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Praise for Sarah Morgan

‘Sarah Morgan puts the magic in Christmas’

—Now magazine

‘Full of romance and sparkle’

—Lovereading

‘I’ve found an author I adore—must hunt down everything she’s published.’

—Smart Bitches, Trashy Books

‘Morgan is a magician with words.’

—RT Book Reviews

‘Dear Ms Morgan, I’m always on the lookout for a new book by you …’

—Dear Author blog

About the Author

As a child SARAH MORGAN dreamed of being a writer and, although she took a few interesting detours on the way, she is now living that dream. With her writing career she has successfully combined business with pleasure, and she firmly believes that reading romance is one of the most satisfying and fat-free escapist pleasures available. Her stories are unashamedly optimistic, and she is always pleased when she receives letters from readers saying that her books have helped them through hard times.

Sarah lives near London with her husband and two children, who innocently provide an endless supply of authentic dialogue. When she isn’t writing or reading Sarah enjoys music, movies and any activity that takes her outdoors.

Readers can find out more about Sarah and her books from her website: www.sarahmorgan.com. She can also be found on Facebook and Twitter.

Once Upon a Christmas

Sarah Morgan

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Part One

PROLOGUE

‘MUMMY, I’ve written my letter to Santa.’

Bryony tucked the duvet round her daughter and clicked on the pink bedside light. A warm glow spread across the room, illuminating a small mountain of soft toys and dressing-up clothes. ‘Sweetheart, it’s only just November. Don’t you think it’s a little early to be writing to Santa?’

‘All the decorations are in the shops. I saw them with Grandma.’

Bryony picked up a fairy outfit that had been abandoned in a heap on the floor. ‘Shops are different, Lizzie.’ She slipped the dress onto a hanger and put it safely in the wardrobe. ‘They always start selling things early. It’s still ages until Christmas.’

‘But I know what I want, so I thought I might as well write to him now.’ Lizzie reached for the stuffed mermaid that she always slept with. ‘And anyway, this present is special so he might need some time to find exactly the right one.’

‘Special?’ Bryony gave a groan and picked up the book they’d been reading all week. ‘Go on.’ Her tone was indulgent. ‘Hit me with it, Lizzie. What is it this time—a horse?’ She toed off her shoes and curled up on the end of her daughter’s bed with a smile. This was the best time of the day. Just the two of them, and Lizzie all warm and cuddly in her pink pyjamas. She smelt of shampoo and innocence, and when she was tucked up in bed she seemed younger somehow, less like a seven-year-old who was growing up too fast.

‘Not a horse.’ Lizzie snuggled down, her blonde curls framing her pretty face. ‘Bigger.’

‘Bigger than a horse?’ Bryony’s eyes twinkled. ‘You’re scaring me, Lizzie. What if Santa can’t find this special present?’

‘He will.’ Lizzie spoke with the conviction of youth. ‘You said that Santa always gives you what you ask for if you’re good.’

‘Ah—did I say that?’ Bryony took a deep breath and made a mental note to concentrate more when she answered her daughter’s questions in future. ‘Well, it does depend on what you ask for,’ she hedged, and Lizzie’s face fell.

‘You said he always gives you what you ask for if you’re good.’

‘Well, he certainly does his best,’ Bryony said finally, compromising slightly and hoping that the request wasn’t going to be too outlandish. Her doctor’s salary was generous, but she was a single mother and she had to watch her expenditures. ‘Do you want to show me this letter?’

‘I’ve sent it already.’

‘You’ve sent it?’ Bryony looked at her daughter in surprise. ‘Where did you post it?’

‘I went into the post office with Grandma and they said that if I posted it there it would go all the way to Santa in Lapland.’

‘Oh.’ Bryony smiled weakly, her heart sinking. ‘So it’s gone, then.’

Which meant that there would be no chance to talk Lizzie out of whatever it was that she’d chosen that was obviously going to cost a fortune and be impossible to find in the wilds of the Lake District.

Bryony sensed a trip to London coming on. Unless the internet could oblige.

‘Uh-huh.’ Lizzie nodded. ‘And he’s got until Christmas to sort it out.’

‘Right. Are you going to give me a clue?’

‘You’ll like it, I know you will.’

‘Is it something messy?’

‘Nope.’

‘Something pink?’ Everything in her daughter’s life was pink so it was a fairly safe bet that whatever was top of her Christmas list would be pink.

Lizzie shook her head and her eyes shone. ‘Not pink.’

Not pink?

Feeling distinctly uneasy, Bryony hoped that her mother had managed to sneak a look at the letter before it was ‘posted’ otherwise none of them were going to have the first clue what Lizzie wanted for Christmas.

‘I’d really like to know, sweetheart,’ she said casually, flipping through the pages of the book until she found where they’d left off the night before. She wondered whether the post office had binned the letter. At this rate she was going to have to go and ask for it back.

‘OK. I’ll tell you, because it’s sort of for you, too.’

Bryony held her breath, hoping desperately that it wasn’t a pet. Her life was so frantic she absolutely didn’t have time to care for an animal on top of everything else. A full-time job and single parenthood was the most she could manage and sometimes she struggled with that.

A pet would be the final straw.

But then she looked at Lizzie’s sweet face and felt totally overwhelmed by love. More than anything she wanted her daughter to be happy and if that meant cleaning out a rabbit …

‘Whatever it is you want,’ Bryony said softly, reaching out and stroking her daughter’s silken curls with a gentle hand, ‘I’m sure Santa will get it for you. You’re such a good girl and I love you.’

‘I love you, too, Mummy.’ Lizzie reached up and hugged her and Bryony felt a lump building in her throat.

‘OK.’ She extracted herself and gave her daughter a bright smile. ‘So, what is it you want for Christmas?’

Lizzie lay back on the pillow, a contented smile spreading across her face. ‘A daddy,’ she breathed happily. ‘For Christmas this year, I really, really want a daddy. And I know that Santa is going to bring me one.’

CHAPTER ONE

‘SIX-MONTH-OLD baby coming in with breathing difficulties.’ Bryony replaced the phone that connected the accident and emergency department direct to Ambulance Control and turned to the A and E sister. ‘That’s the third one today, Nicky.’

‘Welcome to A and E in November.’ The other woman pulled a face and slipped her pen back in her pocket. ‘One respiratory virus after another. Wait until the weather gets really cold. Then everyone falls over on the ice. Last year we had forty-two wrist fractures in one day.’

Bryony laughed. ‘Truly?’

‘Truly. And you wouldn’t laugh if you’d been working here then,’ Nicky said dryly as they walked towards the ambulance bay together. ‘It was unbelievable. I wanted to go out with a loudhailer and tell everyone to stay at home.’

As she finished speaking they heard the shriek of an ambulance siren, and seconds later the doors to the department crashed open and the paramedics hurried in with the baby.

‘Take her straight into Resus,’ Bryony ordered, taking one look at the baby and deciding that she was going to need help on this one. ‘What’s the story?’

‘She’s had a cold and a runny nose for a couple of days,’ the paramedic told her. ‘Temperature going up and down, and then all of a sudden she stopped taking any fluids and tonight the mother said she stopped breathing. Mother came with us in the ambulance—she’s giving the baby’s details to Reception.’

‘Did she call the GP?’

‘Yes, but he advised her to call 999.’

‘Right.’ Bryony glanced at Nicky. ‘Let’s get her undressed so that I can examine her properly. I want her on a cardiac monitor and a pulse oximeter—I need to check her oxygen saturation.’

‘She’s breathing very fast,’ Nicky murmured as she undid the poppers on the baby’s sleepsuit. ‘Poor little mite, she’s really struggling. I suppose we ought to call Jack—even though calling him will massage his ego.’

Bryony looked at the baby, saw the bluish tinge around her lips and heard the faint grunting sound as she breathed.

‘Call him,’ she said firmly. ‘This baby is sick.’

Very sick.

She didn’t care if they massaged Jack’s ego. She trusted his opinion more than anyone else’s and not just because he was the consultant and she was a casualty officer with only four months’ A and E experience behind her. Jack Rothwell was an incredibly talented doctor.

Nicky finished undressing the baby and then picked up the phone on the wall and dialled, leaving Bryony to carry out her examination. She watched the baby breathing for a moment and then placed her stethoscope in her ears, strands of blonde hair falling forward as she bent and listened to the child’s chest.

When she finally unhooked the stethoscope from her ears, Jack was standing opposite, looking at her with that lazy, half-bored expression in his blue eyes that always drove women crazy.

And she was no exception.

She’d known him for twenty-two years and still her knees went weak when he walked into a room. She’d often tried to work out why. Was it the sexy smile? The wicked blue eyes that crinkled at the corners when he smiled? The glossy dark hair? The broad shoulders? Or was it his sense of humour, which had her smiling almost all the time? Eventually she’d come to the conclusion that it was everything. The whole drop-dead-gorgeous, confident masculine package that was Jack Rothwell.

When she’d started working in A and E in the summer, she’d been worried about how it would feel to work with a man she’d known all her life. She was worried that finally working together would feel odd. But it didn’t.

She’d fast discovered that Jack at work was the same as Jack not at work. Clever, confident and wickedly sexy.

‘So, Blondie,’ his deep masculine tones were loaded with humour. ‘You need some help?’

Blondie …

Bryony grinned. He’d called her ‘Blondie’ when she’d been five years old, and now she was twenty-seven he was still calling her ‘Blondie’. She’d even had a brush with being brunette at one point in her teens but it had made no difference. He’d still called her ‘Blondie’. It was one of the things she loved about their friendship. The way he teased her. It made her feel special. And, anyway, it meant that she could tease him back.

‘This baby’s sick.’

‘Which is presumably why she’s in hospital,’ Jack drawled, leaning across and reaching for her stethoscope, the fabric of his shirt moulding lovingly to the hard muscle of his shoulders. Despite his teasing words his eyes were on the baby, looking, assessing, mentally cataloguing his findings.

Bryony watched him with admiration and more than a touch of envy. His instincts were so good. If anyone she loved ever ended up in A and E, the doctor she’d want them to see would be Jack. He had a brilliant brain and an amazing ability to identify medical problems based on seemingly scanty information. And she’d learned more from him in her four months in A and E than she had from any other doctor in her career so far.

‘So what did you notice, Blondie? Apart from the fact that there’s a little patient on the trolley?’

He stood back while Nicky attached leads to the baby’s chest and connected them to the monitor.

‘She’s cyanosed, has intercostal recession and she’s grunting,’ Bryony said immediately, her eyes on the baby. ‘Her resps are 60 per minute and she’s becoming exhausted.’

Jack nodded, his eyes flickering to the monitor, which was now operational and giving them further clues to the baby’s condition.

‘She has acute bronchiolitis. We need to get a line in this baby fast,’ he ordered softly, holding out a hand to Nicky who immediately proffered the necessary equipment. He handed it to Bryony. ‘Go on. Impress me.’

‘You want me to do it?’ Bryony looked at those tiny arms and legs and shook her head. ‘I’d rather you did it.’

She could see how ill the baby was and she didn’t have the confidence that she’d get the line in first time. She knew Jack could. And with the baby that sick, his skill was more important than her need to practise.

His eyes narrowed and his gaze was suddenly serious. ‘Don’t doubt yourself,’ he said softly, his blue eyes searching as he read her mind. ‘Do it.’

He was still holding out the equipment and Bryony sucked in a breath. ‘Jack, I—’

‘Can do it,’ he said calmly, those wicked blue eyes locking on hers. ‘In three months’ time you’re going to be working on the paediatric ward and you’re going to be taking blood all the time. You need the practise. Go for it.’

Bryony hesitated and Jack lifted an eyebrow, his blue eyes mocking.

‘You want me to hold your hand?’ His voice was a lazy drawl and Bryony blushed. How could he be so relaxed? But she knew the answer to that, of course. During her time in the A and E department she’d learned that panic did nothing to improve a tense situation and she’d also learned that Jack’s totally laid-back attitude to everything rubbed off on the rest of the staff. As a result, they operated as a smooth, efficient team.

Looking at the baby, Bryony bit her lip and lifted the child’s tiny wrist.

‘Relax. Take your time.’ Jack closed long, strong fingers around the baby’s wrist and squeezed. ‘OK. Here’s one for you. What do you call a blonde with half a brain?’

Bryony was concentrating on the baby’s wrist. She found a tiny, thready vein and wondered how she was ever going to hit such a tiny target. It seemed almost impossible.

‘Gifted,’ Jack said cheerfully, squinting down at the baby’s hand. ‘You’ll be fine. She’s got good veins. Stop dithering and just do it.’

So she did and the needle slid smoothly into the tiny vein on her first attempt.

Relief and delight flooded through her.

‘I did it.’ She looked up, unable to hide her pride, and Jack smiled, his eyes creasing at the corners.

‘As I said. Gifted. Now you just need the confidence to go with it. You’re a good doctor. Believe in yourself.’ His eyes held hers for a moment and then he looked at Nicky. ‘OK, we need a full blood count, U and Es, BMG, blood culture and viral titres. And Nicky, let’s give the child some humidified oxygen.’

Believe in yourself.

Well, she did believe in herself. Sort of. It was just that she was afraid of making a mistake and Jack Rothwell never seemed to be afraid of anything. He just did it. And it turned out right every time.

Bryony busied herself taking the necessary samples. ‘Should I do arterial blood gases?’

‘They can do them on the ward,’ Jack said immediately. ‘Nicky, can you call Paeds and get them up here? This little one is going to need admitting. She’s a poorly baby.’

Bryony looked at him. ‘You think it’s bronchiolitis?’

‘Without a doubt.’ He smothered a yawn and looked at her apologetically. ‘Sorry. I was up half the night.’

It was Bryony’s turn to look mocking. ‘Was she nice?’

‘She was gorgeous.’ He grinned, that wonderful slightly lopsided grin that affected her knees so acutely. ‘She was also eighty-four and had a fractured hip.’

‘You love older women.’

‘True.’ He checked the monitor again. ‘But generally I like them mobile. OK, Blondie. What’s the likely causative organism here? Exercise your brain cell and impress me twice in one evening.’

‘RSV,’ Bryony said immediately. ‘Respiratory syncytial virus causes 75 per cent of cases of bronchiolitis.’

He inclined his head, his expression mocking. ‘All right, you’ve impressed me. And you’ve obviously been studying your textbook again. Now we’ll do some maths. What’s two plus two?’ His eyes were dancing. ‘No need to answer immediately and you can use your fingers if you need to. Take your time—I know it’s tricky.’

‘No idea,’ Bryony returned blithely, batting her eyelashes in a parody of a dumb blonde and handing the bottles to Nicky for labelling. ‘Jack, should we pass a nasogastric tube?’

‘No. Not yet.’ He shook his head, his gaze flickering over the baby. ‘When you’ve finished taking the samples we’ll set up an IV and get her to the ward. I’ve got a bad feeling about this little one. She’s going to end up being ventilated.’

‘I hope not,’ Bryony murmured, but she knew that Jack was always right in his predictions. If he thought the baby was going to need ventilating, then it was almost certain that she would.

He looked at her quizzically. ‘Is the mother around?’

As he asked the question the doors to Resus opened and the paramedics came back in, escorting a tall woman wrapped in a wool coat. Her face was pale and her hair was uncombed.

‘Ella?’ She hurried over to the trolley, her face lined with anxiety, and then she looked at Jack.

Bryony didn’t mind that. She was used to it. Women always looked at Jack.

Even before they knew he was the consultant, they looked at him.

And it wasn’t just because he was staggeringly, movie-star handsome. It was because he was charming and had an air of casual self-assurance that attracted women like magnets. You just knew that Jack would know what to do in any situation.

‘I’m Dr Rothwell.’ He extended a hand and gave her that reassuring smile that always seemed to calm the most frantic relative. ‘I’ve been caring for Ella, along with Dr Hunter here.’

The woman didn’t even glance at Bryony. Her gaze stayed firmly fixed on Jack. ‘She’s been ill for days but I thought it was just a cold and then suddenly today she seemed to go downhill.’ She lifted a shaking hand to her throat. ‘She wouldn’t take her bottle and she was so hot and then tonight she stopped breathing properly and I was terrified.’

Jack nodded, his blue eyes warm and understanding. ‘It’s always frightening when a baby of this size is ill because their airways are so small,’ he explained calmly. ‘Ella has picked up a nasty virus and it is affecting her breathing.’

The woman blanched and stared at the tiny figure on the trolley. ‘But she’s going to be OK?’

‘We need to admit her to hospital,’ Jack said, glancing up as the paediatrician walked into the room. ‘This is Dr Armstrong, the paediatric registrar. He’s going to take a look at her now and then we’ll take her along to the ward.’

‘Will I be able to stay with her?’

‘Absolutely.’ Jack nodded, his gaze reassuring. ‘You can have a bed next to her cot.’

Deciding that Jack was never going to be able to extricate himself from the mother, Bryony briefed Dr Armstrong on the baby’s condition.

She liked David Armstrong. He was warm and kind and he’d asked her out on several occasions.

And she’d refused of course. Because she always refused.

She never went on dates.

Bryony bit her lip, remembering Lizzie’s letter to Santa. She wanted a daddy for Christmas. A pretty tall order for a woman who didn’t date men, she thought dryly, picking up the baby’s charts and handing them to David.

Dragging her mind back, she finished handing over and watched while David examined the baby himself.

A thoroughly nice man, she decided wistfully. So why couldn’t she just accept his invitation to take their friendship a step further?

And then Jack strolled back to the trolley, tall, broad-shouldered, confident and so shockingly handsome that it made her gasp, and she remembered the reason why she didn’t date men.

She didn’t date men because she’d been in love with Jack since she’d been five years old. And apart from her one disastrous attempt to forget about him, which had resulted in Lizzie, she hadn’t even noticed another man for her entire adult life.

Which just went to show how stupid she was, she reflected crossly, infuriated by her own stupidity.

Jack might be a brilliant doctor but he was also the most totally unsuitable man any woman could fall for. Women had affairs with Jack. They didn’t fall in love with him. Not if they had any sense, because Jack had no intention of ever falling in love or settling down.

But, of course, she didn’t have any sense.

It was fortunate that she’d got used to hiding the way she felt about him. He didn’t have a clue that he’d featured in every daydream she’d had since she’d been a child. When other little girls had dreamed about faceless princes in fairy-tales, she’d dreamed about Jack. When her teenage friends had developed crushes on the boys at school, she’d still dreamed about Jack. And when she’d finally matured into a woman, she’d carried on dreaming about Jack.

Finally the baby was stable enough to be transferred to the ward and Nicky pushed the trolley, accompanied by the paediatric SHO, who had arrived to help, and the baby’s mother.

Bryony started to tidy up Resus, ready for the next arrival, her mind elsewhere.

‘Are you all right?’ David Armstrong gave her a curious look. ‘You’re miles away.’

‘Sorry.’ She smiled. ‘Just thinking.’

‘Hard work, that, for a blonde,’ Jack said mildly, and Bryony gave him a sunny smile, relaxed now that the baby was no longer her responsibility.

‘Why are men like bank accounts?’ she asked sweetly, ditching some papers in the bin. ‘Because without a lot of money they don’t generate much interest.’

David looked startled but Jack threw back his head and laughed.

‘Then it’s fortunate for me that I have a lot of money,’ he said strolling across the room to her and looping her stethoscope back round her neck.

For a moment he stood there, looking down at her, his eyes laughing into hers as he kept hold of the ends of the stethoscope. Bryony looked back at him, hypnotised by the dark shadow visible on his hard jaw and the tiny muscle that worked in his cheek. He was so close she could almost touch him, but she’d never been allowed to do that.

Not properly.

He was her best friend.

They talked, they laughed and they spent huge amounts of time together. But they never crossed that line of friendship.

Jack’s pager sounded and he let go of the stethoscope and reached into his pocket. ‘Duty calls. If you’re sure you can cope without me, I’ll be off.’

‘I’ll struggle on,’ Bryony said sarcastically, and he gave her that lazy wink that always reduced her legs to jelly.

‘You do that. I’ll see you later, then. Are you joining the team at the Drunken Fox tonight?’

‘Yes. Mum’s babysitting.’

The whole of the local mountain rescue team were meeting for a drink to celebrate her brother’s birthday.

‘Good.’ He gave a nod. ‘See you there, then.’

And with that he strolled out of the room with his usual easy confidence, letting the door swing closed behind him.

David stared after him. ‘Don’t you mind the blonde jokes and the fact that he calls you Blondie?’

Bryony shot him an amused look. ‘He’s called me that for twenty-two years.’ She fiddled with the stethoscope that Jack had looped round her neck. ‘He’s just teasing.’

‘You’ve known him for twenty-two years?’

‘Amazing that I’m still sane, isn’t it?’ Bryony said lightly. ‘Jack was at school with my two brothers but he spent more time in our house than his own.’ Mainly because his parents had been going through a particularly acrimonious divorce.

‘He’s practically family. He and my brothers were at medical school together.’

Nicky entered the room in time to hear that last remark. ‘I bet the three of them were lethal.’

‘They certainly were.’

David looked at her in surprise. ‘Of course—why didn’t I realise before? Tom Hunter, the consultant obstetrician—he’s your brother?’

Bryony smiled. ‘That’s right. And my other brother, Oliver, is a GP. When I’ve finished my rotation I’m going to join him in his practice. He’s the reason for the trip to the pub—it’s his birthday today.’

Not that they needed an excuse for a trip to the pub. Most of the mountain rescue team members lived in the pub when they weren’t working, training or on a callout.

David looked at her. ‘I can’t believe that I didn’t click sooner that Tom Hunter is your brother.’

Bryony shrugged. ‘Well, we don’t know each other that well.’

‘And whose fault is that?’ David said in an undertone. ‘I keep asking you out.’

And she kept refusing.

Conscious that Nicky was within earshot, Bryony handed David the last of the charts. ‘Here you go. Everything you need on baby Ella. I hope she does OK.’

‘Thanks.’ He hesitated and then gave her a smile as he walked out of Resus.

‘That man fancies you,’ Nicky said dryly, and Bryony sighed.

‘Yes, I know.’

‘Don’t tell me, you’re in love with Jack, the same as every other woman on the planet.’

Bryony looked at her, carefully keeping her expression casual. She’d never admitted to anyone how she felt about Jack, and she wasn’t going to start now. ‘Jack’s my best friend. I know him far too well to ever fall in love with him.’

‘Then you’re more sensible than the rest of the female population,’ Nicky said happily. ‘Every woman I know is in love with Jack Rothwell. He’s rich, single and sexy as sin. And most of us could scratch your eyes out for being so close to him. According to rumour, he spends half his life hanging around your kitchen.’

Bryony smiled. When she’d lived at home Jack had always been there, and when she’d moved into her own cottage he’d taken to dropping round so often that he was almost part of the furniture. ‘Don’t get the wrong idea. Usually he’s telling me about his latest girlfriend. He’s my brothers’ closest friend, he’s my daughter’s godfather and we’ve been in the mountain rescue team together for years. I can assure you there’s nothing romantic about our relationship.’

Unfortunately.

Nicky sighed. ‘Well, it sounds pretty good to me. I’d love to have him in my kitchen, if only for his decorative qualities. The guy is sublime.’

‘Nicky, you’re married.’

Nicky grinned. ‘I know. But my hormones are still alive and kicking.’

Bryony busied herself restocking one of the equipment trays. Strictly speaking it wasn’t her job but she didn’t want to look at Nicky in case she gave herself away.

Her relationship with Jack was good.

They had a fantastic friendship.

But even the most fantastic friendship didn’t soothe the ache in her heart.

She was about to say something else to Nicky when the doors to Resus opened again and one of the paramedics stuck his head round.

‘Has the baby been transferred to the ward? Only I’ve got her father here.’

‘I’ll speak to him,’ Bryony said immediately, glad to be given an excuse to get away from the subject of Jack. She followed the paramedic out of the room.

A tall man in a suit was hovering anxiously in the corridor, his face white with strain.

‘I’m Dr Hunter,’ Bryony said, holding out her hand. ‘I’ve been looking after Ella.’

‘Oh, God …’ he breathed out slowly, obviously trying to calm himself down. ‘I came as soon as Pam called me but I was at a meeting in Penrith and the traffic was awful.’

Bryony gave an understanding smile and slowly outlined Ella’s condition, careful to be realistic without painting too grim a picture.

‘So she’s on the ward?’ He ran a hand over the back of his neck and gave a shuddering sigh. ‘Sorry. I know I’m panicking like mad but she’s my baby and—’

‘It’s OK,’ Bryony said gently, putting a hand on his arm. ‘You’re her father and you’re entitled to be worried.’

His shoulders sagged and he looked exhausted. ‘You don’t know what worry is until you have kids, do you?’

Bryony thought of Lizzie and shook her head. ‘No,’ she agreed softly, ‘you certainly don’t.’

‘Do you have children yourself, Doctor?’

‘I have a little girl.’

They shared a smile of mutual understanding. ‘And the bond between a little girl and her daddy is so special, isn’t it?’

Bryony tensed and then she smiled. ‘It certainly is,’ she croaked, feeling as though she’d been showered with cold water. ‘Very special.’

She directed the man to the children’s ward and stared after him, feeling sick inside.

She loved Lizzie so fiercely that she rarely thought about the fact that her little girl didn’t have a father. She had plenty of father figures—her two brothers and Jack, and she’d always consoled herself that they were enough. But Lizzie obviously didn’t think so or why would she have asked for a father for Christmas?

Lizzie wanted the real thing. She wanted a father to tuck her up at night. A father who would read to her and play with her. A father who would panic and leave a meeting because she was sick.

Bryony gave a groan and covered her face with her hands. How was she ever going to satisfy Lizzie’s Christmas wish this year?

How was she going to produce a father when she didn’t even date men and hadn’t since Lizzie had been conceived? And not even then, really.

Bryony let her hands drop to her sides, torn with guilt at how selfish she’d been. Because of the way she felt about Jack, she’d shut men out of her life, never thinking about the long-term effect that would have on Lizzie.

It was true that she didn’t want a man in her life, but it was also true that Lizzie needed and wanted a father.

And suddenly Bryony made a decision.

She was going to stop dreaming about Jack Rothwell. She was going to stop noticing his broad shoulders. She was going to stop noticing the way his cheeks creased when he smiled. She was going to stop thinking about what he looked like with his shirt off. In fact, she was going to stop thinking about him altogether and start dating other men.

Finally she was going to get a life.

And Lizzie was going to get a daddy.

CHAPTER TWO

BRYONY paused outside the entrance to the pub, her breath clouding the freezing air. She could hear the muffled sounds of laughter and music coming from inside, and she lifted her chin and pushed open the door.

They were all there. The whole of the mountain rescue team, most of whom she’d known for years, crowding the bar and laughing together. In one corner of the bar a log fire crackled and the room was warm and welcoming.

‘It’s Blondie!’

There were good-natured catcalls from the moment they spotted her and Toby, the equipment officer, slipped off his stool and offered it to her with a flourish.

‘Hi, guys.’ She settled herself on the stool and smiled at the barman. ‘Hi, Geoff. The usual, please.’

He reached for a bottle of grapefruit juice. ‘On the hard stuff, Bryony?’

‘That’s me.’ Bryony nodded her thanks and lifted the glass in a salute. ‘Cheers, everyone. And happy birthday, Oliver.’

Her brother grinned. ‘Thanks, babe. You OK?’

‘I’m fine.’ In fact, she was better than fine. She was brilliant. And she was finally going to restart her life.

As if to test that resolve, Jack strolled over to her and dropped a kiss on her cheek.

‘What did the blonde say when she walked into the bar?’

‘Ouch,’ Bryony answered wearily, rolling her eyes in exasperation. ‘And, Jack, you really need some new jokes. You’re recycling them.’

He yawned. ‘Well, I’ve been telling them for twenty-two years—what do you expect?’

‘A bit of originality would be nice,’ she said mildly, taking another sip of her drink and making a point of not looking at him. She wasn’t going to notice Jack any more. There were plenty of men out there with good bodies. He wasn’t the only one. ‘Maybe I should dye my hair brown to help you out.’

‘Brown? Don’t you dare.’ Jack’s voice was husky and enticingly male. ‘If you dyed your hair brown, you’d ruin all my jokes. We love you the way you are.’

Bryony took a gulp of her drink. He didn’t love her. And he never would love her. Or, at least, not in the way she wanted him to love her.

‘Bry, are you free on Thursday or Friday?’ Oliver leaned across the bar and grabbed a handful of nuts. ‘Mum wants to cook me a birthday dinner, whole family and Jack in attendance.’

Bryony put her glass down on the bar. ‘Can’t do Thursday.’

Jack frowned. ‘You’re on an early shift. Why can’t you do it?’

Bryony hesitated. ‘Because I have a date,’ she said finally, and Oliver lifted his eyebrows.

‘A date? You have a date?’

Jack’s smile vanished like the sun behind a cloud. ‘What do you mean, you have a date?’ His voice was surprisingly frosty. ‘Since when did you go on dates?’

Bryony took a deep breath and decided she may as well tell all. ‘Since I saw Lizzie’s Christmas list.’

At the mention of Lizzie, Jack’s expression regained some of its warmth. ‘She’s made her list already?’

‘She has indeed.’

‘Don’t tell me.’ His voice was indulgent. ‘She wants something pink. A new pair of pink wings for her fairy costume?’

‘Nope.’

Oliver looked at her searchingly. ‘Well? We’re all dying to hear what she asked for. And what’s it got to do with you going on a date?’

Bryony sat still for a moment, studying her empty glass. ‘I’m going on a date,’ she said slowly, ‘because Lizzie wants a daddy.’ She looked up and gave them a bland smile. ‘Lizzie has asked for a daddy for Christmas.’

There was a long silence around the bar and the men exchanged looks.

It was Jack who eventually spoke first. ‘Does she realise that they’re not all they’re cracked up to be?’

There was bitterness in his tone and Bryony frowned slightly. She knew that his parents had divorced when he’d been eight and she also knew that it had been a hideously painful experience for Jack.

But it was unlike him to ever mention it.

Like most men, Jack Rothwell didn’t talk about his feelings.

‘A daddy?’ Oliver cleared his throat and exchanged looks with Tom. ‘Does she have anyone in particular in mind?’

Bryony shook her head. ‘No. She’s leaving the choice up to Santa, but Mum gave me the letter and she’s listed the qualities she’s looking for.’

‘She has?’ Oliver gave an amazed laugh and glanced round at the others. ‘And what are they?’

Bryony delved into her pocket and pulled out a rumpled piece of paper. She cleared her throat and started to read. ‘I want a daddy who is strong so that he can swing me in the garden. I want a daddy who is funny and makes jokes. I want a daddy who lets me watch television before school and who won’t make me eat sprouts because I hate them and I want a daddy who will meet me at the school gate and give me a hug like the other daddies sometimes do.’ Bryony broke off at that point and swallowed hard, aware of the stunned silence around her. ‘But most of all I want a daddy who will hug my mummy and stay with us for ever.’

No one spoke and Bryony gave a small shrug. ‘That’s it.’

She folded the paper carefully and put it back in her pocket, and Jack frowned.

‘I never knew she wanted someone to pick her up from school,’ he said gruffly, glancing between Oliver and Tom. ‘We could do something about that, guys.’

‘Sure.’ Tom nodded agreement immediately and Bryony lifted a hand.

‘Thank you, but no. That isn’t what she wants. In fact, that would probably make it worse because the person who is picking her up isn’t her daddy.’

Oliver frowned and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. ‘So where did it come from, this daddy business?’

‘I don’t know.’ Bryony shrugged. ‘I suppose she’s just getting to that age where children notice differences between themselves and others. Most of the kids in her class are in traditional families.’

‘You’ve been reading her too many fairy stories,’ Jack said darkly, and she shrugged.

‘She’s a little girl, Jack. Little girls dream of weddings.’

Oliver grinned at Tom. ‘Some big girls dream of weddings, too. I find it terrifying.’

‘Stop it.’ Bryony frowned in mock disapproval. ‘How my daughter has ever grown up to be remotely normal with you three around her is a mystery to me. She’s always asking me why none of you are married.’

‘Did you tell her that we’re too busy having fun?’ Tom drawled, and Bryony rolled her eyes.

‘Actually, I tell her that none of you have met the right woman yet, but that it’s bound to happen soon.’

‘Is it?’ Oliver gave a shudder, his expression comical. ‘I hope not.’

‘You’re awful. All three of you.’

Tom lifted an eyebrow in her direction. ‘Well, you’re not exactly an advert for relationships yourself, little sister. You haven’t been on a date since Lizzie was born.’

‘I know that. But that’s all going to change.’ Bryony lifted her chin. ‘I’ve decided that Lizzie needs a daddy.’

‘So what are you saying?’ Jack was staring at her, all traces of humour gone from his handsome face. ‘You’re going to go out there and marry the first guy you meet just so that she can have a daddy?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous. Of course not.’ Bryony lifted her chin and looked around her, her voice quiet but firm. ‘I’m just saying that I’m going to start dating again.’

Oliver glanced at Tom and shrugged. ‘Well, good for you.’

‘Yeah.’ Tom nodded and smiled at his sister. ‘I think it’s great. You’ve locked yourself up in a cupboard long enough. Get yourself out there, I say. Paint the town red. Or pink, if you’re using Lizzie’s colour scheme.’

Some of the other men in the team clapped her on the back and one or two made jokes about joining the queue to take her out.

Only Jack was silent, studying her with a brooding expression on his handsome face, his usual teasing smile notably absent. ‘You really think you can find her a daddy?’

‘I don’t know.’ Bryony gave a little shrug. ‘Maybe not. But if I don’t at least go on dates, it definitely won’t happen.’

When he finally spoke his tone was chilly. ‘So who’s your date with on Thursday?’

Bryony looked at him in confusion, thinking that she’d never heard Jack use that tone before. He sounded … angry. But why would he be angry? The others actually seemed pleased for her. But not Jack.

‘I’m not sure it’s any of your business,’ she teased him gently, trying to nudge their relationship back onto its usual platform, but on this occasion there was no answering smile.

‘I’m Lizzie’s godfather,’ he reminded her, his blue eyes glittering in the firelight and a muscle working in his jaw. ‘Who you choose as a daddy is very much my business.’

‘You want to interview the guys I date, Jack?’ She was still smiling, trying to keep it light, but he was glaring at her.

‘Maybe.’

Bryony gave a disbelieving laugh, her own smile fading rapidly. ‘You can’t be serious.’

‘You know absolutely nothing about the opposite sex, Blondie,’ he said coldly. ‘You’ve always refused to tell us who Lizzie’s father was but he isn’t around now which says quite a lot about your choice of men.’

Bryony gasped in shock. Lizzie’s father wasn’t a topic she discussed with anyone and Jack had never spoken to her like that before. He’d always been totally supportive of her status as a single mother.

‘I don’t know why you’re looking so disapproving,’ she said softly, aware that all the others had long since returned to their conversations and were no longer listening. Suddenly it was just the two of them and the tension in the atmosphere was increasing by the minute. ‘You date all the time.’

His mouth tightened. ‘I don’t have a seven-year-old daughter.’

‘But it’s because of her that I’m doing this!’

Jack picked up his glass from the bar, a muscle flickering in his darkened jaw. ‘That’s ridiculous. You think you can just get out there and produce a happy family like magic?’

She sighed, knowing what was behind his words. ‘No, I don’t think that, Jack. But I think that it’s time to see if I could maybe meet someone who seemed right for Lizzie and me.’

‘Your life runs very smoothly,’ he pointed out. ‘Why complicate things?’

‘Because Lizzie needs something more …’ She hesitated. ‘And I need something more, too, Jack. I’ve been on my own long enough.’

His mouth tightened. ‘So basically you’ve suddenly decided to get out there and have fun.’

‘And so what if I have?’ Bryony looked at him, confused and exasperated. ‘I just don’t understand your attitude! You and my brothers have practically worked your way through most of the females in Cumbria.’

Streaks of colour touched his incredible cheekbones. ‘That’s different.’

Suddenly Bryony decided she’d had enough. ‘Because you’re a man and I’m a woman?’

‘No.’ His fingers tightened on his glass. ‘Because I don’t have any responsibilities.’

‘No. You’ve made sure of that. And there’s no need to remind me of my responsibilities to Lizzie. That’s what started this, remember?’ She glared at him, suddenly angry with him for being so judgmental. ‘Lizzie wants a daddy and it’s my job to find her one. And I’m more than happy to try and find someone I can live with because frankly I’m sick and tired of being on my own, too.’

How could she have been so stupid as to put herself on ice for so long? She should have realised just how deep-rooted his fear of commitment was. Should have realised that Jack Rothwell would never settle down with anyone, let alone her.

It was definitely time to move on.

‘I’m going home,’ she said coldly, slipping off the barstool and avoiding his gaze. ‘I’ll see you at work tomorrow.’

She heard his sharp intake of breath and knew that he was going to try and stop her, but she virtually ran to the door, giving him no opportunity to intercept her.

She didn’t want to talk to him. Didn’t want to hear all the reasons why she shouldn’t have a boyfriend when he dated a non-stop string of beautiful women.

She’d call Oliver later and apologise for ducking out without saying goodbye, but she knew he wouldn’t mind. They were a close family and she adored her brothers. At least they’d been encouraging.

Which was more than could be said for Jack.

Why had he acted like that? All right, he was absolutely against marriage, but it wasn’t his marriage they were talking about. It was hers, and Jack was usually warm and supportive of everything she did. They never argued. They were best friends.

She unlocked her car quickly, feeling tears prick her eyes.

Well, if dating other men meant losing Jack as a friend, then so be it. She’d wasted enough time on him. He didn’t even notice her, for goodness’ sake!

And if she’d needed confirmation that it was time to move on, she had it now.

Jack banged his empty glass down on the bar and cursed under his breath.

‘Nice one, Jack,’ Oliver said mildly, clapping him on the shoulder and glancing towards the door. ‘I thought the three of us agreed that we weren’t going to bring up the thorny subject of Lizzie’s father.’

Jack groaned and ran a hand over his face. ‘I know, I know.’ He let out a long breath. ‘It’s just that she knows nothing about men—’

‘She’s twenty-seven.’

‘So?’ Jack glared at Oliver. ‘And we know that she hasn’t been out with a man since Lizzie was conceived. That guy broke her heart! I don’t want her making the same mistake again. She’s obviously never got over him. What if she picks someone on the rebound?’

Tom joined them. ‘I’m not sure you can rebound after seven years,’ he said mildly, and Jack’s mouth tightened.

‘So why does Lizzie never date, then?’

Tom looked at him steadily. ‘I don’t know …’

‘Yes you do.’ Jack’s eyes narrowed as he studied his friend. ‘You think you know. I can tell.’

Tom shook his head and drained his glass. ‘No. I don’t know.’ He studied his empty glass. ‘But I can guess.’

Jack frowned. ‘So what’s your guess?’

Tom gave a funny smile and looked at Oliver. ‘My guess is that she has a particular guy on her mind,’ he drawled casually, ‘and until she gets over him, she can’t move on.’

‘Precisely what I said,’ Jack said smugly. ‘She needs to get over Lizzie’s father.’

And with that he grabbed his jacket and strode out of the pub after her.

Oliver looked at Tom. ‘I always thought he was a bright guy. How did he ever come top in all those exams?’

Tom gave a faint smile. ‘He’ll get there in the end.’

‘Unless Bry meets someone else.’

‘Bryony has been in love with Jack for twenty-two years,’ Tom said calmly, glancing at the barman and waggling his glass. ‘She’s never going to fall in love with anyone else.’

‘So what happens now?’

Tom reached for his wallet. ‘I think we’re in for a very interesting few weeks. Happy birthday, bro. This one’s on me.’

Damn.

Jack strode out to the car park, cursing himself for being so tactless. He couldn’t believe he’d argued with Bryony. He never argued with Bryony. Or, at least, not seriously. Bryony was the nearest he had to family and their relationship was all banter and teasing and a great deal of confiding. Well, on his part at least. He told her everything about his relationships and she was always giving him little suggestions. And that was one of the things he loved about their friendship. Unlike the women he dated, Bryony never tried to change him or lecture him. She just accepted him as he was. He was more comfortable in her kitchen than any other place in the world. And now he’d upset her.

What the hell had come over him?

He looked round the car park, part of him hoping that she was still there, but of course she was long gone. He just hoped she wasn’t driving too quickly. The air was freezing and the roads would be icy.

He gritted his teeth and swore under his breath. She’d been really upset by his comments and there was a very strong chance that he’d made her cry. Despite the fact that she rarely let him see it, he knew she was soft-hearted. He’d known her since she was five, for goodness’ sake, and he knew her better than anyone.

Realising that he had a big apology to make, he ran a hand over his face and strolled to his car, pressing the remote control on his keyring.

He could drive over to her cottage now, of course, but she’d still be mad with him and anyway her mother would be there so they wouldn’t be able to talk properly.

No. The apology was best left until they could be alone.

If he’d been dating her he would have sent her flowers, but he’d never sent Bryony flowers in his life, and if he did she’d think he’d gone mad.

He slid into his sports car and dropped his head back against the seat.

No doubt, now that word was out that she was going to start dating, flowers would be arriving for her thick and fast.

He growled low in his throat, tension rising in him as he contemplated the impact that her announcement had made.

Why had she chosen to tell the whole pub? Didn’t she know that all the guys lusted after her? That with her long silken blonde hair and her fabulous curvy body, she couldn’t walk across a room without stopping conversations? And he felt every bit as protective towards her as he knew her brothers did.

And now some sleazy guy would come along and take advantage of her, and she was so trusting and inexperienced with men she wouldn’t even notice until it was too late.

Jack reversed the car out of its space, crunching the gears viciously. Well, not while he was available to prevent it happening.

She’d become pregnant in her second year at medical school and neither he nor her brothers had been around to sort the guy out. Damn it, she hadn’t even told them who he was. Just mumbled something about the whole thing being a mistake and refused to even discuss it even though Tom and Oliver had pumped her for hours.

Well, there wasn’t going to be another mistake, Jack thought grimly, his strong hands tightening on the wheel. Because now there was Lizzie’s happiness to think of, too. No one was going to hurt either one of his girls.

From now on, if any guy so much as looked at Bryony the wrong way, if there was even a scent of someone messing her around, he’d step in and floor them.

Satisfied that he was back in control of the situation, he stopped trying to pulverise his precious car and slowed his pace.

All he needed to do now was plan. He needed to know exactly whom she was dating so that he could issue a warning.

Bryony let herself into the house and found her mother in the kitchen. ‘Is she asleep?’

‘Fast asleep.’ Her mother dried her hands on a towel. ‘You’re back early, darling. Is something wrong?’

‘No.’ Bryony unwrapped the scarf from around her neck and tossed it onto the chair. Her coat followed.

‘Bryony, I’m your mother. I can tell when something is wrong.’

Bryony glared at her, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears. ‘Jack Rothwell, that’s what’s wrong!’

‘Ah.’ Her mother gave a smile and turned to put the kettle on. ‘Tea?’

‘I suppose so.’ Bryony slumped into the nearest chair and sighed. ‘He is the most infuriating man.’

‘Is he?’

‘You know he is.’

Her mother reached for the tea bags. ‘I know that you two have been very close for almost the whole of your lives,’ she said mildly. ‘I’m sure that whatever it is you’ve quarrelled about will go away.’

‘The man dates every woman on the planet,’ Bryony said, still outraged by his attitude, ‘but when I announce that I’m going to start going out with men, he’s suddenly disapproving. And he had the nerve to lecture me on my responsibilities to Lizzie!’

‘Did he?’ Her mother looked thoughtful. ‘That’s very interesting.’

‘Interesting?’ Bryony shot her mother an incredulous look. ‘Irritating, you mean. And hypocritical. How many girlfriends has Jack Rothwell had since I first met him?’

Her mother poured the tea. ‘Quite a few, I should think.’

‘Half the planet,’ Bryony said flatly. ‘He certainly isn’t in a position to lecture me about morals.’

‘I imagine he thought he was protecting Lizzie.’

Bryony stared at her. ‘From what?’

Her mother put two mugs on the table and sat down opposite her. ‘Jack hasn’t had a very positive experience of marriage, sweetheart.’

‘You mean because of his parents?’

Her mother’s mouth tightened with disapproval. ‘Well, you know my opinion on that. They were grown-ups. He was a child. They should have sorted out their differences amicably. After his father walked out, Jack spent most of his childhood at our house and I don’t think his mother even noticed he wasn’t at home. She was too busy enjoying herself to remember that she had a child.’

Bryony bit her lip, suddenly realising why Jack might have been so sensitive about her dating. ‘But I wouldn’t do that. That isn’t what this is about.’

‘I know. But you understand Jack better than anyone,’ her mother said calmly. ‘He wasn’t thinking about you, darling. He was thinking about his own experiences.’

Bryony bit her lip. ‘Do you think I should start dating, Mum?’

‘Certainly I think you should date,’ her mother replied calmly. ‘I’ve always thought you should date, but you’ve always been too crazy about Jack to notice anyone else.’

Bryony stared at her, opened her mouth to deny it and then caught the look in her mother’s eye and closed it again. ‘You know that?’

‘I’m your mother. Of course I know that.’

‘He doesn’t notice me.’

‘You’re a huge part of Jack’s life,’ her mother said mildly. ‘He virtually lives here. But that’s going to have to change if you really are going to date other men.’

Bryony curled her hands round her mug. ‘But I don’t want it to change my friendship with Jack.’

‘One day you’ll get married again,’ her mother said quietly, ‘and I can’t see any man wanting to see Jack lounging in your kitchen every time he comes home from work. Of course your friendship is going to change.’

Bryony stared into her mug, a hollow feeling inside her. She didn’t want things to change. Despite their row, she couldn’t imagine not having Jack in her life.

But she couldn’t carry on the way she was now, for Lizzie’s sake.

‘Then I suppose I’ll just have to get used to that,’ she said, raising her mug in the air. ‘Cheers. To my future.’

Her mother lifted her mug in response. ‘May it turn out the way you want it to,’ she said cryptically, and Bryony let out a long breath.

She wasn’t really sure what she wanted.

But she knew Lizzie needed a daddy.

The next morning she was woken by her pager.

‘Is that a callout?’ Lizzie was by her bed in a flash, her eyes huge. ‘Is someone in trouble on the mountain?’

Bryony picked up her pager and was reading the message when the phone rang. Lizzie grabbed it immediately.

‘Hunter household, Elizabeth Hunter speaking,’ she said formally, the angle of her chin suggesting that she was very proud of herself. She listened for a moment and then a smile spread across her face. ‘Hello, Jack! Yes, Mummy’s right here … I’ll tell her. Will I see you later?’

Bryony pulled on her clothes and sprinted to the bathroom to clean her teeth. By the time she’d finished, Lizzie was off the phone.

‘There’s a party of Duke of Edinburgh Award boys overdue,’ she said importantly. ‘They’re sending out the whole team but Sean wants you and Jack to be an advance party. Jack is picking you up in five minutes.’

‘Five minutes.’ Bryony hurried through to the kitchen, grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl and dropped some bread in the toaster. ‘Get your school things, sweetheart. Jack and I will drop you at Grandma’s on the way past and she can take you to school.’

Lizzie sprinted off and Bryony sent up a silent prayer of thanks that she had her mother close by. How did single parents manage without mothers?

By the time Jack hammered on the door, Lizzie was dressed and was standing by the door with her schoolbag, munching toast.

She stood on tiptoe and opened the door.

‘Hi, there.’ Jack stooped and swung her into his arms, squeezing her tightly. ‘Are we dropping you with Grandma?’

‘We certainly are.’ Bryony walked into the hall and picked up her rucksack and the other bits and pieces that she’d piled by the door, avoiding Jack’s gaze. She was grateful that Lizzie was there. At least it prevented her from having to continue the conversation from the night before.

She was still hurt and angry by Jack’s response to her announcement that she was going to start dating.

They piled into the mountain rescue vehicle and Jack drove down the lane that led to Bryony’s cottage and turned onto the main road.

‘So what’s the story?’ Bryony twisted her blonde hair into a ponytail and pushed it under a woolly hat. Then she rummaged in her bag for her gloves.

Jack kept his eyes on the road. ‘Two boys have been reported overdue. They should have been back down last night but they didn’t appear.’

Bryony frowned. ‘So why did no one call the team last night?’

‘They were camping and didn’t leave their plans with anyone so no one noticed until their friends stumbled into camp this morning and raised the alarm. The weather was foul last night, which is doubtless why Sean is worried.’

Lizzie stared at him, her eyes huge. ‘Have they called the helicopter?’

‘Yes, sweetheart.’ Jack glanced at her with a smile. ‘But the weather is pretty awful so Sean, the MRT leader, wants your mum and me to get going up that mountain in case we can help.’

‘Why do you and Mummy always go together?’

Jack turned his attention back to the road and pulled the vehicle up outside Bryony’s mother’s house. ‘Because your mum and I have always worked together in the mountain rescue team,’ he said lightly. ‘When your mum trained, I was her buddy. I looked after her.’

‘And you still look after her,’ Lizzie said happily, jumping down from the vehicle and grabbing her school-bag.

‘I don’t need looking after,’ Bryony said crossly, glaring at Jack and calling after Lizzie, ‘Sweetheart, ask Grandma to give you some more breakfast. I’ll see you later.’

They waited until Bryony’s mother opened the door and then Jack gave a wave and hit the accelerator.

Suddenly Bryony was very aware that it was just the two of them and she stared out of the window, for the first time in her life not knowing what to say.

‘We think we know where they are,’ Jack told her, flicking the indicator and turning down a narrow road. ‘It’s just a question of what state they’ll be in when we get there.’

Which was why Sean had sent them as the advance party, Bryony thought. He wanted doctors. Which meant that he was anticipating trouble.

She picked up the map. ‘What’s the grid reference?’

He told her and she traced it with her finger. ‘They’re in the ghyll?’

‘Sounds like it.’

Bryony looked at him in concern. ‘But the water level is terribly high after all that rain we’ve had …’

‘That’s right.’ Jack’s voice was even and he brought the vehicle to a halt. ‘Which is why we need to get a move on. Personally I doubt they’ll be able to fly a helicopter in this. Sean has called the whole team out, but we’re going on ahead.’

He sprang out of the vehicle and reached for the equipment that they’d need. They worked quickly and quietly, each knowing what the other was doing.

‘You ready?’ Jack lifted an eyebrow in her direction and she nodded.

‘Let’s go.’

Jack set off at a fast pace and Bryony followed, knowing that speed was important. After a night out in the open in the wet and temperatures below freezing, the boys would be in serious trouble.

They had to reach them fast.

The path grew steeper, the mist came down and Jack shook his head. ‘It’s November, it’s freezing cold and the visibility is zero.’ He hitched his rucksack more comfortably on his broad shoulders and squinted into the mist. ‘Who the hell chooses to climb mountains at this time of year?’

‘You do it all the time,’ Bryony pointed out, checking her compass again. ‘One of these days we’re going to be out here rescuing you.’

‘Never.’ He winked and gave her a sexy grin. ‘I am invincible.’

Bryony rolled her eyes. ‘And arrogant.’ She stopped dead and he looked at her questioningly.

‘Why have you stopped?’

‘Because your ego is blocking my path.’

Jack laughed and then the laughter faded. ‘Listen, Blondie, about last night—’

‘Not now,’ Bryony said hastily. She really didn’t want to tackle the subject again so soon, especially not halfway up a mountain.

‘I just wanted to apologise,’ he said softly. ‘I was out of line. You’re a brilliant mother and I know you’ll do what’s right for Lizzie.’

Stunned by his apology, Bryony lost her ability to speak. She’d never heard Jack apologise for anything before.

‘Let’s forget it,’ she mumbled, and Jack nodded, his blue eyes studying her closely.

‘All right. We’ll talk about it later.’ He glanced up the path and frowned. ‘There is no way that helicopter is going to fly in this.’

‘So we evacuate them down the mountain.’

He nodded and then turned to her, his eyes twinkling wickedly. ‘Why did the blonde stare at the can of frozen orange juice?’ He leaned forward and tucked a strand of hair back under her hat. ‘Because it said “concentrate”.’

Bryony tipped her head on one side and stared back at him. ‘Why are men like government bonds?’ He lifted an eyebrow, his eyes dancing, and she smiled sweetly. ‘Because they take for ever to mature. Now, can we get on with this rescue?’