Lawson held Matilda tight. Vic didn’t think she’d ever seen him more masculine, as her pulse did a funny triple beat.

They went inside and sat around the kitchen table while Lawson tried to get to the bottom of his daughter’s heartbreak.

Vic had an inkling of what might be wrong. “Is it a boy?” she asked gently.

Lawson’s head shot up in alarm. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he said. “She’s only eight!”

But when Matilda wailed yes and dissolved into another puddle of tears, he was forced to reassess.

“Okay.” Vic stood. “I know exactly what we need.” She went to the freezer and pulled out a tub of ice cream. The perfect salve for man problems. God knew she’d eaten gallons of the stuff in the past fortnight.

She retrieved two spoons from the drawer and sat down next to Matilda.

Lawson watched as Victoria and Matilda sat and savored the ice cream together. Vic was handling this beautifully, and Matilda was hanging on every word. She’d always been great with Matilda. But she had sworn off ever being a mother. How fair would it be to expect that of her?

As he watched Victoria with his daughter, though, a rush of something he didn’t want to analyze blossomed in his chest….

Dear Reader,

After eighteen books this is my first “friends become lovers” story. I’m not sure why I’ve never tackled this one before because, as far as story lines go, I’m a bona fide fan! The angst and the yearning in these plots are so tangible you can feel them seething around you as you read.

Lawson and Victoria have known each other for twenty years, having formed a dynamic and vital paramedic partnership on their small island community that neither wants to jeopardize, but now Vic is counting down the days until she leaves the island for foreign shores. And then there’s Matilda—Lawson’s eight-year-old daughter. Though Victoria is great with the little girl, she certainly has no plans to be a mother—ever. She has spent the past seventeen years raising her twin brothers after their mother’s tragic death, and Vic yearns for a freedom that she’s never known.

But sometimes fate has other things in store, and Victoria and Lawson are about to discover that some things just can’t be denied. It’s a bumpy ride, but one that will be well worth the bruises!

Love,
Amy

A MOTHER FOR MATILDA

Amy Andrews

A MOTHER FOR MATILDA

I dedicate this book to one of the most talented writers I know, and the woman who knows me better than any other—my amazing sister, Roslyn. I carry her heart in my heart. As she does mine.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER ONE

AN EARLY morning sea breeze caught the sleeve of Lawson Dunlop’s paramedic overalls as he sat on the wooden picnic table devouring a bacon and egg roll from the nearby twenty-four-hour café. His booted feet were evenly spread and braced on the seat. His elbows propped on his powerful quads. His lean torso angled forward.

The first rays of sunlight reached across the ocean to illuminate the island and in the half-light the water in the passage was a deep velvety blue. The surface was still, millpond still, yet to be fractured by the activities of the day.

Already a steady stream of workers in their cars trundled over the bridge heading to the mainland and Brisbane, one hour’s commute away. A few eager fishermen, their lines hanging over the side, paid no heed to the daily island exodus as the cars rumbled past them.

A gull wheeled and cried overhead as Lawson’s gaze tracked the path of a nearby pelican waddling up the narrow strip of sand ceded by the tide. The breeze blew a faint tang of salt towards him and he inhaled deeply, enjoying the serenity of island life and the respite from a long and busy night duty.

A rustle beside him disturbed the peace and he turned to look down at his partner of five years sitting next to him in much the same fashion, their thighs almost touching. She was also making short work of her breakfast, which at least meant he could enjoy the scenery in silence. Eating was about the only time Victoria Dunleavy was ever quiet.

Vic inhaled, also admiring the view. ‘Don’t guess I’m going to get this in London,’ she said around a mouthful of burger.

Lawson shook his head. ‘Nope.’

‘Did I mention it’s ninety days?’

‘Yep.’ Once or twice.

‘Nine. Zero. Then I’m out of here. Gone-ski. Vamoosed.’ She ignored the way her gut clenched at the thought of being so far away from her beloved Brindabella Island. It was way past time for her to fly the nest.

‘Uh-huh.’

Lawson took another bite. He’d miss his partner. In a strictly professional way, of course. Good partnerships were rare and, in their line of work, vital. He wasn’t looking forward to having to build a rapport with someone else. He’d miss the synergy that flowed effortlessly between the two of them.

‘I’ll miss the twins. And Dad, of course.’ The thought of leaving her family struck like an ice pick to her heart as she sat and absorbed the scenery already embedded in her DNA. She was twenty-six, for crying out loud. It was time!

Lawson could hear the wistfulness in her tone and immediately felt selfish for thinking of himself and the impact her leaving would have on his workload. Victoria deserved this. She’d sacrificed a lot for her family and now the twins were grown she was free to get out and explore the world. As he’d done.

‘The twins will be at uni when you leave and probably too busy chasing girls to notice,’ he hastened to assure her. ‘Bob will be fine. Go and see the world. Sow your wild oats.’

Lawson was surprised at the catch in his chest as the old-fashioned saying pinged a nerve ending or two—the thought of her with the opposite sex not sitting well.

Vic nodded. He was right. Of course he was. Still, every now and then, the decision to leave her family, leave the island and everything she’d ever known and loved, had the power to stop her in her tracks.

It was the right decision, the only decision, she just hadn’t realised how hard it was going to be. A year ago when she’d booked the ticket it had been a long way off but with ninety days to go it was suddenly looming. And it was disheartening to think her departure might barely be noticed.

They finished their breakfast in companionable silence. Lawson checked his watch as he screwed up his paper bag. Six-thirty. Another hour and a half before they knocked off. He should just make it home in time to see Matilda before she left for the day.

Victoria was quiet beside him, unusual to say the least but he knew it wouldn’t last long. He’d known her since she was a skinny six-year-old and he’d been fortunate enough to be partnered with her father as a rookie paramedic. She’d been a chatty kid and nothing much had changed over the years.

‘I’ll be missed too, right?’

He glanced at her pensive face as she stared out over the water, attuned to the slight trace of doubt he heard in her voice. ‘Of course.’

Very few people got to see this side of his partner. To the outside world she was capable Victoria Dunleavy—dedicated daughter, big sister/surrogate mother and ultra-professional paramedic. But having known her for ever and having sat in a vehicle with her four out of seven days a week for the last five years, he’d been privy to the other Victoria Dunleavy. The one nobody got to see. The one who’d had way too much responsibility thrust on her long before she should have and wasn’t always certain of herself.

‘Ryan and Josh and your dad will miss you desperately,’ he assured her. ‘And everyone at the station. I know for a fact that Matilda will miss you like crazy.’

Vic chewed her last mouthful very carefully. So, her brothers would miss her, her father would miss her, her colleagues would miss her, even his eight-year-old daughter would miss her. But what about him? Would he miss her?

The fact that he hadn’t included himself was a little depressing. Vic had had a crush on her partner for as long as she could remember. Given that he’d known her for ever and there was a twelve-year age difference, she’d never expected it to be reciprocated. After all, it was just a harmless crush on an older man who’d been a family friend for ever and her mentor for the last five years.

Things like that happened all the time. It wasn’t as if she was in love with the guy. But surely, surely, he’d miss her too? She scrunched up her packet and turned to him. ‘What about you, Lawson? Will you miss me?’

Lawson gave her a startled look. Her steady whiskey gaze held him captive and he was struck again by that look he sometimes saw in it. He wasn’t sure what it was but it was frank and seemed to reach right inside him.

He nodded and looked back out to sea. ‘Of course. I’ve spent five years training you to do things my way. Your father will probably stick me with a newbie straight out of the academy.’ Bob Dunleavy, his old mentor and her father, was Officer-In-Charge of Brindabella Station. ‘Now I’ll have to start all over again with someone else.’

Vic realised she was holding her breath and she let it ease out slowly. Of course. He would miss her as a colleague. Her skills, their teamwork, their synergy. Why had she expected anything else? He’d never been anything other than one hundred per cent professional with her.

Which only proved further how badly she needed to get away from the island. She needed to broaden her horizons, both personal and professional. She needed to experience a variety of working environments, be exposed to different ideas, meet new people. Including men.

Every boyfriend she’d dated had suffered in comparison to Lawson. It wasn’t that she meant to compare or even realised she was doing it half the time. It just happened. Somehow, they’d all been a little lacking. Perhaps if he was out of her life, the silly crush would be forgotten and another man might just stand a chance.

Quite why she felt the way she did was a mystery. It wasn’t as if Lawson had ever given her any encouragement. Or ever treated her as anything other than Bob’s daughter. Just another paramedic at the station.

It wasn’t even as if he were the best-looking man she’d ever known. On the contrary—she’d been out with some exceedingly good-looking men. Lance Coulter in particular had been so sexy she’d been the envy of the entire island. Everyone from teenagers to grannies had swooned over the locum island doctor.

But there was something about Lawson Dunlop that was compelling. He certainly wasn’t classically good-looking. In fact the features of his face taken individually could best be described as interesting. A freakishly square jaw line, crooked nose and deep furrows lining his brow and around his eyes and mouth.

His eyes were grey. Nothing special. Except they could look warm like the soft folds of a cashmere jumper when he was calming a frightened patient or ominous like a storm-ravaged sea when stupidity caused needless carnage. His hair was dark brown and worn severely curtailed in a closely cropped fashion—not stylish or fussy. Just functional. No nonsense.

And then there was his scar. The one he never talked about. A thin white blemish that slashed from just beneath his nose down through both lips and ploughed a furrow in the stubble covering his chin.

She’d heard mountains being described as craggy and it was the best adjective she could come up with that suited his face. His height also leant to this appearance. He was well over six feet, his broad shoulders seeming to occupy all the space around him.

He certainly loomed above her, making her feel strangely fragile. Which was utterly ridiculous. She might have been petite but she was no dainty flower. She was strong, a requirement of her job, and most definitely robust.

An insistent beeping noise interrupted her thoughts, for which she was most thankful. They simultaneously reached for their pagers. Lawson pulled his off his belt first.

‘Forty-four-year-old female. Chest pain. Borilla Avenue.’

Vic nodded, her brain already switching from her personal life to work mode. ‘Let’s go.’ She vaulted off the table, landing cat-like on her feet, eager to banish the doubt demons and throw herself into what would hopefully be their last job before they clocked off. She headed for the nearby ambulance, not bothering to look back.

Lawson followed her, his gaze drawn to the bob of her auburn ponytail and the way her neat little frame fitted snugly into her navy paramedic overalls. He’d been doing that more and more lately. Noticing how her uniform clung to the contours of her bottom and how the functional government-issued belt she wore at her waist cinched her in, emphasising her curves.

Curves? Up until about a year ago he hadn’t even noticed she owned curves.

What the hell was the matter with him? He’d known her since she was a six-year-old in pigtails. He had no business noticing how much of a woman she’d become. How her wide-set eyes were balanced by the fullness of her lips. Or how those cute cherubic cheeks and dimples she’d had as a kid were just plain sexy twenty years later. It was just…wrong.

He banished them from his head and put his mind firmly to the job.

A few hours later Vic was in the depths of a sleep so deep that it took several insistent bangs on her bedroom door to drag her back into consciousness. She surfaced from the pillow she had jammed over her head and yelled, ‘What?’ in the general direction of the door.

Her brothers were in their senior year at high school and were currently in their exam block, which meant unless they had a test they didn’t have to be at school. This afternoon they had a biology paper and were supposed to be using the morning to cram for it.

‘Ryan’s cut his finger.’

Vic’s heavy lids battled to stay open. She’d worked her tail off last night and she was dog-tired. ‘Stick a Band-Aid on it,’ she grouched, placing the pillow back over her head.

‘I think it needs more than that.’

Vic sighed and threw the pillow away as the hesitation in Josh’s voice nagged at her gut. It had to be reasonably bad—both brothers knew a fate worse than death awaited them for trivial interruptions to her post-night-duty coma.

She looked at the clock. She’d been asleep for two hours. No wonder she felt like hell—those first few hours were always the deepest.

She opened the door and a blast of heat pushed into her air-conditioned bedroom. She looked up at her brother towering over her. She was barely five one; everyone towered over her. He was as blond as she was olive, the twins taking after their mother, whereas she had inherited the darker Dunleavy colouring.

‘There’d better be blood.’

Josh swallowed. ‘Oh, there is.’

Vic followed feeling weary to her bones but not overly concerned. She knew non-medical people often misjudged blood loss and that a small amount of the red stuff could often look like a massacre.

Her eyes felt gritty as she entered the kitchen unprepared for the sight that greeted her. For a brief moment she wondered if Ryan had been shot. Blood was splattered on the bench and congealed on the floor tiles. Her brother was standing at the sink, his wrapped hand hovering above the stainless steel.

‘Bloody hell, Ryan.’ Vic, suddenly very awake, flew across the kitchen. A metallic aroma wafted around her as she disturbed the warm air currents and she half slipped in a patch of smeared blood. ‘What on earth did you do?’

‘I told you not to wake her,’ Ryan said, turning accusing eyes on his brother. ‘I said to get some Steri-Strips.’

Vic unwrapped the wound carefully. The blood-soaked tea towel dripped into the sink. She somehow didn’t think Steri-Strips were going to do the job. ‘What happened?’ she asked, her heart slamming in her chest as her suddenly razor-sharp thought processes calculated his estimated blood loss.

Ryan didn’t look at her and a moment passed before Josh spoke. ‘The knife slipped when he was cutting through his shoe.’

Vic glared at Ryan, always the more daring of the twins. ‘Your shoe?’ she demanded.

He shrugged and winced as her unwrapping became a little rough. ‘They were an old pair.’ When Vic glared at him he hastily added, ‘The ad said you could do it with those knives.’

Vic shook her head, not sure how Ryan had ever made it to almost eighteen alive. This had to go down as the winner in the annals of dumb Dunleavy males. ‘I bet it also said not to try it at home.’

She finally uncovered the wound. Ryan’s middle finger appeared deeply lacerated, holding on by not much more than a thread. ‘A Steri-Strip?’ she said incredulously. Ryan shrugged. ‘How long ago did this happen?’ she asked.

‘About twenty minutes ago,’ Josh answered, his voice small.

Twenty minutes ago? No wonder it looked as if a massacre had taken place in the kitchen. Vic valiantly tried to recall her anatomy lessons and picture the blood supply to the hand.

What the hell they thought they were going to accomplish with a thin, weak, sticky strip she had no idea. Were they going to lasso the finger back in place and go back to watching television while Ryan slowly exsanguinated? Would she have woken to find him near death?

She shuddered at the thought. Losing her mother at the tender age of eight had been devastating. Losing one of the twins would be a blow neither she nor her father would ever recover from.

‘It’s practically severed. It’s going to need more than a bloody Steri-Strip. It’s going to need surgery.’

She shook her head at her brother. ‘Joshua,’ she said urgently, twisting Ryan’s bloodied hand upright, encircling his wrist with her thumb and forefinger to form a tourniquet. ‘Get me some clean tea towels and bring me the phone.’

Josh delved in the nearby drawer, pulling out the requested cloths and shoving them at his sister. He stalked from the kitchen and returned shortly after with the phone. Vic was re-covering the wound. He thrust it at her.

She rolled her eyes as she deftly wound the makeshift bandage in place. ‘Ring the station for me.’

Josh paled as he punched in the numbers. ‘You want me to tell Dad?’

‘No. I’ll tell him.’ She finished with the wound and tied a clean dishcloth firmly around Ryan’s wrist to stem the flow of blood to the wound.

Josh held out the phone to her. ‘Dad’s not there. It’s Lawson.’

Vic frowned. What the hell was Lawson still doing at the station? They’d knocked off over three hours ago. Vic reached for the phone. ‘Hold on a sec,’ she said into the receiver.

She directed Ryan to a nearby chair and pushed him into it. ‘You,’ she said to Josh. ‘Hold his arm up above his head like this.’ She supported her brother’s arm in the air and Josh took over.

‘Lawson?’

‘Victoria.’

Apart from her mother, Lawson was the only person who’d ever called her by her full name and, as much as she grouched about it, secretly she adored it. As a six-year-old it had made her feel very grown up and today, with her brother’s blood drying on her hands, it gave her an added dash of courage.

‘Why are you still there? Where’s Dad?’ she said, staying close to her brothers.

‘He had some meeting in Brisbane to attend. I’m covering for him until he gets back. What’s wrong?’

‘Ryan’s practically severed his left middle digit. I could drive him to the hospital myself but I really think he needs a medical professional with him while I drive. Is there an ambulance free?’

Lawson, well used to Ryan’s litany of injuries, didn’t even bat an eyelid. ‘How’d he do that?’

Vic sighed. ‘Trust me, you don’t want to know.’

Lawson grinned. ‘Is it haemorrhaging much?’

‘It has been. I’ve controlled the bleeding now though.’

‘Nine sixty’s available. I’ll call it in to Coms and be at your place in a few minutes.’

Vic hung up the phone. ‘Lawson will be here in three.’

‘I’m sorry, Vic, I—’

She slashed her hand through the air, bringing Ryan’s apology to an abrupt halt. ‘Don’t talk to me. Just be quiet.’

‘But—’

‘Don’t,’ she snapped.

Now the emergency was under control and she was away from sickening amounts of her brother’s blood other feelings flowed. Disbelief, anger, relief. She allowed herself to be a sister for a moment.

‘I can’t believe I raised you. How bloody stupid,’ she said to Ryan. ‘How am I supposed to go off to the other side of the world when you two are still acting like children? Hell, even little kids know not to play with knives. You’re nearly eighteen, for crying out loud. You’re supposed to be mature. Responsible. You’re supposed to be studying for your biology exam.’

‘Vic—’

‘I said don’t talk,’ she snapped again. Ryan was looking pale and she guessed from his blood loss he was a little shocked. The what-ifs were starting to circle.

‘I’ve worked all night, for Pete’s sake. All you had to do was let me sleep and be uninjured until I woke up. Is that too much to ask?’

Ryan and Josh looked at their feet and shook their heads. ‘Dad’s gonna have a fit,’ she continued. ‘Do you think his blood pressure can take this?’ Their father was borderline overweight and on medication for his hypertension. They both shook their heads again. ‘I swear you two are going to be the death of him.’

Moments passed in silence while she took stock. Ryan’s face was twisted into a permanent wince and she felt a momentary streak of sympathy. ‘Does it hurt?’

‘Yeah.’ Ryan grimaced.

The streak fizzled as quickly as it had arrived. ‘Good.’

She pushed some hair off her face and realised her hand was shaking. The sound of a distant siren reached them and Vic had never heard a sweeter noise. Not that she thought Ryan was about to expire from blood loss, but he had lost a good amount of the red stuff and would definitely be anaemic. She wouldn’t be surprised if he required a transfusion.

And had Lawson been much longer she might well have succumbed to the urge to do something drastic to prevent him from doing anything else so overwhelmingly stupid again.

She put her hand under Ryan’s elbow and urged him up. ‘Come on. Walk. We’ll meet Lawson out the front. Keep your arm above your head.’

‘Jeez, Vic, is your bedside manner always this good?’ Ryan grouched as he stumbled beside her.

‘No. I reserve this treatment for too-stupid-to-live teenagers.’

Lawson pulled up at the Dunleavy residence, a place he’d been to hundreds of times since he’d taken up residence on the island. He killed the siren at the same time the trio reached the driveway and jumped down from the cab. Striding around the back, he opened the doors as Victoria and her brothers appeared at the rear.

He took one look at a worried Joshua, an obviously chastised Ryan and a thunder-faced Victoria and made an executive decision. ‘Why don’t I look after Ryan in the back and you go and get cleaned up, put on your uniform and drive us in?’

Vic was about to argue when she noticed Lawson’s eyes taking in her attire. Amidst the crisis she’d forgotten that she was in her pyjamas. Not that there was anything indecent about them—they certainly covered more than a lot of clothes did these days.

Brief silky boxers with high scooped-up side seams and a shoestring-strapped grey singlet that didn’t quite meet the waistband of her shorts. But it was perhaps the blood that was most off putting.

She gave Ryan one last big-sister glare. ‘Fine. I’ll be ten minutes.’

Lawson tried really hard not to look as she walked away. She was his partner, for crying out loud. He’d seen her out of uniform hundreds of times. Hell—he’d seen her in a bikini! But he’d already noticed the way her bed-rumpled hair hung loosely around her face and the slight chest bounce as her unfettered breasts had jiggled against the taut fabric of her shirt. The desire to look a bit more was strangely compelling.

So he failed miserably at the not looking and allowed himself a second or two to indulge in her unselfconscious swagger. The words bite me printed across the backside of her boxers swayed hypnotically in front of his eyes and for a second he imagined just that.

‘Er, hello, Lawson? Bleeding here.’

Lawson startled and dragged his gaze away, horrified at where his mind had been. This was crazy. It was the abstinence. It had to be. Being a sole parent and a shift worker to boot wasn’t exactly conducive to dating.

He forced himself to focus on the Dunleavy twins, noting the beginnings of red seepage on Ryan’s outer dressing. He helped Ryan into the back of the ambulance and laid him on the gurney using two pillows across the teenager’s chest to elevate the injured hand above heart level.

He pulled the BP cuff from its receptacle on the wall and wrapped it around Ryan’s uninjured arm. Eighty on fifty. A little on the lowish side. ‘I might pop a drip in while we wait for Victoria.’

Ryan lifted his head off the pillow and screwed up his face. ‘What? No way. I hate needles.’

Lawson chuckled. How many times over the years had he tended to Victoria’s brother in the back of an ambulance? ‘Ryan, you just almost hacked off your finger. Do you think one little tiny needle can compare to that?’

Ryan held his head up for a few more seconds, then let it drop back in surrender. ‘I guess not.’

Lawson grinned. He reached into the nearby IV drawer and pulled out the things he was going to need. He glanced at Josh sitting in the back passenger seat looking pale, his knee bouncing, his fingers drumming against his thigh. ‘It’s okay, mate. He’ll be all right. Really.’

Josh looked at Lawson intently and then nodded, his shoulders sagging, and the fidgeting stopped.

‘So, do I want to know how you managed to nearly amputate your finger?’ he asked as he swabbed the crook of Ryan’s elbow with alcohol. There was silence from both the boys and Lawson pressed his lips together to suppress the smile. ‘Hmm,’ he said, uncapping the needle and lining it up with the bulging vein staring at him. ‘That stupid, huh?’

‘Ow!’

Lawson ignored Ryan’s protest as he slid the cannula straight into the vein and got an instant flashback. He taped it, flushed it and set up a drip to replace some of the volume Ryan had lost.

‘Vic’s pretty ticked,’ Ryan muttered.

Lawson looked up at anxious Josh, then back at the more robust Ryan. ‘You probably scared the hell out of her.’

‘Will it really need surgery?’ Josh asked.

‘I haven’t seen it but if it’s as bad as Victoria says, and she does know her severed body parts, then yes.’

As if she could hear her name, Vic appeared at the back doors. ‘Righto. Are we ready?’

Lawson, pleased to see her in something neck to toe, her hair pulled back in its regulation ponytail, nodded. ‘You going to be okay to drive?’

‘Sure.’ She flicked a glance at Josh. ‘Buckle up,’ she said as she slammed first one door then the other.

Lawson whistled. ‘She is really ticked.’ And smiled as both boys squirmed in their seats.

Vic didn’t bother with the siren. She knew Ryan’s blood loss was controlled and being replaced and that, under Lawson’s care, Ryan was in the best of hands. She trusted her partner implicitly. Hell, the man was an Intensive Care Paramedic; she’d trust Lawson with her life. So there was no point driving like a crazy thing, endangering all their lives for something that wasn’t life-threatening.

The trip took fifteen minutes and Ryan was seen immediately. Two hours later he was on a ward, prepped and ready to go to Theatre, when Bob strode into the room.

‘Ryan Dunleavy,’ he boomed. ‘What the hell were you thinking?’

Vic, her hand entwined with her brother’s and her head on the bed, catching some shut eye, was immediately alert. Ryan, slightly woozy from morphine and looking like little-boy-lost in his white hospital gown, opened heavy lids. ‘Sorry, Dad.’

His voice cracked and Vic felt it reach right inside her gut and twist. She squeezed his hand. It obviously had the same effect on her father, who strode across the short distance separating them and enveloped his son in a huge bear hug.

‘Bloody silly kid,’ he said, his gruff voice not fooling anyone.

Bob reached out for Josh and put his arm around his other son’s shoulders. After a few moments he straightened and cleared his throat, placing a hand on her shoulder. Vic knew that her mother dying from a pulmonary embolism a few days after the twins had been born, in this very hospital, had for ever altered her father. As it had her.

Her father’s heavy hand, his comforting squeeze, said it all. Neither needed words to express how confronting it was to have another member of their family lying pale and silent in a bed in this hospital.

Bob placed a kiss on the top of his daughter’s head. ‘Lawson, take her home,’ he instructed.

Vic looked behind her, surprised to see Lawson was still there. ‘It’s okay, Dad,’ she protested, looking up at her father. ‘I’ll stay.’

‘No.’ Bob shook his head. ‘You’re done in, Vic. You both are. I’m here now and HQ is sending a replacement to the island to cover me for the next few days. You’ve just come off three nights—you both need to sleep.’

‘Come on, Victoria.’ Lawson stood. ‘The boss has spoken.’

Vic, weary beyond what she would have thought even possible, knew her father was right. She stood and dropped a light kiss on Ryan’s brow. ‘See you in a few hours,’ she murmured. He didn’t stir.

She gave Josh a hug. ‘He’ll be fine,’ she assured him, knowing that Josh was probably the most worried of them all. She gave her father’s cheek a kiss. ‘I’ll be back later. Ring me if…for anything,’ she quickly amended and then departed with Lawson, too emotional to look back.

They’d nearly reached the lifts when a female voice pulled them up. ‘Lawson? Oh, Lawson?’

Vic turned to see the nurse who’d been looking after Ryan. She was young. Younger than her by a few years. Tall and well endowed too. Vic suddenly felt like a dwarf next to the blonde, oh-so-curvy woman who was fluttering her eyelashes at her partner. She couldn’t help but look down at her own rather lacking chest, petite as the rest of her, and sighed.

The nurse had been flirting with Lawson from the minute Ryan had been admitted. Vic had thought it in rather poor taste, but then she’d been tired and cranky and worried about her brother. Night duty generally brought out her prickly side.

‘Hi. Brianna, isn’t it?’

Vic watched as the poor woman almost nodded her head right off her shoulders, obviously reading way too much into Lawson remembering her name. Lawson remembered names—it was an occupational necessity.

‘You were telling me about that great traumatic amputation website,’ Brianna said. ‘Here’s my email address.’ She handed Lawson a piece of paper. ‘Could you email me the link?’

Vic, pushing the lift-call button several times, just stopped from rolling her eyes.

‘Oh, I can write it down for you,’ Lawson offered.

Vic watched as the nurse’s confidence faltered slightly. ‘Oh, no, it’s okay. You’re off now. Just email me.’

The lift dinged but not before Vic was privy to the look of frank sexual interest infusing the nurse’s smile.

‘Sure.’ Lawson smiled, slipping the paper into his breast pocket before following Victoria into the lift.

They rode down in silence. Lawson could feel the tension radiating off Victoria, filling the confines of the lift. He watched her surreptitiously as it descended. He knew she was worried about her brother. She had, after all, helped raise the twins from babies. Biologically she might be their sister, but in every other way she’d been their mother.

‘He is going to be fine,’ Lawson said as the lift touched down and the doors opened.

Vic, still annoyed at the nurse, frowned. ‘I know that,’ she grouched.

She strode out of the lift tired and cranky. At the whole world. What the hell was wrong with her? Females had been making goggle eyes at Lawson the entire time they’d been partnered—why was it bothering her so much now?

Why?

CHAPTER TWO

VIC steamed ahead. She needed to sleep. She wanted her bed. In fact she was already on sandman autopilot just putting one foot in front of the other, counting down the minutes until her head could hit the pillow. The day had been emotionally draining and right now she felt as if she could sleep for a week.

It took a few moments for her brain to register the fact that the couple a few paces in front of her had stopped to have a passionate kiss. She was almost upon them before the signals from her eyes penetrated her foggy brain.

‘Oh, God, I’m terribly sorry,’ she apologised as she pulled herself up just short of careening into them.

The couple broke off and the woman gave her a dreamy smile. ‘That’s okay.’

Vic was about to launch into a whole explanation when she realised the man was familiar. A prickle straightened her spine and cleared the fog. ‘Lance?’

She hadn’t seen her ex since he’d been caught with his pants down and they’d split four years before. Thankfully he’d moved to a hospital on the Gold Coast shortly after their break-up. He was still dazzlingly good-looking and yet somehow he just didn’t do it for her.

God! She must be tired!

Lance stared at Vic but recovered quickly. ‘Vic. How lovely to see you again.’ He gave her a decidedly uncomfortable half-smile. ‘Darling, this is Vic Dunleavy.’

Vic appraised the other woman, a young willowy blonde with an impressively perky chest.

Good grief—they were everywhere she looked today.

‘Pleased to meet you,’ she said politely. Even though she couldn’t have cared less. In truth, she was too tired to care about much of anything.

Lawson joined them and she immediately felt his hand at her elbow. The comfort of his touch, his superior height and bulk were the perfect emotional anchor and she leaned into him a little. ‘You remember Lawson?’ she offered.

Lance nodded stiffly. ‘Of course. Lawson.’

Lawson nodded back not giving a damn whether the jerk remembered him or not. He’d always found Lance a little too pretty for his own good and he guessed it was inevitable that a young, naive Victoria would fall for him. But he hadn’t been surprised when it had ended in Lance’s infidelity.

There was a moment of awkward silence finally broken by the woman. ‘Hi.’ She held out her hand. ‘I’m Kathy.’

‘Oh, sorry,’ Lance apologised. ‘This is Kathy. My…’

Another pregnant pause and then Kathy added, ‘Fiancé. I just called in to bring him lunch. Doctors work such awful hours, don’t they?’

Vic shook Kathy’s hand automatically, noticing the big fat solitaire sparkling in the sun filtering through the atrium skylight. The smile on Kathy’s face was a mile wide and Vic suddenly felt very lonely.

Every relationship she’d been in had suffered because of her family commitments and she’d learnt early that her situation wasn’t conducive to falling in love. She just didn’t have the time. And then there’d been the inevitable comparisons to Lawson. Maybe in London she’d finally be free to connect with someone…

‘Mmm,’ Lawson muttered.

They made polite conversation for a few more moments and then Lawson intimated they were late for a job, for which Vic could have kissed him. By the expression on Lance’s face, he could have too. No doubt he didn’t want an ex-girlfriend blowing the whistle on his inability to keep his pants on.

‘You okay?’ Lawson asked as they headed for the ambulance bay.

‘Fine.’

It wasn’t until they passed a vending machine that Vic realised she wasn’t feeling at all fine. She was light-headed and a little nauseous. ‘You got some change?’ she asked Lawson.

Lawson fished in his pocket and handed it over without comment. He’d known women long enough to know that some situations required a shoulder, others a hefty dose of alcohol, and the really bad ones chocolate wrapped in some pretty foil packaging.

Vic retrieved the bar from the machine and a few minutes later they were buckled in the van and leaving the hospital. She opened the wrapper and devoured the chocolate bar in a minute.

‘Better?’

‘Marginally.’

‘You want to talk about it?’

‘What?’

‘Lance. Or Ryan.’

‘Thanks, but no.’ She turned away and looked out of the window.

Lawson took the hint and let it be, even though it irritated him to think four years down the track her jerk ex still had the power to upset her. Why it irritated him so much, he wasn’t quite sure.

Vic watched the world whizz by for a few moments, her thoughts tumbling around in her head. Lance the Unfaithful was settling down. ‘I can’t believe he’s getting married,’ she said after a while.

Lawson looked at her sharply. ‘I thought you were over him?’

Vic snorted. ‘I am.’

‘Really?’

She turned to him and rolled her eyes. ‘It was years ago. The man is an adulterous lech.’

‘Yeah. I remember.’ She’d cried on his shoulder for three months. ‘So—’ he shrugged ‘—who cares that he’s getting married?’

Vic watched as the lines on his forehead and around his eyes converged into a frown. How could he possibly understand? Lawson, who had travelled the world without a care until Matilda had come along. It seemed everybody else’s life had begun while she’d been treading water. Hell, even Ryan and Josh were heading off into the world, going to uni in Canberra in a few months’ time.

Seeing Lance today had been unexpected. Add to that lack of sleep and the emotional upheaval of the morning and she was coiled so tight she was ready to burst. It was totally irrational. Ninety days couldn’t come soon enough as far as she was concerned.

‘I don’t.’ Vic faltered. She really, really didn’t. So why the hell was she feeling so churned up? ‘I’m just…tired, I guess.’

Lawson nodded, not overly convinced. But he could most definitely relate. He had to be pretty damn tired himself for this to be bothering him. ‘Why don’t you put your head back and catch some Z’s.’

Vic shut her eyes gratefully. They felt as if they were sticking out of her head on stalks and the relief was instantaneous. She let her head loll back against the padded rest and almost sighed out loud.

When she opened them again fifteen minutes later, Lawson was pulling into her driveway.

‘This is your stop.’

Vic unbuckled. ‘Thanks.’

Lawson nodded. ‘Will you be okay? Want me to stay for a while?’ He thought about her boxer-short pyjama bottoms and prayed like hell she’d reject his chivalrous offer.

‘Nah. You need your sleep too. I’ll be fine. I’ll see you later.’

Lawson nodded. ‘Sleep tight.’

Vic alighted the vehicle and waved her partner off. She walked through the front door that none of them had thought to shut never mind lock as they’d left. It was at times like these she appreciated living in a small community where theft or crime of any nature was practically non-existent.

It took her half an hour to clean up the kitchen, take a shower and ring the hospital to check on Ryan, who wasn’t back from Theatre yet. By the time she was done it was early afternoon and Vic would have crawled on broken glass to get to her bed. Her head hit the pillow and the feel of Lawson’s hand at her elbow guided her into the comforting embrace of sleep.

Lawson was contemplating hitting the sack again at nine that night when there was a rap on his door. He’d been lying on his couch in front of the television pretending interest in some B-grade movie.

He frowned, rising from the lounge and making his way through the darkened house. He didn’t bother with switching lights on, not wanting to wake Matilda, who was a notoriously light sleeper.

He wondered who it was, hoping it wasn’t a neighbour requiring medical assistance who’d decided it was quicker to knock on his door than call an ambulance. Unfortunately in their small community it was a reasonably common occurrence.

Lawson was surprised to find his partner standing there when he opened the door. She was wearing jeans and a red top—a top Lawson couldn’t stop himself from noticing clung temptingly to her petite frame. Her hair was loose around her face, and her lips shimmering with gloss. ‘Shouldn’t you be tucked up in bed asleep?’ he asked.

Vic smiled. Even in the subdued lighting she could see the man filled out blue jeans and a T-shirt better than any guy she’d ever known. ‘Probably.’ She shrugged. ‘I don’t know why I’m here.’ The words tumbled out before she’d given them adequate consideration. But it was true—she’d been in the car coming back from the hospital and suddenly she was here. ‘I’ve just come from seeing Ryan and guess I’m too restless to go home yet.’

Lawson, used to having Victoria in his house, stepped back. ‘You don’t need a reason, Victoria. Come in.’

His partner liked to talk when something was troubling her and, as it was usually about a case they’d done, he was generally the first port of call. At least he didn’t have to stand on any ceremony with Victoria. She was a familiar fixture around the house, being a regular babysitter for Matilda over the years and totally blind to any sloppy housekeeping. Thankfully living with two teenage boys had inoculated her against mess.

‘Is everything okay with Ryan?’

Vic nodded as she made her way into the lounge room. ‘Yep. All good. The operation went well. The surgeon’s happy. His haemoglobin was low though and they transfused two bags of blood.’

Lawson nodded as he flicked on a couple of lamps that threw a warm glow around the room. ‘Hang on a sec.’ He tiptoed into the hallway and quietly shut Matilda’s door. ‘He looked good a couple of hours ago,’ he said, rejoining her. ‘Tilly and I dropped by for a while.’

Vic sat on Lawson’s very comfortable, saggy old leather lounge and felt instantly at home. ‘Dad said you called in.’

Lawson shrugged. ‘Tilly was fretting. Would you like something to drink?’

‘Sure.’ Vic sighed and snuggled into the cushiony folds of the three-seater to the muffled sounds of Lawson in the kitchen. The television was down low and the flicker of light emanating from the screen was hypnotic to weary eyes.

‘Here you go.’ Lawson handed her a glass and placed a bottle of red wine on the coffee table. He sat at the opposite end of the sofa to her and turned three quarters so they were facing.

Vic took a sip of the rich Shiraz and shut her eyes as the heavy bouquet filled her senses. Her eyes fluttered open as Lawson took a swig out of a long-necked beer. ‘Real men only like to drink beer, huh?’

Lawson smiled. She had her glass snuggled against her chest, her legs tucked up and her feet bare. If she knew what he was thinking now about real men and what they liked she’d be shocked.

Despite himself his gaze was drawn to her wide mouth and the way the glow from the lamps glistened in her lip gloss. Watching her mouth was dangerous, but then looking at any part of her tonight was dangerous. Her clingy red top touched all the right places, destroying his concentration.

This sudden awareness of Victoria, of his partner, of Bob’s daughter, was getting out of hand. He wisely chose to change the subject instead. ‘So, what gives?’

Vic shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’ All she knew was she didn’t want to go home. She didn’t want to have to play any roles tonight. To be the dutiful daughter, the caring sister. The ‘parent’. Reassuring her father and Josh, building them up, being there for them. Maybe tonight she just wanted someone to take care of her for a change.

Lawson nodded. ‘Okay.’ It was obvious something was eating her and he knew if he waited she’d tell him.

She dropped her head on the side and inspected him through lashes at halfmast. Just hearing his voice was enough at the moment. It was deep and calming and oozed a confidence that was soothing to the sudden well of conflict that had risen, unbidden and unwanted, inside.

‘I should have known Ryan would do anything to get out of his biology exam.’

Ah. Here it was. The recriminations. ‘Victoria.’

She ignored the gentle reprimand in his voice, staring into the ruby depths of her glass. ‘I should have stayed up until they’d gone off to school. Like I did when they were kids.’

‘Victoria. They’re not little boys any more. They’re seventeen. You’d just come off three nights. You’re allowed to sleep.’

She looked at him and nodded. ‘What the hell was Ryan thinking? He should have known better than that. I don’t know how often I told those boys not to play with knives.’

‘Of course you did, Victoria. You raised Josh and Ryan with textbook perfection. The twins knew right from wrong from very early. But they’re not little any more and they’re responsible for their own actions. They’re going to be flying the nest in a few months. Maybe its time to let go a bit, huh?’

She looked back into her wine. With the bloodied kitchen floor still playing in her head and the worst-case scenario taunting the edges of her consciousness his praise over her mothering skills was just what she needed right now. As was his unsolicited advice to cut the apron strings.

She was going overseas in ninety more sleeps, for crying out loud. They were all going to have to get along without her. And as much as the thought of leaving them and this place snagged at a place deep inside her like a jagged nail, they were all going to have to get used to it.

She dragged her gaze away from the glass. ‘Tell me about working in London again. I’m sure you have some stories you haven’t told me yet.’

Lawson regarded her for a second. Was she just changing the subject because he’d hit a little too close to home or did she need some kind of assurance that she was doing the right thing? He wasn’t sure what it was about—he’d never seen her quite this melancholy before—but he obliged anyway.

Having kicked around the world for most of his twenties, he always had another story. He’d studied to become a paramedic straight from school but the minute he’d qualified he’d taken off for foreign lands, working and playing wherever the whim took him. Until the bombshell that had been Matilda, anyway.

She had well and truly forced him to reassess his life when her mother, a fling on a brief sojourn home, had literally left him holding the baby. So he understood Victoria’s itchy feet and her desire to do something with her life. To live it.

And if he could help her along by enticing her with his adventures, then he was more than willing. Even if the prospect of losing her to the wild blue yonder was disturbing on levels he didn’t want to admit.

A couple of hours later Vic was nearing the end of her second glass of wine and a lovely buzz had settled in her veins. She felt just brave enough to pry. ‘So have you emailed Brianna yet?’

Lawson, who had finished his beer a long time ago, frowned. ‘Brianna?’

Vic laughed and rolled her eyes. ‘From today. At the hospital? Lawson, oh, Lawson,’ she mimicked.

Lawson chuckled. ‘Not yet. I’ll have to do that tomorrow.’

‘You know she doesn’t give two hoots about the website, right?’

Lawson looked affronted. ‘What are you suggesting?’

Vic slapped her forehead. ‘Good Lord, for an intelligent man you’re thick sometimes.’

Lawson stilled. ‘You think she was flirting with me?’

‘Lawson, she was coming on so heavy I thought Ryan would asphyxiate from an overdose of oestrogen before they got him to Theatre.’

It’d been so long since he’d been in the game Lawson was pretty much ignorant to the subtleties of flirting. His priority had been Matilda and, Lord knew, life as a single father was a constant enough juggle without throwing a relationship into the mix. He shrugged. ‘I didn’t really notice.’

Vic tisked. Sometimes she thought her crush would evaporate if Lawson weren’t so damn available. ‘All work and no play makes Lawson a dull boy.’

‘I play,’ he protested.

‘Lawson, you haven’t been on a date in I don’t know how long. Well over a year. What happened to the love-them-and-leave-them Lawson I knew when I was growing up? What’s the matter with you?’

‘I became a father.’

Vic rolled her eyes. ‘Yeah, sure, but you didn’t die, Lawson. There was a great-looking woman making eyes at you and you were completely oblivious.’

‘I’m out of practice.’

She shook her head.

‘I’m…busy.’ God, he sounded pathetic. ‘I have Matilda to think about, after all.’

Vic rolled her eyes. ‘Oh, please! Your kid is dying to be a flower girl again. You could marry the archetypal wicked stepmother and she couldn’t care less as long as she got to throw rose petals at her feet.’

Lawson laughed. Matilda had been rather transparent in her attempts to marry him off since his sister got married a few months back.

He shrugged. ‘You know how hard it is with kids to form relationships. It takes a really understanding person. Someone selfless. And that’s hardly a fair ask.’

Vic nodded. She did know. None of her boyfriends had understood her commitment to her family. They said they did, paid lip service to it, but when push came to shove, and she had to cancel yet another date because the twins were sick or her father had been called out, they never stuck around.

Hell, Lance had even gone one step further and looked elsewhere when she wasn’t around to service his needs.

So she could certainly sympathise with Lawson. At least he could get some comfort from the fact that he’d had a life first. That was something she couldn’t claim.

She glanced at him. They were closer now than they’d been earlier. He looked all brooding and intense and so all she wanted to do was lay her head on his shoulder and go to sleep. To forget about her responsibilities for a night and have someone look after her for once.

Obviously the wine had gone to her head.

She yawned and sat her empty glass down on the coffee table. She hiccupped and then laughed. ‘Wow, I think I’m a little tipsy.’

Lawson raised an eyebrow. She’d had two glasses of wine in a couple of hours—hardly excessive. ‘I didn’t realise you were such a cheap date.’

Vic nodded, shutting her eyes. ‘I’ll probably have an almighty headache in the morning.’

Lawson’s gaze was drawn to the way her lashes grazed her cheeks. ‘I’ll call you a cab to take you home.’

Her eyes fluttered open. Home? No, she wasn’t ready for that. She didn’t want to leave. Not yet. Here with Lawson she could just be herself. She wasn’t ready to go back to reality. ‘Do you think it would it be okay to crash here?’

Lawson hesitated. He wasn’t sure why—it just didn’t feel…appropriate. Which was ridiculous. It wasn’t the first time she’d bunked down here. Most times she watched Matilda for him she usually slept the night on his couch. Lawson wavered. He knew it should be cut and dried but for some reason it wasn’t. He became aware of their closeness and consciously sat up straighter.

Vic frowned at her partner’s continuing silence, searching for another reason to stay. ‘Please, Lawson. The last thing Dad needs on top of a son who nearly bled to death in the kitchen today is an inebriated daughter.’

‘You’re hardly inebriated, Victoria.’

She dismissed his observation with a wave of her hand. ‘I have two teenage brothers, remember? I have to set a good example for them.’

If anyone knew the extent of Victoria’s sacrifices for her brothers it was Lawson. But even so they occasionally slapped him in the face. Victoria hadn’t had a normal childhood or teenage years. She hadn’t had a chance to rebel or experiment like a lot of teenagers, as he had.

Which was probably why two glasses of wine on top of three night shifts had gone straight to her head.

She’d had her hands full helping her dad bring up two babies and run the house. Even when she’d done her paramedic training in Brisbane she’d commuted every day for three years. No wonder she was counting the days down until her life could begin.

Vic watched as Lawson hesitated. A funny thought drifted through her head and with the alcohol blunting her inhibitions she spoke it without further analysis. ‘I promise not to try and seduce you.’

Lawson almost choked on his tongue, which developed into a coughing fit. He leapt to his feet. ‘Not funny, Victoria,’ he rasped when he’d regained his breath.

Vic laughed. She supposed not. Although the idea was seriously tempting here in the half-light after two glasses of wine. What would happen if she took her crush one step further?

‘You are my partner,’ Lawson continued. ‘I have known your father for twenty years. I have a child. You are leaving in ninety days.’

Vic laughed. ‘Yeah, yeah. Relax, Lawson, I’m only joking.’

Lawson rolled his eyes as his heart rate settled. ‘Bloody hell,’ he muttered, heading for his bedroom. ‘Take my bed. I’ll have the couch.’

‘Oh, no, no, no,’ she protested, following him. ‘It’s okay. I’m smaller. I always sleep on the couch. The couch is fine.’

Lawson stopped just inside his door and turned, not expecting her to be so close. He took a step back, narrowly avoiding a collision. ‘My room has black-out blinds. I have a feeling you may need them in the morning. Plus Tilly will be up at the crack of dawn and I doubt that’s something you want to experience with a thumping head.’

Vic couldn’t fault his thinking. ‘Okay then. You’ve sold me.’

They stood for a moment looking at each other. ‘Well,’ Lawson said, stepping to the left. Victoria moved at the same time in the same direction. She gave a half-laugh and stepped to the right as Lawson also dodged right. He laughed this time and grabbed her by the shoulders, holding her in place as he stepped around her.

‘Goodnight,’ he said on his way out of the door.

Vic turned. ‘Lawson?’

He swung around. ‘Yes?’

‘I don’t suppose you have something I can take to cut the headache off at the pass?’

Lawson chuckled. ‘Sure. I’ll get it.’

Vic watched him leave, slipped out of her jeans and then lifted her top over her head. She pulled his bed covers back and gratefully crawled beneath. Lawson’s bed felt like a feather duvet floating on a cloud. But then anything that allowed her to recline would have felt as soft—even a bed of nails. The alcohol and a mere four hours’ sleep enveloped her and she shut her eyes surrendering to the bliss of being horizontal.

Not even her weird-o-meter, which was blaring loudly, was enough to rouse her. The vague feeling that being in Lawson’s bed was blurring their professional and friendship boundaries nagged at the peripheries of her rapidly dwindling consciousness, just out of her grasp. Hell, she’d never even been in his bedroom before. It was…intimate. Not something friends, colleagues, did. Certainly not something they did.

Lawson entered the darkened room a few minutes later with a glass of water and two headache pills. Some ambient light from the street outside filtered through his curtains and he looked down at her, the covers pulled up to her chin, her hair loose on his pillows.

‘Victoria?’

She stirred as his voice floated towards her. ‘Mmm?’

He sat on the side of the bed. ‘Here.’

Vic prised open an eye and saw the white tablets on the palm of his hand. Sleep clawed at her bones, making them heavy and resistant, but she pushed through it, sitting up. She drew her knees to her chest and downed the pills gratefully along with the entire glass of water.

‘Thanks, Lawson.’ She handed him back the glass. ‘For everything. For coming to my rescue with Ryan. And the company tonight. And the bed. And the tablets.’

Lawson watched as the sheet slipped a little to reveal a red bra strap before she hiked it back up again. He looked away quickly. ‘What are partners for?’

Vic smiled and stroked her cheek against the sheet covering her knees. ‘I like the smell of your sheets,’ she murmured.

He grimaced. ‘Sorry, I should change them.’

‘No, they’re fine,’ she dismissed. The bed was all she needed—sheets were a luxury. ‘They smell like you.’

Lawson’s breath caught in his chest. ‘Oh? And how do I smell?’

Vic sighed, closing her eyes, inhaling his essence again. ‘Like Matilda’s strawberry-shortcake soap I buy her every Christmas and that great aftershave you wear.’

Lawson’s belly clenched. She noticed his aftershave?

‘And freshly cut grass.’

Lawson laughed as the tension inside him uncoiled a little. ‘Grass?’

‘Yeah, you know. Earthy. Male.’

‘Well, thank you. I think.’ And he laughed again.

Vic lifted her head off her knees. She liked hearing him laugh. He didn’t do it often enough. The light coming in through the window illuminated his face, emphasising his masculinity and highlighting his scar. Curiosity and no doubt the effects of alcohol had her crossing a line she’d never crossed before.

She lifted a hand and touched her finger to it, tracing it from just under his nose across his lips and down his chin. Lawson stopped laughing and pulled away from her as if she’d trekked a burning match across his face.

‘I’m sorry,’ she murmured, dropping her hand. ‘I was just curious. You never talk about it and Dad’s warned me it’s a touchy subject but…I don’t know…blame the Shiraz…’

Lawson made a conscious effort to relax his jaw. ‘No. It’s okay. It happened a long time ago when I was in a different place in my life that I don’t like to dwell on.’

Vic nodded. ‘Of course.’ But she was curiously hurt by his reluctance to share it with her. They were partners and yet sometimes she felt as if she didn’t know him at all. God knew, he knew everything there was to know about her.

Lawson felt a spike of guilt lance him at her downcast face. ‘I was in an accident. When I was sixteen. My home life was…unhappy. We moved around a lot and my father liked to drink. One night some mates were going on a late-night high-speed joyride with some older guy they knew who had this souped-up car and I thought, Why not? The car crashed. The driver died. Everyone was seriously injured. I had facial and chest injuries and had to be cut out of the vehicle. I spent nearly three months in hospital.’

Vic gasped. ‘I’m so sorry.’

Lawson shrugged. ‘I was trapped for two hours. This paramedic stayed with me the entire time. I’ve never forgotten it.’

‘Is that why you became one?’

Lawson nodded. ‘If it hadn’t been for that crash, I don’t know where I would have ended up.’ He’d certainly been heading for a dead-end job and a chip on his shoulder.

Vic felt a rush of incredible tenderness for the man and heartache for the teenager he’d been. She’d always known her partner was a complex human being with a rough childhood, but this put him in a whole new light. She couldn’t bear that he’d been through so much pain.

She touched his scar again and this time, though he flinched, he allowed it. Then, she wasn’t sure why, maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the whole emotional upheaval of the day, she leaned forward and pressed her mouth to it, the desire to kiss it better too powerful to resist. ‘Poor Lawson,’ she whispered.

Lawson sat very still, her lips at his chin. He shut his eyes as the fleeting press of her lips stirred desires he’d long ago forgotten existed. She was so close. Her warm breath wrapped his gut in seductive tendrils.

He only had to shift slightly and he could claim her mouth. He didn’t move as the battle raged within him. He wanted to kiss her so badly he was salivating. Like a starving man being led into a bakery. But she’d been drinking. And she was his partner. His much younger partner whom he’d known since she was in pigtails. And she was leaving.

Vic liked the spikiness of his stubble against her lips and this close to him she got to smell all those aromas she’d told him about but with the added mix of his warm male skin. The room was utterly silent except for their breath and even in her tipsy state she was hyperaware of a very weird vibe settling around them.

Lawson dragged in a breath. This was so screwed up and he wasn’t going to add to it by doing something totally unforgivable. With a mammoth effort he sat back from her.

‘Go to sleep, Victoria. It’s been a long day.’ He stood and reached over to pull the blind down. ‘When you wake up it’ll only be eighty-nine more sleeps.’

Vic smiled at the thought as she slid down into the bed and snuggled into the sheets, sighing as her eyes drifted shut. ‘Night, Lawson. Sweet dreams.’

Lawson watched her for a few seconds before turning on his heel. Sweet dreams? Was she kidding? Something had shifted between them tonight, the boundaries had moved, and with the imprint of her lips still scorching his chin he’d be lucky if he ever slept again.

CHAPTER THREE

LAWSON woke to a finger lifting his eyelid. ‘Daddy, why are you sleeping on the couch?’

Considering he’d not long closed it, Lawson almost groaned out loud. ‘Morning, Tilly.’ It took a superhuman effort but he managed to force the other one open. He glanced at the clock. Three minutes to six. This time he did groan.

Why couldn’t his daughter have been one of those kids that he’d heard mothers talking about at school? The ones that required a crowbar to lever them from their beds?

‘Did you fall asleep watching TV?’

Lawson sat up. His chest was bare and he’d undone the top two buttons of his fly. He rubbed his hands across his face. ‘No, Victoria is sleeping in my bed.’

Matilda’s face lit up like Guy Fawkes Night. ‘Vic’s here?’ She jumped up and down clapping, making little happy noises at the back of her throat.

He winced as her excited reaction bordered on a squeal. ‘Shh.’ He placed his fingers on Matilda’s lips. ‘She’s…not well.’

‘Can I go wake her up, Daddy?’

‘No, you may not.’ He ruffled his daughter’s blonde curls, the only thing she’d inherited from her mother. The rest was all him. ‘She had a big day yesterday with Ryan. She needs her sleep.’

Matilda’s enthusiasm waned. ‘Will she be awake before I leave for school?’

Lawson prised himself out of the lounge and stretched his back out as he rose. ‘I doubt it.’ If she was anywhere near as tired as he’d been last night, as he was right now, she’d probably be in his bed all week. His thoughts drifted to her innocent sort-of kiss last night before he could put it firmly from his mind.

‘Phooey.’ Matilda pouted. ‘I wanted to ask her how many more sleeps it is.’

‘Eighty-nine.’ The answer fell from his lips automatically. He’d been privy to the countdown for the past twelve months. It was as if the numbers had been engraved on his soul.

Matilda put her skinny arms around her father’s waist. ‘I’m going to miss her, Daddy.’

Lawson smiled down at his daughter. ‘We all will, Tilly.’ He hugged her for a moment, his mind drifting to that kiss again. That non-kiss kiss. Or whatever the hell it was. ‘Come on, let’s get breakfast.’

For the next couple of hours he and Matilda went about their usual morning routine. Not that there was anything usual about it with Victoria sleeping soundly in his bed the entire time. He’d tried to keep Tilly’s noise to a minimum but sometimes that was like trying to keep a wave on the sand. Especially when his daughter’s motives weren’t exactly pure. Despite Tilly’s best efforts, Victoria kept sleeping.

When it came time to take Matilda to school he picked up his shirt where he’d discarded it last night, right next to Victoria’s shoes, and threw it back on. It was creased but it wasn’t as if he had to get out of the car and it beat the alternative—tiptoeing into his room to retrieve a fresh one.

Tilly chatted non-stop on the drive to school about her teacher and her spelling and the excursion coming up in a few weeks’ time. She reminded him of Victoria, who also seemed to think silences were there to be filled.

‘Have you got the tuck-shop bags I did up for you?’ he asked.

Matilda nodded. ‘And the excursion forms. Don’t forget to ask Vic’s dad for some time off next week to come and see me play my recorder at assembly.’

Lawson nodded. He handed her the library book that had been due back yesterday and he’d turned the house upside down looking for after they’d got back from the hospital, finally locating it in the hammock outside.

‘Can Maddy come over this afternoon? We’re doing our pirate project together and she doesn’t have any Internet at her house.’

Lawson groaned inwardly. He was so tired he could sleep for a week. The last thing he wanted was the presence of giggling Maddy. ‘Sure. I’ll check with her mum before pick-up this afternoon. I think her number’s on the phone tree on the fridge.’

He pulled into the set-down zone in front of the school and Tilly kissed his cheek. ‘You’re the best.’

Lawson chuckled. ‘Yeah, yeah. Get out of here.’

He watched as she met up with Maddy and they skipped into the grounds without a care in the world.

He couldn’t believe how eight years had flown by as if they’d been mere seconds. He remembered the first time he’d laid eyes on his daughter. She’d been wrapped in a little pink bundle. Everything about her had been pink, from her booties to the tiny pink bow in her hair. She’d been two weeks old when Deb had handed her over and said I can’t do this.

He remembered looking at Deb, whom he’d slept with on only a handful of occasions several months prior, as if she’d gone mad as she’d thrust the pink package at him, trying to compute what she was saying. That their liaison had yielded a child. That her baby was his baby. That he was a father. And it was up to him.

But it had only taken an instant for Matilda to totally capture his heart. One glimpse at her little bow mouth and tiny pink nose and he’d been a complete goner. In one glance Matilda had become his everything. And he wouldn’t have traded the steep learning curve, the single-father juggling act, the sleepless nights or giggling Maddy for anything.

Matilda turned before she disappeared from sight completely and gave her father another wave. He smiled, returning it, her cheeky grin pulling at his heart-strings. A short toot of a horn behind him reminded him he’d lingered too long in the drop-and-go zone and he pulled out.

He smiled to himself as he rejoined the traffic, proud and relieved that his little girl was a happy, carefree child. Heading home now to Victoria, he was very conscious of the fact that at eight years old, the same age as Matilda, Victoria had lost her mother and had become default mother to her newborn twin brothers.

He and Bob had been partners when it had happened and he still remembered with chilling clarity the devastation of that time for both Bob and Victoria. Tilly might never have known her mother, and he had no doubt that she might go through a stage where that affected her more deeply than it did now, but being motherless was all she’d ever known.

He would do anything, whatever it took, to protect his daughter from the kind of devastation Victoria had faced. Which was one of the reasons he’d chosen to eschew any involvements in the last eight years. He’d never risk Tilly’s heart—which was huge and generous and tender—on something that might not work out.

Victoria’s tear-stained face at her mother’s funeral was too potent a reminder. While he could still draw breath, he would inoculate his daughter against life’s rocky road. Because he loved his little girl more than he’d ever thought possible to love another human being.

And because that was what fathers did. The good ones, anyway.

Lawson pulled into the driveway ten minutes later. Victoria’s car was still parked on the street. The house was stuffy, already warm from the early heat of the day. There was silence. No evidence that Victoria had risen while he’d been gone. His door was still closed; there was no extra coffee mug in the sink.

He yawned, still dog-tired from his sleepless night trying not to think about the kiss and Victoria all-but-naked in his bed. Telling himself it was wrong to think about his partner like that unfortunately hadn’t helped and it hadn’t been until exhaustion had finally overcome him at dawn that he’d slept.

He’d like nothing more than to go back to bed for a few hours in his dark, cool room. Maybe even sleep until it was time to pick Tilly up from school. But, as that wasn’t possible and he hung over the edge of Matilda’s bed, the couch was his only option.

Lucky he was too tired to care about the light and the air-conditioner would take care of the heat. He pulled his shirt off again and dropped it on the floor near Victoria’s shoes. He undid his top couple of fly buttons, flicked the air-con on with the remote and collapsed onto the lounge. Blissfully, sleep pulled him under immediately.

Vic woke slowly, momentarily disorientated by the gloom. Then she remembered. She was in Lawson’s bed. She gave a half-laugh. How many times had she fantasised about that over the years?

She turned her head—nope, he wasn’t there beside her. Her gaze fell instead on the red digital numbers of his bedside clock. Ten-thirty.

‘Crap.’ Vic vaulted upright. Ryan. She should have been at the hospital by now. Why the hell had Lawson let her sleep so late?

She stumbled out of bed and reached for the blind, inching it up a little so she could see what she was doing. She found her clothes and threw them on. She had to go home, ring her father, have a shower, change into fresh clothes and get to the hospital.

Vic bolted out the door wondering where her bag and shoes were and desperately needing coffee but knowing she didn’t have time to linger. Her head swivelled from side to side—where had she left her things?

She headed for the lounge room, rounded the couch and pulled up short. A bare-chested Lawson lay passed out on the three-seater. She froze for a moment, hoping she hadn’t woken him. And then, with the very distracting sight of all that skin goading her, she let her breath out slowly and allowed her gaze to wander over all his maleness.

He truly was a magnificent specimen of man. Tall and broad-shouldered. Well-formed pectorals segueing into the bony ridges of his ribcage, rising and falling with each deep, measured breath. Further down the hard muscularity of perfect abdominals were very easy on the eye. His thighs, hugged by denim, were bulky, strong, his hips lean, his legs long.

One hand rested on a muscular thigh, the other arm flung above his head was bent at the elbow, his forearm covering his eyes and half his face. She noticed the soft hair under his arm was the same that surrounded his flat male nipples, dusted his stomach and narrowed towards his waistband.

His half-open fly caught her attention and, involuntarily, she rose up on her tiptoes and angled her head to see if she could ascertain whether he was commando beneath the denim. Unfortunately there wasn’t enough revealed to tell and she lowered her heels back to the floor extraordinarily disappointed.

Still, as she took him all in once again a surge of feminine appreciation rippled from somewhere in the vicinity of her womb and flushed through her system like a shot of vodka on an empty stomach. Her nipples were painfully hard and she actually felt her pelvic floor contract.

There was something almost primal about the way he affected her. His body, even relaxed in sleep, oozed virility. It said, I’m strong, tough, capable. I am man. And tens of thousands of years of evolution and a hundred years of feminism were wiped out in the blink of an eye.

He turned his head slightly and she froze again. His face was now angled towards her, his lips nuzzling the fat pillow of bicep covering his eyes.

Frantic signals from her brain flashed multicoloured warnings. Stop ogling shamelessly and get out of here!

Finally sense made it through to her muscles and she dragged her gaze away from him to search the floor for her shoes. They were beside the sofa and she crouched to retrieve them.

But that just brought her closer to him and when she turned her head his face was right there. Even covered with his arm it was obviously a man’s face. Craggy and interesting—lived in. His scar-ravaged lips were a testimony to this.

A shard of a memory pierced her consciousness and the scene from last night, kissing his scar, came crashing back in full Technicolor detail. She pressed her finger to her mouth as the memory of his stubble grazing her lips tingled as if it had just happened.

She shut her eyes. Stupid, stupid, stupid. What must he have thought?

But even in the cold light of day, his lips within reaching distance, the temptation to do it again was a living, breathing animal inside her. She opened her eyes. His lips were slack, slightly parted, and for a fleeting second her hand actually crept towards him.

Then she caught herself. In eighty-nine days she was out of here. She’d kept her crush secret for five years—she could certainly go the next few months without blowing it.

Steadfastly ignoring Lawson and his mouth, she scooped up her shoes and got the hell out of the house.

A few days later, on their first day shift back from nights, Lawson and Vic were sitting at the station when their pagers activated. They’d not long returned from transporting a dislocated finger from a rather vigorous game of lawn bowls to the mainland and Vic had taken her first sip of coffee.

‘“Near drowning at Wattle Beach,”’ Lawson read. ‘“Twenty-year-old male.”’

Vic looked at her coffee longingly, took another sip and stood. ‘We’d better take the four-wheel drive.’

The island had three ambulances. Two were standard vans and were the transport of choice on a daily basis. The other was a heavy-duty vehicle expressly used for beach jobs because it allowed them to drive on sand directly to the patient. It stayed at the station ready to go if needed.

Vic opened the driver’s seat door. It was her turn today to be Patient Care Officer, which would normally mean he would drive, but on cases like this, with Lawson’s intensive care stripes, she happily yielded to his superior experience.

She didn’t need to consult with him. It was natural, unspoken between them. The patient might need intubating, a procedure she wasn’t yet qualified to perform, so Lawson was the best paramedic for the job.

In a precisely executed manoeuvre she swung up into the cab. Her short legs made the seat a long way up and she often felt as if she were doing some sort of modified pole-vault routine. She reached under the seat for the lever and hauled it forward. With the twist of her wrist the engine started with a roar, chugging diesel fumes into the ambulance bay, and she inched the vehicle out.

Lawson pushed the responding button on the vehicle computer system to alert the coms centre to their departure and they were off.

‘Do you suppose it’s a tourist?’ Vic asked as she flipped on the siren.

She’d grown up in this small island community and the downside of being a paramedic here was that, too often, she knew the people she was sent to help. Which was one thing she was looking forward to about her upcoming move to London—in eighty-five sleeps—total anonymity.

Lawson shrugged non-committally, only half listening. This was her process. He preferred quiet on the way to a Code One, to gather himself, plan for different contingencies. Victoria liked to fill up the silence with nervous chatter. He let her go. He knew by the time they pulled up she’d be in the zone.

And it certainly beat the alternative. Talking about what had happened a few days ago. So far they’d managed to avoid it completely. But it was there between them—he sensed it.

‘It’s not so sheltered around the other side and the wind’s up,’ she mused. ‘Most locals know rips can form in this kind of weather.’

‘Uh-huh.’

‘We have a perfectly good patrolled beach, for crying out loud,’ she said, flicking her eyes briefly from the road to look at him. ‘Why the hell can’t they just swim there?’

Unlike the island’s most popular beaches, Wattle wasn’t patrolled by surf lifesavers. Those that were had access to a high level of first aid should it be needed. But unpatrolled areas were a wild card and already Vic’s brain was turning to what they might be faced with in a few minutes. Would any first aid have been rendered to the unfortunate victim of Wattle’s rocky shoreline?

‘Uh-huh.’

‘I mean, it’s one o’clock on a Monday for Pete’s sake. It’s not like Banksia Beach’s crowded this time of the day. Why don’t they just go there?’

‘Mmm.’

‘But oh, no, they have to go where it’s a little more edgy. A little more of a challenge. Dad’ll go nuts when he finds out.’

Lawson couldn’t agree more. Bob took every drowning on the island to heart. Luckily the station OIC had decided to take the rest of the week off to be home with a recovering Ryan. But Lawson knew the latest near-drowning news would be around the small island community within a few hours and, even though he was away for the weekend camping with the twins, Bob was still on the island and so would be one of the first to know. ‘Yep.’

The one-sided conversation continued for the next two minutes as the ambulance raced through the sleepy streets, lights and siren blazing.

As they approached the beach a teenager was waving at them wildly from the car park and pointing down the beach to a huddle of people. Vic used the nearby boat ramp to access the beach and drove the vehicle straight to where the action seemed to be going down.

The wind had whipped the waves up into choppy peaks and they were crashing against the shore. In the distance she could see the rocky headland where she’d spent many a summer holiday as a child exploring the caves that riddled the area.

Vic hadn’t quite pulled up when Lawson exited. He was at the back doors, opening them and grabbing equipment as Vic turned off the engine. He retrieved the life pack containing the portable monitor, defibrillator and oxygen.

‘Grab some blankets,’ he threw over his shoulder as he slapped his cap on his head and headed for the small group of people nearby.

Vic, pulling her ponytail through her own cap, strode to the back of the ambulance and grabbed two blankets. She didn’t bother to shut the doors, following her partner as fast as she could with significantly shorter legs.

When she reached the patient, Lawson was kneeling in the wet sand, hooking up an oxygen mask while five girls all in wet bikinis and various stages of hysteria spoke to him at once.

‘Excuse me.’ Vic raised her voice to cut through the emotion. The group parted and she knelt beside her partner. The patient was lying supine in his boardies, wet and cold and gasping like a fish out of water. And about as grey as one. His mouth was ringed with sand, his lips tinged a dusky purple.

But he was conscious, if a little stunned. And he was breathing, although it seemed somewhat laboured. Lawson had already placed a collar on his neck.

‘Just popping some oxygen on, Michael,’ Lawson said as he applied the mask.

Vic threw the blanket over the patient using the cotton weave to dry the teenager’s chest to ensure the electrodes she was applying would stick. A green squiggly line spiked to life on the monitor. His heart rate was a little on the slow side. She placed a peg-like device on Michael’s finger and watched as his oxygen saturations registered in the high eighties—far from satisfactory.

Vic got a cobbled history from Jacinta, who identified herself as Michael’s sister. ‘He just got dumped by this massive wave. He didn’t come up again,’ she wailed. Vic marked everything down on the large patient care sheet, including the observations and his personal details.

Lawson watched as his patient’s lips pinked up and the oxygen saturations climbed steadily. Michael moaned and then coughed, which changed quickly to spasmodic retching as it continued. Lawson removed the mask, quickly helping the teenager roll on his side as his patient spewed up a bellyful of sea water onto the sand. He flicked on the portable suction.

‘It’s okay, mate,’ he murmured, resisting Michael’s feeble attempts to push the Yankeur sucker away as he cleared his airway. ‘Better out than in.’

Michael stopped retching and Lawson pulled the mask back over his patient’s nose and mouth. He placed a stethoscope in his ears and listened to the shallow breath sounds.

‘Let’s scoop him and go,’ Lawson murmured.

Ten minutes later Michael was in the back of the ambulance with Lawson and Vic had radioed Coms of their twenty-minute ETA at hospital. Jacinta rode in the front seat with Vic, a blanket draped around her shoulders.

An hour later Vic put her signature to the completed paperwork she’d finished up in the privacy of the accident and emergency staff room. She handed it over to the nurse in charge and headed back to the ambulance bay and their vehicle.

Lawson was lounging against a wall near the exit, the five girls from the beach, still in their tiny bikini tops and brief boardies, gathered round him. They were obviously now sufficiently recovered from their shock and ever so grateful to the big, strong paramedic.

Vic grinned as she heard them asking him about how many people he’d saved with the kiss of life. She pulled up behind them and winked at him. His loose stance was deceptive. His jaw muscle was clenched as he shot her a get-me-out-of-here look. ‘Ready?’

Lawson, grateful for the interruption, crushed his empty polystyrene coffee cup in his hands and pushed away from the wall. ‘Remember,’ he said, tossing the cup in the nearby bin, ‘next time swim on patrolled beaches, between the flags.’

‘Oh, we will, Lawson,’ Jacinta said. ‘And thank you again so much for saving my brother’s life.’ She touched his sleeve. ‘I’m never going to forget you or what you did for Michael.’

Vic rolled her eyes. Had Jacinta deliberately dropped the blanket a little lower? And hello? What was she? Chopped liver? Lawson hadn’t exactly been Robinson Crusoe down on the beach. ‘Coms had a patient transport job for us,’ she lied.

‘Right.’ Lawson extricated himself from the circle. ‘Bye.’

‘Bye,’ they said in unison.

Vic looked back over her shoulder to see them all twinkling their fingers at his back and looking at him as if they wouldn’t mind giving him a little mouth-to-mouth of their own.

Oh, please!

Strangely it irritated her. Her lips tingled again with the memory of her kiss. Although they’d studiously avoided talking about it, it was always there, in the back of her mind, and she was beginning to think of it as the elephant in the room. She’d kill to know what he was thinking.

Had he put it down to her being a little tipsy or excused it as one of those strangely intimate moments between people who had known each other for ever that was almost inevitable after an emotional event? Or was he just not thinking about it at all? Was that why he hadn’t mentioned it?

Somehow that was an even more disturbing thought…

She waited till they climbed back in the cab before she commented. ‘Ooh, Lawson, you’re so-o-o brave,’ she cooed, and turned to him to bat her eyelashes in an exaggerated fashion. She kept it light but couldn’t deny there was a degree of the green-eyed monster involved.

Lawson frowned. ‘Cut it out.’

Vic laughed. ‘Oh, but, Lawson,’ she said breathily, touching his sleeve, ‘I’m never going to forget you.’

He jammed his seat belt buckle into its clasp, shaking her hand aside. ‘Yeah, yeah.’

She pulled out into traffic with a smile on her face, comfortable now with their familiar patter. She knew where she stood with the banter that was the hallmark of their relationship. The grizzled veteran and the rookie. She didn’t know where she stood after the kiss. She didn’t know how to talk to him about that.

‘You won some hearts there.’

‘Please. I’m old enough to be their father. Speaking of which.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Looks like we’ll make Kids Quiz today.’

Vic nodded enthusiastically. She enjoyed the day-shift ritual almost as much as Lawson. And at least with Matilda’s endless prattle she didn’t have time to think about her error of judgement. ‘One dose of PG TV coming up.’ She grinned.

‘Daddy!’

‘Tilly!’ Lawson grinned, holding his arms out to his daughter, who’d run out of the front door the minute the ambulance had pulled into the driveway.

Matilda hurled herself into her father’s arms and squealed, clutching his big shoulders as he spun her around and around, her blonde curls flying behind.

‘What’d you learn at school today?’ he asked as he gave in to her ‘stop Daddy’ giggles.

‘Miss Simpson taught us the eight times tables.’

‘Oh, yeah? What’s eight times zero?’

Matilda giggled again. ‘Daddy, that’s the easy one.’

Vic, who was lounging against the side of the van, shook her head as she watched father and daughter with a big grin. Lawson’s kid was great. And an absolute credit to him. Deb had literally left him holding the baby and he hadn’t blinked. Just totally changed his lifestyle and committed every cell he owned to the raising of his daughter.

Vic smiled as Lawson tickled his daughter, feeling a strange affiliation with the little girl. Matilda too was growing up without a mother and it clutched at Vic’s heart, resonating deeply. Sure, Matilda hadn’t known any different, but it didn’t make it any less sad that she would never know that special bond. The type of bond Vic had had with her mother.

It was a credit to Lawson that, despite Deb’s desertion, Matilda was a happy, secure child. ‘Eight times nine,’ she said, entering the game.

Matilda’s face, noticing her father’s partner for the first time, lit up. ‘Vic,’ she cried, running around Lawson to launch herself at Victoria. ‘Vic, Vic, Vic.’

Matilda locked her arms around Vic’s waist and jumped up and down. Vic laughed and hugged the dear little thing tight. She was going to miss Matilda’s zest for life and her unconditional love. The twins had been like that and sometimes she could still feel their skinny arms giving her a double-trouble hug.

‘Kids Quiz is starting.’

Vic looked up to see Dorothy, Matilda’s part-time nanny, a marshmallow-centred ex-schoolmarm, standing at the front door.

‘Yippee! Come on, Vic. Come on, Daddy.’ Matilda pulled at both their hands. ‘Miss Simpson says this is her favourite show.’ Matilda looked meaningfully at her father. ‘She’s really pretty.’

Lawson rolled his eyes at Victoria as his daughter dragged him into the house. ‘Yes, I have met Miss Simpson, remember?’

For the next half an hour the time passed as it always did on the days their jobs and the pager allowed them to drop in and visit with Matilda in the afternoon. On a day shift Lawson wasn’t home until after his daughter was in bed so if he could get these precious moments with her, he grabbed them with both hands.

They all huddled on the lounge over coffee and some home-made goodies Dorothy had whipped up, shouting at the television, competing with each other. Vic loved these times. Matilda held her hand and seemed to hang off her every word. It reminded her of the foggy memories she had of sitting on the couch watching television with her own mother and the overwhelming feeling of being loved.

Lawson was lucky to have a job where he could spend this precious time with his daughter—and he knew it. She guessed it was one of the many advantages of working in a small community. Something else she’d miss in giant, anonymous London.

Not that she’d miss anything about this life too much, she told herself. After eighteen years of helping raise her twin brothers, shackled through grief and love and an innate sense of responsibility, she was well and truly set to fly the nest.

This was her time and she was going to live it. Crush or no crush. Kiss or no kiss.

Their pagers remained silent for the duration of Kids Quiz, for which they were both thankful. Afterwards Matilda rushed off to get ready for her piano lesson and Vic and Lawson got back on the road.

As they drove away Vic said, ‘I know I say this every time but, jeez, you’ve got a good kid there.’

Lawson turned to look at her. Victoria and Matilda got on famously. He’d go as far as to say that his daughter worshipped the ground Victoria walked on. Why then, he wondered, was it that Matilda, who had tried to set him up with every available female under ninety on the island the last six months, hadn’t ever tried to set him up with his partner?

Probably because Victoria had just always been around. More like a big sister than a mother prospect. Or maybe Matilda also thought it utterly preposterous.

Vic could feel his eyes on her as she drove. ‘What?’ she demanded, looking at him briefly before returning her eyes to the road.

‘You’re good with her.’

Vic snorted. ‘I raised my brothers from babies. I have two X chromosomes. I know kids.’ She shrugged. ‘Big deal.’

‘You’d make a good mother.’

‘Oh, no.’ She shook her head vigorously. ‘No way. Never ever. I’ve raised my babies.’

It was a familiar denial he’d heard fall from her lips numerous times. Not that he could blame her. He just thought it was a shame to discount it for all time. ‘Fair enough.’

Vic shook her head as she tried to keep up with his ever-changing view of her. Today he could see her as a mother. Other days he saw her as his work partner, as a babysitter for his child, as Ryan and Josh’s sister, as Bob Dunleavy’s daughter. But mostly she was convinced he still saw her as the six-year-old he’d first met.

Why couldn’t he see her as an adult? Maybe a reminder that she was fully grown and ready to fly the nest would force him to see her in a different light. As a woman.

‘Hey, have I mentioned today that it’s only eighty-five more days?’

Lawson turned away from her and looked out of his window. ‘Once or twice,’ he said dryly.

Or maybe not.

CHAPTER FOUR

THE ominous grey breakers rolled onto the beach, slapping against the sand with relentless savagery as the tide clawed its way steadily back. The wind howled around them as they lounged against one of the wooden crossbeams of the fence that formed the perimeter of the Wattle Beach car park.

It ripped strands of Vic’s hair from her ponytail and she flicked her head as another chunk was whipped across her face. She took a sip of her take-away coffee and hunched further into her overalls as the inclement weather goosed her bare forearms.

‘I’m going to miss the ocean.’ She raised her voice to be heard over the roar of wind and water.

Lawson warmed his hands on his disposable mug. ‘What? Even on days like today?’

Vic nodded. True, it was one of those miserable days, with scattered misty rain and a churning sea. But there was nothing like the unbridled power of the ocean to make you know you were alive. There was something elemental about it and Vic felt an utterly biological connection. ‘Especially on days like this.’

Lawson shook his head. It had been Victoria’s idea to grab their afternoon coffee and come down to Wattle. The beach was deserted. They were the only two fools stupid enough to brave the weather on this utterly miserable Saturday.

Personally he’d rather be at the station than freezing his butt off in the great outdoors. But with seventy more sleeps to go he’d noticed the closer her countdown got to zero the more she insisted on getting out and about for their breaks and he figured she was just trying to commit things to memory.

As much as she wanted out, he knew she was going to miss the island terribly. At the moment she was focused only on missing people. But despite what she thought, she’d always been a homebody hopelessly in love with the island lifestyle. From the poem she’d had published in the local paper when she’d been ten, entitled ‘My Island’, to her position on the Island Progress Committee.

Brindabella was in her blood and Lawson didn’t think for a moment it was going to be as easy as she thought to turn her back on it.

Lawson looked at his watch. ‘Seen enough now?’

Vic drained the dregs of her cappuccino, her fingers cold despite the warmth of the mug. ‘Yeah, yeah. Grouch, grouch. Where’s your sense of adventure?’

‘It died from hypothermia about ten minutes ago.’

Lawson was approaching the four-wheel drive when the first faint cry for help carried to them on the wind.

‘Did you hear that?’ Vic asked.

With his hand on the door handle Lawson turned towards the sound. It came again from the track to his right and he headed in that direction. The track wasn’t used any more but both of them knew it led to the distant headland.

A child appeared, running full pelt. She looked no older than Matilda and Lawson felt his stomach plummet.

‘Help. You have to…help.’ The wide-eyed child clutched her side as she fought for breath.

Lawson knelt beside her. ‘What’s happened?’ he asked.

‘It’s Bella. She fell…down a hole…in the cliff.’ The child pointed towards the headline. ‘She’s in some sort of…cave. She’s just laying there. I think she’s…hurt.’

Vic felt her pulse spike as a shot of adrenaline charged her system. She looked at the angry waves and the approaching tide and knew that caves on the headland filled with water very quickly as the tide came in.

Lawson grabbed the child’s arm. ‘How old is Bella?’

‘Four,’ the child croaked.

He looked at Victoria and didn’t have to have a conversation with her to know that the situation was extremely alarming. He stood. ‘Right. Come with us,’ he said, turning back towards the vehicle knowing time was of the essence. ‘What’s your name?’

‘Annie.’ Her lip wobbled. ‘Pete reckons Dad’s going to kill us. He told us not to go on the headland without adult supervision.’

‘Pete?’ Vic asked.

‘He’s my brother. He stayed behind to talk to Bella ’cos I’m a faster runner than him.’

The thought of another child on the headland in this filthy weather sent a prickle up her spine and Vic hoped they didn’t have two children to rescue when they got there.

Lawson gunned the engine. Luckily their last job had involved a suspected spinal injury at Brigalow Beach so they still had the four-wheel drive. He picked up the radio to alert Coms.

‘Coms this is truck three zero five on Brindabella. Four-year-old girl reportedly fallen into a rocky cave on Wattle Beach headland with incoming tide. Going to investigate now. ETA three minutes. Can you alert local authorities and nearest police rescue crew.’

Vic squeezed Annie’s hand. The girl was starting to shiver and she threw her ambulance coat around Annie’s skinny shoulders. ‘You did the right thing. You came and got help. You’re very brave, Annie.’ She looked at Lawson, his face grim. ‘We’ll get Bella out. I promise.’

Lawson glanced at her sharply. Making promises, especially before they’d assessed the situation, was rash. And stupid. But then he looked at Annie’s pale face and trembling body and didn’t have the heart to reprimand his partner. The poor child needed some reassurance.

The vehicle bumped along the deteriorated track on a steady incline. When they reached the top they swung into the headland car park and alighted the vehicle.

‘Bella got through the fence somehow,’ Annie said as she led them over the sturdy chain mail that had been specifically constructed years before to prevent such excursions onto the notoriously potholed headland.

When she’d been a kid and when the twins had been little, it had all been open to the public, but a couple of rock fishing accidents had led the council to take evasive action and now the headland could only be viewed from a special lookout area.

‘There he is.’ Lawson saw Pete first and made his way sure-footed across the rocks.

The headland for the most part was a gradual descent rather than a sharp drop. Towards the sea line it became a much steeper gradient, but thankfully where Pete was lying the slope was still very manageable.

‘Hi, Pete,’ Lawson said as he approached.

Pete raised a tear-stained face from the hole in the rock. ‘Hurry, you have to hurry. I think she broked her leg. The water’s getting higher.’

Lawson felt dread punch him in the stomach both at the little boy’s wretchedness and the plight of his sister. ‘It’s okay, mate. She’ll be all right now,’ he said, sending a quick prayer out to the universe that it actually would be all right. ‘Do you think I could have a look?’

Vic and Annie arrived as Lawson was lowering himself to the ground. Pete went straight to his sister and hugged her and Vic’s heart melted as she pulled the siblings in close.

Lawson was on his stomach peering through a hole not much bigger than a Frisbee trying to fathom how a child could even fit through when he heard the low whine. He angled his head and could just make out a furry body about three metres below.

Bella was a dog?

A surge of relief swept through Lawson as he momentarily laid his forehead against the rock. It was cool against his face and he couldn’t believe the furnace running through his veins when ten minutes ago he’d been freezing cold.

He pushed himself upright and grinned at the questioning look on his partner’s face. He looked at the children, huddled together in the confines of Victoria’s arm. ‘Is Bella a dog?’

Annie and Pete nodded at him with sad, solemn eyes as if he should have known it all along. He noticed Victoria’s shoulders sag.

‘Bella’s a dog?’ She looked down at the children, who looked up at her and nodded again.

‘She’s my dog,’ Annie confirmed. ‘I got her for my birthday when I was three.’

Vic grinned back at Lawson. ‘A dog.’

Annie, obviously shrewder than her brother with her advanced years, looked from one to the other. She pulled out of Victoria’s grasp. ‘You’re still going to get her out, right? Just because she’s an animal doesn’t mean you can let her drown.’

Pete’s eyes grew round in his head. ‘You’re going to leave her there?’ he squeaked, staring at Lawson.

The wind whipped the sound of a siren towards them and Lawson knew pretty soon half the emergency services on the island would be on the headland.

‘No,’ Vic denied, placing her hand on Pete’s shoulder. ‘We’re not going to leave her there. We’ll get her out, don’t worry.’

But maybe they could call off the chopper that Coms had told them was on their way in case an amphibious rescue had been their only option. And call in the Animal Rescue people.

‘What have we got, Lawson?’

Vic turned to see two of the island’s volunteer fire-fighters picking their way towards them and, further behind, two policemen climbing the fence.

‘It’s okay.’ Lawson put up his hands. ‘It’s not a child. It’s a dog.’

The men stopped in their tracks and within seconds were laughing and slapping each other on the back.

‘It’s not funny.’

Annie’s little voice cut through their cheer. She was standing, her hand on her hip, glaring at them. Pete edged closer to his sister and she put her arm around his shoulders.

‘Annie? Pete?’

They all looked back towards the car park as a very worried-looking man and a woman also scrambled over the fence.

‘Oh-oh,’ Pete whispered.

Vic crouched beside them. ‘Are they your parents?’

‘Yup.’ Pete’s look of impending doom said it all.

‘Okay.’ She nodded. ‘Let me handle this.’

The couple approached and the mother was the first to let fly. ‘Oh, my God,’ she said to the guilty parties, grabbing them and giving them each a fierce hug. ‘We’ve been looking everywhere for you. You scared the living daylights out of us.’

Vic jumped in to soothe the waters a bit and five minutes later, after a round of introductions to the Bradley family, all had been forgiven. They tried to usher the children back to safety but they refused to budge.

Annie moved out of her mother’s tight embrace and turned imploring eyes on Vic and Lawson. ‘What about Bella. You have to get Bella.’

This time she burst into tears and Vic crouched beside her again. ‘I promise we’ll try as hard as we can to get Bella out.’ Vic had checked out Bella’s position and thought she could help. ‘Don’t tell my dad but I used to play in these caves when I was a kid.’

Annie gave her a watery smile and Vic’s heart squeezed painfully in her chest. The girl had been so mature and she knew she’d do her damnedest to save Bella from drowning from the incoming tide. ‘I reckon I know a way we could get to her. But you have to go back behind the fence and let us do our work. Okay?’

Annie scrubbed at the tears trekking down her face. ‘You promise you’ll try?’

Vic crossed her heart and held out her crooked little finger. ‘Pinky swear.’

Lawson watched as Annie linked her little finger with Victoria’s. How many times had he seen Victoria Pinky swear with Matilda? He felt a surge of emotion in his chest and had to look away.

‘Right,’ she said as the Bradleys made their way back to the lookout area to wait. The police rescue unit was half an hour away. They were it. ‘I think I know a way in to where Bella is. Follow me.’

Lawson, the two fire-fighters, two police officers and a community first responder—all men—followed Vic down the sloping headland.

Vic talked as she picked her way over the wet rocks. ‘It’s been a few years but I think the cave that Bella’s fallen into is the main cavern. And there’re many different entrances, like a rabbits’ warren. Some are too small but there’s one I reckon we could get in through.’

She led the men to the opening she’d used often as a child. The sea churned not far below their feet so she knew that Bella’s time was running out. The rock where she was lying would soon be submerged and if, as they suspected, she’d broken her leg, she’d have no hope of making it.

The vertical fissure was about five feet high and easily breeched as a skinny kid. As an adult, not so much. They all looked at the narrow aperture in dismay. Vic peered through the opening and could just make out Bella’s rump in the distance and fading light. She could also see the ocean encroaching on the bank of rock onto which the dog had fallen.

‘It’s okay, Bella,’ she called. ‘We’re coming, baby.’ The answering whine was heartening.

She looked at the assembled men. Lawson was the fittest but the tallest and too broad to fit through the opening. The others were of similar stature, the shortest one being too broad around the middle to even be considered.

‘I guess it’s me, then?’ Vic calculated she could squeeze through, go in, grab Bella, pass her out and be back out again in just a few minutes. She outlined her strategy to the men.

Lawson, growing more and more horrified by her plan, was suddenly cold again. Chilled. ‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘Absolutely not.’

Vic blinked. ‘I’m sorry?’

‘It’s too dangerous. What if you slip? What if you can’t get back out again?’

Vic felt the first bubble of anger churn in her stomach. Did he think she wasn’t up to this? ‘I won’t slip. I can get back out again. I know these caves, Lawson.’

‘No.’ His voice brooked no argument. ‘We wait for the experts.’

Vic watched as Lawson’s gaze became as cold and grey as the sea and opened her mouth to protest. ‘Bella doesn’t have time. The cave is going to be submerged by the time they get here.’

‘We can put her in a harness, rope her off,’ Stan, one of the fire-fighters, suggested.

‘No.’

Vic, incensed at Lawson’s propriety, ignored him completely. ‘Good idea, Stan. Can you go get it from your truck? And ring Doug while you’re up there. Tell him we’re going to need a vet. Pronto.’

Lawson turned frigid eyes on his partner as they watched Stan depart. She’d always been gung-ho and up until recently he’d been supportive of that, admiring her courage and exuberance. Even recognising a younger version of himself. But this was too…‘Victoria, I said no.’

Vic stuck her hands on her hips and her chin right out. ‘I can go in with a rope, or without one. But I’m going in.’

A muscle jumped in Lawson’s jaw. ‘I can’t let you risk your neck for an animal that sustained a fall that’s probably going to leave it with severe internal injuries that may not be compatible with life. It’s too risky.’

Vic pushed. ‘I have a risky job.’

He watched his warning have precious little effect. ‘Your father will have my guts for garters.’

Vic felt a completely irrational surge of frustration well inside. Not caring about the interested onlookers, she levelled her partner with a dangerous look.

‘If you could fit through that hole, would you do it?’

Lawson shrugged. ‘Of course.’

Vic nodded. She’d known his answer. She’d known Lawson to knock down a wall when Matilda’s cat somehow managed to give birth to kittens in the wall space of their house. ‘Exactly. Stop treating me like I’m a still a child, Lawson. I’m a paramedic. This is what I do.’

‘No. This is not your job. It’s Rescue’s job.’

Vic glared at him. She got why he thought it was dangerous. She knew from her childhood adventures the rocks would be slippery and therefore potentially fatal. But when was he going to see her as a grown-up? ‘Today, right now, with Rescue miles away, it is.’

Lawson felt ill. A hundred worst-case scenarios raced through his mind. ‘As your superior officer, I forbid you to do this.’ He felt about as low as he could get.

Vic couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Heat rose in her face as the men around her shifted uncomfortably and looked at their feet. She looked at his impenetrable face and threw out one last-ditch appeal.

‘Lawson, I made a promise to Annie. If this was Matilda’s dog, if I made a promise to Tilly, wouldn’t you want me to keep it? Let me do this, Lawson. I’m a big girl. I can do it.’

Lawson knew she was right. And if it were anybody else—male, female or alien—as long as they fitted through the hole, he would have tied the rope himself. But the thought of her getting hurt was too much to bear. He was supposed to look out for her, not let her take unnecessary risks.

‘Lawson.’ She placed her hand on his sleeve. ‘Please have some faith in me.’

Lawson could see his perceived lack of faith hurt her and the plea in her voice travelled straight to his core, like a burning arrow tip singeing his flesh as it went. It meant so much to her. Could he deny her this?

Stan arrived back with a harness and a helmet and everyone looked at Lawson expectantly. ‘All right. But one slip and you’re out of there.’

Had she not been standing on a narrow rocky shelf with the roiling ocean not far from her feet, Vic might well have hugged him. But there was no time for that anyway so she climbed into the harness and helmet Stan had delivered instead and waited impatiently while Lawson took for ever to fuss with the ropes.

‘Lawson,’ she chided. ‘Enough already. The tide is coming in.’

Lawson gave the ropes one last yank, checked her helmet was securely fastened, shoved a torch in her belt and sent her on her way. ‘Make sure you can come back out again before you step in there proper,’ he instructed, taking up first position on the rope just outside the opening of the crevice.

The others fell in behind him, each grasping a section of rope. Lawson sent one of the policemen up to the top where Bella had fallen in so he could have another pair of eyes on Victoria.

Victoria slipped through the narrow space. It was a bit of a squeeze but she managed it okay both ways. ‘I’m going in.’

‘Be careful,’ he warned.

She nodded and turned away. His gaze had lit with a startling fierceness and she didn’t need that as she attempted the potentially treacherous trek. She’d rather focus on her anger at him for coddling her, for treating her with kid gloves. It would keep her determined.

The air inside the cave was dank and salty. Light filtered in through the many small holes in the walls eroded away over the years but it was still significantly darker. ‘Hey, Bella,’ she called, inching slowly forward on the narrow ledge she found herself on, concentrating on each footfall. ‘I’m coming, girl. I’ll be there soon.’

The answering whine was comforting and gave her a focus in the ever-encroaching dark. She stopped and fumbled for the torch, flicking it on. The sucking noise of the sea creeping up the ledge seemed less ominous in the torchlight.

Lawson’s pulse thundered through his head as he watched her slow creep forward, ready to snap hard on the rope should she stumble. He couldn’t hear a thing over his heart rate and the noise of the surf as he concentrated on her progress.

He finally lost sight of her as she veered to the left, and felt his pulse accelerate. Then her shadow sprang to life on the opposite wall of the cavern and he breathed a sigh of relief. She must have flicked on her torch. ‘How much further?’ he called.

Vic could see Bella fully now and smiled at the shivering mutt. ‘A few metres,’ she said, turning her head back towards the opening so she could be heard above the surf that echoed loudly all around the cave.

She turned back in time to see the cocker spaniel trying to get up and then yelping as the pain stopped her progress. ‘Stay still, Bella,’ she crooned, putting out her hand frantically to still the dog’s efforts.

In desperately trying to comfort the injured Bella, Vic’s concentration lapsed for a second. One fatal second. A quick unchecked step towards Bella and she was slipping, teetering, falling. The torch fell out of her hand as she grabbed the rope. She called out but it was too late, her body falling hard against the rocky surface, winding her as she was sucked under the water.

Lawson felt the tug on the rope and reacted within a split second, yanking hard on the rope. ‘Victoria!’ he roared. He turned to the men behind him. ‘She’s down. Pull! Pull, damn it!’

The men, also reacting within seconds of Lawson, heaved and hauled while Lawson called out. ‘Victoria! Victoria.’

Vic felt the tightening around her waist as she grappled with the rock surface, trying to get a hold beneath the water. She felt herself being dragged up and broke the surface quickly, gasping for breath. Tears stung her eyes as pain slid like a stiletto between her ribs with each inhalation.

The tension on the rope continued to pull her higher, scraping her cheek and her hands against the rough rock as she regained ground. She could hear Lawson yelling her name, hear the note of absolute panic.

She took a breath to call out to him, but it hurt too much to breathe. To move. To think. Her heart hammered in her chest and that hurt too.

‘Victoria!’ Lawson pressed his face to the crevice but he still couldn’t see her. ‘Heave,’ he shouted again.

Victoria lay like a drowned rat clinging to the rock surface. Slowly the winded sensation eased and she could breathe easier. She pulled herself into a sitting position.

‘Lawson,’ she called. It was pretty feeble so she tried again. ‘Lawson!’

‘Victoria?’ Lawson angled his head to try and see her. ‘Are you okay?’

His voice sounded marvellous and she wished he were here beside her. ‘Just a bit…winded,’ she panted.

‘Hang on, we’ll haul you back.’

Victoria looked up at Bella, who whined and watched her with wise eyes. The noise strummed at her heart-strings. She felt the tension on the rope again and she was yanked a foot back the way she’d come on her backside.

It jarred through her sore ribs and she grabbed the rope. ‘Stop,’ she shouted, wincing at the effort. The rope slackened immediately.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing.’ She grabbed the cave wall and pulled herself up, pain shooting a hot arrow up her side. ‘I’m not coming out without this damn dog.’

‘Yes, you are,’ he shouted. ‘Even if I have to drag you out on your backside all the way.’

‘Don’t think I won’t cut this rope loose, Lawson,’ she threatened.

Lawson swore under his breath. He believed her. He took a deep breath, his heart rate still not returned to normal from the scare she’d just given him. ‘Hurry.’

This time she didn’t take her eyes off the rocks. Luckily for her the torch had landed on the ledge further along, illuminating her path.

She reached Bella within a minute and the dog seemed to know what a tight spot they were in, licking Vic’s hand as she reached out to pat the frightened animal. ‘It’s okay, Bella. I’ve got you now. Annie’s waiting for you.’

Vic could see blood on her hind legs and the left one looked badly broken. ‘I’m sorry, girl,’ she crooned. ‘This is going to hurt a little. For both of us.’

Vic lifted the animal, the pain in her side intensifying. Bella yelped. ‘Shh, Bella. I know. You’re hurt. We both are. Let’s get out of here.’

Vic tucked the dog’s body into hers, grateful for the warmth. She was totally soaked and shivering from the shock and the dank coolness of the cavern. ‘I’ve got her,’ she called. ‘I’m coming out.’

And just in time too. The water was lapping the ledge as Vic inched her way back to the crevice. Bella was whimpering quietly and Vic didn’t mind admitting she was petrified she would slip again. When Lawson came into sight she almost wept.

‘I can see you. You’re doing well,’ he called. ‘Just a little farther. Don’t rush.’

Vic nodded. She was so cold, her teeth were chattering now. She reached the opening and Lawson was just on the other side and it was only Bella in her arms that stopped her from reaching through and grabbing him. He’d never looked better.

Lawson couldn’t see her that well in the darkened cavern. All he knew was that she’d made it back and he wanted her out of there ASAP. ‘Pass her through to me,’ he instructed.

Vic’s wince as she manoeuvred Bella into a good transfer position was covered by the dog’s yelp. ‘Her leg’s bad,’ Vic said. ‘Be careful.’

Lawson eased the dog gently through the opening and passed her on. Doug was waiting further up in a safer spot to receive his patient.

‘Now you.’ Lawson’s heart thundered again. He knew it wouldn’t return to normal until she was safely out of the cave.

Vic nodded, turning on her side to squeeze through the crevice. She put her arm out first to anchor herself to the outside and shimmied through. The tight squeeze seemed tighter in her wet overalls and abraded her injured side so that she was gasping when she finally emerged into the daylight straight into Lawson’s arms.

Lawson held her tight, his relief overwhelming. She looked awful. Pale and wet, her lips practically blue, her teeth chattering. She had scratches on her face and her hands were bleeding. She winced and he stepped back. ‘What’s wrong?’ Lawson demanded.

‘Fell hard on my ribs,’ she dismissed.

Lawson’s hands tightened around her arms. He could see from the dullness in her whiskey eyes she was hurting. If they hadn’t been on a rocky outcrop, the sea pounding not far below them, foaming against the rocks, he would have swept her up into his arms and carried her back up the headland.

‘Come on.’ He placed a blanket Stan had passed him around her shoulders. ‘Let’s get you to a hospital.’

CHAPTER FIVE

THE next couple of hours passed in some weird kind of vortex. Lawson reacted automatically; his years of practice and experience as a paramedic came to the fore as he did the things that needed to be done. He shut out who his patient was altogether. It wasn’t Victoria—he just didn’t allow it to register.

He sat her in the back of the ambulance, slapped on some chest dots, put the saturations peg on her finger. When it was obvious pain made it difficult to remove her overalls so he could inspect where she’d impacted the rocks he simply took out his shears and cut them away, ignoring her protests and attempts to cover her modesty.

He forced the nausea down as the livid bruise, already a deep purple-black, came into view. It marred her entire side from the top of her ribs to her waist and he tuned out her wince as he methodically but gently palpated around it.

Satisfied she hadn’t done any obvious internal damage—her sats were good, her lung fields clear and her pulse and blood pressure were normal—he wrapped her in several blankets and requested Stan drive them in to the hospital. He stayed in the back and watched her as he would any patient, refusing to let his mind wander to the what-ifs.

They didn’t talk. She drifted to sleep, he watched the monitor, tapping his foot as each mile seemed like one hundred. When they finally reached the hospital he handed her over to the medical staff as if she were any of his patients with a precise, methodical summary.

He didn’t protest when they swarmed around her, pushing him to the back. No siree. She was in safe hands now and he had other things to do before he could stop and think about the events of the day.

He went back to the island and returned the ambulance and organised cover for the remainder of the shift and their day shift tomorrow. He also dropped into the Dunleavy residence. He marched straight to her bedroom, opened her wardrobe and searched through her drawers, looking for something suitable for her to wear. It wasn’t exactly an appropriate thing to be doing but Bob and the twins were camping for the weekend a couple of hours’ drive away and she’d refused to let him ring them.

So she needed a change of clothes, which left it up to him. And anyway, this wasn’t about Victoria the woman. This was one partner doing the other a favour. She would have done the same for him.

In her second drawer he found some loose-knit tracksuit pants and a stretchy-looking T-shirt. He contemplated opening the top drawer, where he could already see interesting hints of lace and flashes of colour through the partial opening. But he couldn’t do it. She was just going to have to go commando.

He strode out of the house, got in his car and headed back to the hospital. He steadfastly refused to think about her pale face, her bloodless lips, her bedraggled hair as he drove. And every time his mind wandered to the afternoon’s incident he consciously dragged it away, forcing himself to concentrate on the peak-hour traffic and getting to the hospital safely with her change of clothes.

It wasn’t until he arrived at the hospital and the doctor informed him that her tests were fine that Lawson allowed himself to feel anything. His insides were trembling and there was a roaring in his ears so loud he could barely hear the doctor talking about her X-ray and abdo ultrasound being clear. And how satisfied they were with her observations and how lucky she’d been.

‘I think it’s wise she stay overnight though,’ the doctor concluded. ‘Just for observation.’

Vic, who’d been dozing on and off, had tuned into the low rumble of the voices beside her trolley a few minutes ago. Her eyes fluttered open. ‘No,’ she croaked.

She hated hospitals. The smell and the tragedies found inside their walls. Her mother had died in this hospital. Ryan had not long been an inpatient here. It was bad enough she spent most of her working life in and out of this place without being an overnight guest.

The noise inside his head snapped off as if a switch had been flicked. She looked like hell. Better, but still awful. The graze on her left cheek was more pronounced now she had some colour back in her face. He gave his partner a stern look. ‘Doctor’s orders.’

‘I suppose you could go home if there was someone there with you.’

Lawson shook his head. ‘It’s just her. Her father and brothers are away this weekend.’

‘I can stay at Lawson’s,’ Vic told the doctor. She turned pleading eyes in his direction. ‘Can’t I?’

Lawson blinked. Another night under his roof? He wasn’t sure he could do that and not end up throttling her for scaring the living daylights out of him. Or after what happened last time. ‘You’re better off here.’

‘I’m fine,’ Vic insisted. ‘You heard the doctor. It’s just a precaution.’

Lawson gave her an exasperated look. Was she being deliberately argumentative today? If she’d just listened to him on the headland she wouldn’t be in this predicament. He folded his arms across his chest. ‘Maybe one that should be heeded.’

Vic frowned. Was the prospect of spending the night with her that awful? ‘Please, Lawson.’

Lawson expelled a breath succumbing to the inevitable. ‘Okay.’

‘Good.’ The doctor nodded. His pager beeped and he pulled it off his belt and read the message. ‘I’m sorry I can’t stay. A multi-trauma’s two minutes out but you’re free to go when you’re dressed and ready. Just see the receptionist before you leave and sign your papers.’

Vic and Lawson watched the harried young doctor slip out of the curtains. ‘Right,’ Vic said, kicking off her sheet and swinging her legs over the side of the trolley. ‘Did you bring me some clothes?’

Lawson placed the eco-friendly shopping bag on the trolley beside her as he held out his hand to help her down. She landed on her feet, her shapeless hospital gown swimming on her, and swayed slightly. ‘Easy,’ he said, supporting her around the waist.

Vic shut her eyes and clutched his hand as her vision temporarily darkened around the edges.

‘Right. That does it,’ he growled. ‘You’re staying.’

Vic opened her eyes, the dizziness gone. ‘Don’t be silly. I’ve been lying flat for hours—it’s just a bit of postural hypotension. I’m fine.’ Lawson raised his eyebrow at her. ‘Really. Now wait outside while I get dressed.’

‘I’ll get a nurse to help you.’

Vic huffed out an exasperated breath. ‘Oh, I’m sure that’s just what they want in the middle of a multi-trauma—some princess who needs a hand to get her pants on.’

Lawson stood his ground. ‘You’re too unsteady on your feet to be in here by yourself.’

‘Fine, then, you stay. Just turn around already so we can get out of here.’

Oh, for Pete’s sake. ‘I don’t think this is very appropriate, Victoria.’ Wasn’t it enough that he’d gone through her drawers for her?

‘Yeah. Yeah,’ she muttered, grabbing his shoulder and exerting pressure until he turned around. Once his back was to her she searched through the meagre bag contents for some underwear. There was none.

She was just about to demand to know where her knickers were when the thought of him riffling through her underwear drawer heated her face. Had he? Or hadn’t he? She felt it wise not to speculate when he was close enough to reach out and touch. She climbed awkwardly into her loose-fitting tracksuit pants and T-shirt without further comment.

But still she felt very exposed in front of him when she tapped him on the shoulder and he turned. No bra. No knickers. Knowing that he knew she was totally naked under her clothes was suddenly like an intimate little secret between the two of them and despite the throb of her injuries she felt a lurch of awareness as he looked at her.

Lawson studiously avoided looking at anything other than her face. ‘Okay, then. Let’s get going.’

Vic followed him out and was eternally grateful to him when he took charge of the discharge stuff and then made her sit at the front entrance until he brought the car around.

She was utterly exhausted, the thought of walking another step too much to bear, and she’d never been more pleased to see Lawson’s sturdy four-wheel drive. It was a real man’s car. Big and solid, like him. The wheels and sides were splattered in mud, every panel displaying wear and tear. Also like him.

He helped her up into the cab and within a minute they were on their way back to the island. She waited for him to say something. The reprimand she knew was coming. She knew she’d frightened the hell out of him and that things could have ended very differently than they had.

They were halfway to the island and she couldn’t bear it any longer. Lawson’s knuckles were so white around the steering wheel they practically glowed in the dark. ‘Just say it, Lawson.’

Lawson clenched his jaw. ‘You should have stayed in hospital.’

‘You know I hate hospitals. And that wasn’t what I meant and you know it.’

He turned to look at her. ‘I know. But we’re not going to talk about that. Not now.’ Lawson couldn’t even bear to relive that moment again.

‘It was safe,’ she said stubbornly. ‘I just took my eyes off my feet for a second. We couldn’t just stand there and let that little girl’s dog drown.’

Lawson took a couple of deep breaths. ‘Victoria, I’m not going to talk about it now. It’s a work-related matter. We’ll deal with it at work.’

Vic looked at the obstinate set to his chin and gave up. If she was honest, there was a sense of relief. She was too tired and she had the feeling that he was never going to see it her way anyway. The rock and sway of the car were wonderfully hypnotic and with Lawson being all brooding and silent it was easy for her to shut her eyes and let herself drift off.

They were pulling into the Dunleavy driveway when Vic woke. She frowned. Weren’t they going to his house? Was he that annoyed with her he’d decided to ignore medical advice and leave her to her own devices?

Fine by her. She didn’t need any of Lawson’s passive-aggressive nursemaiding. And after the huge scare she’d had she wasn’t entirely sure being alone with him was a good idea. The last time they were alone in a house she’d kissed him and she felt a hundred times more vulnerable tonight having just faced her own mortality.

She unbuckled. ‘Thanks for the lift, Lawson. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.’

Lawson gave her a grim smile. ‘Oh, no, you don’t. I’ll be staying the night on your couch.’

Perversely, part of her rejoiced at his imperious command. Perversely, despite her misgivings, she didn’t want to be alone tonight. ‘But…what about Matilda?’

‘She’s at a birthday-party sleepover at one of her friend’s houses.’

‘Oh.’ Vic shrugged. She knew she should push harder. Insist she’d be fine. She was a strong, independent woman who’d been looking after herself, and others, for a very long time. She didn’t need him hovering. Particularly when he inspired such twisted feelings in her gut.

But deep down she was relieved he cared. And frankly, she was way too tired to argue. If he wanted to sleep hanging from her rafters like a bat, he wouldn’t get an argument from her. ‘Fine.’

He exited the vehicle and crossed to her door, helping her out, keeping his hand at her elbow as they made their way into the house. She moved out of his hold immediately she was inside, the heat from his palm radiating to places that hadn’t felt this sort of heat in a while.

She turned away from him, suddenly regretting letting him have his way. The quietness of the house throbbed around her and she was acutely aware that Lawson’s big strong body was very near. Her hands trembled and she couldn’t decide whether she was about to burst into tears or reach for him.

She felt a surge of jumbled emotions well in her chest and she was suddenly overwhelmingly weary. Physically and emotionally.

She yawned loudly and Lawson said, ‘Go to bed. I’ll be on the couch if you need me.’

She opened her mouth to protest his bossiness, but his mouth was set in that stubborn line she’d seen so many times before and another surge of weariness battered her defiance. Sleep. Yes. Relief for her body. And her mind.

Vic headed straight for her room not bothering to acknowledge him. She was so weary she didn’t even shower and change, just crawled onto her unmade bed and collapsed on top of her sheets. And even though it was only seven-thirty and the temptation of Lawson was mere metres away, she slept like a baby.

Lawson, on the other hand, couldn’t sleep at all. Instead he was hunkered down on Bob’s couch pretending interest in crap late-night television, occasionally checking on Victoria, who hadn’t moved from the foetal position in the centre of her bed all night.

Now the emergency was over and Victoria was out of hospital with no serious injuries, reaction had set in. The moment when she slipped replayed over and over in his mind, as did those awful seconds that had felt like hours, when she hadn’t responded to him.

And the way she’d looked as she’d emerged from the crevice. All grazed and banged up. Loose bits of her hair hanging in wet strips down her forehead, her face pale, her lips blue from the cold. His hand shook as the images flashed on his inward eye.

What if she’d broken her neck when she slipped? What if she’d got herself caught on some rocky protuberance beneath the water line? What if she’d broken a leg and hadn’t been able to move? Or the blow to her ribs had been more serious and she’d fractured them, puncturing her lung?

Lawson tried to imagine what he would have said to her father had any of those things happened to her and she’d perished in that cave. Bob, who adored his daughter and had already been through the heartbreaking loss of one woman in his life. He didn’t have the words for that.

And what about him? They’d been partners for five years. Hell, he’d known her for a lot longer than that—twenty years. And he couldn’t imagine a world without Victoria Dunleavy in it. Yes, she was leaving in seventy days and he didn’t know if he’d ever see her again, but that was different. At least he’d know she was out there in the world living her life.

Just after three the what-ifs were driving him crazy. They were exceptionally loud in the silence of the house so he got his butt off the couch and riffled around in the pantry. He could hear Victoria coughing as he located some microwave popcorn. He got it started and went to check on her.

She’d moved and was now lying spreadeagled on her back. She seemed settled, her chest movement deep and even. But the relief he felt just to see her breathing warred with less honourable thoughts, like her lack of underwear, and he got out of her room pronto.

He took the popcorn back to the couch and channel-surfed for a while. He finally found some infomercial with women wearing very little selling a natural breast augmentation product, and figured the absurd advertisement was as good a distraction as any from the horror of the pictures in his head.

Victoria continued to cough intermittently and nothing could divert him from wondering if they’d missed something at the hospital. He was about to go and check on her again when she appeared in the doorway.

‘Hi.’

Lawson almost inhaled a kernel of corn. He coughed and spluttered to clear his airway. ‘Jeez, you scared me,’ he said after he’d recovered.

‘I seem to be doing that a lot today,’ she murmured as she sat on the end of the sofa next to him and dipped her hand into the popcorn. ‘I’m starving.’

‘How are you feeling?’ He watched as she stuffed a handful of popcorn in her mouth. ‘Apart from starving.’

With some sleep under her belt she felt a hundred per cent better than she had earlier. Invigorated and much more emotionally stable. ‘Sore,’ she said around her mouthful of food. ‘I just took some painkillers.’

‘You’ve got a nasty bruise there. It’ll be sore for a few days.’ He grabbed her closest hand and inspected the grazes on her palm, tracing the nearest one lightly with his forefinger. ‘They must sting too.’

Vic looked down at his long finger against her injured palm. It grew warm and started to tingle. She wasn’t sure if it was because of the graze or just the way he affected her. She pulled her hand away. ‘It’ll be worse tomorrow.’

She burrowed her fingers in the bowl and stuffed another handful of popcorn into her mouth. The flicker of the television caught her eye and her gaze was drawn to the colourful images of several well-endowed bikini-clad women. ‘Lawson Dunlop,’ she mused. ‘What on earth are you watching?’

Lawson turned his attention to the television and cringed inwardly for a second. ‘Oh, just some ridiculous infomercial,’ he said, reaching for the remote and flicking it off.

‘Oh, no,’ Vic said, snatching it off him, wincing a little as her palms protested. ‘I’ve gotta see this.’ She flicked it back on and turned the volume up.

Lawson rolled his eyes, uncomfortable to be caught watching something that was so far removed from his normal viewing it was laughable. ‘It was just on as background noise.’

‘Sure, sure.’ Vic grinned.

He squirmed in his seat as the over-the-top extended advert extolled the virtues of its product. Women with obviously surgically enhanced assets paraded around in skimpy clothes demonstrating how the cream worked.

Vic was laughing so hard she had to hold her side. ‘Didn’t realise you were a breast man, Lawson.’

Lawson frowned. ‘I’m not.’

Vic raised an eyebrow. ‘Really?’

Lawson had had enough. He reached for the remote, but she snatched it away. ‘This is not a very appropriate conversation for two work colleagues to be having.’

Vic sobered. Was that truly the way he saw her? Always? ‘But we’re not. Not tonight. We’re just two old friends who’ve known each other for donkey’s years.’

‘Exactly. I’m not talking about this with someone who I used to babysit.’

There it was again. He kept doing that and it was driving her mad. Making her feel like a kid and he was the adult. That might have been so twenty years ago, but it wasn’t now.

She felt sufficiently goaded to push a little. ‘So…they don’t do it for you?’

‘Victoria.’

‘Oh, come on.’ She nudged him in the ribs. ‘I could have died today. Cut me some slack. I’m curious.’

Lawson shook his head. ‘I don’t believe you just played the near-death card.’

Vic grinned. ‘Shameless, aren’t I?’ She watched his face, intense in the half-light, the play of light from the flickering television dancing over the forbidding planes. She raised an eyebrow. ‘Well?’

He sighed. ‘Of course I like breasts.’ He looked away, not quite able to meet her in the eye as he’d hoped. ‘I’m a man, aren’t I?’

‘What about bums and legs?’

‘Yes, Victoria. Them too.’

‘Do you have a preference?’

Lawson squirmed in his seat. ‘No. I love all of a woman’s body. Equally. Any man who has a preference is getting laid too much for his own good.’ He turned back to face her. ‘There. Satisfied?’

Vic blinked. She didn’t think she’d ever heard Lawson say the word laid to her—ever. Not that she thought he was a saint. He no doubt used more colourful language around his male co-workers, but he’d always been totally circumspect with his language in her presence. It was kind of dirty and the temperature raised a degree or two.

She looked away, her eyes seeking the television, unable to hold the intensity of his gaze.

Satisfied? Absolutely not.

She glanced at the television, suddenly a little depressed. She looked at her own small assets, even less impressive without the uplifting support of a bra. Maybe this was why Lawson had never looked at her in any other than a strictly professional way. Maybe it was why he never saw her as a woman.

‘Maybe I could use some miracle cream myself,’ she said forlornly. She turned to him and puffed her chest out. ‘What do you think?’

Lawson dared not look, stuffing popcorn into his mouth instead. ‘They’re fine.’

Vic let them deflate. ‘They’re only B cups,’ she lamented.

‘They’re fine,’ he repeated, staring at a point on the wall.

Really? Lance obviously hadn’t thought they were fine. Why else had he looked elsewhere? To the Kathys of the world. Maybe that was why she hadn’t been a raging success at relationships—maybe she just wasn’t desirable enough? She hung out with guys at work; she was surrounded by males at home; she wore overalls four out of seven days, for crying out loud.

Maybe she just wasn’t feminine enough. Maybe if she had a bigger chest more men would notice she wasn’t just one of the guys? Maybe Lawson would.

Vic rolled her head towards him. He wasn’t even interested enough to look at her. ‘You’re not even looking,’ she muttered.

He was just humouring her, as he used to when she was little. And after her scare this afternoon she wasn’t in any mood to be humoured. She wasn’t a girl any more. Surely he could see that? A well of emotion rose in her chest and lodged in her throat. It stung her eyes and snatched at her breath.

Lawson clenched his jaw. If he didn’t get away from her now he was going to do more than look. He pushed himself off the couch and stuffed his hands in his pockets. ‘Victoria, I think you should go back to bed.’

Tears blurred in her eyes as pure frustration drove her to her feet. She ignored the pain that tore at her side. The one building in her chest was far greater. ‘Why do you do that?’ she demanded huskily.

Lawson eyed her warily. Her whiskey gaze was glassy and he had an awful feeling she was about to cry. And how the hell could he resist that? ‘Do what?’

A tear escaped and she dashed it away. ‘Treat me like I’m still a child. Like I don’t have the right to have a perfectly adult conversation with a man.’

He took a step towards her. ‘Victoria, please don’t cry.’

She screwed up her face and shook her head, determined to hold back the flood of tears although her chest was a dam wall at bursting point. ‘Just answer the question, damn it.’

The question? What was the bloody question? He backtracked for a moment. ‘I don’t,’ he dismissed. ‘Treat you like you’re a child.’ God knew, he’d been having a really difficult time this last year remembering she’d ever been a child.

Vic opened her eyes and let the build-up of emotion ease out a little. She snorted. ‘You’re doing it again.’ Tears trickled down both sides of her face and she didn’t care. ‘Talking at me like I’m some little kid you can just dismiss out of hand.’

He felt totally helpless watching her tears. He was torn between pulling her close and getting the hell out of the house. He raked a hand through his spiky hair and took a step back. ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about.’

Vic choked out a sob. ‘Try me.’

Lawson shut his eyes briefly, wishing he were anywhere but here. ‘I’m not just any random man you can have a conversation about breasts with. I’m your partner.’

His partner. There it was again. ‘Oh, God,’ she wailed. ‘I’m a woman, damn it. Can’t you see that? A grown, adult woman. I know to you I’m just…Bob’s daughter, Ryan and Josh’s sister…another paramedic at the station, your colleague, but…’ She scrubbed at her face, brushing away the tears. ‘I. Am. A. Woman.’ She poked herself in the chest to emphasise each word.

Vic felt half crazy. Her heart ached so much it burned like a molten chunk of metal in her chest. She wiped at her eyes with the heels of her palms. Goodness knew, she must look a right state.

Lawson was staring at her as if she’d grown a second head. ‘You’ve never seen me as a woman. I’m just Vic. Good old Vic. Someone to babysit and get the gurney for you. Not beautiful or desirable. Not female. Just one of the boys.’

‘No.’ The admission was torn from him. He knew he shouldn’t have given it voice, but he couldn’t bear to witness her pain. What the hell was she talking about? Not desirable? Not beautiful? Standing here in the flickering light of the television, fragile and vulnerable before him, he wanted her so much it scared him.

He took a step closer and grasped her by the shoulders. ‘Do you know the first thing I thought today when you slipped on the rocks? When you screamed and the rope went taut?’ Lawson shut his eyes briefly as the horrifying memory revisited.

Vic was conscious of the rasp to his voice and their closeness. His hands on her skin, their bodies separated by a whisper of air. She watched as his lids fluttered open again, her heart pistoning in her chest as she waited for him to continue. If anything, waiting for his words was more terrifying than being cold, frightened and disorientated for those horrifying few seconds underwater.

‘All I could think was that I hadn’t ever got the chance to kiss you. To…touch you.’ The air felt like soup as Lawson dragged in a breath.

Vic’s heart danced a wild flutter in her chest at his startling admission. He’d thought about kissing her…touching her? ‘You’ve kissed me plenty,’ she murmured absently, trying to compute what he’d just said. Impersonal pecks on the cheek as hellos and thank-yous and happy birthdays. Friend kisses. Buddy kisses.

Lawson heard the huskiness in her voice. ‘Not like this, I haven’t.’ And on a muffled curse, not giving himself time to think better of it, he yanked her closer and mashed his lips onto hers.

It was no gentle, tentative, feeling-the-waters, first-kiss type of kiss. It was hot and heavy in a flash, as if they’d been a powder keg just waiting for a match. Lawson led and Victoria followed. He demanded entry into the heat of her mouth and groaned as her hands snaked around his neck and her tongue invited him inside.

He rode it, letting the sensation wash through him, succumbing to its power for a few magical moments suspended in time before common sense returned and he wrenched his mouth away with a level of self-control he hadn’t even known he possessed. His hands grasped her upper arms, holding her at a distance.

Their breath was harsh in his ears. ‘You are a beautiful, desirable woman. Don’t think for a moment that I’m not aware of it.’ He dropped his arms and took a deliberate step back, stuffing his hands back into his pockets.

Vic felt the impact of his words deep down low as if he’d licked her belly. He might have moved away, but he was looking at her mouth with a gaze that was stormy with lust and struggle. He did desire her; she could see that. Even if he didn’t want to.

A crazy plan reared its head and she swallowed, wondering if she had the courage to put it into action. Certainly her awful fright this afternoon made her feel bolder than she ever had and Lawson’s kiss had definitely set a tantalising precedent.

But Lawson was so strong. Already she could see his stormy gaze being pulled under control as he mentally withdrew from her, from his actions. Could she bear it if her seduction fell flat? If he rejected her out of his strong sense of honour and propriety?

But his chest still rose with breaths that sounded as if they were being dragged from him and he was looking at her mouth again as if he wanted to devour it. She licked her lips, savouring the taste of him. There was butter and salt and man. And she wanted more.

She took a deep breath and stepped into his space. ‘So why stop?’

‘Because it’s crazy, that’s why.’ He was captivated by the way her tongue travelled across her already moist lips. It didn’t help his breathing settle or calm the roaring pulse beat in his head. ‘Jeez. I went to your mother’s funeral. You were eight.’

She ran her fingers down his forearm and tentatively lifted his hand. She prepared herself for resistance but when none came she grew more daring, placing his palm over her breast. It couldn’t compete with the women still cavorting on the television screen, but it was aching for his touch.

‘I’m not eight any more. I haven’t been for a long time.’

Lawson swallowed. Hard. Her breast was soft beneath his hand, the nipple pressing into the centre of his palm obviously aroused. ‘Victoria,’ he groaned.

‘Lawson,’ she whispered, stepping closer again, desperate to persuade him, not strong enough to handle him withdrawing from her now. ‘I get that you do everything with measured caution and that this is a little out of the ordinary.’

She moved closer still so his hand was hard against her softness, her nipple unbearably tight. ‘But can you just, for once, just today, be thankful that we’re both here and just go with what you really want to do?’

Lawson felt the graze of her nipple as she rubbed against his palm and he squeezed the flesh involuntarily. ‘No. This is wrong.’ He stared at his hand covering her flesh, at her mouth. ‘I don’t want this,’ he denied in a voice that was so husky with desire he was for sure about to be struck down by a lightning bolt for his obvious lie.

Her fear of rejection melted in an instant at his denial. She could hear how much he wanted her, wanted this, in the way his voice trembled. In the way he looked at her mouth.

‘It’s okay. I want it enough for both of us.’ And she raised herself up, confident for the first time since she’d started just how much he actually desired her. She twined her hands around his neck and kissed him again.

Her lips teased his, her tongue stroking along the seam of his closed mouth, begging for access, and his resistance lasted about ten seconds before he opened to her on a groan that must have come all the way from his toes. The kiss was deep and wet as he unleashed a torrent of passion that left them both clinging to each other. He grasped her face in his hands and plunged his tongue into her mouth as she met him with equal ardour.

Beyond her conscious control her hands strayed to his back, clawing at his shirt, and before she knew it it was off and his chest was warm and bare beneath her touch. Even her injured palms were totally forgotten in the sensual exploration. She broke off to press her mouth to the hard ridge of his collarbone and the soft thrill of his carotid.

With her lips elsewhere Lawson felt the fog clear and sense returned. How the hell had his shirt got on the floor? ‘Whoa. I think we’re taking this a little too fast.’

Vic smiled. ‘I’m not a teenager, Lawson, and I’m not a virgin. I don’t want to court. Or go steady. I’m leaving in seventy days and tonight, I want this.’ She lowered her head and kissed one perfectly formed pectoral.

Lawson shut his eyes as the huskiness of her voice combined with the tiny, almost innocent gesture travelled straight to his groin. Without further thought he snagged the hem of her shirt and dragged it over her head. He looked down at her nakedness, her perfectly shaped breasts with nipples the colour of her lips, brushing his chest.

Vic blushed at the intensity of his gaze; it was as if he was working out the best way to devour them. ‘Not quite Boobylicious, huh?’

‘They’re perfect,’ he murmured, brushing a finger along one dusky tip, feeling its instant pucker. He dropped his mouth to hers, determined to show her just what an effect her body, her breasts, had on him.

The kiss escalated and for Vic it just wasn’t enough. She wanted to press herself along the length of him, feel the breadth of him, she wanted to melt into him, absorb him. She wanted all of him, at once.

His hands ran down her back and her skin was so responsive it felt as if he’d stroked an icecube down her spine and then trailed a burning coal back up again. When they wandered again it felt as if his hands were made of feathers dusting ever closer to the sensitive swell of her breasts at her sides.

Her head was spinning. His hands forged havoc. His lips, ecstasy. Her pulse thundered, her breath barely kept up with the demands of his open-mouth kisses as their heads twisted and fought for the deepest angle. Emotions churned and mixed inside and popped behind her eyes like fireworks and Ferris wheels.

So the pain, when it came totally ripped her out of the moment. She broke off, gasping and clutching at her side where Lawson’s hand had strayed seconds before. She doubled over as the pain paralysed her breath.

‘Oh, God!’ Lawson removed his hand as if it had touched an electric fence. ‘I’m so sorry,’ he panted. ‘I just…forgot. Are you okay? I’m so sorry.’

‘It’s okay,’ she whispered, shutting her eyes, riding out the pain that sucked at her breath. They’d both been out of control, not thinking.

He sat on the lounge staring at her. Her nakedness didn’t register—just the livid bruise. He could hear the pain he had caused catching in her breath. Talk about the proverbial cold bucket of water! What the hell had he been thinking? She was injured and he was pawing at her like a marauding teenager.

The pain easing, Vic straightened and took a step towards him and enfolded his head in her arms, urging it against her good side. He resisted for a second and then let her cradle him. ‘It’s okay, Lawson.’ She stroked his hair. ‘We were both a little…carried away.’

‘I’m so sorry,’ he whispered against her belly. Her skin was warm and smelled amazing, but he could see the bruise even more pronounced in the flicker of light from the television and he felt sick.

Vic nodded. ‘I know. It’s okay. We just have to be a little imaginative tonight, that’s all.’

Lawson shut his eyes. No, no, no. This was insane. There were so many reasons why this was wrong, not least of all her injury. She needed him to look after her, pamper her, not take advantage of her on her father’s couch.

It had been wrong of him to start it. But she’d sounded so hurt, had looked so bereft. Her anguish and tears had been too hard to take. After nearly losing her today, he had found her vulnerability unbearable.

But. Oh, God—what had they nearly done…?

She was his partner. Had he really been going to throw that to the wind for a night in her arms? Was a few hours of bliss going to be worth the fall-out? If they did this, then what next? Where was this heading? She had said it was just about tonight but would that ever be enough for them if they crossed that line? Would they want more?

He sure as hell would.

And how was that going to work? He being a single father with no room in his life for any relationship, never mind the type of relationship, that Victoria deserved. And what would that mean for her? She was about to embark on a great adventure. He didn’t want to hold her back from that. She’d been counting down for the last year. He couldn’t let her get distracted from her goal because of him.

Thank God the brakes had been applied and they could still salvage something out of the disaster. He moved out of her embrace and stood, finding their shirts. He handed hers to her and threw his back over his head.

She shook her head. ‘Lawson? No.’ He wouldn’t leave her like this, would he? Aching for his touch? Taunted by the memory of how good his kiss had been, how his hands had felt like fire and ice on her skin?

‘I think we need to look upon this as a good thing.’

‘You’re stopping?’ She could hear the squeak in her voice and she knew later she’d regret not acting more sophisticatedly.

‘Please, Victoria. Put your shirt on. Don’t make this harder.’ Her bruise was making him feel ill—how could he have forgotten about that? Forgotten, too, that they were partners and had to work together. Forgotten about Matilda being his number one priority. Forgotten that she was leaving.

Vic felt the bite of tears at the back of her eyes but refused to let them any further as she threw her shirt back on. She would not compound her humiliation by crying.

‘This shouldn’t have happened.’

Vic couldn’t listen to whatever excuses he was going to drag out. She didn’t want to hear him try to treat her like a child again when for the first time he had actually touched her and looked at her as a woman. She just wanted to run away and hide. Be left alone to lick her wounds.

‘Damn right about that.’ She injected as much disgust into her voice as she could muster—which happened to be a lot at this precise moment in time.

And then she walked out of the room and didn’t stop until she’d reached the safety of hers. She shut the door and then locked it.

And as far as she was concerned, seventy days couldn’t come fast enough.

CHAPTER SIX

IT HAD been five days since she’d seen Lawson when Vic arrived at the station for her first shift back at work since the incident in the cave. Her father had been furious and insisted she take a few sick days until her side was fully recovered. Which, given what had happened with Lawson, had suited her just fine.

She wasn’t generally a coward, but that night in all its embarrassing glory had played in her head a thousand times and she didn’t know if she could look Lawson in the eye.

He’d rung several times while she’d been away—not that she’d bothered to return his calls. She had to face him with as much nonchalance as she could muster and for that she’d needed a little distance. But with the bruise now a light yellowy-green and diminishing rapidly she couldn’t put off the inevitable any longer.

She heard voices in the ambulance bay to her right as she entered the station for her night shift. She picked up her pager and wandered there first, her backpack slung over her shoulder, her heart tapping a frantic tattoo in her chest.

Lawson was checking the equipment in the van while chatting with Carl, one of the day-shift paramedics. Carl spotted her first. ‘Hey, here she is,’ he said. ‘Our hero.’

Carl grinned at her and held up a copy of the local paper, the Brindabella Gazette. There, on the front page, was a huge splashy headline.

Local Paramedic Saves Family Pet From Flooding Cave.

On the front a picture of Vic with Annie, Pete and a plastered Bella.

Vic, avoiding Lawson’s intense gaze, grinned back at Carl. The story had been big locally and the island paper had been right on it. In a place where the front headline usually involved the ant threat to the grass at the lawn bowls club or the rates hike at the caravan park, a local hero was breaking news.

She shrugged. ‘All in a day’s work.’

Carl nudged Lawson. ‘Better watch she doesn’t get a swollen head with all this publicity.’

Vic risked a quick glance in Lawson’s direction and saw him give Carl a tight smile. ‘Oh, I’ll be watching her.’

Lawson’s ominous tone sent a shiver right up her spine. What exactly did he mean by that?

‘Anyways, I best be off,’ Carl said, and bade them both a good night.

Which left the two of them facing each other with a wall of growing silence and the memory of the other night between them.

Lawson let his gaze roam over her face. His heart banged against his ribs and for the hundredth time he castigated himself for screwing everything up so resoundingly. He knew with utter certainty their relationship had irrevocably changed. And there was no going back.

‘I’ve been trying to ring you.’

Vic looked at her boots. ‘I know.’

‘We need to talk.’

Vic nodded and raised her whiskey gaze to his turbulent grey one. She wanted to talk about as much as she wanted to drill a hole in her head. She didn’t want to revisit the humiliation of the other night. Once had been bad enough. But he was right—they had to work together and they at least needed to clear the air.

She shrugged, reaching for the nonchalance she’d been practising all day. ‘Okay, so let’s talk.’

Lawson opened his mouth, but was interrupted by two pagers beeping into the cavernous space of the garage. He cursed under his breath and pulled the pager off his belt. ‘D.I.B. Four-year-old. Query croup,’ he read.

Vic nodded. It was that time of year. The seasons were changing and croup was more prevalent, particularly at night.

She threw her backpack on the garage floor near the wall. ‘Let’s go, then.’ When a child had difficulty in breathing, parents understandably panicked. There was no time to hang around.

They were in the van and Lawson was driving them to their destination, lights flashing and sirens blaring, within thirty seconds. It was quiet inside the cab and Lawson glanced at his partner’s profile. It was never quiet when she was around.

‘Victoria.’

She turned to face him and shook her head. ‘Not now, Lawson. We’re two minutes out. After.’

The last thing she wanted to do was have this conversation all night in dribs and drabs, picking up the threads in between jobs. When they talked about it, she didn’t want any interruptions. She wanted it over and done with in one fell swoop.

‘Fine. But don’t think you can put this off all night,’ he warned.

Vic bristled. He sounded like a father talking to a petulant teenager, as if he were talking to Matilda. Hadn’t she already well and truly proved she was an adult? A woman?

‘Well, I guess that depends on the pager, doesn’t it?’ If he was going to treat her like a child she sure as hell could act like one.

They pulled up a couple of minutes later and could hear seal-like barking interrupting the cries of an obviously fractious child as they alighted the vehicle and made their way to the front door. A haggard-looking man, who introduced himself as Warren, ushered them inside down a long central hallway.

‘He woke up with this terrible cough,’ Warren said. ‘He’s been unwell for a couple of days now with a runny nose and a bit of a cough, but this is much worse.’

Lawson nodded. Without his having even laid eyes on their patient, the distinctive bark, the hallmark of what was medically known as laryngotracheobronchitis, had confirmed the diagnosis of croup. The history was also typical. A mild viral infection, more often than not the common cold, developing into an inflamed and irritated airway exacerbated by the cooler night air.

The hallway opened into a large lounge area. A young woman who looked to be barely in her twenties turned a tear-stained face to Vic.

‘Hurry, please, he can’t breathe. He can’t breathe.’

Vic flicked a quick glance at Lawson. The little boy was most definitely breathing. He was coughing and crying fit to wake the entire neighbourhood. Unfortunately his cries were contributing to his airway irritation and making his mother more frantic, which, in turn, was making the child more upset. At the moment they were stuck in a vicious escalating cycle.

She moved forward. ‘Hi. I’m Vic,’ she said. ‘And what’s this little fella’s name?’ She placed her hand on the child’s back and gave it a gentle rub.

‘Jayden,’ the mother said on a sob.

‘Hi, Jayden,’ Vic crooned, continuing the back rub. ‘Jayden’s doing fine,’ she assured above the noise of the still-bawling, coughing little boy. ‘I think he has a touch of croup and it sounds very scary but that’s something called stridor, which is all part and parcel of croup. I know he’s upset but he’s very alert and pink—he’s doing well.’

‘Really?’

‘Absolutely.’ Vic nodded. ‘What’s your name?’

‘Cindy.’

‘Okay, Cindy. The most important thing we can do right now is try to get Jayden to stop crying and be calm. The more he cries, the more stress he puts on his airway. I think he senses that you’re upset. Do you think he might come to me?’

Cindy’s arms tightened around her son. ‘I don’t know.’ She sniffed. ‘He’s usually happy to go to anybody but when he’s sick…’

‘Of course.’ Vic nodded. ‘Only Mum will do when you’re feeling rotten.’

Cindy gave a watery smile. ‘Something like that.’

‘How about we try it? Pass him over and then Lawson and I can check him out.’ She reached for the child and eased him out of Cindy’s arms, hoping Jayden wouldn’t protest further but ready to put him straight back if the move made him any more distressed. There was no point exacerbating his airway any more than it already was.

Jayden was still crying, but no more than he had been. For the moment. ‘Maybe you can get him a nice cold drink of water,’ Vic suggested. The water would help to soothe Jayden’s inflamed throat and give Cindy a chance to collect herself. ‘Has he had some paracetamol lately?’

Lawson pulled some equipment out of the pack he brought in, watching Victoria as she did her thing. She was Patient Care Officer tonight and doing a brilliant job. She really did have the touch with kids. But then, as she frequently pointed out, she would, wouldn’t she?

It seemed such a shame that she’d vowed never ever to have children of her own. Sure, he understood why, but he couldn’t help but feel she was cutting herself off from one of life’s greatest adventures. Matilda had brought untold joy into his world and he knew he was a better man for her presence in his life.

Victoria rocked from foot to foot while flashing her pen-light at Jayden a few times and waving it around to attract his attention. The little boy’s cries fell to a grizzle as he reached for the torch. She gave it to him, talking calmly and gently, constantly rocking.

She nodded at Lawson and he moved closer with the hand-held sats monitor and stethoscope. He stood in front of her, the child between them, as he surreptitiously tried to place the probe on the child’s toe. The immediate foot wiggle made application difficult and Lawson fixed it quickly while Victoria distracted the child.

She shifted her hands from his back next so one was cradling his bottom, the other his head, giving Lawson full access to listen to Jayden’s chest. He placed the ear-pieces in his ears and lightly laid the bell against the child’s singlet-clad back.

He shut his eyes and tuned into the air rushing in and out of the lungs rather than the transmitted noise from the patient’s upper airway. He moved it around instinctively, quickly assessing all the lung fields, deeming them clear.

He opened his eyes again to find Victoria looking at him with her whiskey gaze. She had her chin on top of Jayden’s head, the child’s wispy hair feathering against her face, still rocking. Their gazes locked. It reminded him of the times she’d held Matilda like this when she’d been littler. His daughter’s chest snuggled into hers as Victoria swayed and hummed.

An odd thought whammied him from nowhere. What would a child of hers look like? Of theirs look like? What kind of a child would they have together? Would it have her auburn hair and olive colouring or his darker genes? Would it look like Matilda or the twins?

‘How does he sound?’

Lawson blinked. He could see her lips moving but it took a second or two for the words to reach through his stunned thought processes. ‘All clear.’

The beeping of the sats monitor caught her attention and Vic dragged her gaze from his. For a second his stare had been so intense it had transported her right back to the other night.

‘Ninety-two per cent,’ she murmured. Not awful. Not great. But at least, with Jayden having settled they were finally able to get a good trace and an accurate reading.

Cindy returned with some water and a syringe containing some clear liquid. Vic smiled at her. She’d obviously washed her face and was looking much more in control.

‘He sounds a lot better, thank you.’ Cindy smiled. ‘I was so worried. His breathing was so loud.’

Vic nodded. Jayden’s airway noise had settled but he was still sporting a decent inspiratory stridor, which was a bit of a worry now he was calm and at rest, especially as his sats were on the lower end of normal.

‘How about I sit down here, little buddy, and Mummy can give you some medicine?’ Vic parked herself on the lounge chair behind.

Lawson watched as Jayden clung to Victoria’s front on the way down like a baby monkey and then sat on her lap, one hand still firmly attached to the torch, the other bunching up the material of her overalls.

He’d managed to pull the fabric aside slightly, flashing Lawson an enticing glimpse of cleavage. Lawson was mesmerised for a second before pulling himself back into line. He turned away disgusted at himself. He was at work, damn it. She was his colleague—his partner.

Wasn’t it enough that he’d spent the last five days fluctuating between self-loathing and arousal thinking about her and her damn cleavage? That his dreams had been laced with the memory of her mouth, her smell, the taste of her skin?

He’d been afraid this was going to happen because the truth was they’d overstepped a mark and there was no going back.

Jayden barked again like a seal and Lawson pulled himself together. Their patient’s airway, already small enough owing to his age, was inflamed, and that was what he should be concentrating on. Not Victoria. Not how close he’d come to dragging her down on the couch with him and succumbing to crazy.

He forced himself to kneel in front of the chair where Victoria was sitting with Jayden. Ignoring her and the proximity of her still-half-exposed cleavage, he smiled at the little boy, inspecting his face closely, noticing the slight nasal flaring.

‘Whatcha got there, matey?’ Jayden flashed the torch at him. ‘Ooh, you got the spotlight? You’re the man.’ He gently lifted Jayden’s singlet and looked to see if the little boy was using any of his accessory muscles to help him breathe. There didn’t appear to be any recession of his intercostal spaces or any retraction of his sternum.

He turned to Warren and Cindy. ‘I think, just to be sure, we should transport Jayden to hospital where they can monitor him for the night. He still has quite an obvious stridor. I’d like to give him a special nebuliser for that on the way to hospital. It helps to reduce the swelling in his airway and should improve that noise we can hear when he breathes in.’

As an intensive care paramedic Lawson was licensed to administer an adrenaline neb, which should have an immediate impact on Jayden’s stridor. Given in an inhaled dose, adrenaline acted locally on the irritated tissues of the larynx and airway to decrease the inflammation.

Cindy clutched her husband’s hand. ‘I thought he was better.’

Lawson heard the edge of panic return to her voice and nodded calmly. ‘He’s sounding better now he’s settled, but his airway is still inflamed and it can be a long night. I’d feel happier if he was seen by a doctor. I think he may need some special medicine called a steroid, which will also help with the stridor, that they can give him there.’

Warren squeezed his wife’s hand. ‘It’s okay, darl. Better safe then sorry, huh?’

Tears filled Cindy’s eyes. ‘Can I go with him?’

‘Of course,’ Vic hurried to assure the fragile, young mother. ‘We put you on the trolley and him on your lap and strap you both in.’

Cindy sniffed. ‘Okay, then. I’ll just go and throw a few things in a bag.’

Five minutes later, with Cindy and Jayden secured on the stretcher in the back of the ambulance, Vic started up the ambulance. Lawson, who’d taken over as Patient Care Officer to administer the adrenaline, applied the paediatric nebuliser mask to his little patient’s face as Vic pulled into the street.

Vic heard the little boy’s protests at the confines of the mask and the noise made by the flow of oxygen. She could hear Lawson’s low murmurings as he distracted and cajoled Jayden into keeping the mask on, and she adjusted her rear-view mirror so she could surreptitiously watch him in action.

For a guy who was an enigma most of the time he could certainly be animated when he wanted to be. She’d seen that in his interactions with Matilda and now with Jayden. He was rarely that way with her and she’d known him for ever. She watched as he handed over his pen to the little boy and the notebook he kept in his breast pocket. A grin split his face as Jayden obviously took to the offering with gusto.

Lawson really was a sight to behold when he smiled. The neutrality of his features was totally transformed. The craggy planes softened, the tautness disappeared, the grey of his gaze changed from watchful to warm. He looked relaxed and at ease. And very, very desirable.

Lawson’s gaze met hers in the rear-view mirror. The smile he’d been sharing with Cindy died a quick death and a shutter came down as the watchfulness returned. Vic looked away, concentrating on the road, his need to hide himself from her hurting more than his rejection.

Lawson looked away too. He’d managed to forget about their indiscretion for a few minutes as he’d focused on Jayden, but it all came crashing back again. Her mouth, the huskiness of her voice, how her naked breasts had felt against his chest. How could they work together when every time he looked at her all he could think about was the perfection of her body?

He was a professional, for God’s sake. So was she. And she deserved to be treated like one. Not as some object of desire. Up until recent months in their working relationship he’d thought of her as a paramedic first and a woman second. Which was as it should be. But he knew he couldn’t go back now.

He was always going to see her as a woman first.

It actually ended up being past midnight by the time they got back to the station. A baby post-ictal from a febrile convulsion, an overdose of sleeping tablets and a suspected stroke kept them on the hop transporting all three patients to the mainland hospital.

Lawson made her a cup of coffee and plonked it down in front of her at the staffroom table. He pulled up a chair opposite and sat. ‘Before I leave in the morning I’m going to request a new partner.’

Vic was so startled she sloshed her coffee all over the table. ‘What?’ Whatever she’d been expecting, it hadn’t been this.

‘I think you heard me the first time.’

‘But…why?’ she spluttered. Their personal stuff aside, she didn’t want to work with anyone else.

Lawson shot her an impatient look. ‘I would have thought that was obvious.’

‘I think that’s a slight overreaction, Lawson.’

‘Victoria. We almost slept together.’

Vic felt heat rise in her face. ‘Almost being the operative word.’

Lawson pushed back his chair and stood up. ‘Victoria, do you think the degree matters?’

Well, obviously not to him. But it sure as hell mattered to her. Being left high and dry in a highly aroused state mattered a lot. Her body had ached, throbbed, for him ever since. Her dreams had been haunted by their kisses and she’d woken each morning with a fire roaring out of control deep down low. Even looking at him now at his most distant and forbidding she wanted to reach out and touch.

She took a steadying breath. ‘I think it does if you’re talking about busting up a highly successful team, especially when we’ve only got sixty-five days remaining until we split anyway.’

‘Maybe now’s the perfect opportunity for it. I was always going to get a new partner when you left anyway. This will just be moving it forward slightly. Give me an adjustment time.’

‘And what the hell do I do for the last couple of months while you’re adjusting? It makes no sense for me to be partnered with someone new for such a short period of time and you know it.’

Lawson sighed. He did know it. ‘Yes, you’re right. But what happened between us changes everything, Victoria. It was wrong. I should never have let it get out of hand. It was a mistake.’

Inexplicably, the barb hurt and she clutched her mug hard while she took a moment to recover from its impact. A moment in which she realised that was what all this was about. Lawson Dunlop didn’t make mistakes. Not since he’d been sixteen and a mistake had nearly killed him. All she was going to be from now on was a painful reminder of their indiscretion. Their mistake. Day after day.

‘Well, guess what? We’re grown-ups. And grown-ups just have to live with their mistakes and get on with it.’

Lawson shut his eyes and turned away from her. He wandered over to the window that overlooked a large parkland area. ‘You don’t get it.’

Vic watched the breadth of his shoulders. Admired the way his overalls fitted glove-like around his magnificent physique. Framed against the window, he looked such a lonely figure and she was standing before she knew it, her feet moving towards him before she could question the wisdom of it.

She drew level with him, her hands wrapped around her mug. She looked out over the view for a moment or two, took a sip of her coffee and said, ‘So explain it to me.’

‘Do you know what I was thinking about tonight at every job we did?’

She glanced at his stern profile, his jaw clenching reflexively. ‘I’m guessing it wasn’t D,R,A,B,C?’

Lawson gave a half-smile at her attempt to lighten the mood. Then the reality of what he had been thinking about returned. He daredn’t look at her as he gathered the courage to be frank.

‘I was thinking about your kiss, and your smell and the way you make that moaning noise at the back of your throat when you’re turned on and how perfect your breasts are and how much I wished I hadn’t been noble and just lay you on the couch and had my way with you.’

Vic felt heat flare from her toes and scorch a path right up to her face. She gripped the mug hard, clamping her lips together as a moan fought to escape. His words stoked the fire that had been smouldering since he’d rejected her the other night.

She swallowed. ‘Oh.’

Lawson nodded grimly. ‘Yes. Oh.’ He turned to face her and put his hands on her shoulders, holding them firmly. ‘Even now I want to push you hard against this window and kiss you until you’re moaning into my mouth.’

Catching his breath with difficulty, Lawson let go of her shoulders, and turned back to face the view again, firmly crossing his arms across his chest.

Vic reached for the window sill as she swayed forward when he released her. She wanted to kiss him so badly now everything in front of her was a red haze. She was trembling and her pelvic floor responded shamelessly to his blatant description.

‘I can’t afford to be thinking about this on the job, Victoria. Putting aside the whole other issue of our long association and how it impacts that, it’s just not appropriate. Not when I should be thinking about things like danger and the ABCs. It’s not safe. I should be focusing on what I’m doing, not on what you look like out of your uniform.’

He was right. She knew he was. But his husky voice was taking her back, trailing verbal fingers over her skin like the silken caress of cobwebs.

With a mammoth effort she pulled her mind away from the contractions of her internal muscles to the most pressing issue coming from his decree. ‘How exactly are you going to explain that to my father?’

Lawson sighed. Victoria had put her finger directly on the problem. Bob Dunleavy, his old mentor and dear friend, wasn’t going to be fooled by any old explanation.

‘Are you going to tell him we made out? On his couch?’

Lawson hadn’t quite figured that out yet. He didn’t know how to tell Bob, the man who’d shown him how to be a man, that he’d been fooling around with his daughter. The daughter Bob had entrusted him with.

From the minute Victoria had taken an interest in the opposite sex, Bob had wanted all of them dead. And while he might not have been a horny teenager after only one thing, he wasn’t sure Bob would see the difference.

And he didn’t think he could bear to see the disappointment in the older man’s eyes. Bob’s faith and trust in him meant a lot to Lawson. Bob Dunleavy had been more of a role model to him than his own father had ever been. He didn’t want to lose the man’s respect. Losing his own had been bad enough.

‘He won’t be happy about splitting us up and you know it, Lawson. Unless you’re prepared to tell him the truth, he’s not likely to even agree. Not with my departure so close.’

Lawson nodded. Unfortunately Victoria was right.

But he didn’t see any way out of it. He owed Bob one-hundred-per-cent honesty. ‘Then it looks like he gets the truth.’

Vic screwed her face up, not quite believing what she was hearing. ‘Are you kidding? He’ll have apoplexy,’ she spluttered. ‘His blood pressure will hit the roof and he’ll probably stroke out.’

While Bob was hardly the healthiest specimen of manhood, Lawson did feel that was a slight exaggeration. ‘I’m not going to lie to him, Victoria.’

Vic put her hand on his arm. ‘I don’t want my father knowing my personal business.’

‘When we crossed the line, we made it his business.’ He turned away from the window and moved back to the table, her hand falling away.

Vic looked out of the window for a moment as a helpless feeling of things spinning out of control enveloped her. She couldn’t believe that only five days ago her life had been on track. Now a whole other dazzling world had been opened up to her for a brief moment and then the door had been firmly shut in her face again and things just weren’t the same since.

She needed to get back control.

Vic straightened her spine and marched back to the table. ‘I don’t want to be palmed off to a new partner in my last two months at the station. Let’s make a pact.’ She stuck her hand out. ‘Let’s agree to pretend what happened didn’t. Let’s go back to what we were before. Strictly partners.’

Lawson glanced at her hand, then up into her face. He shook his head. The memory of what happened the other night was going to fuel his dreams till the day he died. ‘That’s what I’ve been trying to say. There’s a thing between us now. Our relationship has changed irretrievably. We can’t go back. What happened the other night…that’s all we’ll be able to think about while we’re out there.’

Vic left her hand out. ‘Speak for yourself,’ she said calmly. ‘I’m a professional. Taught by you. Another professional. I hide lots of things on the job. My distaste for men who assault women. My annoyance with people who ring up for an ambulance who just need a Band-Aid. My dislike of Saturday-night drunks. We can do this. I know we can.’

‘Victoria.’

The exasperation in his voice was mildly arousing and she quashed the thought as further proof she could put this stuff between them aside. She pulled up a chair beside him and placed her hand on his forearm. She looked into his eyes even though she felt too exposed.

‘Please, Lawson. I don’t want to have to spend the next two months with someone I don’t respect as much as you or having to explain to all and sundry why we’re not partners any more.’ Least of all her father.

Lawson could feel himself wavering. This close he could smell the same perfume she wore the other night and it triggered another potent memory.

‘Come on, Lawson, all we have to do is make a concerted effort. Yes, it’ll probably be awkward at first but we’ve got twenty years of history between us before this.’ God knew, she’d kept her crush a secret for all that time. ‘All I’m asking is that you put up with me for another two months. Compartmentalise what happened and lock it somewhere at the back of your head. That’s what I’m going to do. You’re a strong person, Lawson. If anyone can do it, you can.’

He was strong. He knew that and, sure, she was probably right, he could do it. But what if he didn’t want to? With a new partner he wouldn’t have to compartmentalise anything and when she left for distant shores in a couple of months what was in his head wouldn’t matter.

‘I’ve never asked you for any special favours or considerations. Ever. But I am asking for this.’

That was true—she hadn’t. She’d taken what he’d thrown at her and never questioned him or shirked her responsibilities on the job. She’d been an excellent paramedic and a perfect partner. ‘Okay.’ He moved his arm so hers slipped off.

Vic grinned at him on a surge of relief. ‘Oh, thank you. Thank you so much.’

‘But at the first sign this isn’t working, for either of us, I’m pulling the plug.’

Vic nodded wildly. ‘It’ll work. I promise.’

Lawson wasn’t so sure as she leapt from her seat to make them another coffee and his gaze travelled straight to the contours of her butt.

It had only been a few seconds and already he was compartmentalising like crazy.

CHAPTER SEVEN

‘HEY, Vic, how many days now?’

Vic smiled at Carl and his partner, who were vacating the lunch table as they sat down. It was the first time she’d seen the other team working the same shift with them. She and Lawson had been called to an incident as soon as they’d come on so there’d been no time to chat with the other crew.

‘Thirty.’ She grinned. Even though all the excitement had gone for her. It was more about relief now. Only thirty more days to put up with the polite civility that had become her relationship with Lawson.

‘Where are you off to?’ she asked, her heart sinking that she would be left alone with Lawson. She’d been hoping for a buffer.

‘To the nursing home. Ninety-year-old female, suspected fractured neck of femur.’

‘You guys going to the pub after work tonight?’ she asked hopefully. It was a weekly ritual, one that Vic had quickly embraced. Being the only female at the station, she’d felt the need to integrate. To be one of the boys.

‘Sure.’ Carl nodded. ‘It’s Saturday, isn’t it? You want to join us?’

She slid a glance Lawson’s way. He was munching on a sandwich, reading the paper. ‘Why not?’

‘Lawson?’ Carl asked.

‘No, thanks.’ Being a single father made it hard to socialise. But his daughter had always come first and as far as Lawson was concerned it was no sacrifice.

Vic felt her mouth tighten as Lawson didn’t even bother to look up from the paper. Given that he rarely joined them it was no surprise, but he could have at least acknowledged Carl.

The other crew left and Vic went to the fridge and retrieved her lunch. She sat opposite Lawson, who didn’t look up when she joined him. She reached for the latest gazette that was on the table and feigned interest in it.

The last month had been difficult. More difficult than she’d first appreciated. Compartmentalising was easy for her—she’d had five years of practice with her crush. But it obviously hadn’t been so simple for Lawson. He’d become distant—emphasising his already famous reserve further—and businesslike, careful not to share any of himself other than what was required from him professionally.

They didn’t venture out of the station during their breaks to eat somewhere picturesque and interesting anymore. Eating at the station usually guaranteed someone was around. They didn’t hang out with Matilda in the afternoons if the pager allowed. He hadn’t asked her to babysit.

In fact anything that put them alone together any more than necessary he’d avoided like the plague. When she’d ventured a complaint a few weeks back he’d given her a direct look and said it was the way it had to be. He’d sounded so detached she lost the nerve to push him further.

Her father had noticed the difference in Lawson and had asked her if everything was okay. Vic had assured him everything was fine and hoped her father hadn’t detected the flush to her cheeks at the blatant lie.

‘You’re going out with Carl?’

Vic stopped eating mid-chew. It was so rare for him to address her these days other than the minimum required during cases she almost fell off her chair. He hadn’t looked up from the paper but he’d still initiated a conversation. A non-work-related one to boot. ‘Sure.’

Lawson had been battling with himself to stay quiet. He’d read the same sentence in the paper about fifty times. Who Victoria chose to go out with was none of his business. But Carl? ‘You do know Carl is an incorrigible flirt? He prefers to play the field.’

Vic gaped at him. What the hell did he care? ‘So?’

Her dismissal grated. Was that what she wanted? Did she want to make a fool of herself with Casanova Carl in her last weeks on the island? The thought of Victoria letting the other man touch her made him want to break things. In London, she could do what she wanted—he wouldn’t have to see it or hear about it. Could he bear to watch it right beneath his nose?

Lawson shrugged with what he hoped was nonchalance as he concentrated on the print in front of him. ‘I didn’t think you were that kind of girl.’

Vic felt an eruption of suppressed emotions from the last month explode inside her. She narrowed her eyes and snatched the paper out of his grasp. ‘What kind of girl?’

Forced to look up, Lawson was surprised to see the fire in her whiskey gaze. ‘To let a bit of flirting go to your head.’

‘I’m young and single, Lawson,’ she goaded. ‘It’s supposed to go to my head.’

‘Yes, but Carl is only likely to offer you a quick fling.’

‘Well, maybe I need a quick fling, Lawson. Personally I think I’m ripe for one.’ God knew, she was so frustrated she could scream.

Lawson felt her comment punch him low in the gut. If she was ripe it was because he’d primed her and he was damned if Carl was going to benefit. ‘I just think it’s a bad idea to get involved with a colleague’

Vic felt an irrational urge to launch herself at him. Whether it would end up with her shaking him senseless or kissing his lips off, she wasn’t entirely sure. All she knew was she trembled just below her skin with a suppressed emotion that she didn’t want to examine too closely.

‘So, let me get this straight,’ she said, breathing slow and deep to stop from screeching like an irrational female. ‘You don’t want me, but you don’t want Carl to want me either?’

God. Lawson cringed inside. It sounded totally screwy. But she was right. Carl. Some random guy on a job. The entire male population of the British Isles. He wasn’t particularly fussy. Jeez. What was wrong with him?

One thing he knew for sure: this conversation had fraught written all over it and he needed to back away. Should never have let the green-eyed monster goad him into starting it in the first place. ‘I think this is a totally inappropriate conversation to be having at work.’

The steam finally found an escape and she leapt to her feet, her chair scraping back and falling to clatter on the ground behind her. ‘Damn it, Lawson. Don’t do this. Don’t retreat on me now. Answer the bloody question.’

Lawson was surprised at her outburst. She’d seemed so calm over the last month, coping much better with their mutually agreed upon amnesia than he had. He knew he’d been a total pain in the butt and his forced reserve had both annoyed and hurt her. But it was the only way he could deal with what had happened between them and continue to work together.

Their pagers beeped and he’d never been more grateful to hear the noise in his life. Saved by the bell.

‘Damn it!’ Vic swore as she wrenched hers off her belt and contemplated throwing it across the room.

‘Fifty-six-year-old male. Central chest pain, diaphoretic, S.O.B. Query M.I.’

Vic followed the message with her own gaze as Lawson read it off. She got to the address and map coordinates, the small printing leaping out at her. She looked at him dazedly. ‘That’s my place.’

Lawson frowned and scrolled down to the address. Yes, it was. He looked at her. ‘Let’s go.’

Vic, unable to move, stared at the message. Her father? Could her father be having a heart attack?

‘Victoria!’

Lawson’s voice cracked across the room, yanking her out of her paralysis, and she scurried after him, a host of awful scenarios tumbling through her brain. She climbed in the truck and buckled up as Lawson screeched out of the garage. She pulled her mobile off her belt and her fingers shook as she punched in her home number.

She chewed on her bottom lip as she waited for it to pick up. ‘It’s not answering.’

‘Who’s home?’

‘Just Josh. Ryan’s out with some mates.’

Lawson groaned. Ryan would have been more likely to keep it together than sensitive Josh. ‘He probably doesn’t want to leave your father to answer the phone,’ Lawson assured her.

Vic nodded. ‘I guess.’ She pushed the end button. A rush of emotion swelled in her chest. Could her father really be having a heart attack? Pictures of patients they’d lost on scene to myocardial infarction flicked through her head.

She turned to Lawson. ‘Oh, God, what if…?’ She stopped, her voice cracking.

‘No.’ Lawson shook his head and gave her a hard look before returning his gaze to the road. ‘Don’t go there, Victoria. I’m going to need you. When we get there, I’m going to need you. If he is having an M.I., I don’t need to tell you how critical that makes him or all the things that can go wrong. I’m going to call for back-up but until then it’s going to be just you and me and, I’m sorry, you don’t get to be a daughter right now. You’re going to have to be strong for Josh and I’m going to need you to help me save his life.’

Vic blanched, shying from his demands. She couldn’t do what he was asking of her. She couldn’t. Just thinking about what might greet them was causing a massive lump in her throat. She didn’t want to see her father grey and in pain. ‘But…’

Lawson shook his head again. ‘No buts.’ He gave her hand a quick squeeze. ‘You can do this. You’ve done it a hundred times. I need you. Your dad needs you.’

Vic swallowed past the painful lump of emotion that was battling to find an outlet. It hurt and her eyes burned. She sucked in a breath and nodded. ‘Okay.’

Lawson waited for her affirmation and immediately radioed Coms. ‘Coms this is nine six zero. Please note the patient to which we have been sent is Bob Dunleavy, OIC of Brindabella Station. Am responding with Victoria Dunleavy. Please send back-up ASAP.’

Lawson knew the coms centre would be able to read between the lines. One of their own was down and his daughter was having to attend. He knew they’d send every resource available.

Josh, who had obviously heard the siren, was waiting at the door when Lawson pulled into the drive. Victoria didn’t even wait for the van to fully stop before jumping from the vehicle and running to her brother.

Josh’s face crumpled. ‘Vic, he’s bad.’

She gave him a fierce hug, wishing she could make it all better for him as she could when he’d been little. ‘It’s okay, Joshy, we’re here now.’ She caught his hand and dragged him inside with her.

‘Dad?’

He was on the couch and Victoria gasped as she crouched beside him and reached for his hand. It was cool and clammy against the warmth and dryness of hers and her anxiety increased another notch. He looked exactly like every heart-attack patient she’d ever known: grey, perspiration running down his face, rubbing at his chest.

‘Lawson,’ she called, trying to keep the panic out of her voice as she smiled at her father.

‘He’s going to be all right? Isn’t he, Vic?’

‘Of course…going to be…fine,’ Bob puffed and sent his son a weak smile.

‘Don’t talk, Dad,’ Vic murmured as Lawson entered laden with equipment.

‘Bob,’ he said. ‘Always wanting to be the centre of attention.’

Bob gave a half-smile. ‘Got some GTN?’

Lawson nodded. ‘Absolutely.’ Giving the drug used to dilate coronary arteries was governed by strict protocols but he wasn’t about to question his old mentor’s clinical judgement. If anyone knew what having an M.I. looked like it was Bob. And the evidence of his own eyes confirmed the diagnosis. If Bob Dunleavy weren’t having a cardiac event, he’d give up his stripes.

‘Hook him up,’ he said to Victoria as he reached for the medication pack.

Vic felt all fingers and thumbs as she went through the motions she could usually do with her eyes shut. But sticking dots to her father’s chest was so much more personal. Watching as the ECG trace revealed massive ST elevation, indicating cardiac ischaemia, was utterly sickening.

Placing an oxygen mask, wrapping a cuff around his arm and taking his blood pressure, putting a sats peg on his finger, witnessing Lawson spray the GTN under his tongue—it was all too close.

She could hear Josh’s low whimpering in the background and it tore at her professional veneer. She was the big sister—she fixed things; she’d always fixed things. From homework to a disappointing test result, from a severed finger to a falling out with a friend. But she didn’t know if she could fix this.

Lawson viewed the monitor with a sinking feeling. Bob was in trouble. They needed to get him to hospital ASAP. He needed a special drug to help dissolve the blockage that was restricting his coronary blood flow and he’d probably need some kind of surgical intervention.

He gave Bob an aspirin to chew. ‘I’ll get the trolley, Bob. We need to get you to hospital.’

Bob, too short of breath to talk effusively, just nodded and said, ‘Hurry.’

Vic felt her father’s plea slam straight into her gut. She squeezed her father’s hand and said, ‘It’s okay, Dad. We got you now. We’re not going to let anything happen to you.’

Her father smiled at her, squeezed her hand and then grimaced as a loud moan tore from his throat.

‘Dad!’ Josh’s voice cracked with emotion as Bob clutched at his chest.

Vic’s own heart hammered in her chest as she watched the trace on the ECG deteriorate into VF. ‘Get Lawson,’ she instructed her brother as her father slumped forward. ‘Now.’

Josh ran as instinct came over Vic and she pushed her father back, delivering a pre-cordial thump directly to the centre of his chest. The monitor rhythm remained unchanged and for a second she let helplessness engulf her.

‘Victoria! Get him on the ground.’

She looked up to see Lawson striding towards her and it was just the slap in the face she needed. She leapt to her feet and grabbed his legs at the same time Lawson reached them and he grabbed Bob’s torso and they lowered him to the ground.

Lawson depressed the button on his radio. ‘Coms, this is nine six zero, CPR in progress.’ He took his finger off. ‘Josh, move the coffee table. Give us some room. Victoria, do compressions while I hook him up to the defibrillator.’

Victoria didn’t even hesitate, just responded to his commands as she always did on the job. She put her hands in the centre of her father’s chest and pushed down rhythmically as she’d done a hundred times before. She tuned out Josh, who was now sobbing, tuned out whose flesh it was beneath the flats of her palms, and counted.

But as she shifted her hands to allow for Lawson to place the defib pads she made the fatal mistake of looking down, seeing her father’s still, grey face looking back at her, his mouth slack beneath the mask and pulling into a grimace with every downward pump to his chest.

‘Come on, Dad,’ she whispered, feeling a pressure behind her eyes that was burning unbearably. ‘Come on!’ Louder this time, more insistent.

‘Stand clear,’ Lawson demanded, and again she reacted automatically, removing her hands and putting the required distance between her and the electrical current.

Lawson noted the trace on the monitor was still VF. ‘Coms, this is nine six zero, defibrillation in progress,’ he said into the radio as he pushed the button to deliver three hundred joules to Bob’s heart. He held his breath, but when the trace on the monitor returned it was still VF.

‘Go again, Victoria,’ he instructed as he recharged the machine.

He noticed the silent tears streaming down her face as she pumped at her father’s chest and it was like a knife to his gut. He could hear Josh, who had totally lost it behind him. He wanted to pull both of them into his arms and tell them it was going to be okay. But he didn’t know if it was and he couldn’t be the person they needed him to be if he succumbed to the emotion of the moment.

Seeing one of his oldest friends in such bad shape was shocking, but he couldn’t go there. He had to succeed. He had to keep it together for Victoria and Josh. He would not think about losing Bob, about not being able to revive him. He had to detach himself from the situation. This wasn’t Bob his friend and mentor. This was just another patient. Just another resus.

‘Damn it, Dad,’ Victoria puffed as she pounded on his chest. ‘Don’t do this to us. We need you.’ Her voice cracked and she didn’t know how much longer she could hold it together.

Lawson blocked out the emotion fracturing her voice. ‘Stand clear again.’

Vic ceased the compressions and sat back on her haunches. She looked up at Josh, who was a blubbering mess, and wanted nothing more than to go to him. But she couldn’t, not now. She didn’t know how much longer she’d need to do this for, but she knew it was her father’s only chance. And she’d already lost her mother way too early—damned if she was going to lose her dad before his three score years and ten.

Lawson heard a siren in the distance as he flicked the discharge switch again and prayed it was the cavalry. Victoria needed to be the daughter and be with Josh. This time the joules managed to shock the damaged heart back into a sinus tachycardia and Bob stirred immediately.

‘Dad!’ Vic sobbed his name as she threw herself against his chest. ‘Thank God.’

Bob, weak and confused, raised his arm to pat his daughter on the shoulder. ‘It’s okay,’ he whispered.

Vic felt an absurd urge to burst into tears and stay right were she was, safe in her father’s arms, as she’d done a hundred times as a girl. But right now her father needed to lean on her and she had to rise to that occasion.

And then another crew entered the house and when she looked up she saw Carl smiling down at her, easing her away, directing her to Josh. She reached for her brother and they both cried together as Lawson and Carl lifted their deathly ill father onto the trolley and then transported him to the ambulance.

‘Don’t even think I’m not sitting in back with you,’ she said as Lawson clicked the gurney in place.

Any other person he would have said no to. But he didn’t have the strength to say it to her pale, distraught face. He just nodded and waited for her to strap herself in before he took his position next to Bob. Josh rode up front with Carl and with lights and sirens going they made it to the mainland hospital in twelve minutes.

The next two days passed in a total blur for the Dunleavys. Bob was admitted to the coronary care unit, where he had thrombolytic treatment to dissolve the clot that was causing his tissue ischaemia and underwent an angiogram to ascertain the damage. During this procedure he had placement of three stents in his three partially blocked coronary arteries.

Vic and the twins lived at the hospital, dozing in the relatives’ lounge at night curled up on hard chairs. Lawson stayed with them. He’d arranged for time off for them both and for their shifts to be covered from HQ as well as a replacement for Bob. He organised Dorothy to be with Matilda so he could stay by their sides. He was their gofer, bringing them food and drink regularly, and their chauffeur, shuffling them back and forth between the island and the hospital.

Vic was grateful for his presence. In fact, she was in such a daze, going through the motions, putting on a brave face for her brothers and assuring her father she was coping, that she didn’t even question it. He was just there, good old Lawson, as he’d always been, and she leant on him unashamedly.

All their recent baggage faded into insignificance. After a month of trying to avoid what had happened between them it finally became a non-issue. The tension between them oozed into nothingness and it was like it used to be. Lawson there, as always, in the background.

After four days in CCU, Bob was moved to a ward and Vic finally relaxed a little. They spent their first night at home in their own beds and Vic was able to send Lawson home to his daughter. She slept like a rock that night stretched out in her bed after four nights of minimal sleep scrunched in a chair.

After two more days on the ward her father was looking very well and had even lost a few kilos. He was back to his chipper self, joking with the nurses and winning their favour with a bottomless box of chocolates that never found their way past his lips. He was eager to get out, co-operating with the physio and impressing the dietician with his knowledge of good nutrition.

Still, Vic was nervous about him coming home. He was raring to get back to work whereas she’d been hoping he might retire. High blood pressure and being overweight had been the main factors in his heart attack, but stress had also contributed and being an OIC of a station was about as stressful as it got.

And she was going to have to postpone her trip. She wasn’t sure what that meant for Lawson and her and, in truth, that was low down on her list of things to worry about. She couldn’t leave with her father still in the recovery phase of his heart attack. He needed her. And so did the boys. She’d thought she’d be disappointed but nothing was more important to her than her father’s recovery. London would still be there in a few months’ time.

Vic came in after the afternoon rest period to visit her father. He was expecting the doctor any minute and she wanted to talk to him about his future. ‘Dad, I think we need to talk. About what happens next.’

Bob kissed his daughter’s cheek. ‘We most certainly do, my lovely.’

Vic frowned. That was easy. She’d expected him to wave aside any attempts to talk to him about his future.

‘I think you should retire.’

Bob laughed and gave her hand a squeeze. ‘Oh, my dear girl, I do love you, but I’m not retiring. I’ll take the full six weeks off, I’ll walk every morning, I’ll change my diet and I’m going to drop to part-time, but I’m not leaving the job.’

‘But what about the stress, Dad? The understaffing and the rosters and the skill mix?’

‘Part-time will help reduce that load considerably.’

‘I don’t know, Dad…’

‘Sweetie, I’ve only ever wanted to be two things. A father and a paramedic. And I’m not ready to give up on either of them. Not yet.’

‘Oh.’ She didn’t know what to say. Her father had obviously been thinking about the future and had most definitely made up his mind. It wasn’t what she’d hoped for but at least he was thinking about lifestyle changes and it was a good compromise.

‘Now. Let’s talk about your future.’

‘It’s fine, Dad,’ she dismissed. ‘I’ve already postponed the air ticket.’

Bob frowned. ‘I certainly hope you didn’t,’ he said. ‘You’ve been looking forward to this trip for a year. Go and get it changed back.’ Bob looked at his watch. ‘You have a couple of hours before the travel agent closes.’

Vic shook her head. ‘No, Dad. I’m not going to take off to the other side of the world when you’ve just had a heart attack.’

‘Vic, you deserve this. You’ve given up so much of your life to help me with your brothers. And now the boys are grown and it’s your time. You have to do this.’

She noticed the worry lines around her father’s eyes and mouth and didn’t want to upset him. ‘London will still be there in a couple of months.’

‘Do you know what your mother said to me just before she died? She said, “Help Victoria be the person she wants to be.”’

Vic felt that whammy hit her chest and clutched her father’s hand. ‘And I will. I just want to see you through this time, Dad.’

‘I’ll be fine,’ he said gruffly.

‘I think the boys would prefer it if I stayed for a bit longer.’

‘Victoria,’ Bob said sternly. ‘They’re not boys any longer, they’re men.’ Vic raised an eyebrow at him. ‘The shoe incident aside,’ he clarified. ‘They have to stop relying on you to wipe their noses and pack their lunches. They’ll be fine.’

‘And what if you—?’ She stopped. She didn’t want to entertain the thought that her father would have another heart attack, but his grey face was indelibly printed on her retinas.

‘If I have another M.I.? Well, let’s just say that I’ve had a very big wake-up call and I don’t plan to, but, Vic, it can happen any time whether you’re here or there. It could happen while you’re on a night shift or away visiting your aunt at Noosa or at the emergency care convention you go to every year. It could happen in ten years’ time.’

Vic blanched. ‘Gee, thanks, Dad. I think I can dream up enough scenarios without you giving me any more.’

‘My point is there aren’t any guarantees in life. You and I both know that already with your mum.’ He gave her hand a squeeze. ‘You can’t hang around indefinitely just in case.’

She sighed. ‘Look, I promise I’m just talking until you start back at work and you’re coping okay.’

Bob shook his head. ‘I’m not happy about this.’

‘You think I’ll be able to enjoy London if I’m fretting about you?’

Bob conceded the point. He smiled at her. ‘We’re a fine pair, aren’t we?’

‘I’ll get there, Dad. I promise.’

‘You’d better.’ He pulled her forward into a bear hug. ‘Otherwise I’ll just have to sack you.’

Two weeks later, Vic was really happy with how her father was progressing. She’d organised a schedule with the twins so between them all he was never alone in the house. He’d managed to organise a staggered return to work in four weeks and she’d made sure she was rostered on the same days as him to ensure he wasn’t overdoing it.

‘What you watching, Dad?’ she asked as she plonked herself down next to him on the couch. She realised as she did so she hadn’t thought about what had nearly happened on it for what seemed like ages. The whole incident with Lawson might have been a million years ago now.

Bob looked down at his daughter. ‘A documentary on the life cycle of the silkworm.’

Vic nodded enthusiastically even though the thought of watching another doco was enough to make her scream. But they were her father’s favourite and she wanted to spend as much time with him as possible so silkworms it was. ‘Sounds great.’

Bob frowned, grabbed the remote and muted the television. ‘Victoria Dunleavy, for goodness’ sake, get out of this house. It’s your day off and you’ve been hanging around me like a blowfly all day. It’s Saturday night. You’re young. Go join the crew at the pub. Or meet a friend. I’m fine.’

‘Dad, it’s okay. I want to spend time with you.’

Bob ignored her and reached into his pocket for his mobile phone. ‘What’s Brenda’s number.’

Vic grabbed the phone. ‘I don’t need you to make a play date for me.’

‘Then go,’ he said. ‘Quick sticks. Get on your glad rags. Go have some fun. Ryan and Josh are both here.’

Vic wavered. It had been a while since she’d been out for anything other than work and she was starting to get a little cabin fever.

Bob could see her weakening. ‘Please, sweetie, I hate seeing you lock yourself away in here. I worry about you.’

Vic started. The last thing she wanted was her father fretting about her. He was supposed to be having a stress-free recovery—the fact that she’d delayed her trip had already caused him undue anxiety; she certainly didn’t want to be the cause of any more.

‘All right,’ she conceded, rolling her eyes and kissing his cheek. ‘If it means that much to you.’

Bob grinned. ‘Atta girl.’

There were two drinking holes on the island—the upmarket Beach Hut, also known as the club, and the Brindabella Pub. The club boasted cover bands on a Saturday night, a dance floor and expensive cocktails.

The pub, on the other hand, had cheaper drinks but the ambience was slightly less lacking. It was also the place she’d often spend a working Saturday night, treating the victims of bar brawls. Generally it wasn’t the place she chose to go to relax.

Vic entered the Beach Hut a little after eight. There were two bars in the club. One near the dance floor, which was rocking at the moment, and the other out the back servicing a large lounge area dominated by floor-to-ceiling windows affording striking views of the beach just across the road.

She approached the quieter one and sat at a stool. She looked around while she waited for the bartender and was surprised to see Lawson sitting at the other end.

Their gazes met and he sent her a mock salute before picking up his beer and moving towards her.

‘What’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?’ he said as he sat on the stool beside her.

Vic smiled. It was nice to hear him joke. The stuff with her father seemed to have wiped out all their recent baggage and it was nice to feel back on an even footing with him. Of course, she’d always have that crush, but she was done beating her head against the wall.

‘My father ordered me out of the house.’

‘Ah.’ Lawson nodded. The bartender approached. ‘What can I get you?’

Vic thought for a moment. ‘A chocolate martini.’

Lawson screwed up his face. ‘What the hell is a chocolate martini?’

‘Two of my favourite things—vodka and chocolate. It’s like dessert you can drink with a straw.’

Lawson raised an eyebrow. ‘If you say so.’ He ordered the drink and they both watched as the bartender made it in front of them.

‘What are you doing here?’ she asked.

‘It’s Saturday night. I joined the guys for drinks. They left to go into a bar in Brisbane. I was just finishing up.’

‘I didn’t think you went to the club nights.’

Lawson shrugged. ‘I don’t. Not usually. But Matilda’s at a sleepover and I felt at a bit of a loose end.’

Vic nodded. She knew how he felt. The bartender placed the drink in front of her and she dipped her head to take a sip from the straw. ‘Hmm.’ She shut her eyes and savoured the alcohol-laced chocolate. ‘You should try this.’ She held it up to him.

Lawson looked at the lipstick-coated straw and felt a little pull in his groin. Drinking from it seemed intimate. And he wasn’t about to cross any more lines with her. Especially with alcohol involved. ‘Thanks. Think I’ll pass.’

Vic shrugged. ‘More for me.’

Behind the bartender large porthole-style windows gave glimpses of the beach and they watched the waves roll in as they chatted about Bob and other neutral topics as they sipped at their drinks.

Lawson drained his beer glass. ‘You meeting some friends? Going to do some dancing?’ Maybe she was meeting a guy?

Vic shrugged. ‘I was going to see if I knew anyone. Maybe have a couple of dances. But this band’s not very good, is it?’

Lawson smiled. ‘I thought it was just me.’

Vic laughed. ‘You know what I’d really like to do?’

Lawson looked at her warily. ‘What?’

She nodded in the direction of the window. ‘I feel like walking on the beach. You wanna come?’

Lawson looked at the sandy vista and felt a tug at his soul. There was a three-quarter moon caressing the beach with milky fingers and it called to his inner restlessness. Except it screamed bad idea. His strange jumbled-up attraction had been put on ice the last couple of weeks, but he didn’t trust how quickly a tropical moon might melt it away. ‘I don’t think so.’

Vic nodded. She was disappointed. But it was probably for the best. ‘That’s fine. Think I will, though.’ And she slipped off her chair. ‘Thanks for the drink.’

He watched her hips sway in the black dress she wore that seemed to tie in a bow at the back. Her auburn hair swung loose, brushing her shoulders, and she looked small and very feminine as she walked away.

He sighed. He couldn’t let her walk on the beach by herself. The island was a pretty safe place and he knew she had no fear about anything bad happening to her. She’d grown up here. She practically knew everyone. But assaults had been known to happen and he’d hate for anything to befall her.

‘Wait up,’ he called as he slid off his stool and headed in her direction.

CHAPTER EIGHT

A STIFF breeze caressed her face, blowing her hair back as Vic kicked off her strappy heels. She jumped down onto the soft sand, eager to feel the crunch of it against her soles. Huge rollers broke the surface of the ocean, curling towards the beach and dumping against the shoreline with crashing precision, and Vic felt them reverberate through her cells.

She looked behind her and watched as Lawson kicked his shoes off. Whether it was the incandescence of the moonlight or his greater elevation, his shoulders seemed broader, his legs longer. Her fingers itched to feel the fabric of his shirt beneath them, her dreams haunted by the swell of muscle beneath crisp cotton.

‘Come on, slow poke,’ she called as she set off without him. The tide was out and she walked towards it, suddenly impatient to get her bare feet in the Pacific Ocean.

Lawson shook his head, wondering why the hell he was here putting temptation firmly in his path. Bob’s heart attack had relegated his attraction to the back burner, but with her hips swinging in front of him it brought it all crashing back.

He should leave now. While his sanity was still intact. But something, maybe the moonlight, maybe the fact that he’d missed their old dynamic and it finally seemed normal between them, egged him on.

‘Do you have some direction in mind?’ Lawson mused as he caught up with her. ‘Or are we just going to wander aimlessly?’

Vic grinned. ‘I thought we’d paddle along the edge for a while and end up at the rocks.’ She pointed to the rocky outcrop a couple of kilometres away.

They walked side by side for a while without talking, letting the water lap around their ankles as it followed its age-old rhythm. Vic yearned to slip her hand into his but was too frightened he’d reject her again and break the ease they were sharing, so she contented herself with the occasional arm brush.

The water felt cool between her toes, the sand squelching and grainy. She inhaled deeply. ‘I am going to miss this.’

Lawson waited a beat or two. ‘They do have oceans in England,’ he teased. ‘Like us, they’re an island.’

Vic shoved him with her shoulder. ‘Yes, but they don’t have the mighty Pacific lapping their shores, do they?’

Lawson turned to face the force of nature before him. The night was reasonably cloudless and the moon shimmered across the surface. ‘No. That’s true.’

Vic shook her head. ‘Just think. I’ve never known another ocean. I’m twenty-six and the Pacific’s all I’ve ever known.’

Lawson started to walk again. ‘You wait till you see the Mediterranean. It’s…I don’t know if there are words for it. It’s calm…not like this. And the most incredible blue. Like uncut sapphires. And then the sun sparkles on it and it’s like the Crown jewels.’

Vic inspected his profile. It’d become quite expressive as he grappled with finding the exact description. It should have inspired in her a lust to see it. To dabble her toes, to witness its glory. But it didn’t.

He turned to her. ‘Italy is amazing. You have to go there. Venice is a must.’ He turned to her. ‘Promise me you’ll go to Venice.’

She looked up into his face. His eyes were in shadow and hard to read. Wind whipped stray hair across her face. ‘I promise,’ she whispered. Even though the thought of going there alone had no appeal.

Lawson nodded and moved on, his feet dragging through the shallows, sand gritty and viscous between his toes.

‘I’m glad you’re still going,’ he said after they’d walked some more. He was, really. ‘Your dad’s been worried you’ll decide to stay. He wanted me to talk to you about it.’

Vic stopped in his tracks. ‘Did he…did he set us up tonight?’

Lawson laughed and continued walking. ‘If you’re asking me did I know you were going to show up tonight, then the answer’s no.’ He looked behind him. She was standing with her hands on her hips like a petulant child. He turned so he was facing her, walking backwards. ‘Did your father know I was going to be at the club? Yes.’

Vic shook his head. ‘That wily old…’

Lawson laughed. ‘Yes. I don’t think his down time affected his brain any.’ And then he turned back so he was facing the way he was walking and trudged on.

Vic caught him up. ‘I am going, Lawson. But…’

He looked down at her. She was looking at her feet, her face screwed up, her cute cherubic cheeks pronounced. ‘But?’

‘It’s complicated. I can’t just leave when he’s had a major heart attack. And what if—?’

Lawson waited a beat. ‘What if what?’

‘What if I’m gone for two months and get a phone call in the middle of the night to say he’s had another one? A massive one. One he…’

The ocean beat against the shore as she grappled with the unthinkable. One wave. Two. Three. It was too hard to say. To give voice to. She stopped, her feet sinking as the waves eroded the sand around them. She took a deep breath. ‘Couldn’t be revived from?’

Lawson stopped too, feeling her pain. Bob Dunleavy was like a father to him. The old man had taught him respect and hard work. He’d shown him the difference between going through the motions and getting invested. He’d turned him from the punk he’d been to the man he was today. ‘I’ll watch out for him, Victoria.’

She felt tears prick her eyes. ‘You have Matilda, Lawson. You have other priorities.’

He grabbed her hands. ‘If Matilda and I have to move in with him, I will watch over your father. Like he did for me when I was a rookie. I promise.’

Vic felt a wave of emotion swell in her chest. It built like the breakers crashing against the shore until it clogged her eyes and choked her throat. Before she could stop herself she snaked her arms around his neck, raised herself on her tippy-toes and pressed her mouth to his.

It was a kiss of gratitude. Of thanks. She felt his resistance, his mouth closed. But then, like the push and pull of the tide, his hands travelled up her back and pulled her closer and the kiss took on a life of its own. The waves crashed around them as the kiss deepened and she clung to his shoulders, opening her mouth to him, baring her soul. His tongue stroked against hers and she felt a heat spread from deep inside her to the tips of her toes.

Lawson wrenched his mouth away, his breathing ragged, his head spinning. He looked at her for a long time, his hands gripping her upper arms. ‘What was that for?’

‘Because you know how to say the right thing at exactly the right moment. And because I’m tired of pretending I’m not attracted to you and we didn’t nearly have sex on my couch.’

Lawson’s fingers tightened around her arm. The fantasy of throwing her against the sand and having their own From Here to Eternity moment warring with his responsibilities. Warring with his innate sense of propriety. ‘We should go.’

Vic laughed. She couldn’t help herself. Any other man would have flipped her on her back and had her half naked in the sand right now. She linked her arm through his. ‘C’mon, I want to show you something.’ And she pulled against his resistance, pleased when he gave in and followed her.

Lawson walked beside her, aware of the rub of her side against his as he’d never been before. Her kiss—their kiss—still burrowed into his groin and sung like a heavy-metal guitar sonnet in his blood. It felt mind-altering like vodka and tasted like chocolate—sweet and addictive. The chocolate martini of kisses.

He could feel the beat of the waves pounding in time with his pulse. It was as if the wildness of the ocean had given him permission to be himself. To be the primal man that lurked beneath the surface, the one he’d tried so hard to suppress.

So he followed her. They didn’t speak, their bodies communicating without words. The heat building inside as the friction from their occasional body contact tantalised and seduced.

When they reached the rocks at the end of the beach, Vic used the light from the moon to guide her to a place she hadn’t been in years. Lawson followed, her behind bending and shimmying tantalisingly in front of him as she scampered and twisted to navigate the rocks. With the tide out, they were dry but still dangerous in the reduced light.

‘Where are we going?’ he grouched when she unknowingly shoved her butt close enough for him to lean forward and take a bite.

‘Patience, grasshopper.’ She grinned as she spotted her destination.

She clambered over the last few rocks and jumped down onto a sheltered area of sand bordered by a crescent-shaped rock formation that had been partially eroded into an overhang. It was like a half-cave with a completely exposed opening, but hidden amidst the rocky outcrop.

‘Mum and Dad and I used to come here before the twins were born,’ she said, turning to watch him leap down into the sheltered area. ‘It was like our special place.’

She looked out at the vista before her, the ocean lapping the sand in the distance as it continued its tidal march away from the island.

‘Dad would build a bonfire and we’d toast marshmallows as the sun went down.’ She looked at the pile of charred wood, cold and dead now, just inside the entrance to the overhang. Someone else had found the secluded spot.

‘We came here a few times when the boys were little but…it just wasn’t the same without her and we stopped coming.’

Standing in this special place, it finally hit her. She wasn’t just leaving the island and her family and friends and everything she’d ever known, but she was also leaving the place that connected her to her mother.

Lawson watched her closely in the moonlight, her features plaintive. She looked melancholy and utterly lovely. ‘She was a wonderful woman, your mother.’

Vic felt his voice draw her out of her reverie. She looked at him, leaning against the rock, his hands in his pockets. The moon blazed behind him, leaving his eyes hooded in shadow. ‘I forget sometimes that you knew her too.’

‘She used to bake me cakes. Your father would bring them to work with him and tell me it was a sin to refuse such divine cooking.’

Vic smiled. ‘Yes. She was a great cook.’

‘She’d want you to go.’ It was surprising how much it hurt him to say it, but Lawson knew it to be true. Mary Dunleavy had always wanted a life bigger than the island for her little girl.

‘What about you?’

Lawson shifted uncomfortably against the rock. ‘Of course.’

The rock formation sheltered them from the wind and muffled the raw power of the ocean, but she could still see and hear the waves crashing down the beach. She listened for a few beats as she sought the right words.

‘Is that because you want me to fulfil a lifelong dream or is it because of the guilt you feel over what happened between us? Will it be easier to bear if you don’t have to look at your mistake every day?’

Lawson shut his eyes. ‘Victoria.’ He stuffed his hands in his pockets. He could still taste her on his lips. ‘I really don’t want to talk about this.’

Vic nodded. Of course. His policy of denial had served him well until now; why change? She held up her hands in a gesture of surrender before turning away from him and plonking herself down under the overhang.

The sand was cool but dry beneath her. She raised her knees to her chest, pulling the material of her dress down over them until just her bare toes peeped out. She scooped up a handful of sand and let it drift between her fingers and slide over the sides.

She raised her face to him. He seemed a long way away, leaning against his rock. She patted the sand beside her. ‘Come sit next to me.’

Lawson shook his head emphatically. Did he look insane? Their kiss still hummed in his blood and a moonlit beach and a melancholy mood were not good deterrents. ‘Thanks. I’m good here.’

Vic could see the waves pounding the shore from her vantage point. She could see the moonbeams playing tag with the waves. ‘You have your back to the ocean. You’re missing the view.’

That was what she thought. The moon was aligned perfectly, capturing her in a milky beam of light. It fell softly against her features, caressing her full cheeks and her cute nose, and glistened in her lip gloss. ‘It’ll be there tomorrow.’

Vic sighed. There was no way she was going to break him. His will was all-powerful. Even caught up in their kiss he’d been the one to step away. She rested her head on her knees for a while, her gaze watching the push and pull of the tide, her mind as restless.

She stirred from her reverie. ‘I never did thank you. For that day. With Dad.’

Lawson shrugged. ‘I was just doing my job, Victoria.’

She shook her head. ‘No. Without your pep talk on the way there…I would have fallen apart. I would have been useless. Dad owes his life to you. Had it been up to me I don’t know if I could have kept it together.’

‘He’s your father. No one, least of all me, expected you to be able to separate from that.’

Vic nodded. ‘Sure. But I forgot it amongst all my anxiety about your feelings.’ She stood and brushed sand off her dress as she approached him. ‘I know you and my father have a…bond. It can’t have been easy for you to have seen him like that either.’

Images of a grey Bob Dunleavy assaulted him. The lifeless form of his friend as his daughter pumped his chest, silent tears streaming down her face, her heart shattering with each compression. It was a day he never wanted to see ever again. ‘I’ve had better days.’

Vic felt laughter bubble in her chest. Lawson’s face was impassive as he delivered the understatement. Why was it so bloody hard to squeeze an emotion out of him? He’d been absolutely professional that day and then super efficient in the days after when she’d leant on him and politely supportive ever since.

For once she’d like to see some extreme of emotion. She knew he was capable. She’d seen how animated he could become around Matilda. How great he’d been with the little croup boy. But stepping back from their kiss just now was a classic example. Even when she’d been half naked in his arms he’d managed to restrain himself. Was it so hard to show her something other than rigid control?

What exactly did she have to do to get him to show himself? The real man? The one who had made a stupid mistake at sixteen, the one who had a two-week-old baby dumped in his arms, the one who had kissed her so passionately for a brief few seconds not even half an hour ago?

A moonbeam on the ocean caught her gaze and her attention returned to the view over his shoulder. The ocean never lied, never hid its moods. She could feel the force of it buffeting her body, stirring her cells, and suddenly she knew why she’d come to the beach tonight.

Her hand twisted behind her as she fumbled for the bow that held the wrap-around dress together. She found the end and pulled it undone.

Lawson frowned for a minute, wondering what the hell she was doing until her cleavage parted slightly and he could see a dark shadow of fabric covering a partially exposed breast. He pushed himself off the rock, holding out his hands, miming her to stop.

‘Whoa. What are you doing?’

Vic smiled. Suddenly she had his attention. Suddenly he was looking a lot more spirited. ‘I’m going swimming.’

‘But—’ Whatever he’d been about to say died on his lips as Victoria parted her dress, shrugged her shoulders and the entire thing slithered to the sand in a pool of black temptation. Lawson swallowed as his gaze travelled from her toes up.

Up her ankles to her knees. From her knees to her thighs. From her thighs to the scrap of lace that covered her modesty. Up over the curves of her hip and belly to her ribs and matching lace half-cup bra that lifted her breasts as if in silent offering to the moon. Up over her collarbones and her neck, all the way to her face.

Vic smiled. Finally she had him. Finally he was looking at her like a human being. Not his colleague. His partner. Not someone he’d known for two decades. Not as Matilda’s father. But as a man looking at a woman. In all his open-mouthed glory. She should have been embarrassed but she wasn’t. He’d seen her in less.

‘Coming?’ she asked as she passed by him and headed to the ocean.

Lawson pivoted on the sand and tracked her path to the shoreline. The moonlight outlined her figure perfectly. Short and curvy, the cheek of her left buttock more exposed than the other, her hips swaying and her hair blowing behind her as she headed into the breeze. Like a water sprite returning home.

He shut his eyes, trying to deny the tug. But standing on the beach, his body feeling the raw vitality of the ocean as a true primal force, nothing could be denied. When he opened them again she was standing in the shallows. Waiting.

Waiting for him.

Without further dissection Lawson stripped off his shirt, shucked off his trousers and strode down to join her.

Vic didn’t have to turn to know he was coming. It was as if her heartbeat were tuned into every fall of foot on sand. When he stopped at the water’s edge beside her she didn’t even look at him. She just slid her hand into his and they waded out.

The waves buffeted their bodies as the pulse of the ocean enveloped them. She walked until she was waist deep and then dived beneath the surface, Lawson beside her. They swam out past the row of breakers until she could barely stand, the water level with Lawson’s chest. And when she reached for him his hands encircled her waist and glided up her ribs, pulling her close, settling her torso against his, her legs automatically locking around his waist.

Lawson could hear her breath, rough with anticipation. Her hair was plastered to her face and water droplets beaded on her cheeks and eyelashes and it was the most natural thing in the world for him to lower his head and capture her mouth.

Her lips were moist and cool and she tasted like salt and chocolate. And after the earlier appetiser he was suddenly ravenous for her. He lifted a hand to cup the back of her neck, urging her mouth closer as he deepened the kiss.

Heat flooded his groin and his erection strained against the confines of his wet underwear. The current swirled around them, dragging her bottom and inner thighs against his hardness, nudging its length, and he groaned into her mouth. Unable to bear the erotic torture, he lowered his other hand, splaying his fingers across the small of her back to anchor her there.

Vic smiled against his mouth and broke away. ‘Damn, I was enjoying that,’ she teased.

Lawson gave a half-laugh. ‘You shock me.’

Vic rolled her eyes. ‘Really.’

He grinned. ‘Really. You’re Bob’s daughter, you’re…Victoria. You’re not supposed to…know about things like that.’

‘You might be surprised what I know,’ she murmured, and deliberately traced her tongue along his lips. ‘Hmm, you taste good.’ She unlocked her ankles and let her body slide down his, her arms still firmly entwined around his neck. She pressed against his erection. ‘You feel good.’

Lawson closed his eyes. He grabbed her hips, holding her firmly against him, trapping her there. ‘Isn’t this what you want?’ she whispered in his ear. She released one arm from his neck, slid her hand down his belly and burrowed beneath the waistband of his underwear until she was grasping his girth, revelling in the size of him.

Lawson, his eyes still closed, just managed an ‘umph’ noise.

‘It’s what I want,’ she continued, sucking on his ear lobe as she ran her fingers up and down his length. It felt hot amidst the cool water. And incredibly potent. She parted her legs, guiding him between them, rubbing herself against his length, wishing she didn’t have the lacy barrier of her own underwear.

She raised her lips to his and their mouths meshed. His hold on her hip became vice-like and somewhere at the back of her brain she knew she’d have bruises there tomorrow. His tongue invaded her mouth and tangled with hers. His breathing was harsh as their intimate connection continued and she held onto his shoulders for dear life as his deep wet kisses pushed her head back and spun everything like a kaleidoscope inside her head.

Lawson broke off, unable to bear the friction any longer. He didn’t want to mimic the sexual act—he wanted to do it. ‘Let’s go.’ He grabbed her hand and pulled her along beside him.

Vic laughed as she struck out beside him. ‘Where to?’

‘My place. Hurry.’

Vic followed him, sobering a little. Did he mean, Hurry, I can’t wait any longer? Or, Hurry before I change my mind? Given how quickly he’d changed his mind last time, she didn’t want to give him twenty minutes to rethink the wisdom of the situation.

By the time their knees scraped sand she knew she couldn’t let him out of the ocean. She didn’t want his ardour to cool and his strong sense of propriety to take over. When he helped her to her feet she rose in one fluid movement, plastering her body against his. He staggered a little and she used his temporary mis-footing to over-balance him.

He landed on his back in the shallows with an, ‘Oomph,’ and she followed him down. She didn’t give him a chance for evasive action, playing dirty straight off the bat. She pinned his arms above his head and straddled him, rubbing herself against his erection, instantly paralysing any intent he had to move.

Lawson opened his eyes, the earth tilting a little as he did so. He looked up at her, her head blocking out the moon, her face in shadow. ‘What was that for?’

‘I don’t want to go back to your place. I want to stay here.’ She lowered her head and kissed his chest, his neck, his mouth. Trailed kisses along the length of his scar.

Lawson let the heat from her kiss wash over him. Deepened it until he was thrusting against her. He dragged his mouth away, her head falling to his chest, her forehead resting against its ragged rise and fall. ‘I have condoms at home. And a bed.’

Vic felt his words rumble against her skin. He also had reality back there. Matilda and all his responsibilities, including her, his partner.

She pushed herself up, releasing his hands so she could reach behind her and unclip her bra. It released easily and slid down her arms. She pulled it off and threw it aside uncaring that she’d never see it again as it was swallowed by the eddying current.

She thrust her chest slightly and looked down at him. ‘I don’t need a bed.’

Lawson was momentarily stunned as the moonlight coated the pale tips of her breasts in alabaster. As he watched they beaded and blushed a darker shade of pink. And then he didn’t even think, just curled up, wrapped his arms around her waist and captured a moist wet nipple in his mouth.

Vic cried out as the heat sucked at her belly. She ground against him and jammed her fingers into his hair, holding his head to her, arching into him for more.

In one fluid move Lawson flipped her on her back in the shallows and moved on to the other nipple, paying it equal homage. Water surged and foamed around them, but it didn’t register. His cool fingertips, pruned from the water, replaced where his mouth had just been and he felt a surge of lust undulate through his gut as Victoria cried out again, her chest rising off the sand.

Lawson released his mouthful and traced his tongue up her sternum to the pulse fluttering in her neck. ‘Let’s go,’ he murmured.

Vic felt the delirium ease. ‘No. Let’s stay here.’

Lawson felt her tense. He pulled back. ‘What’s wrong?’

She turned her face away. ‘It’s a moonlit beach. It’s perfect for this.’

Lawson wasn’t buying it. ‘Victoria?’

She sighed, turning her face back. ‘Because I’m afraid you’re going to change your mind if you’re given any time to think about it all.’

Lawson looked into her eyes; even with his head blocking out the moonlight, his shadow darkening her face, he could see the anguish in her whiskey gaze. He shook his head, kissed her brow, her nose her mouth. ‘I won’t change my mind. I know this isn’t wise but I don’t care. You’re going overseas for an indefinite period and I have Matilda to think about. Our lives are at completely different stages. But I’ve been going crazy thinking about this. There can only be tonight, I can’t offer you any more and I’m probably going to hell for it, but I’m not backing out.’

Vic’s heart smashed against her ribs. ‘Tonight’s all I need.’

Lawson had never wanted anything more in his life. He knew he’d pay for it later, in the days and months to come, but that wasn’t what he was thinking as he shook the sand off her dress and passed it to her, watching while she wound it around her wet body. Nor when he held her hand as they walked back up the beach. Or when they reached her car and he pushed her against the cold metal of her door and kissed her thoroughly before letting her in.

All he could think about was the culmination of all the dreams that had afflicted him since that night on her couch. That she was going to be soft and warm beneath him. And the noise she’d make when he entered her for the first time. And the way she’d moan his name when she came.

They were at his place in eight minutes and not a single doubt had entered his mind. They were kissing before the door was even open. His shirt was off and her dress falling from her shoulders as they hit his bedroom. Seconds later they were tumbling, still wet and sandy, but utterly naked onto his unmade bed.

And it was as if they’d done it a thousand times before, moving with a symmetry that was breathtaking, an anticipation of each other’s needs that had them gasping, slavishly addicted to the next touch, the next caress. And yet the sensations were totally new. Stroking and sighing and trembling as each built on the other.

When he slid inside her it was like he was coming home. She gasped and arced into him, gripping his shoulders, and he put a hand under her back, pulling her closer. Her reaction shook him to the core. He’d been so busy thinking it was impossible he hadn’t considered that it could be so right.

A sob tore from her throat and he whispered, ‘Easy,’ into her neck.

Vic would never have believed a first time with anyone could be this perfect. She wanted to hold him inside for ever. Stretching her. Filling her. Completing her. But the need took over and a rhythm surged through both of their bodies as primal as the waves had been on the beach. It built. It would not be ignored. Their bodies moving to its beat, reaching for its promise.

It itched beneath her skin and hummed in her blood, building all the time like bongo drums in the jungle. Rising to a crescendo. Their cries echoed down through eons and mingled together with all who had come before them in this primitive tangle of limbs.

And it was in the instant that it broke over them, pulling and tumbling them through a whirlpool of pleasure, that she realised she’d lied. To him. To herself.

Tonight’s all I need.

That was what she’d told him. But she’d lied. She needed more. She was always going to need more.

She loved him.

Lawson didn’t know how long it took to spin back to earth. He’d collapsed on top of her and they seemed to drift for ever on some astral plane where both their bodies and minds touched. He moved after an age, rolling off her onto his back. Man, he was in serious trouble. He didn’t speak. He couldn’t. He didn’t have the words. He just lay there catching his breath.

It was left up to Vic to fill the silence. She waited until her breathing had settled, psyching herself into it. ‘I’ve made up my mind,’ she announced into the silence. ‘I’m not going to London. I’m staying here. With you.’

CHAPTER NINE

LAWSON’S post-coital glow evaporated in a nanosecond.

Oh, no. No, no, no.

This wasn’t the way it was supposed to go. He’d told her he could only give her the night. And he’d been deadly serious.

This was bad. It was exactly what he’d feared would happen. She’d give up on her dream to settle for a second-class relationship. He vaulted upright, groped around the floor for his clothes and stepped into his underwear quickly.

He stood at the end of the bed looking down at her, hands on hips. ‘I’m sorry? You’re not going? Since when?’

Vic smiled at the forced impassivity of his face betrayed by the stormy turbulence of his gaze. She stayed calm. She’d known it would be a bombshell, which was why she’d chosen not to tell him the true depths of her feelings. That she loved him. That she’d always loved him. She knew it was cowardly and wished she had the courage to tell him the truth. But she couldn’t. He needed to get used to the idea of having her around first.

Which was fine. She had all the time in the world. She wasn’t going anywhere.

She shrugged. ‘Since now. Lawson, I’ve had a crush on you for ever—’

Lawson groaned, interrupting her. He shut his eyes and pressed the heels of his palms into his eye sockets. ‘Oh, God.’ His hands dropped to his side. ‘Please don’t tell me you’ve had a crush on me since you were six.’

Vic laughed. ‘Of course not, but probably from the moment we were partnered together.’

Five years? ‘Five years?’

Vic nodded, finding his abject misery mildly amusing. ‘Except it wasn’t a crush. I know that now. It goes much deeper than that.’ It was as honest as she could get now with Lawson looking at her as if she’d just grown a second head.

Lawson stared down at her. What the hell was she talking about? He groped around for a response while trying to ignore the fact she was gloriously, shamelessly naked on his bed. ‘Sometimes…it can be easy to get sex…great sex,’ he amended, ‘confused with…other feelings.’

He picked up the sheet and threw it over her. Certain parts of his anatomy weren’t confused at all. They wanted more and didn’t particularly care that she’d dropped a bombshell.

‘Lawson, I’m an adult.’ She rolled onto her side, supporting her head with a hand. She’d panicked him. Of course he was going to fight it. She was instantly grateful she’d not blurted out her love for him. It was something he was obviously not ready to hear. ‘I know you have a hard time remembering that. But I do know the difference between post-coital gratitude and real feelings.’

Lawson couldn’t believe what he was hearing. ‘For God’s sake, I’m twelve years older than you.’

The corner of Vic’s mouth quirked upwards. ‘So what, that makes you more grown up than me?’ She laughed. ‘Let’s see…I’m adult enough to apply for my own passport. I’m adult enough to vote in the last two elections. I’m adult enough to babysit your daughter. But not enough to share your bed, your life?’

Lawson clenched his fists by his side. Surely she could see what she was suggesting was totally preposterous. ‘I said tonight only. I said I couldn’t offer you anything.’

She shrugged, her heart aching for him as he grappled with the enormity of what she’d just thrown at him. ‘It doesn’t matter—I’m staying anyway.’

Lawson ran fingers through his hair. ‘No. You’re going to London. To the Mediterranean. To Venice.’

‘I’m not going.’

‘You have to. Your father wants you to. I want you to. Damn it, Victoria—you want to.’

‘Not any more. Not without you.’

‘Victoria, this is crazy. I don’t have the time to give to you.’

‘I know that. I’m not asking for that.’

‘But you should. You deserve the best, Victoria. Courting, dating. Candlelight and roses and long weekends away in the mountains. A proper relationship. Matilda takes up a lot of time. She’s my priority. Between shift work and her needs I’m too exhausted for anything else. I’m in bed at eight o’clock most nights. I’m…boring. You deserve to be someone’s priority.’

‘I understand, Lawson. I, of all people, know what it means to have to put a child first. I know it won’t be all hearts and flowers.’

He shook his head. ‘Maybe when you get back…if you come back…it’ll be different. Matilda will be older.’

‘So, what, just go and explore the world in the meantime?’

‘Yes.’

‘See things, expand my horizons?’

‘Yes.’

‘Live a little.’

‘Exactly.’

‘Sleep with other men?’

Lawson opened his mouth to agree, but snapped it shut as a rush of pure jealousy charged through his veins. Of course that was what she should do. Part of travelling involved meeting people, indulging in flings. Brief and intense. Totally frivolous. And absolutely exhilarating.

‘Lawson?’

He looked away from her. ‘Of course.’

Vic’s heart swelled as he refused to meet her eyes. He had feelings for her too—she knew it. She just had to get him to open himself to them. She kicked off the sheet and rose from the bed, padding naked to where he stood. He took a step back from her but she wasn’t going to pay into his keep-off signals any longer.

She covered the distance between them and pressed herself against him, her ear to his chest. His heart beat like a sonic boom, reverberating through his chest wall. ‘I don’t believe you,’ she murmured.

Lawson, who had resisted touching her, felt his arms come around her of their own volition. Her damp hair smelt salty and he could smell himself on her skin. It filled his senses and fed the primal beast that lurked beneath.

‘You should,’ he murmured. ‘Logically I know you should. I have no rights to insist otherwise.’

Vic pulled away slightly. She looked into his face, past the cragginess and the scar. ‘But?’

His arms tightened around her. ‘I can’t bear the thought of another man touching you.’

Vic felt sunshine burst in her chest and she grinned up at him. That was all she needed to hear. She rose on her tippy-toes and opened her mouth onto his, feasting on him, powered by a surge of pure feminine possession. And when he groaned she felt bullet-proof, her hands snaking around his neck as his slid up to cradle her jaw. She deepened the kiss, wanting more, needing to get closer.

Lawson tore his mouth away. He wanted this. Wanted her. But he didn’t want to mislead her. Whether she liked it or not, whether she fancied herself attached to him or not, she had a plan and he was going to make her stick to it. He didn’t want to be the reason she hated herself and resented her life in a decade.

‘Victoria,’ he groaned against her lips.

Their breath fell harshly between them as he feathered tiny kisses against her mouth, her eyes, her cheeks, stroking his thumbs down the sensitive line of her throat.

Vic placed her hands over his and tugged them gently away. She could hear the anguish in his voice, feel the battle that raged inside him. She knew she had to leave. She didn’t want her presence, naked in his bed or the potency of their sex to sway him. When he next opened his arms to her, she wanted to know it was because he’d finally acknowledged his feelings for her. Whatever they were. She could only hope they mirrored hers.

She stepped back. He didn’t stop her. He didn’t reach for her. Even though part of her wished he would. Just watched her as she found her clothes and got dressed.

She tied the bow on her dress and looked at him. ‘This is a lot to take on board. You need some time.’ He didn’t say anything, just looked at her with wary eyes. ‘Goodnight, Lawson. I’ll see you at work next week.’

And with the ocean still clinging to her body and the memory of their love-making insinuating itself into her DNA, she brushed past him and let herself out of the house.

Two weeks later Vic had gained no ground with Lawson. His strategy to ignore what was between them and the intimacies they’d shared frustrated her greatly. But amazingly a well of patience had sprung within her and with an instinct born out of her love she knew she’d wait as long as it took for him to realise the truth.

She could see that he desired her. In rare unguarded moments she caught him watching her and she could see lust turn his gaze smoky. But she didn’t want that from him. She knew he wanted her—the memory of their incredible night together never far from her thoughts—she needed to know he loved her.

They were crossing the bridge on their way back to the island from a job when Lawson’s mobile rang. She listened unashamedly to the one-sided conversation as she drove. Something was up with Matilda.

‘That was Dorothy. Matilda’s come home from school very upset. Swing by my house, will you?’

‘Did she say about what?’

Lawson shook his head. ‘Tilly won’t tell her.’

Vic nodded. His profile looked forbidding. Tense. Instead of continuing straight ahead to the station, she turned left at the roundabout and headed for Lawson’s.

They were pulling up two minutes later. Matilda flew out of the house and was running across the lawn to her father even before Vic had shut the engine off.

Lawson swung her up into his arms. ‘Hey, hey,’ he crooned softly, his heart thumping in his chest. Someone had obviously hurt his little girl and he was ready to kick down doors and knock heads together. ‘It’s okay, Daddy’s here.’

Vic’s heart went out to Matilda as she sobbed into her father’s neck as if the world were about to end. She related to Matilda in a way no one else could. She knew what it was like to grow up without a mother and a groundswell of empathy clogged her chest.

Lawson held Matilda tight and Vic didn’t think she’d ever seen him more masculine. Her pulse did a funny triple beat.

They went inside and sat around the kitchen table while Dorothy made hot chocolates and Lawson tried to get to the bottom of his daughter’s heartbreak. Matilda was being unusually close-mouthed.

‘Is it your teacher?’

Matilda sniffled. She loved her teacher. ‘Nope.’

‘Did you do badly on a test?’

‘Nope.’

‘Is someone calling you names?’

‘Nope.’

‘Did you…get kicked off the netball team?’

This time Matilda just shook her head, looking progressively miserable.

Vic had an inkling what might be wrong. ‘Is it a boy?’ she asked gently.

Lawson’s head shot up in alarm. ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ he dismissed. ‘She’s eight years old.’

But when Matilda wailed, ‘Yes,’ and dissolved into another puddle of tears he was forced to reassess.

‘Okay.’ Vic stood. ‘I know exactly what we need.’ She went to the freezer and pulled out the tub of ice cream Lawson always had on hand. The perfect salve for man problems. God knew, she’d eaten gallons of the stuff in the last fortnight.

She retrieved two spoons from the drawer and sat down next to Matilda. ‘What’s his name?’ she asked as she peeled the lid off and pushed a spoon towards Matilda.

‘Hamish Jones.’

Lawson, his head spinning from the unexpected turn of events, subconsciously cracked his knuckles. He didn’t know this Hamish kid, but he disliked him—immensely.

Vic loaded her spoon with ice cream. ‘Does he like you?’

Matilda nodded, her mouth full.

‘Well, that’s good, isn’t it?’

‘No,’ Lawson interrupted, looking at Victoria as if she’d grown another head. ‘No. That’s not good. She’s way too young for boys.’

Vic glared at him and then looked back at Matilda. ‘Don’t worry about your dad. He thinks all girls are too young for boys. Even me.’

Matilda giggled. And Lawson ignored her. ‘She’s eight. It’s ridiculous to be crying over some silly boy.’

Vic noticed Matilda’s smile die and tears filled her eyes again. How typical of him to dismiss his daughter’s feelings because he was running scared. She gave Matilda an encouraging smile and kept it plastered to her face as she shot him a withering look. ‘Not. Helping.’

He looked at Matilda as she sniffed back more tears. To say he felt out of his depth was an understatement. He sent Victoria a fix this look.

Vic dipped in for more ice cream. ‘So is he your boyfriend, then?’

Matilda’s bottom lip wobbled. ‘No.’

‘Ah,’ Vic said around a mouthful. ‘But you want him to be your boyfriend?’

Matilda nodded. ‘But he wants me to kiss him and I said I wouldn’t ’cos Daddy always says that you should only kiss a boy when you’re married to him and now he doesn’t want to be my boyfriend.’

Lawson felt sick. Kiss him? They were kissing at eight? He was going to school tomorrow to kick little Hamish’s butt. How dared he…put the hard word on an eight-year-old girl?

Vic raised an eyebrow at Lawson. ‘Married?’ she enquired sweetly. ‘You’re kidding, right?

He shook his head. ‘Deadly. Serious.’

Vic rolled her eyes. ‘I think we better leave the sex education to me.’

Lawson clenched his jaw at the thought of her in their lives, being able to discuss girl things with his daughter. As she was doing now. As if she were born to be the mother of an eight-year-old girl. ‘You’re going overseas, remember.’

Vic smiled at him. ‘No. I’m not.’ She turned back to Matilda. ‘Do you think it’s okay for a boy, for anyone really, to make you do something that you don’t feel right about?’

Matilda thought for a while. ‘I guess not.’

‘So do you really want a boyfriend who’s going to be that selfish?’

Matilda shook her head. ‘I guess not.’

Vic grinned. It was obvious Matilda wasn’t one hundred per cent convinced. ‘There are two types of boys in this world, sweetie. Boys who would never ask a girl to do something they didn’t want to do and boys who think only about themselves and what they want.’ She looked at Lawson. ‘Isn’t that right, Lawson?’

He nodded vigorously. ‘Absolutely.’

Lawson watched as Victoria dug her spoon in again and she and Matilda sat and savoured the ice cream together for a few minutes. She was handling this beautifully and Matilda was hanging on every word. Unlike his first reaction, which was to lock Matilda in her room and not let her out until she was thirty.

It was at times like these he really felt that Tilly had missed out. He knew he’d been a good parent and he knew he could tackle the inevitable girl questions as his daughter went through puberty, but he doubted he could manage them as well as a woman. As well as a mother.

How much easier would his life be, would Matilda’s life be, if she had a mother? A rush of something he didn’t want to analyse blossomed in his chest as he watched Victoria with his daughter.

I think we better leave the sex education to me.

That was what she’d just said. As if she were going to be around for it whether he liked it or not. As if she didn’t doubt for a moment that she was going to be part of their lives.

She’d handled this perfectly and had always been great with Matilda. But Victoria had sworn off ever being a mother. How fair would it be to expect that of her? Even if that was what she thought she wanted. Had she thought about it from that angle? Instant motherhood? Again?

Vic could feel him watching them. ‘What type of boy do you think your dad is?’ She noticed Lawson frowning in her peripheral vision and ignored it.

Matilda swallowed a mouthful of ice cream. ‘The first kind.’

Vic smiled at her. ‘And wouldn’t you prefer to have a boyfriend who was like your dad? Someone who knew how to treat a girl properly.’ Even though he didn’t have a clue how to treat her properly. The way she wanted to be treated.

Matilda looked at her father. ‘I want to marry someone just like Daddy.’

Vic felt her heart squeeze painfully in her chest. She knew exactly how Matilda felt. Lawson smiled at his daughter and the pain intensified. They were such a duo, a team. ‘Probably best to stay clear of boys like Hamish, then. Don’t you think?’

Matilda smiled at Vic. ‘Definitely.’ She spooned another mouthful of ice cream in and swallowed. ‘So I shouldn’t let a boy kiss me until we’re married?’

Lawson, who was in the process of taking a sip of his hot chocolate, coughed and nearly choked on it. ‘That’s right,’ he managed to gasp.

Vic glared at him. ‘No, it’s not. Your dad’s just being a dad. He’s supposed to say that. Kissing is fun. But it is part of being grown up. At your age it’s okay to have boys who are friends. But it’s probably better to leave the kissing for high school. Okay?’

Matilda thought for a moment. ‘Okay.’

‘High school?’ Lawson demanded as they pulled out of his driveway fifteen minutes later to respond to a thirty-eight-year-old female with abdominal pain. ‘How about uni? How about when she turns thirty?’

Vic laughed. His outrage had eroded the barriers he’d put in place and it was the most natural she’d seen him since they’d done the wild thing and she’d gone and ruined it by telling him she was staying on Brindabella with him. ‘Oh, hey, how about never? How about she joins a convent?’

Lawson nodded. ‘Brilliant idea. I don’t think I’ve ever heard a more sensible suggestion.’

‘Lawson, she’s going to have boyfriends whether you like it or not. You can forbid her and watch her rebel or you can give her some leeway and keep your fingers crossed.’

He snorted. ‘Easy to say when she’s not your child.’

Vic felt as if he’d slammed a sledgehammer into her chest. ‘You could change that. Just say the word.’

‘I thought you didn’t want to be a mother? Never ever, you said.’

‘Yes, I did say that, but I know you come as a package deal. And I love Matilda and have known her for ever. We get on. I think it would work. I could certainly handle the girl-talk situations way better than you.’

How acutely had she felt the loss of her mother when she’d been going through what Matilda had gone through? How desperately had she longed for her mother’s advice, for her words of wisdom? She wanted to be there for Matilda. She wanted to be her mother.

Lawson looked at her incredulously. ‘And how would you ever get overseas then, Victoria? What about what you want? How long would it take you to resent me being tied here with Matilda?’

‘The last time I looked they actually did allow minors to travel on planes, Lawson.’

He shook his head. ‘She has her school and all her friends here. I know firsthand what it’s like to be dragged from pillar to post, to live in constant upheaval. I’m not going to do that to her. I can’t just pick her up and move her to the other side of the world.’

‘I’m not talking about moving. I’m talking about holidays. Yes, my plan was to live in London, work there. But do you really think I care how I see it? Not when I can have you, too. I understand your responsibilities. Love that you put Matilda’s needs first.’ She saw him flinch at the L word and felt a jab in the vicinity of her heart. He was obviously still not ready to hear it. ‘It’s one of the many things I like about you.’

Lawson couldn’t believe what he was hearing. She was willing to sacrifice what she wanted for him? He didn’t want that responsibility. He didn’t want to be the one she hated in years to come because she hadn’t followed her plan. ‘So you’re giving up on your dreams?’

Vic shook her head. ‘I’m compromising, Lawson. That’s what you do when you find someone worthy. Are you willing to meet me halfway?’

Lawson felt as if there were a rusty knife in his chest and she were twisting the handle. And deep down the well of feeling he’d felt blossom earlier pushed against the bounds he’d placed around it. He knew what was best for her. He was older. Had seen more. Lived more. He knew she’d regret it if she didn’t follow her dreams.

He looked away from her and pushed the side button on his radio. ‘Coms, this is nine six zero. ETA two minutes.’

Vic shook her head. Apparently the conversation was over.

‘Victoria. Wait.’

Vic kept walking. It was the end of the shift. They’d worked through their break and done two hours’ overtime. Without speaking to each other. She was beat. Physically and emotionally. And after their earlier conversation she didn’t want to talk to Lawson. Hell, right at this moment, she’d be happy never to see him again.

Lawson followed. He didn’t want to leave it like this. ‘Victoria.’

She pushed the unlock button on her key ring and reached for the car door. Lawson’s big hand appeared in front of her, pushing against the frame as she tried to pull it open.

‘Wait.’ He had things he wanted to say. He just didn’t know what. Or how.

His voice was rough, full of pleading, and his breath was warm on her neck. She didn’t turn to face him. She didn’t speak, just dragged in deep breaths, her senses filling with him.

Lawson could feel the warmth radiating from her body and his hand moved to her hip of its own volition. ‘I do have…feelings for you,’ he murmured, his lips close to her neck. ‘But every time I go to examine them a part of me says they’re wrong.’

Vic’s heart banged in her ribcage. Was he about to be honest with her? With himself. She turned slowly. He didn’t make any move to step back and she felt a wild trill of anticipation trip through her veins.

‘You’re…special to me. And I know it’s not just because I’ve known you for ever or you’re my partner. I know it’s more than that.’

She could see he was trying hard to find the right words and she was grateful. But why was it so hard to say what was in his heart? ‘Well. Looks like we’re finally getting somewhere.’

He gave her a grim smile. ‘I haven’t been able to stop thinking about how you were with Matilda today. You’re right. You’re good with her. You’re good for her. She needs a strong woman in her life.’

Vic stiffened. This was about Matilda? What about what he wanted in his life? She straightened and pushed away from the car, forcing him to step back.

‘I don’t want you to want me because I’m good with Matilda or because I love her and she patently adores me. She has plenty of strong women in her life. She has Dorothy and her aunt and she has me anyway whether I’m with you or not. I want you to want me because you can’t live another day without me.’

Lawson swallowed. After twenty years of his thinking of her in a totally platonic way, she was asking a lot.

Vic shook her head, a surge of anger rising in her throat at his hesitancy. What had she expected from a man who never verbalised his feelings?

‘You know what—screw you. I thought if I hung in there I could wear you down. But I don’t think you’re ever going to change, are you?’ He stood there passively looking at her and she wanted to scream. ‘Why should I have to erode your exterior until you finally give in? I want you to look inside and break through all the outer bullshit by yourself.’

She yanked her door open. ‘Don’t talk to me until you’re ready to face your real feelings. Not about Matilda or what you think is best for me or what you know my father wants. Your real feelings. The ones you’re too afraid to examine.’

Then she slipped into her car and slammed the door shut. As an afterthought, rage still bubbling in her veins, she wound the car window down. ‘I think you were right a few weeks ago. Maybe we should change partners.’ And she gunned the engine and took off in a hail of gravel.

The next morning Lawson sat in the staffroom and watched as Carl and Victoria left on a job together. Carl had his arm around her shoulder as they joked about something. Her laughter tinkled towards him and Lawson wanted to break Carl’s arm into little pieces.

A red-hot ball of burning bile rose in his chest and that was when it hit him. He loved her. He’d been hiding from it, fighting it since she’d confessed to deeper feelings for him, but it would no longer be denied.

It hadn’t seemed right to admit it before now as he’d struggled with the confines of their old relationship. As he’d grappled with the way he’d always seen her—Bob’s daughter, his partner—to the way she wanted him to see her.

But watching her with someone else, their old dynamic blown to pieces, he knew it deep down in his bones.

Loving her suddenly seemed like the most natural thing in the world. She was his. She belonged to him. In an ambulance next to him. In his bed every night. In his life. He couldn’t live another day without her.

He quickly formulated a plan to woo her, to win her back. He just hoped it wasn’t too late. He hoped his indecision hadn’t lost her for good.

Vic went to retrieve her backpack from her locker at the end of her shift and found a note doubled over and taped to the front. She pulled it off the metal and unfolded it, her heart thundering in her chest as she recognised Lawson’s slashing scrawl.

We need to talk. Meet me at the beach tonight after work. Our special place.

Lawson

She read the note over and over, her hands trembling. She’d told him she didn’t want to talk until he was ready to face his feelings. Was that what this was? Or was it just another excuse to talk her into leaving? Wouldn’t he have signed it love Lawson if it were about them? But then why would he? Overt signs of emotion weren’t his style. She knew that. She’d always known that.

After her tenth read-through she screwed it up and threw it in the nearby bin. She should leave him hanging. Make him come get her if he was serious about it. But she knew she wasn’t strong enough to resist the lure of the note. The possibility in his words.

Our special place. She didn’t have to ask him to know where he was talking about. Was that how he saw it? Their special place? And if so what did that mean exactly?

Half an hour later, after a quick trip home for a shower and change, she was walking down the beach, her pulse pounding as loudly as the surf far down the beach. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach like grains of sand swirling in the current.

It was darker tonight, the moon a thin sliver in the sky. The rocks loomed ahead of her in the night and in her hand she clutched a torch so she didn’t break her neck scrambling over them in the scant light.

But she needn’t have bothered. A warm orange glow illuminated the rocks and lit a path to the secluded cove. When it came into sight she could hear the crackle of a fire and see Lawson, his hands burrowed into his pockets, staring into the flickering flames.

‘Hi.’

Lawson looked up. She was standing on the rocks looking down at him, the glow from the fire caressing her cheekbones and glistening in her lip gloss. ‘You came.’

She nodded. ‘Of course.’

He moved, covering the distance from the fire to the rocks in three easy strides. He reached up for her and she leaned down, placing her hands on his shoulder as his hands encircled her waist. He lowered her down, her body sliding along every inch of his.

Until today he would have ignored the way his body responded, but right now he revelled in his arousal. She stood in his arms for several seconds, looking up into his face, and he ducked his head to claim her lips.

When she turned her face to the side and moved out of his arms he let her go even though his body urged him to pull her closer. He had some ground to make up tonight and he was not going to blow it this time.

Vic moved towards the fire. She noticed a picnic blanket and a basket set up under the overhang. Her pulse throbbed in her temple as hope surged through her system. It was very romantic and she had to stop herself from turning around and running into his arms.

Lawson brushed past her. He dropped to his knees under the overhang and opened the basket. ‘Do you prefer pink marshmallows or white?’

Vic gave a half-smile. ‘They all look the same colour after they’ve been on fire.’

‘Ah.’ He chuckled. ‘You’re a burner, not a toaster.’

His laugh brought goose bumps to her skin. It was so good to hear. She wanted to spend the rest of her life listening to it.

He turned and sat on the rug holding out a long thin stick and patted the space beside him. ‘Care to join me?’

Vic took a few seconds. It looked so inviting. A bonfire in her favourite spot with the man she loved. Surely he wouldn’t bring her here, take the time to set it all up if he were going to give her a ‘let’s-just-stay-friends’ speech.

She crossed her fingers behind her back and walked to where he sat. She took the proffered stick but kept a little distance between them when she chose her spot on the rug.

For the next ten minutes they compared techniques and generally avoided any personal conversation. Lawson liked to gently brown all over, turning the stick repeatedly above the flame as it slowly toasted. Vic preferred to plunge the stick into the guts of the fire and wait for it to catch light.

He watched her tip her head back and drop another unrecognisable sticky, charred lump into her mouth. She sighed and smiled at him as she savoured it in her mouth. ‘That’s disgusting,’ he murmured, totally distracted by the way the light from the flame licked orange tentacles along the ridge of her throat.

Vic laughed, impaling a soft pink marshmallow. ‘Nuh-uh. You have to try it first,’ she said, stabbing the stick into the heart of the fire again. ‘There’s all this wonderful crunch and then gooey sweet liquid explodes in your mouth.’ She watched as the marshmallow finally flamed and pulled it out. It looked like a beacon in the dark and she gave it a second or two before she blew on it, extinguishing the flame.

‘Here,’ she said, removing the marshmallow and bringing it close to his lips. There was a second when they looked at each other and the blaze in their eyes had nothing to do with the fire. ‘I dare you,’ she said, nudging his lips.

Lawson held her gaze as he opened his mouth and sucked the gooey treat inside. He captured her fingers too, sucking the sticky residue from them as he stared into her fiery whiskey eyes.

Vic felt desire burst inside her like liquid marshmallow and she withdrew her fingers only to replace them with her lips. She heard his indrawn breath as he opened his mouth to her, cradling her jaw, pushing his fingers into her hair.

‘Lawson,’ she whimpered, gasping for breath herself. She felt as if the fire had broken the ring of stones that encircled it and set up camp in her belly.

Lawson groaned, pulling back slightly only to home in for more, bending her back, pushing her down onto the rug, stroking his fingers down her face, her throat as she locked her arms around his neck.

He pulled his lips away slightly, dropping kisses all over her face. ‘I love you,’ he murmured. ‘I love you so much.’

Vic stilled, the words she’d been longing to hear stroking seductively against her skin. She pushed against him, raising herself on her elbows. ‘Are you sure? You know, I hear sometimes it’s easy to get sex confused with other feelings.’

Lawson rested his head on her shoulder, trying to catch his breath. He guessed he deserved that. He pushed himself into a sitting position, struggling to get his mind back on what he needed to say.

‘I’ve been so blind,’ he said, staring into the flame. ‘Can you forgive me?’

Vic sat too. She reached out and placed her hand on his shoulder. ‘Of course I can. I know this hasn’t been easy for you.’

‘Yesterday…what I said, about Matilda. It came out all wrong. I was trying to tell you I knew I had feelings for you and then I mentioned Matilda and it got all screwed up.’

Vic gave him a rueful smile. ‘I may have overreacted.’

Lawson looked at her. ‘No. No, you didn’t. I was still fighting it. What I knew deep down inside but had been too afraid to admit because somehow I thought people would think less of me, would judge all my actions with you up to this point as if I had some ulterior motive all along.’

Vic gasped. ‘Oh, no, Lawson. No one’s going to think that. That’s just hideous.’

He gave her a sad smile. ‘Some people will, Victoria. They will. But I can’t be responsible for other people’s thoughts. And you were right. You do deserve to have someone who wants you for you. Not for any mothering abilities or girl-talk skills. And I lay in bed last night and I missed you so much. I can’t get your smell off my sheets or the memory of what we did in my bed out of my head. But I still didn’t let myself think about what that really meant.

‘And then I arranged for you to go out with Carl today knowing it was all for the best and he put his arm around you and I wanted to tear him apart.’ He turned to gaze at the fire. ‘Pretty Neanderthal, huh?’

Vic shook her head. ‘No. Pretty damn sweet, actually.’

‘It hit me then. I didn’t want to share you with anyone. I didn’t want you to be someone else’s partner. It was suddenly so clear. I loved you. And I didn’t care who knew it or what they thought. I love you. And I know you should go overseas and do what you need to do but I’ll be miserable if you do. I can’t live another day without you. I don’t want to.’

Vic felt a rush of emotion flower in her chest and a solitary tear trekked down her face.

Finally.

Finally she’d heard the words she’d been waiting to hear.

The silence grew with just the crackle and pop of flame on wood and Lawson turned to look at her. She wouldn’t reject him now, would she? He noticed the tear. Had she changed her mind? Had she decided to go overseas after all? He reached for her, pulling her into his arms. ‘Don’t cry,’ he murmured, kissing her forehead. ‘Please don’t cry.’

Vic choked on a sob. ‘Oh, Lawson. I love you too. I’ve always loved you.’ She raised her face to his and pulled his neck down to claim a kiss. ‘I can’t believe you’re saying this. I’d just about given up.’

He shook his head, his heart filling with joy. She loved him too. Somehow, though, he wasn’t surprised. Somewhere deep inside he knew they’d been destined for each other. He kissed her eyes and her nose. ‘Believe it.’ He dropped a kiss on her mouth. ‘But I’m asking a lot of you, Victoria. I’m asking you to be a mother as well. Something you’ve been for the last eighteen years. Something you’ve told me repeatedly you never ever want to be. Can you handle that? I don’t want you to regret this choice years down the track.’

Vic smiled. She lifted a hand and stroked his face, running a finger down his scar. ‘Of course I won’t. Lawson, even if you and I never came to be, I know I belong here. I know now I could never leave. This is my home. It holds my heart. There’s a world out there, I know that and I do want to see it, but it’s nothing compared to what I have here. All I need now, all I’m ever going to need, is you. If I have that then the rest doesn’t matter.’

Lawson smiled. He felt warm all over and it had nothing to do with the fire. ‘It’s still a big ask. Instant mother. I’m scared stiff that one day you’ll start yearning for far horizons again and turn around and walk away. Like Matilda’s mother did.’

She ran a finger over his lips. ‘I’m not Deb, Lawson. I’m not someone you barely know. I certainly couldn’t walk away from you or Matilda. When you love someone that means you love all of them. And you and Tilly are a package deal. She’s the sweetest thing. She’s part of you—why wouldn’t I want her? I would be honoured to be her mother.’

Lawson swooped down and took her mouth in a kiss that he felt all the way to his groin. She clung to his shoulders and her moan empowered him to go deeper. Linger a while. He pulled away minutes later, with difficulty. ‘We’re getting married. As soon as your father’s well and we can arrange it.’

Vic smiled, her heart full of the most incredible sweet ache. ‘Here on this beach. Matilda can be flower girl.’

‘And then we’re going on a honeymoon. For six weeks. We’re going to London. And Italy.’

Vic felt her heart flutter in her chest. ‘And we’ll take Tilly.’

Lawson’s heart filled so much he thought it was going to burst out of his chest. ‘But in the meantime, you’re coming to live with me. With us.’

She grinned. ‘Yes. Sir.’ And she pulled him down with her into the sand, eager to comply with his commands.

And all that could be heard for the next little while was the crackle of the fire and the pounding of the surf as their bodies promised each other a life full of happily ever afters.

ISBN: 978-1-4268-5260-2

A MOTHER FOR MATILDA

First North American Publication 2010.

Copyright © 2010 by Amy Andrews.

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