Can they afford to risk their friendship...

...by giving in to their desire?

Following her painful divorce, nomadic midwife Isabella Nicholson is determined to put down roots, and where better than in London with best friend obstetrician Raphael Dubois? However, temporarily living together leads to an unexpected yet powerful attraction... And when Izzy discovers Rafe has been hiding his own attraction, the temptation suddenly becomes hard to resist!

SUE MACKAY lives with her husband in New Zealand’s beautiful Marlborough Sounds, with the water on her doorstep and the birds and the trees at her back door. It is the perfect setting to indulge her passions of entertaining friends by cooking them sumptuous meals, drinking fabulous wine, going for hill walks or kayaking around the bay—and, of course, writing stories.

Also by Sue MacKay

The Italian Surgeon’s Secret Baby

Redeeming Her Brooding Surgeon

Taking a Chance on the Single Dad

The Nurse’s Twin Surprise

London Hospital Midwives collection

Cinderella and the Surgeon by Scarlet Wilson

Miracle Baby for the Midwife by Tina Beckett

Reunited by Their Secret Daughter by Emily Forbes

A Fling to Steal Her Heart

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A Fling to Steal Her Heart

Sue MacKay

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-0-008-90222-3

A FLING TO STEAL HER HEART

© 2020 Sue MacKay

Published in Great Britain 2020

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

EPILOGUE

Extract

About the Publisher

CHAPTER ONE

‘ARE YOU CERTAIN you aren’t still in love with him?’

‘Couldn’t be more certain.’

Isabella Nicholson held back on saying more. Admitting the truth that she doubted she’d really loved her ex enough in the first place would be embarrassing, even if Raphael Dubois was her best friend.

Best as in she’d usually tell him everything, whenever the urge took her, even in the early hours of Sunday morning, which it was right now. Four a.m. here in Wellington, four p.m. Saturday in London, where Raphael worked at his dream job in obstetrics and gynaecology at the Queen Victoria Hospital.

Wait a minute. He’d texted to see if she was awake, and knowing she currently suffered insomnia it was a no-brainer.

‘Hey, why did you call? Not to ask about Darren, surely?’

‘Izzy, is that the absolute truth or are you afraid of the answer?’

Typical. The man never missed a beat when it came to asking the hard questions, whether of her or his patients. Yet he always ignored her questions whenever it suited him.

Two could play that game. Though she’d try once more to shut him down. ‘Don’t I always tell you the truth?’ Minus some niggling details in this instance.

‘You’re good at leaving out the specifics when it suits,’ he confirmed, chuckling so she knew he was letting go the subject of her failed marriage.

‘So what brings you to call in the middle of Saturday afternoon? I’d have thought you’d be at a rugby game with the guys.’ One of them had found the niche they were looking for—and it wasn’t her. Two years ago she’d returned home to New Zealand with her new husband, full of hope and excitement based around Darren’s promises for what lay ahead, and with the intention of finally stopping in one place and surrounding herself with family and friends. Instead, twelve months later, her marriage had crashed badly, leaving her dreams up in the air. The friends had been all his, and her parents were always busy with their own lives. Since then she’d gone back to what she was good at—moving around the world from job to country to anywhere enticing, only for a lot shorter periods than previously. A fortnight ago she’d finished a volunteers’ job in Cambodia and returned to visit her parents while deciding where next. Only she couldn’t bring herself to go just anywhere this time.

Find something more permanent kept popping into her head. Go solo on that dream of settling down.

‘I’ve been delivering triplets,’ Rafe replied. He’d settled in London, been there nearly three years, bought a house, was keeping some distance from his claustrophobic family at home in Avignon as he grappled with his own demons. He seemed content in a quiet way, which was not the Raphael she’d known most of her life.

Please be her turn next. Even if it meant remaining single, which wasn’t so bad. She was used to it. Nursing and midwifery jobs were fairly easy to come by, but after a childhood of moving around with her parents in the Foreign Service she’d hankered after settling back in New Zealand for ever when she’d married. Maybe that’s where she’d gone wrong, put too much emphasis on where she lived and not who with. So here she was, minus the husband, ignoring the hole inside that needed filling with something unrecognisable, and which she suspected had to do with love. ‘Triplets. Hard to imagine how parents cope with that many babies all at once.’

‘This couple would’ve been grateful for quads if it meant becoming parents.’ His voice fell into sentimental mode. ‘You should see these little guys. So cute, looking tiny in their incubators hooked up to monitors, giving their parents heart failure already.’

‘But they’ll be fine, right?’ He’d hate for anything to go wrong. When a baby in his care had difficulties that couldn’t be fixed he’d get upset for days, distraught for the parents, blaming himself while knowing it wasn’t his fault. She’d never been able to find out what was behind his extreme reaction that had only started over the last few years. Seemed they both kept secrets from each other.

‘For triplets they’re in good shape, though one of them is smaller than his brothers so I’ll be keeping a closer eye on him. They made it to thirty-four weeks’ gestation before the Caesarean, which means everything’s on their side. The parents had fertility issues so we did artificial insemination and, voilà, the best of results.’ Raphael’s accent thickened when he became emotional.

‘Great outcome for all of you.’ Because he would’ve been almost as invested as the expectant parents. ‘You should go out and celebrate.’

‘I’m meeting up with a couple of the guys and their better halves as soon as I’ve talked with you. What did you get up to last night?’

Huh? Her social life had never been of much interest to him before. There again, recently he had taken to expressing concern about how she was coping with getting over Darren. Worried she’d go back to the cheat?

‘I went out for a meal and a couple of drinks at the local with a neighbour.’ She hadn’t stayed out late, preferring to head back to her parents’ place rather than being eyed up by men obviously wanting one thing only.

Getting old, girl.

Or jaded.

‘Beats staying inside the four walls feeling sorry for yourself.’

Again, huh? What was this all about? ‘That’s harsh, Rafe.’ She preferred it when Raphael went all sentimental over the babies he delivered, not digging deeper into her messed-up life. ‘I’ll say it one more time. I do not love Darren. Any feelings I had for him died when I found Gaylene Abernethy’s naked body wrapped around him in our bed.’ If only it was that easy: blame Darren for everything and feel superior. But it wasn’t. She’d taken his promises about their life together at face value, colouring in the gaps with what she wanted and not seeing that he’d never aspired to the same. Though the affairs were a different story. Her husband had gone too far there.

‘That’s positive. I had to ask.’ That couldn’t be relief in Raphael’s voice. Then again, why not? The two men had never got on, were summer to winter.

‘Sure you did.’

Naturally he hadn’t finished. ‘Love doesn’t always stop the moment there’s a reason to.’ He spoke from firsthand experience. Was that what this was about? Would he finally tell her what had happened six years ago when his heart was torn out of his chest?

‘I did love Darren, though not as much as I should’ve if I was committing to “until death us do part.”’

‘Does anyone say that any more? What if you both lived till you were ninety-five? That’s a lot of marriage. At fifty who’s the same person they were at thirty, let alone in their nineties?’ asked the guy who’d signed up for ever with Cassie, only to get the boot within two years. Failed marriages were another thing they had in common.

‘Typical of you to come up with that question.’ If she fed him a little bit more about her relationship would he let it go? Not likely. This was Rafe. Neither did admitting how she’d failed come easily. She’d made a mistake marrying Darren. His promises of buying a house and having children didn’t eventuate. Instead the parties, going to the rugby games with the mates and leaving her behind, the late nights at the office not working—found that out later—the weekends away with the boys... None of it ever stopped, actually became more intense, as though he was afraid to face what he’d agreed to do with her. She’d got more morose and by the time their first wedding anniversary came around she was blaming him for everything that went wrong in her life. Not accepting that she’d rushed in on those promises without asking herself if she really loved Darren as much as she’d believed. ‘I’m fine. I made a mistake, and now I’ve put it behind me.’

‘As long as you’re sure,’ Raphael muttered. ‘I don’t want you regretting leaving him further down the track.’

‘Drop it, Rafe. We are not getting back together. It’s over.’ How many times did she have to say it?

‘Right. Tell me about Phnom Penh, then. What made you stay on an extra month?’

She’d rather talk about her ex. ‘A tragic case that I got too close to.’

‘We’re not meant to do that, Izzy.’

Tell her something she didn’t know. ‘It’s different over there. When someone’s sick or seriously injured the whole family’s involved, from great-gran to baby brother, and I got swept up in it all.’ To the point where she’d put the brakes on racing around chasing happiness while she thought about what she really wanted for the future. ‘Can we change the subject?’

‘Fine. So what’s next? A summer at the Antarctic with the New Zealand science contingent? Or a month on one of the charity ships in Africa?’

There seemed to be another question behind Raphael’s queries, but Isabella couldn’t hear what it was. Strange, given how well they knew each other—apart from those secrets. ‘Come on. I’m not that restless.’ Though the past year said otherwise. Auckland, Melbourne, Cambodia. Maybe she was more like her parents than she cared to admit, and therefore she was never going to find that permanent happy place. Nothing wrong with Mum and Dad’s thirty-two-year marriage despite rarely stopping in one place for more than three years at a time though. They just shouldn’t have brought her into the mix. ‘I spent six years in Wellington training and working as a nurse. Four more in London doing midwifery before—’

‘Oui, I get it. But right now you’ll be overthinking what you’re going to do next. Stay in Wellington, move to Africa or America.’ He paused. Then on a deep breath, he continued. ‘With your attitude about failing, this breakup will still be winding you into a tight ball of conjecture. “Where shall I live? What’s the next project to undertake? Am I more Kiwi or English?”’ He sighed, then said, ‘Tell me I’m wrong, Izzy.’

She couldn’t. That was exactly who she was. Except that family in Cambodia had changed her in some indefinable way. But she wasn’t ready to talk about it yet. Might never be. Isabella stretched the length of her bed, and tucked the thick woollen duvet around herself. ‘You’ll be pleased to know I can’t imagine being stuck on an iceberg for months on end having to rely on in-depth conversations with penguins.’ She pulled her pillow down around her neck. Autumn had thrown a curve ball today, sending a reminder of what winter would have in store in a few weeks.

‘Penguins are probably more interesting than half the people you get to meet every day.’ His laughter was usually infectious, but tonight it was sounding a little tired, fed up even.

‘Something wrong at your end of the world?’

‘No more than the usual. We’re short-staffed and it seems every female in London over twenty is pregnant at the moment.’

‘What about life outside the Queen Victoria? Love, life, laughter, those things?’ Raphael was one of the most good-looking men she knew. Women fawned over him, fell in love with him without him having said bonjour. Yet, since Cassie, he’d not had one serious relationship, preferring the love ’em and leave ’em approach to relationships—when he found time for one. At least he didn’t promise anything else and always warned the women he wasn’t looking for a partner. In fact, he was so kind and careful about his approach they all still thought he was wonderful long after he’d said au revoir.

‘Don’t know what you’re talking about.’ At least his laughter was genuine now. ‘Haven’t got time for much than work and study.’

‘That sounds as pathetic as my life right now.’ What a scintillating pair they made.

‘You think?’ Raphael took a long, slow breath. ‘Crunch time, huh, Midwife Nicholson? For you, not me,’ he clarified.

‘You sure about that?’ she grumped, hating him for making her face up to what was bothering her.

‘It’s not me lying awake for hours every night trying to put the pieces of the puzzle back together.’

‘You’re right, and don’t you dare gloat,’ she added in a hurry. ‘I do have some decisions to make.’

‘Starting with?’

That was the problem. She didn’t know where to start. ‘Where to live?’

‘What’s wrong with where you are?’ Straight to the point, as always.

‘If I’m staying here I need to buy a property and get stuck in making it mine.’ Isabella sighed. It was the truth, just not all of it. Try again. ‘Funny how I always thought of Wellington as home and yet it doesn’t feel like that.’

‘You haven’t exactly been happy there in the past. We all need some place to call home, but it doesn’t mean we have to settle there if we’re not getting what we require from it. Like me and Avignon.’

Yeah, where he got too much of what he wanted. ‘Now there’s an interesting city.’ The ancient wall surrounding the city centre, the old fort on the other side of the river, the famous Pont d’Avignon. The history had drawn her, made her yearn to belong somewhere, to feel a part of something—and so when Darren came along she’d moved back to Wellington with him. Except now she’d probably leave again. Something was missing. With the city? Or inside her? ‘I think I want to get back to friends who know me and where I’ve come from.’ Maybe even where she was headed.

Raphael should understand. They’d met on trips with their respective schools to a ski field in the Swiss Alps. Out of control on a snow board, she’d crashed into him, and nursing bruises over hot chocolate in the café they’d instantly bonded. His father worked in a bank in Geneva while her dad was working at the New Zealand consulate in the same city. She’d been used to making friends quickly, aware how fast three years passed when she’d have to move and start all over again. Raphael had been homesick for his grandmother and cousins back in Avignon, and resented his parents for taking him away from them all. She’d wanted her parents to return home and stop moving. Instead, when her mother obtained a position in an international accounting company that had her travelling a lot, Isabella had been sent to boarding school in England, leaving her feeling unconnected, abandoned. Even when she returned to the family fold, that disconnect remained. She’d done too much growing up in the interim and had changed for ever.

Despite being two years older than her, Raphael had gone out of his way to keep in touch, and they had remained close, despite living in different countries for most of their friendship. She’d briefly worked with him once in Tours, which had been great. Since then? Modern communications systems were the best thing to ever be invented.

Raphael asked, ‘You’re still coming over here for Carly’s wedding, right?’

‘Wouldn’t miss it for anything. It was bad enough not making it to Esther and Harry’s.’ She’d been supposed to fly to London for that, but when the Medical Volunteers Charity asked her to stay on another month because the traumatised Khy family she’d been working closely with still needed her there as stability, she hadn’t been able to say no. They’d needed her, and she’d wanted to be needed. Still did. ‘Flights are booked.’

‘Why not make it a one-way trip? Your girlfriends from midwifery training days are here and all working in the Queen Victoria, although for how long is anyone’s guess with all these weddings going down. Then there’s moi.’

Her laugh was brittle. ‘You make it sound so easy.’ It was. With an English mother getting a work visa for the UK was straightforward. But did she want to go there and be watched over like she was going to come out in a rash for being on her own again? Or questioned about every move she made? Every decision she arrived at? Because Raphael had changed. Since she’d left Darren, come to think of it. He was always questioning what she did, the jobs she chose, the countries they were in. No way did she want put up with any more of that, and living on his back doorstep wouldn’t help. At least she wouldn’t be in his house.

He continued in a coaxing voice. ‘Okay, why I really rang. There is a nurse’s position coming up on my ward if you’re interested. With your midwifery qualifications as well as nursing you’re ideal for the job. The girl who’s leaving hasn’t told anyone other than me yet, and she’s agreed to keep quiet till I talk to you. What do you think?’

‘How soon would I have to start?’ She was stalling, not feeling the excitement that usually stirred when she had an offer on the table to do something new. Weighing up the pros and cons? Unlike her.

‘Jasmine wants to be gone within three weeks. Something about a boyfriend in Canada and a road trip they’ve been planning to do over summer.’

Did she want to return to London? As in really want to? Or should she be staying put, making more of an effort to integrate into Wellington and stop blaming Darren for feeling confused? Making this the home base she’d always wanted?

‘And...ta da, the best bit.’ He paused for effect. Typical Raphael. ‘Don’t forget who’s the charge obstetrician on the ward. Your call, but remember, we work well together.’

That they did. Working as a midwife for those few months in Tours just after she’d finished her midwifery training had been the best job she’d ever had; having her closest friend in the same hospital added to the pluses. He’d shown her the French lifestyle, taken her to Avignon to meet his maternal grandmother and his cousins, tripped all over the country on their days off to show her castles, cities, mountains. Then he’d taken up his current position in London, and she’d met Darren in France while watching a rugby game between the All Blacks and Les Bleus, and the rest was history. A rocky, sorry history, but what didn’t kill her was going to make her stronger. Just not certain when. Not to mention how persuasive Raphael could be when he put his mind to it. ‘You know what?’

‘You’re on your way.’

‘I might be.’

‘Hello? Where’s strong, do-it-her-way-or-bust Isabella gone? You’re coming or you’re not. Which, Izzy?’

She had to make her mind up now? Why not? Raphael was right. She’d always approached life head-on, didn’t usually waste time dithering over decisions, and accepted that when she’d got it wrong it was part of the gamble. Her marriage failure had set her off kilter, made her worry and fuss too much about getting things right or wrong, made her wary of trusting people. Then watching the closeness of the Khys as they struggled to keep their son alive and how they coped after it all went wrong had blitzed her completely.

‘Izzy?’

If taking up a new position back in the city where her nursing friends and Raphael lived turned out to be a mistake, then she’d survive. If Rafe became too bossy she’d tell him what to do with that. But at least they were all there, the people who mattered the most to her. ‘Got to go. Have to pack my bag.’

CHAPTER TWO

TWO WEEKS LATER, as Raphael paced the arrivals hall at Heathrow, Isabella’s text pinged on his phone.

Landed.

About time. Something settled in his gut. Relief? No, this sensation felt stronger, not that he recognised it, but it did make him wary and happy all in one hit. He’d felt this way when Izzy said she was coming to London. His fingers flew over his phone.

I’m waiting in arrivals hall.

The flight was an hour late. Serve him right for getting here early, but he’d been ready to pick up Izzy since crawling out of bed first light that morning. Not even doing a round of his patients and checking on the triplets had quelled the need to get to Heathrow on time, which in his book meant early. Very early. He’d given his regular visit to the market a miss, cursed the traffic holdups all the way to the airport and ranted at the arrivals notice board every time it brought up a new flight arrival that wasn’t Izzy’s. Damn it, he even checked his phone app every time to make sure the board and the app were on the same page. Oui, of course they were. But this hanging around for Isabella was doing his head in.

He couldn’t wait to see her. It seemed ages since she’d married Darren, who in his book was a complete idiot, and left London for what she euphemistically—in his mind, desperately—called home. It had been as though she’d been on a mission to prove something to herself, and she hadn’t told him what it was, which worried him. Yet when Isabella suggested he pay them a visit in Wellington during his leave last year he’d pleaded prior commitments so as to avoid her husband. Unfair, but he and Darren had never seen eye to eye about anything, and especially about the woman they both cared about. Her husband could not get his head around the fact that Raphael and Isabella were close friends, not lovers and never had been, and he kept making digs about how she was his. Yeah, right. Look where that had got the guy. Single again, and still missing the whole point about commitment.

His phone pinged again.

Bring a trailer?

You’ve brought that much gear?

Yep.

Really? Isabella travelled light. Something she’d learned as a Foreign Service brat. While her parents had a container-load of gear follow them wherever they went, Izzy never packed much at all, said carrying only her regular gear around kept her grounded in reality. Did this mean she’d come to London with the idea of staying long term?

Calmes-toi.

There was long term and then there was Izzy’s ingrained version of staying put. They did not match. There’d been nothing to stop her settling in London permanently last time she lived here. But he wasn’t being fair. She had decided to stay here and then along came the husband offering all sorts of carrots in Wellington. She’d always had a thing about returning to the city where she’d been born and partially brought up in, so Darren’s promises raised her hopes of a life there. The failure of said marriage seemed to have screwed with that idea, and stalled her about making any serious decisions over what to do next. Odd, because Isabella was no stranger to being strong and getting what she wanted. But on the other side of that argument, she didn’t always know exactly what she wanted. Hence fast-track midwifery training.

He texted back.

Great.

It was, actually. Could be she’d finally figured out what she was looking for. Given half a chance he’d go back to Avignon and the family tomorrow. But it wasn’t happening any time soon. He’d return there only when he’d got over the guilt for the way Cassie had treated his nearest and dearest. And stopped feeling angry for the cruel blow she’d hit him with. His son, his parents’ only grandson, dead at eight days from SIDS, and he hadn’t even known he was a father. The pregnancy one more of Cassie’s ways of paying him back for not falling into line with all her outrageous demands.

The doors from the other side swished open as a small group of people towing cases on wheels came through. Swallowing the familiar bitterness and hauling his concentration to what was important today, Raphael craned his neck trying to see around them. No sign of Isabella. Nothing on his phone. ‘Come on. Where are you?’ he ground out. No doubt dealing with the inevitable questions from immigration. He’d take another turn of the hall to fill in some minutes.

Except Raphael remained glued to the spot, his eyes never leaving the doors now that his phone had gone quiet. Hopefully that meant she’d soon burst through the doors like the hurricane she could be. Not that she sounded as revved up these days whenever he talked to her. Her ex had dealt some harsh blows to her confidence. Though there could be more to it than Izzy was telling him.

The doors opened again and more exhausted people spilled through, followed by a laden trolley being pushed by... ‘Raphael.’ The shout was accompanied by a small body hurtling through the crowd, aimed directly for him.

‘Izzy.’

Oof. Oui. Definitely tornado.

His lungs huffed out every last molecule of oxygen they were holding as Isabella plastered herself against him. His arms wound around her like they never intended letting go. She smelt of travel and tiredness and excitement and—

Mais oui, Isabella. Soft, tough.

Careful. Friends, nothing else.

‘Hello, Rafe. Good to see you.’

The relief expanded. Isabella was here. Izzy. He inhaled deeper, hugged harder and kissed her on both cheeks French style. Friendly style. Then, without letting go of her, he leaned back to gaze down at her fine features with dark shadows staining her upper cheeks. There was strain in her eyes, negating her usual go-get-’em attitude. Anger lodged behind his ribs. This was Darren’s fault. The man had hurt her. But apparently it took two to tango, so had Isabella done something wrong too? He’d leave off the big questions until she’d got some sleep and was looking more like her normal self. Since the flat she’d arranged had fallen through she was staying with him for a little while—until they had their first row at least. Something not uncommon between them. ‘Great to see you, mon amie.’

The familiar cheeky twinkle was back in her gaze, though the corners of her mouth were still drawn. ‘You see me every other week.’

He relaxed enough to go with the change. ‘Usually your chin is huge and your eyes somewhere above the screen. This way I get to see you properly. I can read your expressions,’ he added to wind her up for the hell of it. Because that’s how they’d always been with each other, and until now he hadn’t realised how important it was. It kept him on track, especially at the times Cassie’s betrayal got to him too much. He hadn’t shared the details, but Izzy had always been at the end of a phone. They knew each other better than anyone, and had often relied on that to get through the upheavals life threw at them, yet there’d been apprehension in his veins since Isabella had agreed to come to London and take up the job he’d suggested. He didn’t understand his apprehension, unless it was to do with the uncomfortable, almost painful, feeling that overcame him at her marriage ceremony where he’d stood beside her as she said her vows to Darren. A sense that he’d found out something important when it was too late.

‘Next time I’ll focus the camera on my slipper-covered feet.’

‘Not the ones the neighbour’s dog chewed.’ Next time. Reality check. This wasn’t a long-term move. Was that disappointment rapping his knuckles? And if so, why? He was used to her coming and going as it suited, or, when they were young, as her parents had decreed. Could be that his need to see her happy wasn’t going to be satisfied. Could also be that his hope of spending more time with her wasn’t going to be fulfilled. He looked around. ‘We’d better rescue that trolley before someone crashes into it and the bags topple off.’ This was going to be interesting. His car wasn’t made for organising a complete house move. ‘Did you leave anything behind?’

Her tight laugh had him wondering just what was going on. ‘This is only the beginning. I’m shipping more belongings across. The container’s due to arrive sometime in May.’

Raphael dived right in. ‘So you’re looking for somewhere to unpack properly? As in lock, stock and clothes?’ This was nothing like her usual style of one backpack and the laptop.

Her laughter died. ‘Don’t be so shocked. Just because it didn’t work in Wellington doesn’t mean it won’t here with all my friends around me.’

He reached for her, needing to hug a smile back onto her face. ‘You’re right, and I’m one of them.’

‘I hope so,’ she murmured against his chest before pulling away, still without a smile. She’d never doubted him before. But before he could question her, she continued. ‘There’s a couple of pieces of furniture, some kitchenware and lots of books coming.’

He stared at her, a knot of unease tightening in his belly. She was serious about this move. He was thrilled for her, and him, and would help make it work, but... But he’d have to be careful about keeping his distance. Risking their friendship was not happening over some out of kilter emotions he’d felt on and off since her marriage. ‘Truly?’

She nodded, her mouth twisted into a wry smile. ‘Truly.’ A sigh trickled over her lips. ‘I’ll add to them as soon as I find my own place.’

‘Your own place?’ The relief should be flooding in. It wasn’t.

‘A place to rent for a start.’

He sighed. Stop being disgruntled. His friend was back in town. Someone to talk the talk with, have a beer at the pub or take a ride out in the countryside. One day at a time and see how they went getting back to that easy relationship they’d always shared until she’d got married.

It goes back further than that, mon ami. You’ve never shared much about your time with Cassie. Or the devastation she caused.

‘Thanks for putting a roof over my head until I find somewhere.’

‘It’ll be better than squatting under London Bridge.’ Suddenly there was a bounce in his step. He’d been looking forward to this moment, and now Izzy was here. Right beside him. Recently his life had become all about work, and very little play. All too often he cancelled going to rugby with the guys, the only excuse being his patients needed him. But he needed to be more rounded, balance his lifestyle. Izzy was good at shaking him up, would take no nonsense about how he was a doctor before all else. Well, he was, but she always reckoned that didn’t mean his work should fill twenty-four hours every day of the week. ‘Let’s get out of here.’

‘Let’s.’ Isabella smothered a yawn with her hand. ‘That was one hell of a trip. Crying babies, and an enormous man in the seat next to me who kept falling asleep and sprawling in every direction, mostly mine.’

‘Sounds fairly normal.’ Long-haul flights were hell on wings.

‘One day I’m going to fly first class just to see what it’s like. I did get some sleep though, which is a change. Probably because I had so little in the nights leading up to getting on the plane.’

‘You done anything about that insomnia?’

Untidy auburn hair flicked across her shoulders as she shook her head. ‘What’s the point? I’ve tried everything except sleeping pills and I’m never resorting to them. Seen too many patients who’ve become addicted, and then any gains in the sleep department are lost. Besides, I’m used to getting by on a couple of hours at a time.’

This had gone on for almost as long as he’d known her, sometimes minor sleep deprivation, sometimes quite major, and in recent years it had cranked up a few more notches. Guess a person could get used to anything given enough time, though it wasn’t good for her. ‘Still, I think you should see one of my colleagues. He’s good at helping people get to the bottom of what’s causing the problem and might even be able to give you some practical advice.’

‘Let me get unpacked before you start organising my life.’ Isabella gave him a lopsided smile, with a warning behind it. ‘Okay, what’ve you got planned for tonight?’

Whatever she was trying to tell him, he’d leave it for now. ‘Running three laps of the neighbourhood before digging up the back garden and putting in some plants.’

‘Cool. Nothing for me to worry about. I can sit down and watch a movie on my phone, dial out for pizza.’

Raphael laughed, and it was like pushing Play on an old CD player, bringing back memories of fun times when his heart hadn’t been ripped out of his chest. He halted the trolley to sling an arm over Isabella’s shoulders and hug her against him again. ‘You’re on to it.’ This was more like it. Cheeky Izzy not taking any of his nonsense seriously. It was one of the things he missed the most. Not even the overloaded, heavy trolley could put a dent in the sense of fun ahead now spreading through him. A familiar feeling he’d known the very first time they’d met, stronger than the pain in his thigh where her snowboard had struck hard. She’d been embarrassed at losing control, and tried blaming him for being in the way. They’d argued and laughed and shared hot chocolates and swapped phone numbers, and afterwards met up every weekend in Geneva when they could get away from school activities. ‘I’ve missed you.’ It hadn’t been so easy to have two-hour conversations when there was a husband in the background, and he’d been very aware of how he might’ve felt if the situation had been reversed. He mightn’t have liked Darren, but he understood the boundaries. And afterwards, Izzy had been a bit withdrawn with him.

‘Same.’

‘I would’ve headed down under for a week this past year to support you, cheer you up, get you back on track, but you were never there.’ Her phone calls over the last twelve months had been quiet, and filled with sadness and, at times, something like despair that she’d never explained.

Again those auburn locks swished back and forth across her shoulders. ‘You didn’t have to do that. I’m a big girl. Anyway, I managed, and you were always at the other end of the phone when I needed to talk. You’d have been fed up with me by the end of the first day and champing to get away. I had to do it my way, and having you rant in my ear about my future when I couldn’t hang up on you wouldn’t have worked, for either of us.’

‘You’re probably right, but still...’ He’d let her down. And himself. Again he wasn’t sure why he thought that.

Raphael began pushing his friend’s worldly goods towards the lift that’d take them to the car park. ‘Bumped into Carly on Wednesday. She’s pretty excited about you returning to the Queen Victoria.’

‘She’s more excited about her wedding. We’ve already got a night out planned with the other two from our training days’ group. Funny how we’re again all here at the same time. I wonder if that means everyone’s settling down, becoming responsible adults, or is this just another stop along the way? Seems London’s our place. My place?’

This sounded more like the Isabella he’d known for so long: always confident and putting it out there about how she wanted to live, and yet being gnawed at on the inside with her insecurities over people sticking by her, not breaking the bonds she desperately needed. Her parents had put her into boarding school when they felt she’d have better support and company than at home with them. They hadn’t known a thing. He’d held her while she’d cried over being sent away. But after falling heavily for Cassie, and having her treat him so badly, he knew what a shattered heart felt like—and wasn’t risking going there again. Nor hurting someone else similarly when he wasn’t able to give enough of himself to her.

He said, ‘Stop trying to second-guess everything, and enjoy being back amongst us all.’ He would never desert her; he needed her friendship as much as she needed his. She understood him like no one else. If only he could stick with friendship, not let other emotions get in the way. ‘You can do it. You have to believe in yourself.’

Then Isabella flicked him a look he couldn’t interpret. ‘Like you?’ Her eyes were locked on his. ‘I can follow your example? Work non-stop, get a home that I won’t get to spend much time in?’

His happiness slipped. ‘Is that what I’ve become? A workaholic?’

‘It’s what you told me only weeks ago.’

‘I was probably trying to deflect you from your problems.’ He’d been voicing his concerns about how everyone around him seemed to be finding love and making babies, while he was getting further tied up with work. What he hadn’t said was how he wished he could find what it would take to try again, to finally put his past to rest. But he couldn’t. Because of Cassie’s selfishness, he’d lost a son and still wasn’t able to make peace with himself about that.

‘About those problems, will you always be here for me on the bad days?’

Where did that come from? ‘Oui, you can count on me.’ She already knew it.

‘Thanks. I can’t tell you how good it is to spend time with you. It’s been a while since anyone told me what to do.’

‘Most people are too scared to.’ He laughed. ‘Let’s get this load home and go have a drink and a pub meal to celebrate your arrival in London.’ Better out somewhere surrounded by people than stuck in his kitchen together. Only now was he beginning to understand the coming weeks sharing his house might not be as comfortable as he’d thought. Which was so far left field it was crazy. Izzy would get busy beginning her new life, and he’d be hanging on to the dull but predictable one he’d made for himself.

‘Sounds good to me. I loved the pub food when I lived here last time.’ Isabella’s hand tapped her stomach, then a hip. ‘Not that it ever did me a lot of good. But I’m in for tonight anyway.’ She threaded her arm through his, ignoring how the trolley aimed sideways and caused him to put more pressure on to controlling it with the other arm. ‘Honestly, Rafe, I keep wanting to pinch myself. It’s been for ever since we last saw each other. Talking on the phone or through the internet doesn’t quite cut it. I like to know you’re within reaching distance.’ She gulped, tripped, righted herself and stared straight ahead. ‘Talking too much. Put it down to jet lag, if that happens so soon after a flight.’

This was different. He hauled the brakes on the hope beginning to unfold deep inside. In the long run he wouldn’t be enough for Izzy. She needed someone to love her unconditionally. That wouldn’t be him after the way Cassie had blown his trust out of the water because Izzy had her own issues about believing anyone would love her enough to stay around. Anyway, give her a few days to settle in at work and catch up with the girls and she’d be off doing all sorts of random things, and then he could relax around her. ‘You don’t suffer from jet lag.’ He’d always been envious when he’d had to grapple with debilitating exhaustion for days after a long-haul flight, while this woman usually bounced off the plane ready to party.

‘Always a first time.’ Isabella remained quiet until they reached his car. More unusual behaviour.

Something was up, and finding out what was imperative if he was to be onside as she settled into London for good, but best left alone today. He tipped his head sideways to stare at Isabella. Naturally he always wanted to help her when she was in difficulty, but normally he’d accept it if she refused to talk. But today he wanted to get behind the pain in the back of her eyes, see her achieve genuine happiness. Opening the car boot, he said, ‘Let me do this. You get comfortable inside.’

‘Like I’m your grandmother?’ She smiled. ‘How is Grand’mère, by the way? Fully recovered from her hip replacement?’

‘Chasing the great grandkids with her crutch, apparently. Being her, she’ll be back cycling around the city before she should,’ he said with a smile. He adored Grand’mère. She was the only other person besides Izzy to support him in all his endeavours without criticism. His family loved him but always wanted to tell him what they believed he was doing wrong with his decisions. ‘I was talking to her last night and she said whenever you need a change of scenery, pop over and spend time with her.’ What she’d really said was, when Isabella was fed up with him, go pay her a visit and she’d sort her out. Grand’mère had a soft spot for the lost Kiwi girl who’d often hopped a train to go spend a day with her when she was working in Tours.

‘Cool. I’ll do that sooner than later. I love your grandmother, and Avignon’s one of my favourite cities.’ She handed him one of the smaller cases.

He shook his head. ‘That big sucker first.’

‘She might be just what I need on the days when you’re not available for chewing your ear off.’ Fixing a smile on her face she made to shift the bags. ‘The family still as smothering as ever?’

Typical Izzy. Here he was holding back on the big questions and she just leapt in. ‘Out of the way. This is man’s work.’

‘Whatever.’ Her eye roll made him laugh. At least she backed away from the stack of cases.

‘What have you got in here?’ he groaned. ‘You must’ve paid a small fortune in excess baggage costs.’

‘You avoiding my question?’

‘You know I am. Now, get in the car before I put a bag on your seat and leave you to catch the train.’

Isabella snuggled into the soft leather seat and tugged her crumpled denim jacket across her chest to keep out the chill. From what she’d seen coming in to land, London had not turned on the sunshine in welcome, and the air out here was proving it. But Raphael had more than made up for the chilly welcome, hugging her tight as though he never wanted to let her go. There’d been relief in his gaze as she raced to him, as though he hadn’t really believed she’d turn up.

Well, she was here, and right now she needed friends who didn’t ask awkward questions. Count Raphael out, then. She sighed. He never let her get away with anything. There again, he knew how to help her without seeming too intense. Demanding an instant decision about the job in the Queen Victoria had been unusual for him but just what she needed to get out of the blues she’d dumped herself into. Since his phone call determination to get on with consolidating her life had started growing, begun to fill the empty place deep inside, even excited her. There was a long way to go, but a start was way better than nothing at all.

The car rocked as Raphael clambered in beside her. ‘Ready?’

She nodded. Fingers crossed, for everything. ‘I sure am. What’s Richmond like?’ It was the suburb where he’d bought his house. ‘I hear it’s very pretty.’

‘It is. There’re plenty of fabulous cafés, and I enjoy walking or cycling along the river when I’ve had a rubbish day and need to put things into perspective.’

‘That would be often.’ He gave his all to patients. Studying him as he drove out of the airport, shock hit her.

He’s changed.

His face was drawn, his movements heavier, his words spoken more thoughtfully. Why? Another sigh. He wouldn’t thank her for asking so she changed the subject. ‘How’s Pierre?’ His cousin’s son held a special place in Raphael’s heart.

‘In love with the girl next door. Apparently he’s going to die if she doesn’t kiss him soon.’ Raphael chuckled. ‘Everything’s so intense at his age.’

‘Too much so sometimes.’

Rafe had been seventeen when he’d helped Adele during the birth of her son. He’d been driving her through the country lanes headed for the birthing centre when her well-spaced labour pains went out of control. He’d told Isabella there’d been no time for embarrassment with Adele gripping his arm and screaming to do something about the baby. The first birth he’d seen and aided, and from that day on he’d known what he wanted to do with his future career in medicine. ‘Pierre’s now a robust fifteen-year-old, and also thinking of going into medicine. Though not obstetrics. He’s keen on cardiology, though that might have something to do with his heart being in torment at the moment.’

‘You think?’ Shuffling down further in her seat, Isabella stared out the window as they followed the main road leading into the city. ‘This is familiar. I like familiar. It makes me feel I might be doing the right thing coming back.’ She did feel connected to London, something she didn’t get often. Wellington had been the only other place, and Darren’s infidelity had altered that. Sure, he hadn’t been the only one to get things wrong with their marriage, but he had broken her heart by seeking solace in other women’s arms, and wrecked her trust in people.

‘Papa and Maman have returned to live in the family home in Avignon. Dad’s left the bank. It was getting too stressful so now he’s working part time with a importing company and aiming to enjoy time out with the family.’

‘That’s huge.’ Monsieur Dubois had worked long and hard most of his life. ‘It’s great news, isn’t it?’ Then her heart stuttered. Would Raphael move home now? Just when she’d returned to London? When she wanted to spend time with him?

Rafe was leaning forward, his concentration fixed on the road and cars ahead. His tight grip on the steering wheel was another giveaway he was rattled. ‘Oui.’

‘But?’ she dared to ask.

His fingers loosened their grip, tightened again. ‘I’m still not ready,’ he said in a ‘don’t go there’ voice she knew not to ignore.

She closed her eyes and tipped her head back, let the silence take over. Better than saying anything to upset her friend. Apart from his parents almost suffocating him in love she had no idea what was behind his refusal to return home. He seemed more content than in those dark days after he and Cassie broke up, but there were times Isabella wondered how happy he really was with his lot.

The silence became uncomfortable. ‘We had such plans growing up, didn’t we? Nothing turned out anything like them.’ There’d never been any doubt Raphael was going into medicine. He had intended setting up a private practice in his home city, while she’d thought she’d go into marketing, then car sales so she could drive to-die-for vehicles. Running a bar came into the plans somewhere around that time. But nothing had felt right, like something was missing as it was in her family. Then hearing Raphael talking about working with patients and the pain and fear and love that surrounded people when they were sick, she understood she wanted to work with people too. Not by handing them a full glass over a counter, but soothing their fears when they were injured, caring that they got through whatever was frightening them. So she applied to start training as a nurse, and had been the most at ease in her life for the next four years. Until she was qualified, and once again restlessness overtook her so finally, in desperation, she came to London and signed up for the midwifery course. Being there for those babies, and sharing—albeit on the periphery—the love and excitement every baby brought its parents, had made her happier than she’d ever believed possible. Having two options to her career was a bonus, and she had no intention of doing anything else career-wise. It was the one thing she was absolutely certain about.

‘I am so glad you’re here, Izzy.’ Rafe sank back against the seat, and flicked her a quick smile, his knuckles no longer white and tight. Then he stiffened again. ‘Not that I’ll have a lot of free time to spend with you.’

It sounded like a warning of some sort. He wasn’t available for friend time? Again, her heart stuttered. Which frightened her. Raphael was a friend. Couldn’t be anything else. Of course they were never going to be anything else. These oddball jitters just went to show how far out of sync she’d become with what she needed from life. ‘I’ll be busy too,’ she told him with a dollop of self-preservation for her pride. ‘Finding a flat to rent, catching up with the girls, starting my new job.’ A yawn caught her. Bed would be good right now. Damn but she needed some sleep, although past experience told her she was best to stay up till a reasonable hour, and eat a decent meal. Even then, there’d only be intermittent hours of unconsciousness. Glancing over to Rafe, for the first time in ages, pure happiness surged through her. It was as though she had come home, not left it. And she suspected she wasn’t only thinking about London and friends, but Raphael in particular. Whatever that meant, she was too tired to worry about it. She let the silence return. Until again she couldn’t stand it. ‘I can’t wait to see your house.’

He sucked in a breath. ‘You’re going to be disappointed. I’d be lying if I said it’s a work in progress. I haven’t done anything about the paintwork or getting the kitchen altered and the bathrooms modernised. I never seem able to find the enthusiasm or time.’

‘Maybe I can help.’

His eyebrows rose in shock. ‘I’m not talking a small job here.’

‘Have to start somewhere, and if I’m going to get my own place eventually I might as well practise on yours first.’

‘You think?’ He grinned. ‘Afraid I’m going to have to turn your offer—’ he flicked a finger in the air ‘—down.’

‘Coward.’

‘Pink walls and floral curtains are so not my thing.’

‘Mine either.’ Her tastes were more along the lines of pale colours—more white than anything, lots of natural light, big empty spaces. That came from the real estate programs she’d watched avidly back in Wellington when she’d begun collecting furniture for the future house she and Darren were going to buy. ‘Dark blue walls and carpets, a dash of white in the curtains, lime green furniture should do it.’

‘Excellent. We have a plan.’

Isabella smiled. It was great how he said ‘we.’ As if she had a place in his life. But then she always had. Did that mean she’d be looking for a home in his neighbourhood? Doubt she could afford a dog kennel in Richmond. The idea of moving too far from Raphael suddenly irked, when it shouldn’t. Friends moved around, came back together, moved on. At the moment they were in the coming back together phase. Who knew for how long?

‘Here we are.’ Raphael parked outside a brick row house. ‘Welcome home.’

It wasn’t her home, only a stop gap while she found somewhere for herself, but she’d take the warmth that went with his words and enjoy. Shoving the door wide, she clambered out on tired legs and looked around. Trees lined the street, a dog barked from behind a house next door and puddles glistened in the sun that was making its way out from behind the clouds. Home. Yes, it felt exactly like what she’d dreamed of having in Wellington. A house in a quiet neighbourhood. Throw in friends nearby, and Rafe had got it right when he chose this place. It was perfect.

Nothing’s perfect. There’re always faults.

The warning didn’t dampen the warmth pushing aside her exhaustion.

Following Raphael inside, she stopped and stared at the hallway walls. Eek. ‘Magenta? This is so dark it feels like it’s falling in on us.’ Definitely a fault.

‘Wait until you see the kitchen.’

That colour had to go. Sooner than later. It was hideous. She shivered and traipsed behind Raphael up the stairs with the smallest of her cases in hand. It soon became obvious nothing had been done to spruce up the house for a long time, probably well before he moved in. Every room she peered into was in need of a coat of paint, preferably a very pale, neutral shade to lighten them, and new curtains to match. At the top of the stairs on the third floor he dumped the heaviest of her cases. ‘This is your room for as long as you want it. It’s the best of the two spares, and anyway I use the smallest for an office,’ he told her before heading back down to get the next bag.

Isabella looked around the neat but bland room, and shrugged. No magenta in here, thank goodness, but the pale mauve reminded her of an old lady’s room. Still, it was somewhere to put her head down, and give her time to find somewhere to rent. So why the flicker of excitement? Sinking onto the edge of the bed she rubbed her arms through her jacket, and said aloud to prove she wasn’t dreaming it, ‘I’m back in London, in the other country I call home.’ Her mother came from the Lake District and she’d only visited her relatives once last time she lived here. The welcome mat had been in storage that day, something to do with her mother marrying a New Zealander instead of the lord of whatever they’d planned on having as a son-in-law, and Isabella being the offspring of someone less desirable, despite her father’s mega career in the Foreign Service, hadn’t changed their attitude. They should’ve got over it by now, but it seemed some things weren’t meant to be, and she’d quietly headed away, deflated but resolute she wasn’t going to beg for recognition.

‘I’m glad. For both of us.’

Hadn’t heard Raphael returning with another case, had she? Blinking, she looked up into the steady but shocked gaze coming her way. Why shocked? He hadn’t expected to feel glad she was staying with him? No. He wouldn’t have offered if he didn’t want her here. Or would he these days? ‘I made the right call. Thanks for letting me know about the job.’ She couldn’t wait to start. It would be a bonus working alongside Raphael. Another was the girls were also all working at the same hospital.

‘Aucun problème. Now, there’s a bathroom on the floor below. It’s all yours as I’ve got an en suite bathroom attached to my bedroom. Help yourself to anything you want. The kitchen pantry’s full and the freezer’s holding some of your favourite fish.’

‘A shower’s what I need. And some clean clothes.’ She sniffed her jacket and grimaced. ‘Yuck. Long-haul travel has its own peculiar smell.’

He flinched, looked away. ‘Take as long as you need. We’re only going along the road for a drink and a bite to eat.’

Despite his reaction, that sounded so normal she laughed. This was what she’d come for. Normal. Whatever that was. At the moment everything felt right. Especially being with Raphael, knowing he’d never hurt her, no matter how far either of them pushed the boundaries of their friendship. Yes, packing up and coming here was a good move. Better than good; it was great, and filled with promise.

Believe it.

Yet she didn’t feel quite normal with him. Yet. Still to come?

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