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Locking the gate at the bottom of her driveway, she turned for the house and groaned. The hole in the asphalt had overflowed, sending water streaming out to the road. Water, water everywhere …
‘It’s so tempting.’
Despite her angst with the world she felt a flicker of mischief unfurl deep inside, and she raised a grin. Might as well get some fun out of the day and act like the delinquent Mr Pederson believed her to be. This hopelessness needed stomping on—and stuff the shoes. It was doubtful she’d be wearing them again anyway.
Karina breathed deep and leapt into the air to land in the shallow hole. Splashes of murky water shot in every direction, including up her legs. Up, down, splash, splash. She pretended the tears leaking from the corners of her eyes were from pure pleasure, and not exasperation at her inability to fix the current crisis.
‘I want to do that!’ Mickey yelled from the veranda.
‘Come on, then.’
So the sore tummy had recovered. She watched anxiously as he leapt off the steps and charged towards her.
‘Go easy,’ she muttered. She hated that he believed he was invulnerable. But she also acknowledged that his condition mustn’t hold him back.
Splash. Mickey’s round face split wide into a grin. Bending his knees, he bombed his feet into the deepest water he could find. His shrieks filled the air, and soon Karina was laughing hard. To hell with banks and money and everything. This was what life was about: enjoying the little things, and especially having fun with this boy she loved so much.
When Mickey was totally soaked she grabbed his hand and started for the house. ‘Let’s get into dry clothes and then I’ll make us hot chocolate drinks.’
‘Can we?’ Mickey shouted. ‘Really?’
‘I reckon.’ She bounded up the steps and kicked off her shoes. ‘Is Mr Grumpy here or out in the shed?’
‘Inside our place.’
She untied Mickey’s laces and tugged his shoes and socks off. ‘Straight to the bathroom, please. Get out of those clothes while I find you some dry ones.’
‘What about my hot chocolate?’
‘After you’ve changed.’
She ruffled his hair and gently pushed him inside, before banging the door shut behind them. Dropping her sopping bag and the useless umbrella into the bucket in the corner, she spun around to head to her bedroom and pulled up short at the sight of a man walking towards her.
‘Who are you?’ she gasped, though from the way goose-bumps were lifting her skin she already had an inkling. So much for hoping he was weeks away. But, hey, it was that kind of day.
‘Logan Pascale.’ The long and lean, tanned man held a hand out to her. ‘You’re Karina Brown?’ His eyes were very wide, and definitely not focused on her face.
Automatically putting her hand in his, she tried to lock eyes with him, but he was staring at something below her chin. When she followed the direction of his gaze she gasped again. Every last scrap of her clothing was wet, clinging to her like plastic wrap, and her blouse was more see-through than if she’d worn nothing. Her breasts pushed hard against her bra … her very lacy, transparent bra.
Open up, floor, right now. Gobble me up.
When nothing happened she dredged deep for what little pride she could muster. ‘Yes, I’m Karina.’ She lifted her head to study the stranger who held the future of Mickey’s home in the warm, strong hand she was still holding. Snatching her hand free, she stepped back and returned to scrutinising him.
‘Jonty let me in. He’s popped home for a moment.’
Despite the chill settling over her due to all that wetness, warmth eased through her body, touching her tummy, her toes, her face. He might be too lean for her taste, but her body didn’t seem to care if the way it responded when she looked at him was an indicator. His face was gaunt, as if he needed feeding up. But those eyes were what really caught at her. Piercing, yet guarded, while also holding a hint of humour and compassion. A disturbing mix.
Oh, man, this was so wrong. The guy should come with a warning label. Don’t come near unless you hold all the aces. She was short on aces today. Worse, she couldn’t stop staring.
Tall … Okay, anyone was tall compared to her. Oh, and he had the most gorgeous crop of overlong black hair, while his day-old stubble made her mouth water.
‘Karina, I want my clothes!’ Mickey yelled.
‘Coming,’ she called back, far more quietly.
‘I’ll wait for you in the kitchen,’ her distracting visitor told her. ‘Want me to make that hot chocolate I heard you mention?’
‘With marshmallows, ta.’
He was already acting as if he lived here. She shrugged. Get over it. Logan Pascale owned half the place; he could come and go as he pleased. Was that good or bad? That warmth he’d engendered evaporated, leaving her shivering with cold and apprehension as she opened drawers to find Mickey some clothes.
Logan did hold all the aces. He wanted to sell the place she’d made her home and had believed she’d live in for many years to come. He had as much right to make decisions about the property and Mickey’s future as she did. But had he even heard of joint decisions? Her sigh was filled with annoyance and frustration of the most irritating kind. If he thought selling up would help his nephew’s cause then he didn’t know damn all about Mickey.
But of course he didn’t. Visiting briefly once a year meant he hardly knew his nephew. Hadn’t seen the day-to-day growing up stuff, didn’t know what he liked and hated, wouldn’t understand how the Down syndrome affected him.
No doubt Logan intended getting things done fast so he could fly away again, leaving her to cope with the mess he’d created.
Well, think again, Pascale. I’m made of stronger stuff.You won’t get away with it. I’ve grown a backbone because of men like you. Men who charm women out of their three-inch-high shoes all because they have a hidden agenda.
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_d00d704e-e6bc-5f71-b94c-4ef1a954b23a)
LOGAN DRAGGED HIS eyes forward and headed to the kitchen. His mouth twisted into a tight smile. He might have stopped staring at that bundle of unbridled energy, but her image still seared his brain. Her small body, with those clothes moulded to each and every curve, those enormous eyes the colour of the hot drinks he was about to make blinking out of that elfin face.
From the little he knew about her he understood that she’d walked away from an extremely comfortable life and all that entailed. He certainly hadn’t been expecting to be surprised by her energy for life. When he’d first seen Karina carrying on in the driveway, before Mickey had joined her, he’d thought she was a teenager playing hooky from school, not the qualified nurse taking care of his nephew.
He’d felt a delicious shock when he’d realised those curves certainly didn’t belong to a teenager, but instead to an all-grown-up woman. A very tempting grown-up woman. It wasn’t difficult to imagine running his hands over that body. Damn it. He couldn’t afford to get sidetracked, even for a few hours. He might have been living the life of a monk lately, but that would have to continue at least while he visited Motueka and sorted out Mickey’s future—starting with making arrangements to sell this place.
‘Kar—ina, where are you? I’m ready.’
Did Mickey ever talk in fewer decibels than a jet on take-off?
‘Coming, kiddo.’
At least Karina replied quietly, in a soft, almost caressing tone.
Caressing. As in stroking, touching …
Logan stomped through to the kitchen, where everything appeared spotless. Nothing like what he was used to in the over-used, under-tidied kitchens of Nigeria, where all energy went into helping people rather than putting things away in cupboards only so that someone could remove them again moments later. This was kind of a nice change. Homey.
Whoa. They were going to sell this place. Getting comfortable and cosy wasn’t an option.
He had no difficulty finding chocolate to go into the milk he’d put on to heat. A stack of bars stood right beside the tin of drinking chocolate powder in the pantry, along with packets of marshmallows. He popped a marshmallow in his mouth as he stirred the milk, savouring the sweet burst of flavour on his tongue.
Karina bounced into the small space, using up what little air there was, bumping him with her elbows or hips every time she moved—which was constantly. While those curves were now hidden under trousers and a chambray shirt, he knew they were there. Her hair was damp and curls were beginning to fly, adding to that waif-like appearance.
‘Will you look at that?’ She nodded in the direction of the window. ‘It’s already stopped raining. Put on for my benefit, was it?’ She came closer and peered into the pot. ‘Looking good. Pour Mickey’s before it gets too hot. He doesn’t like waiting for it to cool.’
Trying to ignore the scent of roses and damp hair wafting around her, Logan reached for the mug she held out. ‘Sure. He’s grown heaps since I was last here.’ Concentrate on Mickey and the perfume will eventually evaporate. He hoped.
‘Kids do tend to grow and change quite a bit in a year.’ She placed two more mugs on the bench. ‘I presume you’re joining us in our hot chocolate moment?’
‘Might as well.’
There hadn’t been a hint of sting in her words, and yet the guilt they caused tightened his gut enough to ache. He hadn’t been the best uncle, or brother, over the years. He knew that more than anyone.
‘I would’ve been back nearly two months ago except for an exceptional circumstance.’
Why justify himself to this woman? It was none of her business. Except …
‘I’m sorry you’ve had to shoulder all the responsibility for Mickey since James and Maria died.’ Not to mention the medical centre that had been James’s pride and joy, and had seemed too dull to him.
She shrugged. ‘No worries.’
‘Understatement your thing, is it?’
This house had had more than its share of problems due to lack of maintenance over the years. The lawyers had made sure he knew about every last fault. At least that was something he could, and would, fix. He had an appointment at two o’clock to talk to a real estate agent and get the property on the market. Getting it up to scratch was part of his agenda over the next few weeks.
‘Not that I’m aware.’ Karina opened a tin from the pantry and placed some cookies on a plate. ‘I’m sorry you missed the funeral. We held off as long as possible, but no one could track you down.’
Wow, she had a way of ramping up the guilt without even trying. His gut wanted to regurgitate that marshmallow.
‘There are often days—weeks in the rainy season— when all contact with the outside world is lost.’ He wasn’t going to mention that, where he’d been at that critical time, contact with anyone had been impossible.
A small hand rested on his forearm, orange-tipped fingers splaying lightly on his shirtsleeve. Each fingertip was a heat source, tripping through his chilled body and reminding him of easier times. Carefree times.
She said quietly, ‘I wasn’t having a poke at you. I understand the difficulties. James mentioned how hard it could be to get hold of you in Nigeria.’
If only the reason had been that simple. His eyes locked with hers, saw nothing but genuine sympathy there. Sympathy that should be tightening his shoulders and making him prove he didn’t need it but was instead undermining his determination to remain aloof and do what was needed as quickly as possible before he headed back to a world he understood.
But he didn’t understand it. Not any more. Strange how the easy look in Karina’s eyes made him long for a break, here, in this quiet town where people really were safe. To be able to take each day slowly, get his body back in shape, his head thinking straight, and to get to know his nephew. Time even to get to know Karina Brown.
Jerking his arm away, he snapped, ‘If it had been at all possible to get here I would’ve.’ He drew in a deep breath, tried for calm. ‘But it wasn’t possible.’
If he’d stepped one foot outside his prison hut his body would have been riddled with bullets and he’d have been left to the flies and the vultures.
Hot milk splashed on the bench as he poured the liquid into the mugs.
Karina deftly wiped up the spill before dropping two marshmallows on top of each drink. ‘Mickey, sit up at the table. You can have one cookie before lunch.’
She perched on a chair beside the boy, holding her mug in both hands, her gaze thoughtful. Was she trying to believe he’d been telling the truth?
‘How did you get on at the bank?’ he asked, in an attempt to distract her from his apparent failings as an uncle.
‘How did you know that’s where I was?’ She shifted on her chair, began twisting the mug back and forth between her hands.
‘Jonty mentioned it when I introduced myself.’
‘That surprises me.’ She sighed, then stood up abruptly. ‘I’d better go see if I’m needed before surgery closes for lunch. Keep an eye on Mickey, will you?’
Oh, no, you don’t.
Logan cut off her mad dash by taking her arm and holding on until she turned to look up at him. ‘I’ve been over there. Everything’s under control.’
‘You checked up on my surgery?’
Could those eyes get any bigger? ‘Isn’t it our surgery?’ he asked quietly. ‘I wasn’t checking up on anything. I was introducing myself.’
The air hissed over her bottom lip as she sagged in on herself. Pulling her arm away, she dropped onto the chair she’d hurriedly vacated.
‘Yes, I went to the bank. No, they won’t lend me the money I need to buy you out. Any further questions?’ she snapped.
He lifted out another chair, flicked it around to straddle it, and folded his arms over the top. ‘Why do you want to buy me out? Doesn’t it make sense to sell this rambling old place, with its huge grounds, and buy a new, comfortable, easily kept home?’
‘No. It. Doesn’t.’
The words fell like heavy weights between them.
‘This is Mickey’s home, the place where he remembers his mum and dad. I will not take him away from here. He gets upset enough as it is some days.’
‘I see.’
‘Do you?’ Those perfectly shaped eyebrows lifted. ‘What about the surgery? If we sell the house, where’s that going to be relocated?’
‘I’d have thought that’d be the last thing you’d want to be bothered with. I know you struggle to keep a GP full-time.’
She could have told him what he already knew, that she’d managed with locums so far. But she didn’t. Instead she went for his throat. ‘Unless you have plans to take over?’
Logan stood up so fast the chair knocked against the table. ‘Are you out of your mind?’
Him? Working in a small town, dealing with the everyday stuff of colds and stomach bugs and high blood pressure? Signing on for ever?
‘That would not work. Believe me.’
He strode over to stare out of the window onto the drive, with its hole that needed repairing, and swore silently. Not in a million years. He wanted to be with people who had no choices, who were forever grateful for any little help they got. People who came and went so quickly they didn’t cling to his life.
Mickey banged his empty mug on the table. ‘I want to play with Mr Grumpy.’
Karina didn’t move, almost as though she hadn’t heard Mickey. Even if the neighbours probably had.
Logan turned. ‘Who’s Mr Grumpy?’
‘He teaches me things.’ Mickey slid off the chair and picked up his mug to bang it on the bench. ‘Doesn’t he, Karina?’
‘Yes, he does, sweetheart.’ She stood up. ‘And I should’ve changed Jonty’s dressing before now.’
Definitely looking for an excuse to escape him.
‘Can it wait a few more minutes and I’ll come with you?’ When she looked at him with astonishment, he hastened to add, ‘I take it Jonty and Mr Grumpy are one and the same.’
