“I don’t want a baby!”

“I imagine you don’t. But you have one.”

“This is ridiculous.” He rose, but he didn’t come around the desk. This whole scenario was a nightmare. And any minute he’d wake up. Please…

He took a deep breath, searching for control. Searching for sanity. Glancing down at his appointment list, he registered her name.

“You’re Gemma Campbell?”

“That’s right. Fiona’s sister.”

Her tone was almost uninterested, and for the first time he realized why. She was here to hand over a baby and leave, he thought with a jolt of sick dismay. “And…and Fiona told you this…this baby was mine.”

“She did.” For the first time he saw the glimmer of a smile behind the weariness. “Though I might have guessed. Have a look for yourself.” And she lifted the blanket away from the baby’s head.

It was all he could do not to gasp.

Dear Reader,

I do like handing my doctors’ interesting cases, and I do like dreaming up fantastic consultations. So I thought, what if… (“what if” are my favorite author words) my gorgeous heroine—a woman Nate’s never met in his life—arrived for a consultation, but instead of offering Nate something ordinary like an infected toe, she’s handing him a baby. “Here you are, Doctor—here’s your daughter!”

I had a heap of fun writing To the Doctor: A Daughter. I hope you have as much fun reading it.

I’d love your feedback—contact me through my Web site at www.marionlennox.com

Happy reading!

Marion Lennox

To the Doctor: A Daughter
Marion Lennox

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER ONE

‘SHE’S your baby.’

‘I beg your pardon?’ Maybe he hadn’t heard right. It was the end of a long day and Dr Nate Ethan was thinking of the night to come. This woman was his last patient and then he was free.

Donna would be waiting. That was a good thought. Tonight was the Terama Jazzfest and he was never too tired for jazz.

Meanwhile, it looked as if he had to cope with a nutcase.

‘Excuse me?’ he said again, and forced himself to focus. Nutcase or not, she might be in trouble. He didn’t know who she was and with unknown patients nothing should be assumed.

So concentrate…

She could well be a single mum, he decided, noting the absence of a wedding ring. After six years of country medicine he noticed such things almost without trying. She was in her late twenties, he guessed, though the strain on her face made her look older. Faded jeans, a T-shirt that was old and misshapen and the knot of frayed ribbon catching back her mass of black curls suggested financial hardship.

What else? She looked as if she was in trouble, he thought. Her dark eyes—brown, almost black—were made even darker by shadows of fatigue, and her finely boned face was etched with worry.

‘How can I help you?’ he asked, his tone gentling. Hell, they had it hard, these single mums. A little boy, maybe four years old, was clinging to a fistful of her T-shirt, and she carried a baby that looked no more than a few weeks old.

‘I’m not here to ask for help.’ Her tone was as weary as her face. She seemed like someone at the end of her tether. ‘I’m here to hand over what’s yours.’ She lifted the baby toward him. ‘This is Mia. She’s four weeks old and she’s yours.’

Silence. The silence went on and on, stretching into the evening. Outside a kookaburra started laughing in the clump of eucalypts hanging over the river and the laughter seemed crazily out of place.

Would he help?

Gemma was feeling sick. Everything—her entire future—hung on what happened in the next few minutes.

Was he as irresponsible as her sister?

He looked…nice, she decided. But, then, Fiona had looked ‘nice’ and where had that got her?

Maybe, like Fiona, he was too good-looking for his own good. He was seriously handsome, in a way that could make him a candidate for the next James Bond movie. Tall, with great bone structure and a deeply tanned complexion, his size didn’t make him seem aloof. His burnt red hair was coiling forward over his brow in an endearing twist, and his deep green eyes sort of twinkled even when he wasn’t smiling.

He had great bones, she decided—the sort of bones that made a girl want to…

Whoa. She wasn’t going down that road. Never again. That was the sort of feeling that got her into this mess in the first place. The sort of feeling Fiona had had…

And on the other side of the desk…

She was a nutcase, Nate decided. Heck, as if he didn’t have enough on his plate.

Donna was waiting.

‘Um… I’ve never met you before,’ he ventured, and she nodded.

‘No.’

‘Then how—’

‘Hey, she’s not my baby,’ she told him, meeting his eyes and holding them with a look that was direct and strong. Challenging. ‘She’s yours.’

‘I don’t—’

‘My sister is…’ She caught herself at that and she bit her lip while the shadows under eyes seemed to darken. ‘My sister was Fiona Campbell. She was a locum here until last December. Do you remember her?’

His eyes widened. Fiona Campbell. He certainly remembered Fiona, and he remembered her with a certain amount of horror. ‘Yes, but—’

‘You went to bed with her?’

To bed. His gut gave a stupid lurch. You went to bed with her. Fiona…

Dear God, this was the stuff of nightmares. ‘Yes, but—’

‘There you are, then,’ she said wearily. ‘One and one make three. Fiona had your baby a month ago and she died the day after delivery.’

This time the silence seemed to reach into eternity. The woman didn’t say another word—just sat and watched, giving him time to take it in. The child by her side was silent as well. The little boy held onto her shirt fiercely, as if keeping in contact with her was the only important thing in his life. And the baby was sound asleep, nestled in a swathe of pink blankets and oblivious to the world around her.

Fiona Campbell.

Hell.

She’d been the flightiest locum. Graham, his uncle and his partner in this tiny country medical practice, had been ill and Nate had been desperate. Fiona had been the only doctor who’d answered his advertisement.

So she’d bubbled into his life, sparkling with life and totally fascinating. She had been gorgeously, stunningly beautiful.

She had also been a little bit…mad?

It had taken him time to see it. She’d lived her life to the full, hardly sleeping, partying, accepting dates with anyone who’d asked her and running on sheer adrenalin.

And from the time she’d met him she’d wanted to sleep with him.

‘We’re made for each other,’ she’d told him, seductive in her sheer audacity. ‘You’re the most gorgeous doctor I know. And what about me? Aren’t I the most gorgeous doctor you know?’

She was at that, he’d conceded. He’d been between girlfriends, she’d been bewitching in her desire to take him to her bed…and, well, a man was only human.

As soon as he’d slept with her, though, he’d known it had been a mistake. A major mistake. There had been layers beneath her surface he could scarcely imagine. She had been driven—and he didn’t know why.

So he’d slept with her. Just the once. And that had been it. He’d had the sense to back away fast. And when Graham had recovered and Fiona had left, he’d felt nothing but relief.

But when he’d slept with her…

‘We were careful,’ he said, thinking it through and thinking fast. He was hardly speaking to the woman in front of him. He was speaking only to himself. He knew enough to avoid unsafe sex. ‘She said she was protected—and I used a condom as well. Of course I did.’

‘Of course you did, and bully for you.’ The woman shrugged. ‘But are you sure she didn’t get to it first?’

His eyebrows hit his hairline. ‘What on earth do you mean?’

‘I mean what Fiona wanted Fiona generally got. And it seemed she wanted your baby.’

‘That’s ridiculous.’

‘Is it?’ She shrugged again and her shrug was a gesture of bone-weariness. ‘Fiona told me this is your baby. She said she chose you as the father, and if she decided she wanted your baby then I wouldn’t have put it past her to lie about protection—and even damage your condom before you used it. But if you’d like to do a DNA test…’

He was staring at the baby like he’d have stared at a coiled snake. She had red hair. Red hair! ‘It’s impossible.’

‘She named you as the father, using a statutory declaration before the baby was born.’ She gestured to her handbag. ‘She even signed it in front of a Justice of the Peace. Do you want to see?’

‘No!’

‘Suit yourself.’ She rose and proffered the bundle in her arms. ‘But like it or not, this is your daughter, Dr Ethan. Her mother’s dead so that makes her all yours.’

To say Nate was dumbfounded was an understatement. He sat in his chair as if rooted to the spot and his head couldn’t take it in. He opened his mouth and what came out was feeble. ‘I don’t want a baby!’

‘I imagine you don’t. But you have one.’

‘This is ridiculous.’ He rose but he didn’t come around the desk. It was as if he was afraid to come close. This whole scenario was a nightmare. A ridiculous nightmare. And any minute he’d wake up. Please…

‘I told you…we were careful.’

‘Fiona was never careful.’

He took a deep breath, searching for control. Searching for sanity. Glancing down at his appointment list, he registered her name.

‘You’re Gemma Campbell.’

‘That’s right. Fiona’s sister.’ Her tone was almost uninterested and for the first time he realised why. She was here to hand over a baby and leave, he thought with a jolt of sick dismay. She was here to hand over a baby that had nothing to do with her—and everything to do with him.

‘And…and Fiona told you this…this baby was mine.’

‘She did.’ For the first time he saw the glimmer of a smile behind the weariness. ‘Though I might have guessed. Have a look for yourself.’ And she lifted the blanket away from the baby’s head.

It was all he could do not to gasp.

He’d seen baby photos of himself. He’d been born with the burnt red hair he had now. It was unusual hair—dark, tinged with black and curling into a thick mane. He had dark skin and green eyes and eyebrows that were definitely black.

He’d been a gorgeous baby, his mother had told him, and this baby was certainly that. Gorgeous.

She lay in her cocoon of blankets, one fist curled into a tiny ball at the edge of her rosebud mouth. She had tight, tight curls, a deep burnt red in colour, and her tiny, finely etched eyebrows were as black as…

As black as his.

Dark skin and red hair and black eyebrows. Her colouring was really rare.

As was his.

She’d have his green eyes, Nate guessed, and as he stared down at her he felt something twist deep inside. It was a gut-wrenching twist that had him clutching the edge of his desk for support.

‘You still want to tell me she’s not yours?’ Gemma’s eyes rested on his, not without sympathy. But her voice was implacable.

‘Yes… No.’ The world seemed to spin. A daughter. He had a daughter. ‘But—

‘I told you, what Fiona wants…wanted, Fiona got. And it seems that she took one look at you and decided that she wanted your child.’

He stared at her blindly and then sat heavily back down behind his desk.

‘Hell!’

‘Yes,’ Gemma said softly. She sat as well, waiting for him to come to terms with what she’d just said.

‘Gemma, I’m thirsty.’ It was the little boy, speaking for the first time. He was still clutching her T-shirt but he was staring at Nate as if he was afraid of him.

At least this was something concrete. Thirst. He could cope with thirst.

He couldn’t cope with a baby.

He rose, filled a paper cup from the water cooler and handed it to the child. The little boy stared at it as if it might just contain poison, but then his thirst got the better of him and he drank.

It was a respite—albeit a minor one—but it gave Nate breathing space. Space to know one thing for certain.

‘Whether I’m her father or not is immaterial,’ he said flatly. ‘I can’t have her.’

‘Whether you’re her father or not isn’t the least bit immaterial. She’s yours.’

‘I don’t want her.’

‘You’d rather she was adopted by strangers?’

That was another kick to the guts. His eyes flew to hers. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Just that. It’s you or adoption. Take your pick.’

‘But you… You’re obviously caring for her.’

‘Yes. But I can’t keep her.’

‘Why not?’ His voice came out almost as a croak. He sounded sick. Well, why wouldn’t he sound sick? He surely felt like that.

‘I have my own life—’ she started.

He wasn’t buying into this. She’d taken on the baby’s care already. What could be more logical than asking her to keep up the good work? ‘This is your sister’s child.’ He forced his voice to stay steady, despite thoughts that weren’t the least bit steady. His thoughts were close to panic. ‘And you have a child already.’ He took a deep breath, thinking it through.

‘Look, crazy or not… If it’s proven that she’s mine—and I’m not conceding that yet, but if she is—then I guess I’m stuck with child support. I’ll pay you to keep her.’

Her eyes flashed anger at that. ‘Oh, that’s very generous. I don’t think.’

‘Well, what else do you expect me to do?’

‘Shoulder your responsibilities,’ she snapped. ‘And not offload them onto me. I’ve had enough.’

He focused on her then. Really focused.

She’d had enough.

It was true, he thought. Her face was pale with strain and her eyes were dark pools of exhaustion.

What had she said? That Fiona had died in childbirth. It sounded unbelievable. Vibrant, alive Fiona.

Crazy Fiona.

But Gemma had lost her sister.

‘How did she die?’ he asked, his tone softening, and he saw her eyes widen in surprise. She hadn’t expected compassion.

‘I don’t…’

He took a deep breath. ‘Look, maybe we’d better have the whole story. Did she die of eclampsia?’

‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘She died of kidney failure caused by her pregnancy combined with uncontrolled diabetes. She died because she didn’t give a toss for her life—or the lives of her children. Both of them.’

Both of them.

Both…

Wasn’t the little boy hers, then?

Nate stared at the child, stunned, and then he looked at Gemma. There were similarities, he thought. Woman and boy were both dark-haired and pale-skinned. They looked like mother and son. But…maybe there were stronger similarities between the child and what he remembered of Fiona.

And the girl herself reminded him of Fiona. Though there were marked differences. Fiona had been almost ethereal in her beauty. She’d dressed with flamboyance and skill—and considerable expense—and he’d never seen her without make-up.

This girl looked as if she didn’t know what make-up was. And her clothes…! Her clothes wouldn’t be welcome at a welfare shop, he thought. They were dreadful.

But he could still see the resemblance—both to Fiona and to the little boy by her side.

And he remembered what the little boy had said. ‘Gemma, I’m thirsty.’ Not ‘Mummy, I’m thirsty.’

‘This is Fiona’s child?’

‘Good guess.’

‘You don’t want me to take him, too?’ It was a harsh snap and she blinked. And then she smiled. Her arm came out and she hugged the little boy to her.

‘No fear. Fiona was Cady’s birth mother but I’ve been mother to him for over two years now. Cady and I are a team.’

They were, too. Woman and child against the world. He stared at them both and they stared back—and again he felt his gut twist in a recognition of…

Of what? Of something. And he didn’t know what the hell it was.

He took a grip on himself. Sort of. ‘You’re not prepared to take on a second?’

‘No.’

‘You’d better explain.’

Her chin jutted. ‘I don’t see why I need to.’

Heck, she couldn’t just leave. She couldn’t. What was she proposing—that she just set down the baby and walk away? The prospect made him feel dizzy. His world was tipping on its axis and he cautiously placed his hands flat down on the desk as if righting himself.

‘I… Please.’ Once more he forced his voice to steady. ‘No, of course you don’t need to. But…but I need to know. Everything.’

She stared at him for a long, long minute. And then she lifted the cup from her nephew’s hands and set it on the desk.

‘Cady, look. There’s blocks in the corner,’ she told him, motioning to where Nate kept a basket of toys to amuse small children. ‘Can you build me a house?’

Cady considered and then nodded, with all the gravity of a carpenter agreeing to sign a contract for house construction.

‘Sure.’ He knelt on the floor and started to build. One block after another. The sight was somehow comforting compared to the unbelievable conversation that was taking place over the desk.

But then the doctor in him focused. The child seemed to be building more by feel than sight. He was lifting the coloured blocks and feeling their edges, fitting them together with a satisfactory click.

Was he blind? Maybe he normally wore glasses…

It wasn’t his business. Cady wasn’t his patient. Somehow this crazy conversation had to resume.

‘Right,’ Nate said. He took a deep breath and braced. ‘Tell me.’

‘My sister was… I think you could almost call her manic.’

‘Now, that’s what I don’t understand.’ Nate thought back to the last time he’d seen Fiona. Manic? For some reason the description suddenly seemed apt. He hadn’t known why then. He didn’t know why now.

‘In what sense was she manic?’

‘I told you she had diabetes.’

He thought that through and couldn’t make sense of it. ‘Diabetes is not usually a life sentence and it has nothing to do with a person’s mental state.’

‘It does if you’re as perfect as Fiona.’ Gemma shrugged. ‘You need to understand. Fiona…well, she was two years younger than me and from the time she was born she was perfect. My mother certainly thought so. My mother was a beauty queen in her own right. My father left us before I can remember, and all my mother’s pent-up ambitions centred on Fiona. Perfect Fiona.’ She took a deep breath, fighting back bitterness that had been instilled in her almost since birth.

‘Anyway, Fiona was as beautiful as even my mother could want. Even as a baby she was gorgeous and she turned from winning baby pageants to winning beauty contests almost without a break. And she was clever—brilliant really. She passed her exams with ease, she moved from one eligible man to another—whatever she wanted Fiona got. She was indulged to the point of stupidity by our mother, and when Mum died Fiona’s boyfriends took right over.’

He saw. Or maybe he saw. ‘And then?’

‘And then she was diagnosed with type-one diabetes.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘Neither do I really. I only know that Fiona had just started medical school, she was flying high and suddenly she was faced with four insulin injections a day, constant monitoring and dietary restrictions.’

‘I do know what diabetes is,’ he told her. ‘Type one… It’s a damnable pest but if it’s well controlled it’s hardly life-threatening.’

‘Hers wasn’t well controlled. Not because it wasn’t possible to control it but because she wouldn’t. She hated it. She refused to monitor herself. She gave herself the same amount of insulin every day regardless of what her blood sugars were and sometimes she didn’t even do that. She refused to accept the dietary modifications. You need to understand. For once it was an area where she wasn’t perfect and she couldn’t bear it.’

He thought about that. He had diabetics in his practice who refused to take care of themselves and the results could be catastrophic. But…

‘She was a doctor. She knew. With medical training she’d know what the risks were.’

‘I think,’ Gemma told him, slowly as if the words were being dragged out of her, ‘I think my sister was a little bit crazy. She’d been indulged all her life. She was the golden girl and everyone treated her as if she was perfect. The thought of injections, the thought of not being able to eat everything she wanted and the thought of her body being less than perfect… Well, as I said, I think she was a little bit mad. It was as if she saw diabetes as a bar to her perfection and if she ignored it, it’d go away. Only as a doctor you’d know that that’s a disaster.’

He was horrified. Why hadn’t he guessed any of this? He’d never even known she’d been diabetic. And not to control it… ‘That’s practically suicide.’

‘Yes.’ She gave a grim little nod. ‘It is—and by the time she’d finished medical school the effects were starting to show. Then our mother died. Mum and Fiona had fought about Fiona’s diabetic management. Fiona had rebelled but Mum’s death just seemed to make things worse. Things weren’t going right in Fiona’s world and she reacted with anger. Her specialist told her that if she couldn’t keep her diabetes under control then at least she shouldn’t get pregnant. She must have been pregnant within minutes of him saying that. With Cady.’ She shrugged and her eyes seemed to shadow with remembered pain. ‘And her decision to have Cady tore our lives apart.’

Our lives? There was a desperate bleakness in her words and she looked as though she was staring back into a chasm that she couldn’t quite escape.

‘And?’ Nate prodded, and Gemma seemed to shake herself back to reality. To the harshness of now. Her voice became brisk and carefully businesslike.

‘And she darn near died having him. When she didn’t it was as if she was mad at the world. As if she’d been cheated. She was furious that she didn’t die and from then on she was on a downhill spiral of neglect.’

By now Nate was thoroughly confused. He shook his head, trying to reconcile what he was hearing with the vibrant, lovely doctor who’d swept into his life twelve months ago. ‘She seemed fine. I didn’t get any of this when she was here.’

‘No.’ She met his look, her eyes steady and challenging. ‘I guess you only saw what most men saw—the gorgeous Fiona. Fiona the irresistible. But there was another Fiona—the Fiona who walked a fine line between sanity and madness. She had Cady and she walked away from him. She knew…she knew that I’d take care of him. How could I not? But I kept working. After what she’d done to me… I barely managed it but there were glimmers of my former life left.’

He still didn’t follow. ‘That sounds as if she was angry with you.’

‘Of course she was.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘She was supposed to be the perfect one,’ Gemma said wearily. ‘And she was. My mother loved her to distraction and I was sidelined. But she was jealous even of that. She was jealous of me from the moment she was born—as if I could ever compete with her. It was crazy, but like a cuckoo in another bird’s nest she’d push aside any sibling that competed for her attention. And when our mother got sick she leaned on me. That drove Fiona crazy—that Gemma, the plain one, should now have what she wanted. Health. And our mother’s dependence. So she fixed me right up. She saddled me with a baby and then…and then when I managed to cope and still have a life—of sorts—she gave me another. And she died doing it.’

Dear heaven…

Nate sat back in his chair. He let what she’d said drift slowly though his mind, trying to assimilate it. He raised his hand and ran his fingers through his thatch of burnt-red curls, fighting for some sanity. Fighting for some reason.

‘I don’t know what to say,’ he said at last. ‘I can’t think.’

‘There’s not much to think about.’

‘Well, that’s a crazy statement,’ he snapped, shock giving way to anger. ‘Not much to think about! When you come in here and present me with the fact that I’m a father…’

‘If you slept with Fiona you must have known fatherhood was a possibility.’

‘Of course I didn’t.’

‘You’re a doctor,’ she snapped back, as angry as he was. ‘You know very well that no contraceptive is perfect. Unless it’s abstinence. And you and Fiona didn’t practise abstinence.’

‘No, but—’

‘But nothing. She’s your baby.’ She rose again and proffered her bundle. ‘Are you going to take her—or are you intending to arrange an adoption? Fiona had this baby to punish me for not being ill. I’ve thought it through. It worked with Cady. I’ve taken him in and I’ve cared for him and I love him to bits. But with Mia…every time I look at her I get angry. That’s no way to rear a child, Dr Ethan. She deserves better than that. So…you’re her daddy. Will you take her—or will you find someone else who’ll love her?’

He did have an option, he thought incredulously. He could just say take her away and she would. She’d hand her over to adoptive parents.

But no. She was way ahead of him.

‘Don’t even think about it,’ she told him flatly, and it was as if she had read his mind. ‘I’m not arranging the adoption. For a start that’d mean taking care of her for longer—and I daren’t take the chance that I’ll grow to love her. And even if I wanted to, I can’t. There are no official documents naming me as her parent. There’s only the birth certificate. Cady’s birth certificate…well, Cady’s certificate landed me right in it, but Mia’s certificate says her mother is deceased and her father is Nate Ethan. You. So as of this moment you’re her sole guardian. Like it or not.’

Carefully, deliberately, she set the sleeping baby on the desk in front of him.

She’d been well cared for, Nate saw in some deep recess of his brain that could still note such things. She was rosy and chubby and beautifully dressed. She’d been loved.

‘How…how old did you say she was?’

‘Four weeks. She should be smiling soon.’

‘And…how long since Fiona…?’

‘Fiona never regained consciousness after the birth. She lapsed into a coma at thirty-eight weeks and the doctors performed an emergency Caesarean. It was all horribly too late. She died the day after delivery.’

He closed his eyes. This was all far too much to take in. Fiona dead?

And he had a daughter.

No! ‘You can’t leave her here!’

‘Watch me.’ She tilted her chin in a gesture of defiance and then handed over a business card. ‘This is where you can find me.’

‘If I need you?’

‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘I’m tired of being needed, Dr Ethan. Cady needs me and that’s all the responsibility I can handle. But if…in future…you want Cady to meet his half-sister…’

Hell. The future stretched before him, vast and unknown. Ten minutes ago his future had been the Terama Jazzfest. Now…

‘You can’t do this.’

‘I can.’ She leaned over the little boy and took Cady’s hand in hers. ‘That’s a great tower,’ she told the little boy. ‘But we need to go.’

‘You’re leaving town?’ Nate’s voice was an incredulous croak and she smiled, not without sympathy.

‘That’s the plan. We live in Sydney and it’s a long drive.’

‘But what the hell am I meant to do?’

‘What I’ve been doing,’ she told him. ‘Shoulder your responsibility. You are a doctor after all. I assume you know baby basics and I’ve checked your background. You have a nice little bush nursing hospital on hand. They’ll have everything you need.’ She laid a bag on the desk beside the sleeping baby. ‘This contains formula, bottles, clothes—everything you need. And now, Dr Ethan, you’re on your own.’

But he wasn’t on his own. Not quite.

From Reception there was the sound of a door opening and then closing, followed by brisk heels tapping across the floor. He’d left the door open just a little. Hannah, his receptionist, had seen his last patient for the day into his rooms and then left. There was no one out there. Except…

The door opened just a little and Donna’s beautiful face peeked around.

‘Yoohoo. Anyone home?’ Her eyes found Nate and she smiled her loveliest smile. ‘Nate, darling, we’re going to be very late. I’ve brought your evening clothes so you can change here and we can get going right now.’

Compared to Fiona, Donna didn’t cut it, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t gorgeous. She was tall, five feet eleven or so, willow thin and beautifully groomed. In fact, she was just the way Nate liked his women. And she was dressed to kill. She was wearing a 1920s costume—a pencil-thin fringed dress which accentuated every gorgeous curve as it shimmered and swayed, and high, high stilettos. Her sleek chestnut bob was adorned with a tiny velvet headband and feather, and she wore beads that reached almost to her hips.

She was some sight! Normally Nate would have whistled his appreciation. But he wasn’t in the mood for whistling.

And Donna should have known better than to barge in on a patient.

‘Donna, I’m busy.’

‘No. No, he’s not busy. Not any more.’ Gemma smiled at the sight of Nate’s girlfriend and held out her hand in welcome. ‘This makes it all perfect. You have a new lady in your life. From what Fiona told me about you I was sure you wouldn’t let grass grow under your feet. How do you do? I’m Gemma. And this is Cady. We’re just leaving. But…’ She eyed Donna’s stunning dress with a wry smile. ‘If I were you, I’d put a cloth over your shoulder if you’re intending nursing Mia in that dress. She does suffer a little from reflux.’

With that she gave them both her very brightest smile, collected Cady and walked out the door.

‘Stop!’

She didn’t.

And Nate moved. Hell, he moved. He’d never moved faster in his life. Gemma had walked out into the reception area but before she could reach the door to the car park he was in front of her, blocking her path.

‘You’re not going anywhere.’

She raised her mobile eyebrows at that. ‘You’re planning on locking me up and throwing away the key?’

‘No.’

‘Then what?’

What? He ran his fingers though his hair and he groaned. ‘Hell.’

‘What’s wrong, Nate?’ Donna was clearly puzzled.

‘I…this lady…Gemma…wants to leave me with her baby.’

‘No.’ Gemma wasn’t having any of that. ‘She’s your baby. Not mine. Get things right.’

‘Your baby.’ Donna blenched. ‘Yours! Did you and…?’ She looked wildly from Gemma to Nate and back again, and Gemma gave a derisory laugh.

‘Don’t get yourself in a state here. No, Nate and I didn’t do a thing. I’ve only just met your Dr Ethan. This isn’t my baby. I’m only the stork, delivering his bundle whether he likes it or not.’

Donna’s confusion grew. ‘What’s going on?’

What was going on? Nate didn’t have a clue. He was so at sea that he felt like he was drowning. ‘I don’t know.’

‘Let me past.’ Gemma’s voice was implacable.

‘You can’t leave.’

‘I can. I must. I need to work tomorrow. I’ve taken every one of my sick days and more over the last few weeks, and if I’m not back tomorrow I risk being sacked.’

‘You work?’

‘Amazing but true.’

‘And who looks after Cady while you work?’

‘There’s no joy down that road,’ she snapped, seeing where his thoughts were headed. ‘Cady goes to day care at the hospital and I can’t afford to keep two children in care.’

‘You’re a nurse?’

‘No, Dr Ethan.’ Her patience had pretty much come to an end. ‘I’m a doctor. Amazing as it sounds. Just like my sister. Only I’m so unlike my sister that you wouldn’t believe it. In fact, I’ve never had an illegitimate child in my life. Now, if you don’t mind…’

‘Gemma, I feel funny.’ The child’s voice from beside her was neither plaintive or high-pitched. He was simply stating a fact, and Gemma closed her eyes in a gesture of sheer weariness.

‘I know, sweetheart. So do I. I need to find somewhere for us to have dinner.’ She turned back to Nate. ‘I’ve been waiting all afternoon to see you and I can wait no longer. You have a baby to see to. I have Cady. So can we leave it, please?’

He stared down at the card that she’d given him. There it was in black and white. Dr Gemma Campbell. Anaesthetist. Sydney Central Hospital.

She really was a doctor.

And this was no nightmare. This was cold, hard fact.

‘I can find you at Sydney Central?’

‘Yes. As I said—only if you want the kids to be in contact. It’s up to you. I’ll tell Cady about Mia as he grows up, but if you don’t want her to know…or if you decide on adoption…’

‘Nate, honey, what the hell is going on?’

‘It seems I have a baby,’ Nate said in a voice that held not the slightest hint of humour. His tone said that he’d been trapped. There was anger behind the words and both women heard it.

And surprisingly Gemma’s face softened into very real sympathy.

‘I’m sorry, Nate,’ she told him. ‘I understand you’ve been used. But…so have I. And it does boil down to the fact that you’re Mia’s father. Good luck with her, and I hope you learn to love her—as I love Cady.’

And she smiled and walked around him. Out into the car park. Out of his life. For ever?

CHAPTER TWO

DONNA wasn’t the least bit interested in babies.

‘She has to be joking,’ she said flatly as Gemma disappeared into the night. ‘She can’t just dump you with the kid.’

‘No.’

But it seemed she had. Nate stared at the closed door, trying to figure out a reason why he should stride after her and stop her going. Could he ring the police? Could he have them haul her back and accept her responsibility?

But her conversation played itself back in his mind. Over and over. This baby wasn’t Gemma’s responsibility. She was Nate’s.

One stupid act…

He should never have slept with Fiona, he thought wildly. Was he as crazy as Fiona had been? One stupid act…

‘Nate, honey…’

‘I don’t think we’re going to be able to go to the Jazzfest,’ he told her, and her lovely face fell.

‘But we must. We’ve had these tickets for ages and all our friends will be there.’

‘Donna, leave it.’

She paused and stared at him. Then her eyes fell on the baby.

Mia was just waking, and her tiny eyelids fluttered open. With her eyes open the resemblance to Nate was almost uncanny.

‘She really is your baby,’ Donna whispered, stunned.

And Nate looked down.

Green eyes met green eyes. Her gaze was as intent and direct as his. Man and baby, meeting for the first time in both their lives.

Dear God… His gut wrenched as it had never been wrenched in his life before. She was just…beautiful. Perfect. Slowly he reached out a finger and traced the baby-soft skin of her cheek. Still her eyes held his, as if she knew that here was a man whose future was inexplicably locked to hers.

‘You can’t keep her.’ Donna’s voice sounded as if it were light years away—from a past life—and Nate had to wrench himself back to reality. To now. To here and to what counted for commonsense.

‘I don’t know.’

‘The mother…’

‘Is a past girlfriend. I didn’t know she was pregnant. And now she’s dead.’

‘Oh, Nate, I’m sorry,’ Donna said—with the easy sympathy of someone this didn’t affect in the least. She glanced at her watch. ‘Look, why don’t we pop her over into children’s ward? That way we can still make it to the Jazzfest in time for dinner.’

He thought that through. It had distinct appeal. What he needed desperately here was space. ‘I suppose I could…’

‘Of course you could. The nurses there are trained to take care of babies.’ Donna’s tone said that such things were unfathomable. Taking care of babies was something to be handled by experts. Like bomb detonation. ‘And we don’t want her to spoil our evening.’

‘Donna, I—’

‘Look, you’re surely not suggesting we stay home and stare at a baby all night?’

He caught himself at that. It did seem ridiculous. And the hospital was quiet. There were places available in kids’ ward.

He’d shelve the problem until tomorrow, he told himself. He’d give himself time to think.

‘Maybe it’s a good idea.’

‘Of course it’s a good idea.’

But as Nate lifted the tiny pink bundle into his arms—as he smelled the newborn milkiness of her and as he felt her nuzzle contentedly into his shoulder—he thought…

Stay at home and stare at a baby all night?

Suddenly it didn’t seem such a crazy idea at all.

‘My legs feel funny.’

Gemma bit her lip. She really had stretched Cady’s patience to the limit. He was four years old, he was exhausted and he was very, very hungry.

She’d stretched him to the limit time and time again in the past few weeks, she thought bitterly. That was half the reason she was demanding that Nate take responsibility for Mia. Fiona had left a pile of bills a mile high. Gemma had needed to drop everything to be with her during the birth. And then afterwards—the funeral arrangements—everything had fallen to her. And all this time Cady had struggled uncomplainingly by her side.

She lifted him high into her arms and hugged him hard.

‘It’s over now, sweetheart. We’re back to being just you and me.’

‘I liked the baby.’

‘I know. And she’s your sister. When you get a bit bigger you’ll be able to spend some time with her. I hope. But for now she’s better off with her daddy. And I’m better off with you.’

‘He was nice. I’d like a daddy like that.’

Yeah, right. As if. Gemma hugged harder as she carried the little boy into the roadhouse. The place was down at heel and looked distinctly seedy but its upside was that it also looked cheap. She could feed Cady enough to get them on the road back to Sydney.

He’d like a daddy like that?

She’d like one, too, she thought. She couldn’t remember her own father. For the last few years her mother had leaned on her, and the responsibilities for Fiona had all been hers.

And Alan was still there—a nightmare in her background.

Sometimes the responsibilities were far, far too much.

‘Let’s just concentrate on food,’ she told Cady. ‘One step at a time.’

‘Why can’t he be our daddy?’

Because he’d never look sideways at the likes of me, she thought bitterly. What man would? A woman encumbered with debt and child and responsibility up to her ears. And Alan…

Damn. To her horror she felt tears stinging the back of her eyes and she blinked them back with a fierceness that surprised her.

She must be more exhausted than she’d thought.

‘We’ll just get food and then we’ll go,’ she told him, and set him down at the first table she came to.

And he swayed.

‘Cady…’ Her hands came onto his shoulders to steady him. What was wrong? ‘Are you OK?’

‘N-no,’ he whispered, and she had to stoop to hear him. ‘Gemma, the room’s doing funny things. My eyes are doing funny things. Make them stop.’

‘Sure, we can keep her overnight.’ Jane, the cheerful night charge nurse accepted Mia with easy equanimity. ‘What’s wrong with her?’

‘As far as I know, nothing.’

‘She’s been abandoned,’ Donna chirped in from behind. She’d accompanied Nate across the road to the hospital and stood waiting—still bearing his dinner suit. ‘And we need to go to the Jazzfest.’

‘Of course you do. But…did you say abandoned?’ And then Jane lifted away the blanket covering the baby’s head and her breath sucked in with astonishment. Her eyes flew from the baby’s head to Nate’s and then back again.

Gemma was right. He’d never be able to disown this baby, Nate thought grimly. And the news would be from one end of the valley to the other by the morning. Dr Ethan’s baby, abandoned in Terama.

‘Just look after her for me for the night,’ he told Jane wearily. ‘I need to sort out a few things—in the morning.’

‘I’d imagine you do.’

His eyes flashed anger. ‘There’s no need to jump to conclusions.’

‘No?’ Jane was in her mid-forties. Nate was thirty-two so Jane was certainly not old enough to be his mother—but she sure acted like it.

‘No!’

‘Whatever you say, Dr Ethan.’ She hugged the baby close. ‘Oh, aren’t you just delicious? Looking after you will be pure pleasure.’ She waved Nate and Donna away. ‘Off you go, and enjoy yourselves. And then come back to one gorgeous baby.’

How the hell was he supposed to enjoy himself after that?

Nate somehow managed to respond to his friends and he tried to eat his dinner but only half his mind was on what he was doing. Or less. Maybe less than ten per cent of his mind. The rest was back in the children’s ward with a baby called Mia.

And maybe…maybe part of his mind was travelling up the highway toward Sydney, with one very weary doctor called Gemma and a little boy called Cady.

Oh, for heaven’s sake, he couldn’t worry about them. He had enough to worry about with Mia.

His daughter.

The knowledge went round and round his heart, insidious in its sweetness.

He should be panic-stricken, he thought, and a part of him was. The other…the other part remembered how his tiny daughter had felt snuggling into his chest. The way her fingers had curled around his. The feel of her soft curls under his chin…

Mia. His daughter.

And Gemma…

She was still in his thoughts. Try as he might, he couldn’t stop thinking about her. She’d looked too damned tired to face the highway to Sydney.

He should have insisted she stay the night.

She’d be sacked if she stayed. What had she said? She’d used all her sick-pay entitlements and then some.

She’d taken on so much!

He could guess how it had been, he thought grimly. She’d coped with the responsibilities of a dying sister and her two children.

She’d handed over one. He should be angry.

He couldn’t be angry. Whenever he tried, he kept thinking back to the feel of Mia against his chest and the anger dissipated, to be replaced by something that was akin to wonder.

He had a daughter.

And finally he could bear it no longer. He pushed away his half-finished plate of food and gave Donna an apologetic smile.

‘I’m sorry, Donna, but I need to go.’

She was astonished. ‘But you haven’t been called and the dancing hasn’t even started.’

‘I need to go back to kids’ ward.’

‘To the baby?’

‘To the baby. Yes.’ He took a deep breath and accepted reality. ‘To my baby.’

She stared at him in amazement. ‘You’re not going to keep it?’

‘If I can. Yes. I think so.’

Her lovely eyes widened in astonishment. ‘You surely can’t be serious?’ And then another thought hit her. ‘You don’t expect me to help, do you?’

‘No, Donna, I don’t expect that.’

‘I don’t think I’d be very good with babies.’

‘That’s fine.’

‘And you really want to go?’ Her lips pouted in displeasure. ‘Go on, then. If you must. There’s plenty of other men to dance with and to take me home.’

He knew that. Damn, he knew.

Maybe he was being stupid. He wavered, just for an instant, and in that instant the buzzer sounded on his belt. He lifted his cellphone and saw who was calling. The hospital charge nurse.

‘Jane?’

‘Nate, you’d better come. I need you here now.’ She sounded rushed and that was all she had time for. The phone went dead before he learned any more.

Mia? Was there something wrong with Mia? His feet were taking him out the door before his phone had been clipped back on his belt. What was wrong?

When he had a call there was always tension—but not like his.

His daughter…

But it wasn’t his daughter. It was Cady.

‘I don’t know what’s wrong.’ Gemma was beside herself. She was sitting in Emergency looking as sick as the child in her arms. ‘He’s just… Nate, he’s hardly conscious. I thought it was weariness but this is much more than weariness.’

Nate was still in his dinner suit. He looked handsome—absurdly handsome—but Gemma didn’t notice. She didn’t see Nate the man. She saw Nate the doctor, and the doctor was what she needed most at this moment. A doctor with skills. Please…

‘Tell me what happened.’ Nate’s voice was curt and decisive, cutting through her fear. Or trying to. She might be a doctor herself but this was her beloved Cady and her medical judgement couldn’t surface through her terror.

Somehow she forced herself to be calm. To give Nate the facts.

‘We stopped a few miles down the road. I wanted to get a little distance between us…between the baby and us…before we ate. And Cady was really, really quiet but I thought, well, it was his little sister we’d just left. And we’d grown so fond… Regardless of what I told you…’

She was almost incoherent, Nate thought. She was hugging the little boy to her as she spoke and their faces were a matching chalky white. Jane had pressed Gemma into a chair and was taking Cady’s blood pressure. She’d called Nate as soon as she’d seen Cady. The dance hall was only a few hundred yards from the hospital so he’d arrived there in minutes.

Nate listened to the fear in Gemma’s voice. He stooped before them, lifting the boy’s wrist and feeling his racing pulse. His breathing was deep and gasping—as if it hurt.

‘OK, Cady, we’ll have you feeling better in no time,’ he told the little boy, sensing the rigid fear in the child’s body. Obviously there were things happening that Cady didn’t understand.

Neither did Gemma. ‘OK, Gemma, just take it slowly,’ he told her. ‘Calm down.’ His voice insisted she do just that. ‘Tell me what happened next.’

She hiccuped on a sob. ‘He said he couldn’t see. He said everything was fuzzy. And then…he was violently ill and now he’s limp…’

‘OK.’ This could be a number of things. The tension of the past hour had fallen away now to be replaced with a different sort of tension. Nate was back in medical mode and nothing else mattered. What was happening here? What did he have? One limp kid?

Meningitis? Maybe it was, and he could tell by the fear in Gemma’s voice that that was what she was terrified of.

Okay. Worst case scenario first. Rule of thumb—look for the worst and work backwards.

‘There’s no temperature,’ Jane told him, showing him the thermometer. ‘High blood pressure. Rapid pulse. But no temp.’

OK. Breathe again. That should rule out meningitis.

But Cady certainly looked sick.

The child was thin, Nate thought, sitting back on his heels and really looking. Taking his time. He’d learned in the past that unless airways were threatened, such examinations were important. So he took the child in from head to toe—examining him with his eyes instead of his hands.

What did he have?

Thin child. Fuzzy vision. Sick. Tired, and drifting into semiconsciousness.

Diabetic mother…

And a little voice was recalled from nowhere. The memory slammed home.

‘Gemma, I’m thirsty.’

Click.

‘Jane, I want a blood sugar,’ he said curtly. He put his hand over Cady’s and gripped, hard. ‘Cady, your eyes are a bit funny, are they? Can you hear me, Cady? Can you tell me what’s happening?’ The little boy seemed as if he was drifting in and out of consciousness.

‘I can’t… Everything looks funny.’ Cady’s voice was a bewildered whisper and Nate’s eyes met Gemma’s. The child’s confusion was reflected in hers.

‘Cady, I’m going to take a tiny pinprick of blood,’ he told the little boy. ‘Not much. It’ll be a tiny prick. I think you might have too much sugar in your blood and I want to find out if I’m right. If that’s what’s making you sick.’

‘Oh, no…’ Gemma’s voice was so distressed he could tell she was near breaking point, but she’d realised where he was headed. Blood sugar… ‘Of course,’ she whispered, distressed beyond measure. ‘How can I have been so stupid…? It’ll be ketoacidosis.’

Diabetic ketoacidosis.

Nate thought it through, but the more he thought the more it fitted with what was happening. Diabetes meant the pancreas stopped producing insulin—and if insulin wasn’t available the body couldn’t absorb food and started using its own fat for energy. The result was a poisonous accumulation of ketones. Ketoacidosis. And in its early stages ketoacidosis looked just like this.

‘We don’t know yet,’ he told her.

But Jane was moving as he spoke, fetching the equipment he needed. A urine sample would check for ketones, but taking a urine sample from Cady now would be difficult. So he’d test the blood sugar and assume the rest.

The sugar reading took seconds. He took a drop of blood from the little boy’s listless hand, placed it on the testing strip and set the machine in motion.

And five seconds later there was the answer.

‘Thirty-two…’

They had their diagnosis.

‘Dear God!’ Gemma was rocking the little boy back and forth in her arms with anguish. Thirty-two! She knew all too clearly what that meant. A normal range was from four to eight. No wonder his vision was blurred. No wonder he was sick. ‘He’s diabetic. Dear God… How could I not have known? How could I not have guessed?’

‘You’ve had just a bit on your mind lately,’ Nate said gently. She certainly had, and here was another load for her to bear. What on earth had her sister landed her with? ‘But let’s not worry. Let’s just get Cady feeling better. I need to ring a specialist paediatrician for some up-to-date advice but I think I can handle this here.’ He smiled down at the bewildered Cady. Even though he wasn’t sure whether the little boy could hear him he spoke anyway, and maybe it was more for Gemma than for Cady.

‘Cady, there’s something in your tummy called a pancreas. It isn’t doing its job so we’ll have to fix that. The pancreas makes stuff called insulin that keeps you well, and because your pancreas isn’t making any insulin I’m going to pop a tube into your arm so we can give you some.’ Heaven knew if the child could make sense of this.

But Cady was one brave kid and he was trying. He was struggling to focus on Nate’s face but it was beyond him. ‘Will it hurt?’ he quavered, and Gemma hugged him tight and kissed him on the top of his head.

‘It’ll be a small prick just like the last one—and it’ll make you feel so much better,’ she told him. He’d need a drip, she knew. They had to get some nourishment into the child to stop the deadly breakdown of body fat and they’d need intravenous insulin to get the blood-sugar level down. ‘Dr Ethan will pop a tube into your hand so the medicine can go in really quickly.’ There were myriad blood tests to be done but the blood could be taken as the IV line was put in. ‘Then we’ll pop you in bed and let you sleep, Cady. For just as long as you need to sleep to be well again.’

‘You won’t be taking him back to Sydney any time soon.’

‘I know.’ With Cady safely tucked into a ward bed Gemma seemed to have lost the last of her energy. She slumped forward on her chair, her shoulders sagging and her whole body spelling defeat. ‘I almost killed him.’

‘You did no such thing.’

‘I’m a doctor.’ She was very close to tears, Nate thought. She was very close to breaking down altogether. ‘I should have noticed. Of all the stupid…’

‘You know as well as I do that diabetes is insidious,’ he said gently. ‘He’ll have been eating and doing everything he normally does… There are no overt signs.’

‘But he’s thin. I thought… I thought he was just having a growth spurt.’

‘And you were taken up by a dying sister and a newborn baby.’

‘I let it go so far. I could have killed him.’

‘No!’ He stooped and took her shoulders and gripped, hard. ‘You didn’t. Diabetes in children is hard to pick before it becomes an acute problem. You think a kid’s having a growth spurt—they’re suddenly taller and thinner and tired, and you put two and two together and get four—but the answer’s six. I’ve seen this before, Gemma.’

‘As bad as this?’

‘Worse.’ His hands still gripped her too-thin shoulders. Did she have any time to look after herself? he wondered. And then he thought… What was her blood sugar?

‘Can we test you?’ he asked, and she gave a laugh that was almost hysterical.

‘I’m not diabetic.’

‘How do you know?’

‘I…’ She took a grip. ‘I guess I don’t. But I’m not thirsty like Cady. And I’m not losing weight.’

‘You mean you’ve always been this thin?’

‘I eat on the run,’ she told him. ‘But Cady…’

‘Will be fine.’

‘His body must have been producing ketones for weeks.’

‘Kids get sick fast,’ he told her. ‘It’s my guess that further blood tests will tell us this is recent. You would have noticed if he’d been tired for months.’

‘But not weeks. I’ve been so caught up—’

‘With your sister and the baby.’ He was still holding her. She hadn’t noticed—or rather she had, but she needed the contact. She needed the warmth.

‘I…’ For the first time she seemed to surface. She shook herself like she was clearing fog and she looked at him. And saw Nathan for the first time. Really saw him.

‘You’re in a dinner suit,’ she said stupidly, and he grinned. It really was the most gorgeous grin. It warmed places in her heart she hadn’t known were cold.

‘It’s a bit more formal than a white coat,’ he told her. ‘I put it on for my favourite patients.’

There was an attempt at a smile. ‘I’ve dragged you away from something.’ And then her mind focused even more. ‘Where’s Mia?’ Her voice cracked and his grip on her shoulders tightened.

‘Hey, hang on. I haven’t abandoned her.’

‘Where is she?’ She rose, and so did her voice.

‘In the next cubicle,’ he told her.

‘You admitted her to hospital? Why? What’s wrong?’

She was so close to the edge… ‘Nothing’s wrong,’ he said flatly, checking the hysteria before it started. ‘I had a date so I left her in kids’ ward.’

‘You had a date…’

‘A jazz ball.’ He motioned to his dinner suit. ‘You see? The pieces of the jigsaw fit together.’

Gemma took a deep, searing breath and regrouped. But the anger didn’t fade. ‘You mean you went to a ball—and left Mia in hospital?’ All the emotions of the last few weeks were contained within the fury of her voice. Nate saw anger surge and resurge. ‘Of all the stupid, selfish, arrogant… You have a precious new daughter and you put her in hospital. In hospital! She’s not sick. You know about Golden Staph. You know kids can get sick in hospital even if they’re well to begin with. And she’s yours. She’s your daughter and you dump her—’

‘Shush…’

‘Don’t shush me.’ Her anger had built to boiling point. Her eyes were flashing fire. She took a step back and if looks could have killed, he’d have been dead on the floor right now. ‘You toad. You uncaring, unfeeling, insensitive toad. You and Fiona. You’re a type. Bring a baby into the world and then you don’t give a toss. Hand her over to the nearest stupid person who’ll take on your responsibilities—’

That was a bit much. ‘Hey, Jane’s not stupid.’ He was nettled. After all, he’d handed Mia over to his most trusted nurse. ‘And this is a tiny country hospital, Gemma. It’s not a big city hospital where infections are a problem. Until Cady came in Mia was the only child in the kids’ ward. Infections are hardly an issue. Touch wood, but we’ve never had a case of Golden Staph and, please, God, we never will. So.’ He paused and his eyes met hers and held. Challenging. ‘Any other complaints?’

He was smiling at her, she thought incredulously. The fink. He was smiling!

‘You’re laughing. How can you laugh?’ Her anger was building even more, rather than waning. ‘You have a baby and you just dump her…’

‘Gemma…’

‘Don’t Gemma me.’

‘Right.’ His hands came out and caught her again and he held. Her whole body stiffened in his grasp—she was rigid with fury. She wrenched herself backward, but he was having none of it.

‘I’m not as irresponsible as you think.’

‘How the hell would you know what I think?’

He grinned at that. ‘Maybe I can guess.’

‘You know nothing. You and Fiona—’

‘No.’ He took her hands and gripped hard, forcing her to pause mid tirade. ‘Let’s get one thing straight, Gemma. I am not Fiona and there’s been no me and Fiona. Fiona and I were a mistake. Apart from that one disastrous time, which I will regret for ever…’

‘Because of Mia?’

That gave him pause. Because of Mia?

He thought of the baby as he’d last seen her, curled in sleep like a furled rosebud. She was the most beautiful, most perfect creature.

His daughter.

He’d hardly had time to get used to the idea. But… If he could undo what had gone before, wish away her existence… Would he?

There was uncertainty in his face and Gemma saw it. And she couldn’t understand.

‘But you left her,’ she said flatly.

And Nate thought, How could I?

The Jazzfest. Donna.

Sanity.

‘Yes. I left her.’ He took a deep breath. ‘Gemma, I have a life.’

‘Well, bully for you.’ Her voice cracked with tears. ‘As opposed to me who gets to pick up the pieces of all these people who have a life.’

‘Not tonight you don’t,’ he said flatly. Jane came back into the ward then, and she smiled at both of them as Nate looked at her questioningly. ‘Are we organised?’

‘Tony’s in the kitchen, cooking, as we speak,’ Jane told them. ‘He was at the ball so he’s just popped over to cook for you and will go back afterwards.’

‘Tony?’ Gemma was confused.

‘Tony’s the hospital cook,’ Nate told her. ‘My cooking skills are limited and I figured something more than a cheese sandwich was called for. Something tells me you’ve been running on cheese sandwiches—or less—for a long time. Now, I’m about to take your blood sugar just in case, and then we’ll wrap you around a steak with the trimmings.’

‘I don’t want—’

‘You know, I’m very sure you do.’

His tone was gentle and Gemma blinked. In the face of her fury he had the capacity to undermine her reason. She should turn on her heel and refuse to have anything to do with this man.

But he had just taken care of Cady with compassion, skill and kindness. She was stuck here at least until tomorrow and probably longer. Cady was in his hands—and so was Mia, long term.

‘Let’s go,’ he told her. ‘Eat and then let fly at me all you like. There’s nothing like a good steak to fuel anger.’

She choked, but it was on something that might have passed for laughter. ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake…’

‘That’s better.’ Nate smiled into her angry eyes and his smile was enough to counter anger all on its own. All of a sudden the thought flashed into her mind—I can see why Fiona chose him for the father of her baby.

What was she thinking? That was dangerous territory. She was here to hand over a baby and move on. Leaving her emotions absolutely intact.

‘I’ll be alright,’ she said stiffly but he smiled again and took her shoulders, twisting her body away from his and propelling her out the door.

‘Yes, Dr Campbell. You’ll be fine. Just as soon as you’ve had something to eat. Jane will watch over Cady for us and let us know if he so much as blinks. If he needs you, we’ll come. But meanwhile you have needs as well. For now, Dr Campbell, just shut up and let yourself indulge in what you need. You.’

‘But—’

‘Not another word.’ And he grinned down at her, that dangerous, laughing smile that made her heart do strange things inside her chest. ‘Let’s go. Now.’

He wouldn’t listen to another word.

He sat on the other side of the big kitchen table and traded easy laughter with Tony, a beefy Irishman with a twinkle and a flair for making the most mouthwatering steak and stir-fried vegetables that Gemma had ever eaten.

They were quite a pair, Gemma thought. The two men were both in dinner suits, Nate’s well cut and smoothly black without adornment—with looks like Nate’s who needed adornment? Tony’s was the same with the addition of a vast green cummerbund, which made his not inconsiderable midriff seem huge.

And Nate was right. She was starving. The sight of food made her realise just how hungry she was. She was almost through her steak before she ventured to say a word and even then it was tentative.

‘You’ve been very good… Both of you. And to leave the ball…’

‘Think nothing of it.’ Tony waved away her thanks with indifference. ‘A man needs a break from all this capering, and the serious drinking’s hardly started.’

‘You’d still have had a good dinner if you’d arrived at three in the morning,’ Nate told her. ‘But the sauce would be a bit more alcoholic. Burgundy sauce is one of Tony’s specialities but the later in the evening it is, the more burgundy it contains.’

‘Hey, don’t scoff at my gravy. It’s a recipe handed down from generation to generation. My old granny—’

‘Who died of alcoholic poisoning aged a hundred…’

‘She did nothing of the sort,’ Tony said with dignity. ‘She didn’t die. Aged a hundred, we were able to bury her pickled and preserved for posterity.’

And so they continued, bantering easily above Gemma’s head while the wonderful food slipped down, the warmth of the kitchen enveloped her and a feeling of caring prevailed.

For some stupid reason there were tears welling behind her eyes. Why? Crying was something she’d sworn she was done with, yet today the tears were constantly threatening.

‘The lady’s asleep in her dinner,’ Tony said gently and Gemma forced her head up and her eyes wide.

‘No, I—’

‘I’ll take you to bed,’ Nate told her, and Tony laughed.

‘Now, there’s a dangerous line.’

It certainly was. Gemma’s eyes were wide now and she was awake. Sort of.

‘I… I’ll go back to Cady.’

Nate shook his head. ‘There’s no need. You know as well as I do that Cady will sleep until morning.’

‘But—’

‘And if he doesn’t…’ Nate said gently, rising and coming around the table to her side. She rose and staggered—the warmth and the weariness proving too much—and his arm came around her shoulders and held. As if he cared. ‘If he doesn’t and he needs you then Jane will come and find you. But for now, you’re coming with me.’

‘No.’

‘You needn’t think my plans are underhand,’ he told her, but his smile suggested just that and more. ‘I have a feeling sleeping with you would be just that. You’re asleep on your feet already. No. The doctors’ quarters adjoin the hospital and Cady will be a door away. We have a spare bedroom and a spare bed. What do you say, Dr Campbell? Wouldn’t you like to fall into bed?’

No.

Yes!

And suddenly to do anything else was unthinkable. Both men were looking at her, smiling in compassion and caring, and those damned tears were threatening to well and to fall.

She had no choice.

‘Yes, please,’ she told them with as much dignity as she could muster.

‘Yes!’

And before she could protest the arm around her shoulders dropped and she was swept up into a pair of strong, warm arms. Laughing eyes danced down at her. Her feeble protests were ignored and Gemma Campbell, anaesthetist, independent career-woman—and total wuss—was carried straight to bed.

CHAPTER THREE

TWO a.m. Time for sleeping. But Nate wasn’t asleep. He’d tossed and turned for a couple of hours and then thrown back the covers and taken himself through the adjoining door into the hospital.

All was quiet. There were only four patients in the little bush nursing hospital—four patients plus Cady and Mia. And there were no problems tonight. Everyone seemed to be sleeping. Nate made his way through to kids’ ward and Jane was there, sitting beside Cady. When the nurse saw him she smiled and rose.

‘They’re both fine. I’ve just taken Cady’s blood pressure and sugar levels and he didn’t stir. You want to see?’ She handed over the chart.

Twenty. His sugar level was dropping already. Good. It looked good. He gazed down at the sleeping child and he thought, Hell, what a diagnosis. It was so unfair.

But at least this was the twenty-first century, he thought thankfully. Fifty years ago this diagnosis would have meant major health problems. Now, as long as Cady was careful with himself, there was no reason to think he couldn’t look forward to a long and eventful life.

But he’d still have to cope with insulin injections. Maybe medical researchers would develop a constant infusion mechanism, he thought, to halt the need for constant injections. Or a cure. Soon…

‘Nate, he’ll be fine,’ the nurse said, watching his face and obviously puzzled by his reaction. ‘Kids take to diabetes really easily—much more so than adults. My nephew’s diabetic and he lectures me about good and bad foods all the time.’

‘Yes. I know.’

Still she was watching him with curiosity. There was a lot going on here that Jane didn’t understand.

But she did understand one thing.

‘Your daughter needs feeding.’ There was a vague whimpering from behind the partition. Mia was stirring and her whimpering was threatening to build to a full-throated roar. But not yet. She was simply letting them know it was time.

‘Do you want to feed her?’

‘No, I—’

‘I’ll prepare the formula,’ she told him, disregarding his refusal as if he hadn’t made it. ‘You change her nappy.’

‘Me…?’

‘You have to start some time—Daddy.’ And she grinned and headed to the kitchen before he could say another word.

His daughter.

Mia was his daughter.

Somehow Nate changed her nappy—a thing he would have thought impossible. There was nothing to it, he thought as he adjusted the tapes. He lifted her from the change table feeling smug.

Her nappy fell to the floor.

Whoops.

‘OK, young lady, let’s try again.’

The second attempt was no better than the first but he had the sense not to pick her up straight off. He wrapped her up in her bunny rug before lifting her and when he picked her up he carried her horizontally back to his chair.

Miraculously the nappy stayed put. Great. Well done, he thought, and his chest expanded a notch or two with paternal pride. Nothing to this parenting caper…

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