

      ‘She had to learn to be.’ It was so unlike her mother to say such a thing. Her family never talked about her past unless she brought up the horrible subject herself, which she rarely did. Why go back to hell when she’d finally found her way out?

      Emma shivered. Her mum was certainly assessing Nixon thoroughly. Too thoroughly. Something she needed to stop doing. ‘Nixon’s my boss.’ For some inexplicable reason that gave her a stabbing sensation in her chest.

      Her mother nodded once, abruptly.

      But Nixon surprised Emma with his suddenly widening eyes and flattening mouth. What had she done other than tell the truth? He was her boss. And one hell of a man, who had the broad shoulders to cry on and endless patience when she’d needed to let off steam. Those shoulders were filling her vision now, tightening her tummy in ways it shouldn’t.

      Then a deep yawn pulled her mouth wide. The day had caught up with her in spades. ‘Sorry, everyone. I need to catnap for a bit.’ She reached for Rosie. ‘Another hug for Mummy?’

      As Rosie obliged Emma glimpsed Nixon over her daughter’s head. There was a strange longing filling those grey eyes as he watched them. Something she’d never seen before. Something that strummed on her heartstrings. Nixon was lonely for love? Was that it? Couldn’t be. He could have any woman he set his eyes on.

      But wait, wasn’t there a rumour that he had a three-dates rule? He also shunned invitations from individual staff members to work social occasions, but that was probably sensible. Yet he’d asked her out. Strange.

      She chose to be alone too, but that didn’t mean she didn’t want family and love. Nixon hadn’t said a word about his family when she’d talked about hers the day she’d blubbed all over him. He’d only said he was too busy for commitment. What with running a small but busy emergency department here in the Queenstown Hospital, where extreme sports injuries were as common as the tourists that filled the town all year round. Being a mountain-biking addict alongside his busy job, he didn’t have the time required for a full-on, permanent relationship.

      Nixon might be surprised to know everyone knew he avoided relationships. It was fairly obvious when he only ever dated women who were visiting Queenstown, getting his testosterone fix without getting entangled. Emma hadn’t been able to decide if she should’ve been flattered or insulted when he’d asked her out. Apparently she’d been the exception to his rule. He socialised without getting involved, so he’d have been a perfect date for her. She’d have had fun. It wasn’t as if he were dull, weird, or afraid of his own shadow. Completely the opposite, in fact. Tall, built, fun, sincere.

      Sexy.

      Gasp.

      Was it all right to think that of a friend?

      Emma’s heart slowed. Sadness rocked in and darkened her mood; she closed her eyes so she didn’t have to see Nixon watching her with a hunger in his gaze that confused her. To her he was someone she worked with who’d become a good friend over the last few months. He was a man in need of a shake-up. Who amongst her old friends could she find to knock his knees out from under him? No one. What about—?

      No one. Or—?

      No one.

      The thought of Nixon getting all cosy with someone she knew felt like a lead ball swinging at her head.

      A phone sounded loud in the still room. ‘I’d better get back. The heli’s five minutes out,’ Nixon said as he read his message. ‘I grabbed a quiet moment to check on you.’

      As her boss? Or as

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