Midwives On Call At Christmas: Midwife's Christmas Proposal

‘Go on. Open it.’

Something was going on because there was definite mischief in his eyes as he waited for her to open the parcel.

She glanced down at the address. ‘It’s from the parachuting club.’

‘Let me guess. You’ve become a life member.’

She had to laugh at that. ‘Only if they want a resident midwife—but I don’t imagine there’s a lot of call for parachuting pregnant ladies.’

‘Perhaps not.’ He was still waiting for her to open it obviously.

‘Aren’t you going to leave me in peace?’ She looked across and raised her eyes. ‘Sticky beak?’

‘Yep.’

She smiled and began to ease open the package, careful not to tear any of the envelope.

He huffed out his impatience. But he was pretending. ‘Rip it!’

‘No.’ Shook her head. ‘Envelopes can be re-used. And it’s not like I get many parcels.’

He folded his arms and she could feel his eagerness. She began to suspect what it was. Oh, my. ‘Did you buy me the package, Simon?’

She surprised a look of wariness on his face she hadn’t expected. He didn’t say anything, just waited for her to pull it out.

When she did she couldn’t speak. It was a bound volume of at least a hundred photos from right at the beginning of her instruction session to the moment she actually launched into space and all the way down until they landed. And then she saw the DVD.

She’d seen the camera on Lawrence’s arm but had assumed it was there for safety reasons and had been sort of aware they’d been filming some of the jump. Not the whole lot!

If she thought about it she’d guessed some people might change their mind and buy packages after the jump. She’d lusted after one but had decided it was an expense she hadn’t needed.

And Simon had bought her the full extravaganza. How did she thank him for something so huge—it was too huge—but it wasn’t the sort of gift you could give back and say, You keep it. He just kept taking her breath away.

His voice was worried when she didn’t say anything. ‘Hope that’s okay? I know how independent you are. But I just thought everyone would like to see your adventure too—without having to jump,’ he added hastily. ‘I can afford it, you know.’

‘I guess you can. And it was a lovely thing to do. Probably the loveliest thing anyone has done for me—except maybe the birthday cake the other day.’ She leaned across and kissed his cheek but it was a dutiful kiss. ‘But that’s it. Don’t start buying presents for me, Simon. I move a lot and can’t build up possessions.’ Or unreal expectations.

He shook his head. ‘You don’t have to move a lot.’

He just didn’t get it. The world always moved you on when you started to love a place. ‘Sure. Okay. And thank you.’

She could feel the tears pushing one way as she pushed them back the other but more than that she wanted to look at the pictures and re-immerse herself in the jump so she could forget the look in his eyes. The more she thought about it and the reason Simon had said he’d done it, the more touched she was.

She was an ungrateful wretch with no gift-receiving skills. Where the heck did you get those skills? She leant across and kissed him on the mouth this time. The anticipation was building. ‘I’m sorry. Thank you. It is great.’ She glanced at him under her brows. ‘Wanna look with me?’

He seemed to deflate with relief and she realised he wasn’t as calm as he looked. Maybe Simon was having a hard time dealing with the undercurrents between them too? An intriguing thought that could come back to haunt her.

He slid next to her until their thighs were touching, and she wondered what the passing manger lovers would think about Dr Campbell snuggling up to the midwife, but then she gave up and prepared to open the book. The relief in his face confirmed her suspicion. He’d been worried he’d upset her and she guessed she could get tetchy so he’d been brave to push ahead and buy it. The guy was certainly a keeper. Such a darned shame she couldn’t.

Instead, she opened the album and the first picture captured the day. There she was, the plane disappearing above them, and an expression of sheer exhilaration on her face as they freefell into the clouds. She looked at Simon and there was a look of indulgence on his face that made her pause and then dismiss the ridiculous idea that he might care for her just a little more than she’d thought.

After a hilarious fifteen minutes sitting on the bench, poring over the album, they took the DVD into the house, where they dragged Louisa and Maeve into the lounge room to watch it on the old television.

During the ten-minute DVD Louisa gasped and covered her mouth and even Maeve laughed out loud and expressed her envy that Tara had done something she’d wanted to do. Then it was over and Louisa and Maeve went back to the kitchen and she had to go and check on one of her early labour mums.

‘Thanks again, Simon.’ She’d probably kissed him enough, she admitted with a definite tug of despondency as she turned away. ‘I’d better get going on my home visit.’

Simon nodded and held the door for her and he didn’t lean down enough for her to attempt any sort of cheek-kissing salutation like he did. But he did say, ‘So when are you going to take me on your bike?’

That stopped her. She’d thought it unlikely this conversation would ever come up. And it wasn’t like she could say no now. In fact, she owed him big time. ‘Any time you’re ready.’

He shrugged. ‘I’m officially off call and ready when you are. Make a date and do your worst.’

She looked him over coolly but inside she was doing a little shaking and wondering if this would be a clever thing to do. Simon, pressed up against her, his arms holding on tight. Leaning into corners together. His strong thighs alongside her thighs. But there was barely a wobble in her voice when she answered, thank goodness. ‘I don’t have a worst. Where did you want to go?’

He shrugged. ‘It doesn’t really matter as long as I get to try the full experience.’

This was getting weirder. Whatever that meant. ‘Fine. Then Saturday. We’ll go up to the lookout, it’s a nice drive through the forest and it’s a great place to watch the sunset.’

‘You’re on.’

Almost enthusiastic. Her voice held a hint of indulgence. ‘You’ll be wanting to parachute next.’

‘I haven’t ruled it out in the far distant future.’

She looked at him and he was smiling but whether he was teasing or serious she couldn’t work out. What she could read made her cheeks feel hot. She almost wished he didn’t look at her like that because it was going to be incredibly hard some time in the definite future when the feeling it gave her was lost.

But then her sensible side, the one that said she would survive no matter what, decided that being with Simon was like parachuting—the rush was incredible but the reality was the ground waiting for you. But it didn’t mean you shouldn’t enjoy the ride. This would never last but it was wonderful while it did and from now on she was going to take what was on offer with open arms.

On Saturday Simon was waiting for her when she returned from an unscheduled home visit. One of her caseload ladies was having breastfeeding problems so Tara had sat with her for the last feed until mum and baby were back in sync.

She glanced at her watch. ‘Do we still have time before sunset? Or do you want to wait until tomorrow afternoon?’

‘I’ve been waiting all day to hang off the back of your bike.’ The words were jaunty but the unease was not quite hidden on Simon’s face and belied his statement as he picked up his backpack.

She had to smile at that. ‘Liar.’ She watched him slide his arms into the shoulder straps and hoist the pack onto his back in one adroitly muscular movement. Dragged her eyes away. ‘What’s in the bag?’

‘Never you mind. You worry about me and I’ll worry about the bag.’

Oh, she was worried about him all right. ‘Sounds intriguing. You’ll have to wait while I change.’ She glanced at his long jeans and solid shoes and nodded approval. ‘I don’t ride in shorts either.’

‘Tell me you come in leather.’ A wicked wink suggested he was fantasising and hoping she’d come to the party.

‘I can do.’ She raised her brows suggestively, playing along with him, and couldn’t believe how much fun this stuff was. ‘But normally only for long trips.’ She tossed over her shoulder, ‘You’ll just have to wait and see.’

Simon watched her scoot along the hallway and despite his misgivings about actually being a pillion passenger on a motorbike he had the feeling Tara would be worth waiting for. Ten agonising minutes later he wasn’t disappointed. Sweet mother!

Tara’s long sexy legs were encased in skin-tight, dull black leather trousers and high black boots. The material’s softness curved around the cutest tight little butt, and his fingers curled in his pockets. Untucked, she wore a white shirt with a plunging neckline and a short, black, sleeveless leather vest was loosely laced over the top. Yep, that completed the outfit, and he had to jam his hands into his pockets. Now he really couldn’t wait to get on her bike.

She looked like something out of a Hell’s Angels fantasy world and he was glad they were going into the country and not on the main road. He was man enough to prefer to have her to himself like this and couldn’t wait to have the excuse to hold her around her waist and snuggle up against her. Must have a latent dominatrix fantasy he hadn’t known about and he grinned to himself as he followed her outside and around to the carport.

She pulled the cover off the bike and sat astride as she wiggled it backwards. No, she wouldn’t let him help pull it out and face it the right way, so he did the next best thing and just stood there and enjoyed the show. He decided that Tara was a strong little thing, and the thought made him even hotter, in a non-weather-related way.

Tara set about checking everything was right and finally gave him the nod. She handed him her helmet and pulled her spare on.

‘So have you ever been on a bike before?’

‘No.’

‘Okay. So hold on loosely around my waist, tighter on the corners. Sit up straight. Try and lean gently into the corners in the same direction as I do. If you find the corners too hard just don’t lean the opposite way.’

‘Yes, ma’am.’

‘Good. Remember that. I’m the captain.’

The captain. He kept his tongue firmly between his teeth when he really wanted to say, Aye, Aye, and grin at her. Or kiss her. Definitely the last. He’d been waiting all day for this moment, the sliding on behind her thing, of course, not the actual motorbike thing, and as he climbed on and shifted in until his thighs were up against her leather-clad buttocks it was as exciting as he’d imagined. See. He could be adventurous.

Initially she took off slowly and rode along the back streets of the lake and Simon found that holding onto Tara while the big bike vibrated strongly beneath them was a very pleasant experience. He’d decided that worrying about accidents wouldn’t help at all so tried conscientiously to focus on the other, more positive things.

Lots of delightful sensory input to distract him, especially the really tactile stuff, like Tara’s waist was the perfect width beneath his hands, and he tried not to dwell on the fact if he reached up and spread his fingers he could span her rib cage and even brush the undersides of her breasts. Felt the uncomfortable tightness in his jeans and dragged his mind away from that scenario because it was just too uncomfortable.

Her buttocks pressed against him as they sped up an incline and if he tightened his arms his chest could stretch forward and lean into her back any time he chose.

‘You okay?’ She turned her head a little and he heard the words. She sounded strained but it was probably the wind snatching them away.

‘Fine,’ he shouted back. Conversation was impossible and he didn’t even try. They’d picked up speed and were climbing a narrow tarred road that curved around the mountain towards the lookout. Heavy forest growth hid the thousands of cicadas that were humming as a quiet thrum under the rumble of the engine as they rode along, and every now and then a circling eagle would soar into view.

The wind rushed past and he enjoyed the sensation of the breeze along his arms. Even got some of the reasons Tara enjoyed the freedom of riding her bike so much.

They came to a long curve in the road and he’d learnt to lean the same way as she did and felt a little of the thrill of adrenalin she’d talked about. He could imagine it would be even better if he was the one steering and Tara was holding on—maybe something for the future to consider.

By the time they arrived Simon was so comfortable behind Tara he’d moved on to enjoying the view but couldn’t help appreciate how comfortable and secure he felt in such a short time—testament to her skill and confidence. It still made him shake his head how she had so much control over the powerful bike considering it was bigger than she was for a start and had a whole lot more horsepower than she did.

He got off first and she propped it sideways on its stand. Flipped her helmet open to talk as she fiddled with the chin strap. ‘Enjoy that?’

‘Yes, thank you. I actually did. And I’m very impressed with your riding skill.’ His helmet was off and he stepped forward to assist her. She let him, just—irritable little thing. She obviously didn’t like asking for aid so it was nice she was learning to take some help from him.

The strap came undone and she lifted her helmet off. ‘I gave you the easy one to undo.’

‘Ah,’ he teased. ‘Of course. Thank you.’ He looked around. They had the lookout to themselves. ‘I came up here years ago but had forgotten how amazing the view is.’

They walked towards the grassy edge that disappeared into the valley below. There was a little secondary platform screened from the road and he jumped down to the next level and held out his hand. ‘It’s even nicer down here.’ He couldn’t help the satisfaction in his voice. This was an excellent place.

Hmm, Tara thought. Simon looked pretty darned hot down there. More than hot. And there was a little bit of heat singing her even up here.

A tall, tanned, smiling hunk of a man, one she admired privately and professionally, holding his hand out to invite her to join him. Though, having been sandwiched against him for the last thirty minutes, she wasn’t sure that jumping into his arms would be safe at this minute.

Looked a bit of a set-up, Tara admitted with an inward jiggle of awareness, and couldn’t help but remember what had happened after the lake, and definitely after the beach frolic, but she had way more clothes on this time. Note to self. Keep clothes on.

She shrugged mentally and took his hand as she landed beside him. Sucked in the fresh, cooler air and shaded her eyes to estimate how much longer they had to get back before dark.

‘Probably two hours till sunset?’ In the distance the lake sparkled in the afternoon sun, and the mountains behind which the sun would sink were already dusted with gold. Simon was also dusted with gold, everything felt golden, and she could feel the prickle of nervousness again. ‘I like this road for a run on the bike. I’ve been here a few times.’

The air shimmered between them with a bigger thrum than three million cicadas and the awareness in the pit of her stomach growled like a nasty case of hunger pains. Maybe it was hunger pains. She glanced at his backpack as Simon put it down on the grass. ‘So? What’s in the backpack?’

‘A picnic for the princess, of course. Louisa is renowned for her picnic hampers. And I’m not without a few surprises.’

Surprises. Yep, he liked surprises. The first time, with the birthday cake, she’d cried. She was not going to cry this time. ‘Ooh. Picnic. Cool.’

‘Prepare to be amazed.’ He crouched down. Withdrew the tartan rug and spread it in the centre of the grassed area so they were facing the view. He patted the rug beside him. ‘Come on. Down you come.’ He undid the laces on his shoes and pulled them and his socks off.

She was distracted for a minute. He had very attractive feet. Long toes and very masculine-looking feet. He wiggled the toes and she caught his eye. He was grinning at her.

Maybe she could lose her own boots? She sat down, feeling a little heated, a little confined in her outfit, and before she realised what she was doing she’d removed her vest and was reaching down for her boots.

Simon was pretending not to look as he studied the hamper with only occasional sideways glances at her cleavage. Ogler. She laughed at herself. No use getting prudish about that. Why had she worn that shirt if she hadn’t wanted him to appreciate? And she guessed she would have been miffed if he’d sat there and stared at the view and not her.

‘Yep, that’s more comfortable.’ She stretched out her legs and leaned back, resting her weight on her hands.

‘Non-alcoholic sparkling wine?’ Simon held out a plastic champagne flute and Tara grinned.

‘Classy.’

‘Story of my life.’

‘Not mine.’

‘Some people are classy no matter what. You’re one of them.’

Aw, he said the nicest things, and she could feel the prickle in her throat. Not crying. Ha, said a little voice, you said you weren’t taking any of your clothes off either.

He leant over and dull-clunked their plastic flutes in a toast. ‘To the classiest lady I know.’

‘To the smoothest man around.’ She took a sip and it wasn’t bad for a soft drink.

He took a sip and then put his flute down on the lid from the container that held cheese, nuts, celery and carrot sticks, and in the middle was a big dollop of guacamole.

‘You had that in the backpack?’

‘I told you Louisa was the picnic queen. She has a whole set of bowls she uses for hampers.’ He pulled out another that held marinated chicken wings.

By the time they’d picked and sighed over the food, laughed at how strangely hungry they were, and had eaten far too much whenever the conversation flagged, the sun hovered over the distant mountains like a gold penny about to drop.

Simon had packed the food back into the insulated backpack, Tara was gazing into the small pool of liquid in her glass, and the playful mood had deepened back into the awareness that had always been there but which now eddied between them like the afternoon breeze.

‘It’s been fun, Simon.’

‘It has, Tara.’ There was a tinge of amusement in his voice as he slid across next to her. When his hip touched hers he lay back on the rug, one hand behind his head and the other he used to catch her hand.

‘Those clouds over there look like a castle with a dragon.’

She looked up, squinted and frowned. ‘Where?’

‘You’ll have to lie down to see.’

‘Ha.’ But she lay down and he pointed and she could just see what he meant before the turbulence slowly rearranged the puffy paintwork in the sky into something else.

‘I can see a dinosaur.’

‘Where?’

‘To the left of the dragon.’ She lifted her hand and he followed where she pointed.

‘That’s not a dinosaur. More of an elephant.’

She giggled. ‘That’s not an elephant.’

He rolled onto his side and she could feel him watching her. So this is was what they meant when they said ‘basking’. Tara felt herself ‘basking’ in Simon’s appreciation and it was a feeling she’d never really experienced. Could certainly grow accustomed to it too if she had the unlikely chance of that.

He leant over and kissed the tip of her nose. It was unexpected and she sneezed.

Simon flopped back and laughed out loud. ‘It’s hard being a man, you know,’ he complained. ‘I have to make all the moves and then she sneezes.’ He put his hand over his eyes. ‘I had this fantasy that this incredibly sexy woman—dressed in black leather, mind you—would attack me and have her wicked way with me, or at least kiss me senseless.’ He sighed again. ‘But it hasn’t happened.’

Tara rolled over to face him, with her arm tucked under her cheek. Then, with a ‘nothing dared, nothing gained thought behind her eyes’, she climbed on top of him until she had one leg on either side of his body and her weight resting on her hands. She leant in and kissed his lips, once—he tasted so good—twice—mmm … yum—and a slower third time that threatened to turn into something bigger until she sat up. Feeling pretty impressed with her own daring, actually. ‘Consider yourself attacked.’

‘Mmm.’ His eyes had changed to sleepy sexy and his hands reached up and slowly pulled her face down to his. ‘I could get used to this.’

The sun was setting. And she wanted nothing more than to lose herself with Simon in this private place above the world. But she wasn’t quite sure this was the right time—goodness knew where that thought had come from. ‘I think it wouldn’t be as much fun in the dark.’

He smiled lazily and kissed her neck. ‘You sure?’

‘Mmm. Maybe it would be.’ She had no doubt it would be. No, Tara. Stop it, the voice of reason nagged in her ear. ‘But I don’t make out on deserted roads with bikers.’ She said it as a joke to lighten the moment, because Simon had been on his first bike ride now.

He pretended to be disappointed. He kissed her again. ‘I should have known that about you.’ He hadn’t given up hope.

But then she thought of Mick. The picture of a dishevelled biker. And she guessed she had. But she’d never really seen that until the end. She’d seen the lost little boy from the orphanage. The brother of her best little friend who had died so tragically young and someone who had needed her. She shuddered to think what Simon would have thought of Mick.

Simon’s face changed and obviously, unless he could read her mind, he thought it was something else. ‘You okay? I didn’t mean to upset you. Hell, Tara, I think you’re amazing. You blow me away and yet you make me feel so amazingly good.’

He rolled her off him and sat up. Reached down and pulled her up to sit next to him, tucking her into his side with his arm around her shoulders. ‘Not sure how you do that but it’s a great feeling. There’s no pressure for anything else.’

‘Ditto.’ This guy was too much. Too nice, too amazing—for her. He’d be gone in a couple of weeks and she’d look back and wish she had made love with him. It was a gift to be here with him, right at this moment, and she was throwing it back because she was too scared of the moment—or was she too scared of the emptiness later?

Simon was like the foster-home she knew she’d have to leave. It really was better not to suffer the separation. But it felt so good to be tucked into his side, his strong arm around her shoulder. Close to him.

‘You could still hold me, Simon.’

He cuddled her into him, gave the impression he couldn’t get close enough, then lifted her onto his lap. ‘Can’t think of anything I’d rather do.’

So they sat there. Tara was still on Simon’s lap as the sun set with a magnificent orange glow that turned to pink and purple in front of their eyes, reflecting off the lake, and she snuggled into his shoulder as peace seeped into her.

Then she heard the strangest thing. It sounded almost like her motorbike but distant. The throbbing roar of her Harley-Davidson. For a horrible moment she thought Mick had found her then remembered she had the bike.

Simon shifted her off his lap and stood up as she scrambled to her feet herself.

But when they looked her bike was there. Less than ten feet away from them and definitely still and quiet. Then the noise came again. The louder roar of the engine then the sound of a bike idling. It came from the bushes across the car park and Simon started to laugh.

‘What was that?’

‘If I’m not mistaken, that, dear Tara, was our lyrebird.’

‘You’re kidding me. How could a bird make that noise?’

‘World’s greatest mimickers. They can sound like babies, chainsaws …’ he grinned ‘… and apparently Harley-Davidson motorbikes.’ Simon slipped his hand into hers and pulled her into his embrace. Kissed her gently. ‘I’ll have to apologise to my dad. Lyrebirds make amazing noises. That’s pretty special.’