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A Very Special Holiday Gift
Barbara Hannay


A family in time for Christmas…When millionaire Zac hears of his sister's death, he knows it's time to abandon his party lifestyle and protect his baby niece. Traveling to snowy London, there's no one he'd rather have at his side than his PA, Chloe–beautiful, kind…and utterly off-limits.Chloe knows the pain love can bring, and she is daunted by the prospect of spending Christmas alone with her gorgeous boss…but watching Zac cradling baby Lucy melts her frozen heart. It seems this Christmas might just bring the most special gift of all: a family.







Help! She was still tingling and zapping from having him take off her coat.

This was such a dangerous moment. She only had to give the slightest hint of acceptance and Zac Corrigan would be kissing her. And she couldn’t pretend that she didn’t want to be kissed. His lips were so close, so scrumptious, so wonderfully tempting.

The air between them was crackling and sizzling. At any moment he was going to lean in …

Now she was struggling to remember why this was wrong. “Zac, we can’t—”

“Shh.” He touched her arm, sending dizzying warmth washing over her skin. “Forget about the office for one night.”

“How can I? How can you?”

“Chloe, you’re an incredibly sexy woman, and I’m absolutely smitten by you.”


A Very Special Holiday Gift

Barbara Hannay




www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


Reading and writing have always been a big part of BARBARA HANNAY’s life. She wrote her first short story at the age of eight for the Brownies’ writer’s badge. It was about a girl who was devastated when her family had to move from the city to the Australian Outback.

Since then, a love of both city and country lifestyles has been a continuing theme in Barbara’s books and in her life. Although she has mostly lived in cities, now that her family has grown up and she’s a full-time writer she’s enjoying a country lifestyle.

Barbara and her husband live on a misty hillside in Far North Queensland’s Atherton Tableland. When she’s not lost in the world of her stories she’s enjoying farmers’ markets, gardening clubs and writing groups, or preparing for visits from family and friends.

Barbara records her country life in her blog, Barbwired, and her website is: www.barbarahannay.com (http://www.barbarahannay.com).


For Elliot, with huge, huge thanks for your unfailing faith in my writing … It would never have happened without you.


Contents

Cover (#u2487e4a5-aa07-59b8-a23a-3423314126d3)

Introduction (#u06b92bc3-a8a2-5a7e-9676-388920d731d3)

Title Page (#u002b3f30-f0f7-5cb1-9bec-4078dd7e17d6)

About the Author (#u0caa6b92-4c17-5ca0-8466-ed42f40b85b5)

Dedication (#ud08834e4-c2e6-5fb5-ad60-bad2b806819b)

CHAPTER ONE (#u56ecfbd1-0b5d-5476-996a-98886734103a)

CHAPTER TWO (#u1b727435-1083-55b9-9083-af582fe6d76b)

CHAPTER THREE (#uc1ec5c66-5fb3-5083-a06c-a27868aa172c)

CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_2002a4de-6e87-5ed5-9c92-ad8ad543172b)

THE PHONE CALL that changed Chloe Meadows’s life came when she was poised on tiptoe, on a chair that she had placed on top of a desk in a valiant attempt to tape a loop of Christmas lights to the office ceiling.

It was late on a Wednesday evening, edging towards nine p.m., and the sudden shrill bell in the silent, empty office was so unexpected Chloe almost fell from her precarious perch. Even so, she slipped as she scrambled down awkwardly in her straight grey business skirt and stocking feet.

She was slightly out of breath as she finally grabbed the phone just as it was due to ring out.

‘Hello? ZedCee Management Consultants.’ She wondered who would call the office at this late hour. On a Wednesday night.

There was a longish beat before she heard a man’s distinctly English voice. ‘Hello? I’m calling from London. Could I please speak to Mr Zachary Corrigan?’ The voice was officious, like the command of a bossy teacher.

‘I’m sorry. Mr Corrigan isn’t in the office.’ Chloe politely bit back the urge to remind the caller that it was well after office hours in Australia and that her employer was almost certainly at a social function.

On any given week night, Zac Corrigan was likely to be socialising, but that possibility had become a certainty this week, the week before Christmas, when almost everyone was at some kind of party. Everyone, that was, except Chloe, whose social calendar was quiet even at this busy time of the year.

Sadly, the red letter date in Chloe’s festive season was the office Christmas party. This was the third year in a row that she’d put up her hand to be the party’s organiser. She’d ordered the champagne, the wines and beer, as well as a selection of delicious canapés and finger food from François’s. And she’d been happy to stay back late this evening to decorate the office with festive strings of lights, shiny balloons and bright garlands of tinsel and holly.

Secretly, she loved this task. When she’d first landed her job at ZedCee she’d also moved back home to care for her elderly parents, who weren’t overly fond of ‘gaudy’ decorations, so this was her chance to have a little Christmas fun.

‘To whom am I speaking?’ the fellow from London barked into the phone.

‘I’m Mr Corrigan’s PA.’ Chloe was used to dealing with bossy types, matching their overbearing manner with her own quiet calm. ‘My name’s Chloe Meadows.’

‘Ms Meadows, this is Sergeant Davies from The Metropolitan Police and I’m ringing from The Royal London Hospital. I’m afraid the matter is urgent. I need to speak to Mr Corrigan.’

‘Of course.’ Instantly alarmed, Chloe forgave the policeman his bossiness and reached for a pen and paper. She was appalled to think that this urgent matter was in any way connected to her boss. ‘I’ll call Mr Corrigan immediately and tell him to ring you.’

Sergeant Davies dictated his number, Chloe thanked him and her stomach clenched nervously as she connected straight to Zac Corrigan’s mobile.

* * *

The zip in the young woman’s black silk dress slid smoothly downwards and the fabric parted to reveal her delightfully pale back. Zac Corrigan smiled. She was lovely. Tipsy after too many champagne cocktails and without very much to eat, but at least they’d escaped the party early, and she was quite irresistibly lovely.

With a practised touch, he caressed the creamy curve of her shoulder and she giggled. Damn. Why did champagne make girls giggle?

Still. Her skin was soft and warm and her figure was exquisite and, for a repeat of the night they’d shared last weekend, Zac could forgive her giggling.

With a firm hand cradling her bared shoulders, he leaned closer to press a kiss to the back of her neck. His lips brushed her skin. She giggled again, but she smelled delicious and Zac’s anticipation was acute as he trailed a seductive line of kisses over her shoulder.

The sweet moment was spoiled by the sudden buzz of his mobile phone and Zac swore beneath his breath as he sent a frustrated glare in the direction of the armchair where he’d dumped the phone along with his jacket and tie.

‘I’ll get it!’ the girl squealed.

‘No, don’t bother. Leave it.’

Too late. She’d already wriggled free and was diving for the chair, laughing excitedly, as if answering his phone was the greatest game.

* * *

Chloe suppressed a groan when she heard the slightly slurred female’s voice on the line.

‘Hi, there!’ a girl chirped. ‘Kung Fu’s Chinese Takeaway. How can I help you?’

‘Hi, Jasmine.’ Chloe was unfortunately familiar with most of her boss’s female ‘friends’. They were usually blessed with beauty rather than brains, which meant they were always ringing him at work, and Chloe spent far too much time holding them at bay, taking their messages, placating them with promises that Mr Corrigan would return their calls as soon as he was free, and generally acting as a go-between. ‘Hold the jokes,’ she said now. ‘And just put Zac on.’

‘Jasmine?’ The voice on the end of the line was slightly sloshed and distinctly peeved. ‘Who’s Jasmine?’ Her voice rose several decibels. ‘Zac, who’s Jasmine?’

Oops. Under other circumstances, Chloe might have apologised or tried to reassure the silly girl, but tonight she simply spoke loudly and very clearly. ‘This is Mr Corrigan’s PA and the matter is urgent. I need to speak to him straight away.’

‘All right, all right.’ The girl was sulky now. ‘Keep your hair on.’ There was a shuffling, possibly stumbling sound. ‘Mr Corr-i-gan,’ she said next, sounding out the syllables in a mocking sing-song. ‘Your PA wants you and she says you’d better hurry up.’ This was followed by a burst of ridiculous giggling.

‘Give that here!’ Zac sounded impatient and a moment later he was on the line. ‘Chloe, what’s up? What the hell’s the matter?’

‘An urgent phone call has come through for you from London,’ she said. ‘From the police. At a hospital.’

‘In London?’ There was no missing the shock in his voice.

‘Yes. I’m afraid it’s urgent, Zac. The policeman wants you to call him immediately.’

There was a shuddering gasp, then another sound that might have been—

No. It couldn’t have been a sob. Chloe knew her ears were deceiving her. During three years in this job she’d never detected a single crack in Zac Corrigan’s habitual toughness.

‘Right.’ His voice was still different, almost broken and very un-Zac-like. ‘Can you give me the number?’

Chloe told him and listened as he repeated it. He still sounded shaken and she felt a bit sick. Normally, she refused to allow herself any sympathy for her boss’s personal life, which was as messy as a dog’s breakfast, as far as she was concerned. But this situation was different. Frightening. She couldn’t recall any connection between her boss and London and she thought she knew almost everything about him.

‘I’ll let you know if I need you,’ he said.

* * *

Zac was as tense as a man facing a firing squad as he dialled the London number. This emergency had to involve Liv. He was sure of it. He’d been trying to convince himself that his little sister was an adult now and quite capable of running her own life, especially after she’d ignored his protests and left for England with her no-hoper boyfriend... But...

Liv.

His baby sister...

All that was left of his family...

His responsibility...

‘Hello,’ said a businesslike English voice. ‘Sergeant Davies speaking.’

‘This is Zac Corrigan.’ His voice cracked and he swallowed. ‘I believe you’re trying to contact me.’

‘Ah, yes, Mr Corrigan.’ The policeman’s tone was instantly gentler, a fact that did nothing to allay Zac’s fears. ‘Can I please confirm that you are Zachary James Corrigan?’

‘Yes.’ What had Liv done? Not another drug overdose, surely? When he’d rung her two weeks ago, she’d promised him she was still off the drugs, all drugs. She’d been clean for over a year.

‘And you’re the brother of Olivia Rose Corrigan?’

‘Yes, I am. I was told you’re calling from a hospital. What’s this about?’

‘I’m sorry, Mr Corrigan,’ the policeman said. ‘Your sister died a short while ago as the result of a road accident.’

Oh, God.

It wasn’t possible.

Shock exploded through Zac, flashing agonising heat, threatening to topple him. Liv couldn’t be dead. It simply was not possible.

‘I’m sorry,’ Sergeant Davies said again.

‘I—I see,’ Zac managed. A stupid thing to say, but his mind was numb. With terror. With pain.

‘Do you have any relatives living in the UK?’ the policeman asked.

‘No.’ Sweat was pouring off Zac now. Vaguely, he was aware of the girl, Daisy, with the black dress dangling off her shoulders. She was hovering close, frowning at him, her heavily made-up eyes brimming with vacuous curiosity. He turned his back on her.

‘Then I take it you’ll be prepared to be our contact for any arrangements?’

‘Yes,’ Zac said stiffly. ‘But tell me what happened.’

‘I’ll pass you onto someone from the hospital, sir. The doctor will be able to answer all your questions.’

Dizzy and sick, Zac waited desperately as the phone went through several clicks and then a female voice spoke.

‘Mr Corrigan?’

‘Yes,’ he said dully.

‘This is Dr Jameson from the maternity ward.’

Maternity? She was joking, surely?

‘I’m very sorry, Mr Corrigan. Your sister was brought to our hospital after a vehicle accident. There were extensive head and chest injuries.’

Zac winced. Head and chest. The worst.

‘Olivia was rushed to theatre and we did our very best, but the injuries were too extensive.’ A slight pause. ‘I’m afraid we couldn’t save her.’

Zac went cold all over. So there it was. Two people had confirmed the impossible. His greatest fear was a reality. After all these years when he’d tried and failed with Liv, he’d now failed her abysmally...

And it was too late to try again.

He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. Horror lashed at him as he fought off images of Liv’s accident. Instead he clung to a memory of his beautiful, rebellious young sister from years ago when she was no more than sixteen... He saw her on the beach, during a holiday on Stradbroke Island, her slim tanned arms outstretched, her dark gypsy hair flying in the sea wind, her teeth flashing white as she laughed and twirled with childlike joy.

He remembered it all so clearly. With her brightly coloured sarong over a skimpy yellow bikini, she’d looked so tanned and beautiful. Innocent, too—or so Zac had thought—and, always, always, so full of fun.

That was how he’d thought of Liv back then—full of fun and life.

Now...he couldn’t believe that her life had been extinguished.

‘But we were able to save the baby,’ the English doctor said.

Baby? Now Zac sank in weak-kneed horror onto the edge of the bed. What baby? How could there be a baby?

‘Are you there, Mr Corrigan?’

He swallowed. ‘Yes.’

‘You’re listed as your sister’s next of kin, so I’m assuming you knew that Olivia was pregnant?’

‘Yes,’ he lied when in truth he’d had no idea. When he’d phoned Liv only two weeks ago, she hadn’t said a thing about being pregnant. Right now, he felt as if the world had gone quite mad.

‘Your sister was already in labour,’ the woman said. ‘We believe she was on her way to hospital when the accident occurred.’

‘Right.’ Zac sagged forward, elbows on knees. ‘So—’ he began and then he had to stop and take a shuddering breath, which wasn’t much help. He forced himself to try again. ‘So—this baby. Is it OK?’

‘Yes, a beautiful baby girl, perfectly unharmed and born by Caesarean section only a couple of weeks before her due date.’

Zac pressed a shaking hand to his throbbing forehead. His stomach churned. He was sweating again. This woman was trying to tell him that some crazy twist of fate had snatched his beautiful sister’s life and left a baby in her place. How bizarre was that?

He wanted to drop the phone, to be finished with this absurd conversation. No way did he want to deal with the gut-wrenching news that had just been so calmly delivered.

But, of course, he knew he had no choice.

With a supreme effort, he shut off the hurt and pain and, like the cool-headed businessman he usually was, he forced his mind to confront practicalities.

‘I presume you’ve contacted the baby’s father?’ he said tightly, recalling the man who’d convinced Liv to run away with him. A guy from a band—a band no one had heard of—an older man with dreadlocks streaked with grey and restless eyes that could never quite meet Zac’s gaze.

‘Your sister wasn’t able to tell us the name of the baby’s father. There was a man in the car with her, but he assured us he was only a neighbour and not the father, and our blood tests have confirmed this.’

‘But he could tell you—’

‘I’m afraid he doesn’t know anything about the father’s identity.’

‘Right.’ Zac drew a deep, shuddering breath and squared his jaw. ‘So this baby is, for all intents and purposes, my responsibility?’ Even as he said this, he knew it hadn’t come out right. He’d sounded uncaring and hard. But it was too late to try to retract his words. He could only press on. ‘I’ll...er...make arrangements to come over to London straight away.’

* * *

Chloe had just finished pinning the last decoration in place when her boss rang back.

‘Chloe, I know it’s late, but I need you to book me a flight to London.’ His voice was crisp and businesslike, but tight, too, the way people spoke when they were fighting to keep their emotions in check. ‘You’d better make it the soonest flight possible. First thing tomorrow morning, if you can.’

‘Of course, and would you like a hotel reservation as well?’ Chloe hoped she didn’t sound too surprised, or worried... If there was a crisis, the last thing Zac needed was an anxious, fussing PA.

‘Yes, book a hotel room, please. Somewhere central.’

‘No problem.’ Already she was firing up her computer.

‘And I’ll need you to sort out those accounts with Garlands.’

Chloe smiled to herself. ‘All done.’

‘Already?’ He sounded surprised. ‘That’s great. Well done.’

‘Anything else?’

‘Could you ring Foster’s and tell them that Jim Keogh will represent me at tomorrow’s meeting.’

‘No problem.’ Chloe paused, in case there were any more instructions. ‘That’s all then?’

‘Actually, Chloe...’

‘Yes?’

‘You’d better book two flights to London. Just two one-way seats at this stage. I’m not sure how long I’ll need to be over there.’

Ridiculously, Chloe’s heart sank. An annoying reaction. Why should she care if her boss wanted to take the giggling girl who’d answered the phone with him on an all-expenses-paid trip to London? Of course, she couldn’t help wondering how much use the girl be would if Zac had been called away to something urgent.

‘What name for the second ticket?’ she asked smoothly as the company’s preferred airline’s website came up on her computer screen.

‘Ah...good question. Actually...’

Another pause. Chloe began to fill the boxes on the flights search. Point of departure... Brisbane, Australia. Destination... London, UK. Date of flight...

‘How busy are you, Chloe?’

‘Excuse me?’

‘Could you spare a few days?’

‘To fly to London?’

‘Yes. This is an emergency. I need someone...capable.’

Chloe was so surprised she almost dropped the phone. Was Zac really asking her to go to—to London? At Christmas?

‘I know it’s short notice and it’s almost Christmas and everything.’

Her head spun, first with shock and a fizz of excitement, and then with dismay as she thought about her elderly parents at home, waiting for her, depending on her to look after the shopping and to cook Christmas dinner and to drive them to church. They would never cope without her.

‘I’m sorry, Zac. I don’t really think I could get away at such short notice.’

As she said this, there was the sound of a door opening behind her and she jumped. Turning, she saw her boss striding into the office. Of course, he’d had his phone in the hands-free cradle while he was driving.

As always, Chloe’s heart gave a pitiful little skip when she saw him, but at least she was used to that nuisance reaction now. She knew it wasn’t significant—pretty much the automatic reaction shared by most women who encountered Zac Corrigan’s special brand of tall, dark and handsome.

This evening he looked paler than usual and his grey eyes betrayed a shock he hadn’t been able to shake off.

‘If you can come with me, I’ll pay you a hefty Christmas bonus,’ he said as he strode across the office to Chloe’s desk.

But he’d already paid her a generous Christmas bonus. ‘Can you explain what this is about?’ she asked. ‘What’s happened?’

* * *

What’s happened?

Zac lifted his hand and rubbed at his brow, where a headache had been hovering ever since he took the call from the hospital and now throbbed with renewed and vicious vengeance.

‘Are you all right, Zac? You look...’

Abruptly, Chloe pulled a swivel chair from the nearest desk and pushed it towards him. ‘Here, sit down.’

He held up a hand. ‘It’s OK, thanks. I’m fine.’

‘I’m sorry, but I don’t think you are.’

To Zac’s surprise, his PA took a firm grasp of his elbow, gripping him through his coat sleeve. ‘I think you should sit down now before you fall down.’

Zac sat.

‘Can I get you a cup of tea?’

If he wasn’t feeling so strung out, he might have smiled at this old-fashioned response from his conservative and over-conscientious PA. She was dressed in one of her customary businesslike suits. Her white blouse was neatly buttoned and tucked in, and there wasn’t a strand of her light brown hair out of place. Good old, reliable Chloe.

He was so relieved to see her tonight. He’d been desperate to get away from the giggling Daisy and, by contrast, cool, collected Chloe was a reassuring and comforting sight.

‘I don’t need tea,’ he said. ‘I’d just like to get these flights sorted, and I could really do with your assistance in London.’

‘I assume this is all because of the phone call...from the hospital.’

‘Yes.’ Zac swallowed, trying to clear the sharp, persistent pain that seemed to have lodged in his throat. ‘I’m afraid it wasn’t good news,’ he said with quiet resignation. ‘It was bad. Really bad. The worst.’

‘Oh, no... I’m so sorry.’

Sorry... Zac was sorrier than he’d ever thought possible. He looked away from the sympathy in Chloe’s soft brown eyes. Then, staring bleakly at a spot on the grey office carpet, he told her the rest of his news...

When he finished, Chloe took ages to respond. ‘I...I don’t know what to say,’ she said at last. ‘That’s so terrible. I...I never realised you had a sister.’

‘Yeah...well...’ He couldn’t bring himself to admit his estrangement from Liv, or that he hadn’t known about the baby, that Liv had never even told him she was pregnant, that she almost hadn’t told him about going to England.

How could he admit to this prim and conscientious cliché of a secretary that his reckless sister’s pregnancy was just another of the many secrets she’d hidden from him?

‘I guess you’ll need help...with the baby girl...if they can’t find her father,’ Chloe suggested awkwardly.

‘Yes. I’ll be it’s...I mean...her guardian.’ He knew this, because the one thing he’d insisted on after Liv’s overdose was that she made a will. He’d hoped that a measure of reality would shake some sense into her. ‘I couldn’t possibly manage on my own.’

Babies had never registered on Zac’s radar. He’d always supposed they were a dim possibility in his far distant future...when he eventually settled down and chose a wife and all that went with a wife... But, even though he was a godfather twice over, he’d never actually held a baby. There had always been plenty of women with willing arms and he’d been more than happy to buy expensive gifts and the best champagne to wet the baby’s head and then stay well in the background...

‘I’m sure we can find someone.’ Chloe was busy at her computer screen, scrolling through some kind of spreadsheet.

‘Find someone?’ Zac asked, frowning. ‘How do you mean? What kind of someone?’ He didn’t need to find someone. He had Chloe.

She turned back to him with a smile that was almost sympathetic. ‘This is a list of your personal female contacts.’

‘You have them on a spreadsheet?’

‘Well, yes. How else do you think I manage to—?’

‘All right, all right.’ He gave an impatient wave of his hand. He knew Chloe was a marvel at managing his female friends—sending them the appropriate invitations or flowers, birthday or Christmas presents, get well cards, even, at times, offering excuses on his behalf...but he’d never given any thought to how she kept track of them.

‘What about Marissa Johnson?’ Chloe said now. ‘She always struck me as sensible.’

‘No,’ Zac said curtly, remembering the awkward way he and Marissa Johnson had broken up. He jumped to his feet, seized by a fit of restless impatience. ‘Look, there’s no point in looking at that list. I don’t want any of them. I want you, Chloe. We’ve worked together for three years now and I know you’d be perfect.’

To his surprise her cheeks went a deep shade of pink—a becoming shade of pink that unsettled him.

‘I don’t know very much about babies,’ she said.

‘Really?’ Zac frowned at her. She was female, after all. ‘But you know enough, don’t you? You know how to put on a nappy. And when it comes to bottles and that sort of thing, you can follow instructions. It’s just for a few days, Chloe. There’s a remote possibility that I might have to bring this child home. I’ll need help, just till I have everything sorted.’

Not that he had any idea how this problem could be sorted. At the moment he was still too shocked. Too sad. He didn’t want to think about a little new life when Liv was—

‘I’m sorry,’ Chloe said quickly. ‘I’d like to help, but I’m not really free to rush overseas at the drop of a hat. Not at this time of year. I have my parents to consider...’

‘Your parents?’ Zac frowned again. Why would a woman approaching thirty be so concerned about her parents? Then again, he knew he was out of touch with the whole family thing. His own parents had died when he was eighteen and he’d been managing without them for almost seventeen years.

But now there was a baby...a niece...another little girl who was his responsibility. A slug of pain caught him mid-chest. History was repeating itself in the most macabre way.

‘It’s Christmas,’ Chloe said next, as if that explained everything. She looked up at the surprisingly attractive decorations she’d arranged about the office. ‘Would you like me to look into hiring a nanny?’

Zac let out a weary sigh. ‘The last thing I need now is to start interviewing nannies.’

‘I don’t mind doing the interviews.’

‘No,’ he snapped. ‘We don’t have time.’

Besides, for this delicate operation, he needed someone he already knew, a woman who was loyal and trustworthy, and sensible and efficient—and a woman who wouldn’t distract him with sex.

Chloe Meadows ticked every box.


CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_dc5a8603-2443-5d0e-bc6a-ea3d31870612)

CHLOE COULDN’T QUITE believe it was actually happening. Here she was in the executive lounge of Brisbane International Airport, enjoying coffee and croissants with her boss, with a boarding pass for a flight to London in her handbag, a grey winter jacket and rosy pink scarf folded on the seat beside her, and a neatly packed carry-on bag at her feet.

She still wasn’t quite sure how Zac had convinced her to do this, but from the moment he’d learned she had an up-to-date passport the pressure had begun. He’d argued that the company was winding down for the Christmas break anyway and, thanks to her superb organisational skills, the office Christmas party could run brilliantly without her.

He’d brushed aside her concerns that she knew very little about babies. After all, the child’s father might yet be found.

To Chloe’s amazement, even her very valid concerns about her parents had been duly considered by her boss and then swiftly and satisfactorily smoothed away.

She’d been stunned when he’d asked last night if he could visit her parents. She’d tried to protest. ‘Sorry, no. Mum and Dad will be in bed already.’

‘Why don’t you ring them to check?’ he’d said confidently.

To Chloe’s surprise, her mother and father were still up, watching Carols in the Cathedral on TV, and, even more surprisingly, they said they’d be happy for her boss to call in, if he didn’t mind finding them in their dressing gowns and slippers.

Zac said he didn’t mind in the least.

‘Chloe, there’s sherry in the pantry and we can break open that box of shortbread you bought last week,’ her mother suggested, sounding almost excited.

Zac had poured on the charm, of course, and, when it came to being charming, her boss was a genius. Even so, when he offered to put her parents up in the Riverslea Hotel, all expenses paid, with all their meals, most especially Christmas lunch, included, Chloe was sure they would refuse. It would be all too flash! They didn’t like flashiness.

But, before her parents could object, Zac had thrown in a car with a driver to take them to church on Christmas Day, or to the doctor, or anywhere else they needed to go, and he’d offered to hire a nurse to check daily that they were keeping well and taking their correct medication.

Chloe’s mother had looked a bit doubtful about this, until she’d received an elbow in the ribs from her dad.

‘It would be like a holiday, love,’ he’d said.

Still, Chloe had expected her parents to have second thoughts and say no. But then Zac also told them with commendable sincerity how extremely important, no, invaluable, their daughter was to him and how much he needed her for this very important mission in the UK.

Somehow he’d struck just the right note, which was clever. If he’d praised Chloe to the skies, her parents would have been suspicious and he would have blown it.

Instead, by the time he’d finished, they were practically squirming with delight, like puppies getting their tummies rubbed just the way they liked it.

And now...this morning, her parents, with their out of date, simple clothes and humble, shabby luggage, including her dad’s walking frame, had looked a trifle out of place in the luxurious hotel suite with thick white carpet, floor-length cream linen curtains, golden taps in the bathroom, not to mention panoramic views up and down the Brisbane River...but the grins on their faces had said it all.

‘Chloe, you go and look after your nice Mr Corrigan,’ they’d said, practically pushing her out of the door. ‘Don’t you worry about us.’

Chloe had closed her gaping mouth.

Remembering her parents’ delight, she could almost imagine them exploring their hotel room like excited children, checking the little bottles of shampoo and bubble bath, flushing the loo and bouncing on the king-sized mattress. Zac Corrigan had achieved a minor miracle.

And Chloe was going to London!

Right. Deep breath. She only hoped she wasn’t making a very serious mistake. After all, she knew why her boss had been so keen to avoid asking any of his female ‘friends’ to accompany him on this very personal journey. He liked to keep his relationships casual and this sojourn to London would be anything but casual.

Chloe also knew why her boss regarded her as a suitable choice. She was capable, conscientious and uncomplicated, and he trusted her to remain that way. Which suited her just fine. It did. Really.

Yes, there was a danger that those annoying longings she sometimes felt for Zac would surface, but she’d had plenty of practice at keeping them in check and she was sure she could survive his close proximity for a few short days.

So perhaps it was OK now to admit to herself that she was a tiny bit excited, or at least she would be if she wasn’t concerned for Zac and the sad ordeal that still awaited him when they landed.

* * *

Eventually, they boarded and took off, making the long flight across Australia, and now they were, according to the map on the screen, flying high above the Indian Ocean...

The cabin lights were dimmed, Zac and Chloe had eaten an exquisite meal and had drunk some truly delicious wine, and their business class seats had been turned into beds.

Beside Chloe, her boss appeared to be asleep already, stretched out in jeans and a black T-shirt, with his shoes off and his belt removed and his feet encased in black and purple diamond-patterned socks. He had also plugged in earphones and was listening to music and he had slipped on the navy silk eyeshade the airline provided.

He was used to flying and she supposed he would sleep now, possibly for hours. He’d probably had very little rest during the previous night and she was sure he needed to sleep. Actually, Chloe’s night had been sleepless as well, so she knew it would be sensible to try to follow his example. Otherwise, she’d end up in London, useless with jet lag, with a boss who was ready and raring to go.

Unfortunately, however, Chloe was too wired to sleep. The past twenty-four hours had been such a whirlwind and the thought of London was simply too exciting. She’d acquired her passport in happier times, when she’d thought she knew exactly where her life was heading...

But she’d never used it. So she’d never been on an international flight before, had never flown business class, and had certainly never been to England. It was hard to believe she would soon be seeing the famous Tower Bridge and Big Ben and Buckingham Palace.

Needing to calm down, she fished in her bag for the magazines she’d bought from the airport newsagent while Zac was busy with a phone call. The mags were all about mothers and babies and parenting and Chloe hoped to find an article or two about caring for newborns. Just in case...

Luckily, there were plenty of stories and columns covering all kinds of newborn issues. Chloe soon discovered what to do if a baby had colic, jaundice, an umbilical hernia...and masses of information about bath time, skin care, crying, feeding, burping...

She read the information conscientiously, trying to take it all in, wondering if she would actually be called on to apply any of this in practice and hoping she’d remember the important details. Her real-life experience of babies was limited to admiring her friends’ offspring, and she’d found them cute to cuddle or play with and then she’d been happy enough to hand them back to their mothers.

After her life turned upside down several years ago, she’d given up her own dreams of motherhood, so she’d never given much thought to the finer details of green nappies or colic or projectile vomiting.

Even now, she blocked those images. Not every baby had those problems, surely?

Instead, Chloe allowed herself to picture a tiny, warm, sweet-smelling bundle in her arms, a dear little baby girl, with soft pink skin and perhaps dark hair like Zac’s. A darling rosebud mouth.

‘Aren’t you sleepy?’ murmured a deep voice beside her.

Startled, she turned to see that Zac had lifted his eyeshade and removed an earplug, and was watching her with marked curiosity.

Chloe’s insides began to buzz—an annoying reaction to having him so close. ‘I...er...thought it might help if I read for a bit first,’ she said.

Zac leaned closer, frowning. ‘What on earth are you reading?’

The magazine in her lap was unfortunately open at a full-page picture of a tiny baby attached to an enormous breast.

Chloe felt her cheeks heat. ‘I...um...just thought...in case...you know, the baby...it would be handy to have a few clues.’

‘It would indeed.’ Zac spoke smoothly enough, but his eyes once again held the bleak shadows that had arrived with the terrible news about his sister. ‘Good thinking, Ms Meadows.’

Chloe swallowed. It was more than a little unnerving to find herself lying so close to her boss’s disconcerting, sad grey eyes. She could see his individual thick, dark eyelashes and the grainy texture of the skin on his jaw. She hadn’t been this close to a man since—

‘I’m sure I’ll be sleepy soon,’ she said quickly, before her thoughts could be hijacked by haunting memories.

‘Tell me something you’ve learned,’ Zac said, keeping his voice low so he didn’t disturb the other passengers, many of whom were sleeping. ‘I’m intrigued.’

‘Something about babies?’ Chloe whispered back.

He cast another glance at the photo in her lap. ‘Or breasts, if you prefer.’ He gave her a teasing smile.

Despite the rising heat in her cheeks, Chloe sent him a drop-dead look and closed the magazine.

‘Babies then,’ Zac amended, his lips still twitching in a smile. ‘Tell me what you’ve learned about babies.’

In truth, she’d learned an awful lot that she hadn’t really wanted to know—about a newly delivered mother’s hormonal fluctuations, the stitches she might have in awkward places, her leaking or sore and swollen breasts.

‘OK,’ she said as she remembered a snippet of practical information that was safe to share with him. ‘Did you know that you should wash the baby’s bodysuits and nightgowns in hypoallergenic dye- and scent-free detergent?’

‘Fascinating.’ Zac yawned, clearly already bored.

Good, he might leave her in peace.

Chloe waited for him to replace his eye mask. Instead, he pointed to one of the magazines in her lap. ‘Do you mind?’

This time, she didn’t try to hide her surprise. ‘You want to read one of these? A mother and baby magazine?’

Her corporate executive playboy boss could not be serious. The Zac Corrigan she knew wouldn’t be caught dead with such an incriminating piece of reading material in his hands, not even in the relative anonymity of an international flight.

‘Yes, please,’ he said, holding out his hand and smiling blandly. ‘I’d like to be educated.’

Lips compressed to stop herself from making a smart retort, Chloe handed him a magazine that focused on a baby’s first six months. She supposed he was probably teasing her, but he might be trying to distract himself from thinking too much about his sister.

It was even possible that he genuinely wanted to learn. After all, if a father for Liv’s baby couldn’t be traced, Zac might soon find himself in complete charge of a newborn.

For a while they both read in peaceful silence, the small glow of their reading lights making golden cones in the otherwise darkened cabin. But Chloe couldn’t relax. For one thing, she was too curious about how Zac might be reacting to the contents of his magazine.

But it wasn’t long before he leaned close, speaking softly. ‘Did you know that babies can stare at you while they sleep?’

‘Excuse me?’

He smiled. ‘It says here that they can sleep with their eyes half open. It looks pretty spooky, apparently.’

Although his smile, up close, was dangerous for Chloe’s heart health, she couldn’t help smiling back at him. ‘Well, the article I’m reading warns that babies sometimes don’t sleep at all.’

‘No.’ Zac feigned complete shock. ‘That can’t be right.’

‘Well, I guess they sleep eventually, but some stay awake for much longer than they’re supposed to.’

‘A bit like us,’ he said, looking around the business class cabin at all the other passengers, who appeared to be contentedly sleeping.

Chloe sighed. ‘I guess we really should turn our lights out and try to sleep.’

‘Yes, we should.’ He closed the magazine and handed it back to her. ‘Thanks for that. Most enlightening.’

By the time she’d stowed the magazines away, Zac had turned off his reading light, pulled down his eyeshade and folded his arms over his wide chest. ‘Goodnight, Ms Meadows.’

He usually only addressed her this way when he was in a playful mood, which wasn’t very often, mostly when he’d pulled off some extraordinarily tricky business coup. Chloe wondered if the playboy was coming out in him now, simply because he was lying beside a young woman who was close enough to touch and kiss.

That thought had no sooner arrived than her body reacted, growing warm and tingly and tight.

Oh, for heaven’s sake.

Where had such a ridiculous reaction sprung from? Chloe gave herself a mental slap and glared at Zac.

‘Goodnight, sir,’ she said icily.

‘And try to sleep.’ He spoke without lifting his shade and he sounded now like a weary parent. ‘We’ve a long way to go.’

Chloe didn’t answer and she was relieved that she would not have to speak to her boss again until morning. She pulled on her own eye mask and tried to settle comfortably, hoping that the steady vibration of the plane and the hum of its engines would soothe her.

Her hopes were not realised.

She couldn’t relax. She was too upset by her mental slip about kissing and touching her boss. Too busy delivering a good, stern lecture to herself. After all, she knew very well that Zac had asked her to accompany him on this trip precisely because he needed a female companion to whom he was not sexually attracted.

Her momentary lapse had no doubt been brought on by her over-tiredness. She knew nothing like that would happen. Zac had spent a good section of almost every working day in the past three years in her company without once trying to flirt.

Besides, she didn’t want it to happen. She was far too sensible to ever fall for her boss’s superficial good looks and charming wiles. Apart from the fact that she’d had her heart broken once and never wanted to experience that pain again, there was no way on this earth that she would allow her name to end up on the spreadsheet of his Foolish Females.

Unfortunately, her attempt to sleep only lasted about ten or fifteen minutes before she had to wriggle and fidget and try for a more comfortable position. Beside her, she heard a weary sigh. ‘Sorry,’ she whispered.

Zac lifted the eye mask again and pinched the bridge of his nose.

‘Sorry,’ Chloe said again. ‘I disturbed you, didn’t I?’

He shook his head. ‘Not really.’ He yawned. ‘I’m dog-tired, but I have a feeling I’m not going to sleep tonight.’

‘Do you normally sleep on long haul flights?’

‘Eventually.’

She wondered if he couldn’t stop thinking about his sister. Was he simply too upset to sleep? She wished she could help.

‘I don’t have any brothers or sisters,’ she said tentatively.

Zac frowned.

‘Sorry,’ she said quickly, wincing at her third apology in as many minutes. ‘I just thought you might want to talk, but I shouldn’t have—’

‘No, no, it’s OK.’ He sighed again, and lay staring into space, apparently thinking...

Chloe waited, not sure what else to say.

‘Liv was eight years younger than me,’ he said quietly. ‘When our parents died, she was only ten, so I felt more like her father at times.’ His mouth was a grim downward curve. ‘She was my responsibility.’

Chloe stared at him now as she tried to take this in. Was the poor man blaming himself for his sister’s accident? Did he feel completely responsible? ‘But you must have been very young, too,’ she said.

‘I was eighteen. An adult.’

Only just, by the skin of your teeth. ‘How awful for you to lose both your parents so young.’

‘Yeah,’ he agreed with another sigh.

Chloe didn’t like to ask, but her imagination was running wild. ‘How did it happen, Zac? Was there an accident?’

He shrugged. ‘We’ll never know for sure. My parents were sailing somewhere in Indonesia when their boat just disappeared. My father was a geologist, you see, and my mother was a marine biologist and they were mad keen on science and exploration, always on the lookout for a new discovery. I suppose you’d call them nutty professors. Eccentrics.’

So they’d just disappeared...? Poor Zac. How terrible to have his parents simply vanish, to never know if they’d been taken by pirates, or capsized in a tropical storm, or drowned when their boat struck a coral reef...

‘They—they couldn’t be still alive, living on some jungle-clad island, could they?’

Zac’s mouth tilted in a wryly crooked smile. ‘I’ve played with that fantasy, too. But it’s been seventeen years...’

Chloe couldn’t imagine how awful it must have been for him—a mere eighteen years old and forced to carry on living without answers, just with terrible possibilities.

‘Right from the start I was worried about Liv,’ he said next. ‘I couldn’t bear to see her disappear into a foster home, so I applied to be her guardian. I dropped out of uni and got myself a job, so we could live together and I could look after her.’

‘Goodness,’ Chloe said softly, hoping she didn’t sound as surprised as she felt.

Zac’s lips curled unhappily. ‘It was possibly the stupidest decision I ever made.’

‘Don’t say that. I think it was incredibly brave of you.’

She was stunned to realise that Zac had sacrificed his own goals to try to keep what was left of his family intact. All she’d ever known about his private life was the revolving door of lookalike leggy blonde girlfriends. He’d never seemed to really care about any of them beyond their sex appeal and she’d assumed the ‘care factor’ gene was missing from his DNA.

But it was clear to her now that he’d cared very deeply about Liv.

‘I couldn’t keep her on track,’ Zac said, so softly Chloe almost missed it. ‘Liv never really looked on me as a parent. She wouldn’t accept me in a fathering role, so I had very little influence, I’m afraid. I think she was mad at our parents for disappearing the way they did and she saw me as an inadequate substitute. Before she was out of her teens she was into drinking and trying drugs. And then she was like a nomad, never wanting to settle. She didn’t want to study and she would never stay in one job for long enough to get any real skills. She was like a butterfly, always searching for a brighter flower.’

‘Might she have inherited that urge from your parents?’

‘Quite possibly, I guess.’

He stared unhappily up at the cabin’s ceiling and Chloe wished she could offer him wise words of consolation.

She did her best. ‘Honestly, I don’t think you should blame yourself for this accident, Zac.’

But he simply shook his head and closed his eyes.

* * *

It was ages before Chloe drifted off to sleep and when she woke a soft grey light filled the cabin and flight attendants were bringing around hot towels to freshen their hands and faces, as well as glasses of orange juice.

‘Morning, sleepyhead.’

Zac’s seat was already back in the upright position and he looked as if he’d been to the bathroom and washed and shaved.

Chloe yawned and hoped her hair wasn’t too messy. In a minute she would follow his example and freshen up. ‘What time is it?’

‘Seven forty-five. That’s Greenwich Mean Time, of course. If we were still at home it would be five forty-five in the evening.’

So...her parents had almost completed their first day in the hotel. Chloe hoped they were still enjoying themselves.

If she’d been in Brisbane, she would be putting the final touches to the office’s decorations and making last minute checks about the drinks and ice.

‘I hope you’re not worrying about your parents.’

‘No, I’m not.’ She knew they were in good hands and she’d left the hotel desk, the hired nurse and the chauffeur with all the phone numbers and information they could possibly need. ‘I was thinking about the office Christmas party tonight, actually.’

‘Really, Chloe?’ Zac was frowning at her now, although his eyes glinted with puzzled amusement.

‘I was looking forward to the party,’ she admitted, no longer caring if this revealed her inadequate social life.

‘You were looking forward to watching half the office staff get plastered and then staying behind to clean up their mess?’

She opened her mouth to protest.

Zac’s smile was gently teasing. ‘You’re going to see London at Christmas. I promise you that’s a thousand times better than the office do.’

‘I suppose it would be. When should we get our first glimpse of England?’

‘Oh, in about an hour.’


CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_c9b1cdc0-893d-5519-8bf0-0ef2957d8dc4)

IT WAS RAINING when they touched down at Heathrow, but somehow that couldn’t dim Chloe’s excitement. As business class passengers with only carry-on baggage, she and Zac didn’t have to hang around in long queues and soon they were outside, suddenly very grateful for their warm overcoats and scarves.

While they waited for a taxi she made a quick phone call to her parents.

‘We’re about to go down to the dining room,’ her mum told her excitedly. ‘We’ve already checked out the menu and we’re having lamb cutlets and then rhubarb crumble. Give our love to Zac.’

They were having the time of their lives and, within moments, Chloe was climbing into a proper shiny black London taxi and her excitement mounted as they whizzed along busy rain-slick streets filled with other taxis and cars and bright red double-decker London buses. Ahead, on a pedestrian crossing, people huddled beneath umbrellas glistening with rain.

Zac asked the taxi driver to stop at their hotel to leave their luggage and Chloe caught a brief impression of huge glass doors, massive urns filled with greenery and enormous gold-framed mirrors in a white marbled foyer.

‘Now, we’d better head straight to the Metropolitan Police,’ Zac said when he returned.

‘Yes.’ Chloe dug out her phone and checked the arrangements she’d made for Zac to meet with Sergeant Davies. She gave their driver the address and then they were off again.

Three blocks later, they had stopped at traffic lights when she saw the trio of soldiers. The tall, broad-shouldered men were simply standing and chatting as they waited to cross a road, but all it took was the sight of their camouflage uniforms and berets to bring back memories of Sam.

It could still happen like that, even though she’d had three and a half years to recover. The smallest trigger could bring the threat of desperate black grief.

Not now...I can’t think about him now...

But now, on the far side of the world with her handsome boss, this painful memory was a timely reminder of the heartache that came with falling in love. Chloe knew she had to be super-careful...and she was grateful she’d trained herself to think of Zac as nothing but her boss...glad that she’d become an expert at keeping a tight lid on any deeper feelings...

At the police station, Sergeant Davies was very solicitous as he ushered them into his office. He told them that Liv’s death had been clearly accidental and there was no reason to refer it to the coroner.

‘The young man who was driving your sister to the hospital is definitely in the clear,’ he added. ‘He’s a Good Samaritan neighbour. He was injured, but he’s going to be OK. A badly broken leg, I believe.’

Zac sat stiffly, his face as grim as granite, as he received this news.

‘We’ll be laying serious charges against the driver of the other car,’ the sergeant then told them.

‘Driving under the influence?’ Zac asked.

This was answered by a circumspect nod of assent.

Zac sighed and closed his eyes.

* * *

Outside, Chloe wanted to suggest that they found somewhere for a coffee. She was sure Zac could do with caffeine fortification, but perhaps she shouldn’t have been surprised that he was determined to push on with his unhappy mission. At work he always preferred to confront the unpleasant tasks first. It was one of the things she’d always admired about him.

Within moments of hitting the pavement, he hailed another taxi and they were heading for the cold reality of the Royal London Hospital.

Once there, Zac insisted on seeing his sister, but as Chloe watched him disappear down a corridor, accompanied by a dour-looking doctor in a lab coat, she was worried that it might be a mistake. Her fears were more or less confirmed when Zac returned, white-faced and gaunt, looking about ten years older.

She had no idea what to say. There was no coffee machine in sight, so she got him a drink of water in a paper cup, which he took without thanking her and drank in sips, staring at the floor, his eyes betraying his shock.

Eventually, Chloe couldn’t bear it. She put an arm around his shoulders and gave him a hug.

He sent her a sideways glance so full of emotion she felt her sympathetic heart swell to bursting. He offered her a nod, as if to say thanks, but he didn’t speak. She was quite sure he couldn’t speak.

For some time they sat together, with their overcoats bundled on the bench beside them, before one of the hospital staff approached them, a youngish woman with bright red hair. ‘Mr Corrigan?’

Zac lifted his gaze slowly. ‘Yes?’

The woman’s eyes lit up with the predictable enthusiasm of just about any female who met Zac. ‘I’m Ruby Jones,’ she said, holding onto her bright smile despite his grimness. ‘I’m the social worker looking after your case.’

‘Right. I see.’ Zac was on his feet now. ‘I guess you want to speak to me about the...the child?’

‘Yes, certainly.’ Ruby Jones offered him another sparkling smile, which Chloe thought was totally inappropriate. ‘Am I right in imagining that you’d like to meet your niece?’

‘Meet her?’ Zac looked startled.

‘Yes, she’s just on the next floor in the maternity ward.’

‘Oh, yes, of course.’ He turned to Chloe. ‘You’ll come, too, won’t you?’

‘Yes, if you like.’

Ruby, the social worker, looked apologetic. ‘I’m afraid—in these situations, we usually only allow close family members into—’

‘Chloe is family,’ Zac intervened, sounding more like his usual authoritarian self.

Chloe stared at the floor, praying that she didn’t blush, but it was a shock to hear Zac describe her as family. She knew it was an expedient lie, but for a crazy moment her imagination went a little wild.

‘I’m sorry.’ Ruby sounded as flustered as Chloe felt. ‘I thought you mentioned a PA.’

Zac gave an impatient flick of his head. ‘Anyway, you couldn’t count this child’s close family on two fingers.’ He placed a commanding hand at Chloe’s elbow. ‘Come on.’

Chloe avoided making eye contact with Zac as the social worker led them to the lift, which they rode in silence to the next floor.

‘This way,’ Ruby said as they stepped out and she led them down a hallway smelling of antiseptic, past doorways that revealed glimpses of young women and bassinets. From all around were sounds of new babies crying and, somewhere in the distance, a floor polisher whined.

Zac looked gloomy, as if he was hating every minute.

‘Have you ever been in a maternity ward before?’ Chloe asked him out of the side of her mouth.

‘No, of course not. Have you?’

‘Once. Just to visit a friend,’ she added when she saw his startled glance.

Ahead of them, the social worker had stopped at a glass door and was talking to a nurse. She turned to them. ‘If you wait here at this door, we’ll wheel the baby over.’

Zac nodded unhappily.

Chloe said, ‘Thank you.’

As the two women disappeared, Zac let out a heavy sigh. His jaw jutted with dismal determination as he sank his hands deep into his trouser pockets. Chloe was tempted to reach out, to touch him again, to give his elbow an encouraging squeeze, but almost immediately the door opened and a little trolley was wheeled through.

She could see the bump of a tiny baby beneath a pink blanket, and a hint of dark hair. Beside her, she heard her boss gasp.

‘Oh, my God,’ he whispered.

The trolley was wheeled closer.

‘So here she is.’ The nurse was middle-aged and hearty and she gave Zac an encouraging smile. ‘She’s a proper little cutie, this one.’

Chloe couldn’t help taking a step closer. The nurse was right. The baby was incredibly cute. She was sound asleep and lying on her back, giving them a good view of her perfectly round little face and soft skin and her tiny nose—and, yes, her perfectly darling rosebud mouth—just as Chloe had imagined.

The baby gave a little stretch and one tiny hand came out from beneath the blanket, almost waving at them. There was a hospital bracelet around her wrinkled wrist. Chloe saw the name Corrigan written on it and a painful lump filled her throat.

Zac was staring at the baby with a kind of awestruck terror.

‘So what do you think of your niece, Mr Corrigan?’ asked Ruby, the social worker.

He gave a dazed shake of his head. ‘She’s tiny.’

‘Her birth weight was fine,’ the nurse said, sounding defensive, as if Zac had directly criticised her hospital. ‘At least seven pounds.’

The social worker chimed in again. ‘Would you like to hold her?’

Now Zac looked truly horrified. ‘But she’s asleep,’ he protested, keeping his hands rammed in his pockets and rocking back on his heels as if he wished he could escape. For Chloe, by contrast, the urge to pick the baby up and cuddle her was almost overwhelming, as the maternal yearnings that she’d learned to suppress came suddenly rushing back.

She saw a frowning look exchanged between the nurse and the social worker and she worried that this was some kind of test that Zac had to pass before they could consider handing the baby into his care.

‘Go on,’ Chloe urged him softly. ‘You should hold her for a moment. You won’t upset her. She probably won’t even wake up.’

* * *

Zac felt as if the air had been sucked from his lungs. He couldn’t remember when he’d ever felt so out of his depth. The nurse was peeling back the pink blanket to reveal a tiny baby wrapped tightly in another thinner blanket. This was going to happen. They were going to hand her to him and he couldn’t back out of it.

‘Our little newborns feel safer when they’re swaddled firmly like this. It also makes them easier to hold,’ the nurse said as she lifted the sleeping bundle.

Reluctantly, Zac drew his hands from his pockets and hoped they weren’t shaking.

‘Just relax,’ the nurse said as she placed the baby in his arms.

Relax? She had to be joking. It was all right for her. She did this every day. He was still getting over the agony of seeing Liv. And now he was so scared he might drop her baby...

She was in his arms.

He could feel the warmth of Liv’s baby reaching him through the thin wrap. Could feel her limbs wriggling. Oh, dear God, she was so real. Alive and breathing. He forced himself to look down into her little pink face, so different from the deathly white one he’d so recently witnessed...

And yet...the similarity was there...

He found it so easily in the baby’s soft dark hair, in the delicate curve of her fine dark eyebrows, and in the tiniest suggestion of a cleft in her dainty chin.

‘Oh, Liv.’

His sister’s name broke from him on a desolate sob. His vision blurred as his throat was choked by tears.

* * *

Chloe’s heart almost broke when she saw the silver glitter in Zac’s eyes.

Even now, under these most difficult circumstances, it was a shock to see her boss cry. Zac was always so in control. In the day-to-day running of his business, it didn’t matter how worried or upset or even angry he was, he never lost his cool. Never.

He usually viewed any kind of trouble as a challenge. In fact, there were days when he seemed to thrive on trouble and conflict. Twice, to her knowledge, he’d taken his company to the very brink of economic peril, but he’d never lost his nerve and had emerged triumphant.

Of course, there was a huge gulf between the challenges of the business world and a personal heartbreaking tragedy.

Now Zac Corrigan, her fearless boss, was caught in the worst kind of heartbreak and he was shaking helplessly as tears streamed down his face.

‘Here,’ he said, thrusting the baby towards Chloe. ‘Please, take her.’

Her own emotions were unravelling as she hastily dumped their coats to accept the warm bundle he pressed into her arms. The poor man had been through so much—too much—in such a short time and, on top of everything else, he was dealing with jet lag. But, even though he had every reason to weep, Chloe knew he would be mortified to break down like this in public.

She wasn’t at all surprised when Zac turned from them and strode back down the corridor, his head high and his shoulders squared as he drew deep breaths and fought for composure.

Watching him, she held the baby close, inhaling the clean and milky smell of her. She thought how perfectly she fitted in her arms.

Beside her, Ruby, the social worker, said, ‘It’s such a very sad situation.’

Indeed, Chloe agreed silently.

The baby squirmed now and beneath the blanket she gave a little kick against Chloe’s ribs. Chloe wondered if this was how it had felt for Liv when she’d been pregnant. Such a short time ago.

Oh, help. If she allowed herself to think about that, she’d start weeping, too.

Perhaps it was just as well that she was distracted by Zac’s return. He seemed sufficiently composed—although still unnaturally pale.

‘I’m so sorry for your loss,’ the nurse said.

Zac held up a hand and gave a brief nod of acknowledgement. ‘Thank you.’ His manner was curt but not impolite. Then he said, in his most businesslike tone, ‘I guess you need to bring me up to speed.’ He shifted his now steady gaze to the social worker. ‘What’s the current situation? Has anyone been able to locate the father?’

Ruby shook her head. ‘I’m afraid we’ve had no luck at all.’

‘You’ve definitely ruled out the fellow who was in the car with Liv?’

‘Yes.’

At this news, Zac looked bleaker than ever.

‘We’ve also interviewed the people who lived in the share house with your sister,’ Ruby said next. ‘But they haven’t been able to help us. They said Olivia wouldn’t tell anyone the father’s name. She simply told them that he wouldn’t be interested in a child and she didn’t want anything more to do with him.’

Zac stared at her for a long moment, his grey eyes reflecting a stormy mix of emotions. Eventually he nodded. ‘That sounds like my sister, I’m afraid. But there was a boyfriend. I’m pretty sure Liv was still with him last Christmas. An Australian. A singer in a band.’

‘Bo Stanley?’

Zac nodded grimly. ‘Yes, I’m pretty sure that’s his name.’

Again, she shook her head. ‘A housemate did mention him and he’s still in the UK, so we made contact and had him tested. It was easy to disqualify him. He’s completely the wrong blood type.’

This time, Zac stared at her as if he was sure she had to be mistaken, but eventually he gave an unhappy shake of his head and shrugged. ‘I guess he’s off the hook, then.’

In Chloe’s arms, the baby gave a little snuffling snort. When Chloe looked down she saw that her eyes had opened. The baby blinked and stared up at Chloe, straight into her eyes.

How much could those newborn dark grey eyes see? The baby’s expression was definitely curious. Trusting, too. Her intense, seemingly focused gaze pierced Chloe’s heart and she was enveloped by a rush of warmth, a fierce longing to protect this tiny, sweet girl. It would be so easy to love her.

She realised that Zac was watching her.

His gaze lingered on her as she stood there with the baby in her arms. Surprise flared in his eyes and then a softer emotion. Chloe held her breath and for a winded moment her mind played again with hopelessly ridiculous possibilities...

Fortunately, Zac quickly recovered. ‘OK,’ he said, looking quickly away and becoming businesslike again. ‘I guess my next question is about the baby.’

‘What would you like to know?’ the nurse asked guardedly.

‘Is she healthy?’

‘Perfectly.’ She sniffed as if his question had offended her. ‘You would have been informed before now if there was a problem.’ Then, more gently, she asked, ‘Do you have a particular concern?’

Zac grimaced uncomfortably. ‘My sister had a drug habit, or at least she used to.’ He shot a quick glance to Chloe and then looked away, as if he was embarrassed to have his employee hear this admission. ‘It was some time back,’ he added quickly. ‘And Liv assured me she’s been clean ever since, but I assume you’ve run the necessary tests?’

‘Yes, Mr Corrigan. I can reassure you there were no signs that the baby has been adversely affected by alcohol or drugs.’

‘Well, that’s good news at least.’ He swallowed. ‘So...’ Looking from the nurse to the social worker, he summoned a small smile, a glimmer of his customary effortless charm. ‘What’s next?’

Ruby, the social worker, was clearly surprised. ‘Well...as you’re next of kin and you’ve been named as guardian—’

‘Yes, I’ve brought a copy of my sister’s will if you need to see it.’

‘And you’ve come all the way from Australia,’ Ruby continued. ‘I—I mean we were assuming that you planned to care for the baby.’

Zac nodded and his throat worked as he swallowed again.

Chloe knew he felt overwhelmed. He’d fielded successive shocks in the past twenty-four hours and she felt compelled to speak up. ‘We’ve only just arrived from Heathrow and Mr Corrigan hasn’t had any time to adjust, or to buy any of the things the baby will need.’

The nurse nodded. ‘Of course. I understand.’

Shooting Chloe a grateful look, Zac added, ‘If the baby could remain in your care for a little longer, I’d be happy to pay for any additional costs.’

This could be arranged, they were told, and Zac was also given a list of funeral parlours, as well as the name and address of Liv’s share house, so that he could collect Liv’s belongings. On that sobering note, they departed.

* * *

Outside the hospital a brisk December wind whipped at them, lifting their hair and catching at the ends of their scarves. Standing on the footpath on Whitechapel Road, Zac almost welcomed the wind’s buffeting force and the sting to his cheeks. He dragged in an extra deep lungful of chilled air, as if it might somehow clear the raw pain and misery that roiled inside him. But there was no way he could avoid the two images that kept swimming before his vision. The pale, bruised, lifeless face of his beautiful sister and the small, red, but very much alive face of her tiny newborn daughter.

His niece.

His new responsibility.

The frigid air seemed to seep into Zac’s very blood along with this chilling reality. This baby, this brand new human being had no other family. He was it. She would be completely dependent on him.

He shot a glance to Chloe, whose cheeks had already turned quite pink from the cold. The high colour made her look unexpectedly pretty and he thought how fabulous she’d been this morning. In fact, his decision to bring his PA with him to London had been a stroke of pure genius. On the long flight, at the police station and again at the hospital, Chloe’s no-fuss efficiency and quiet sympathy had been exactly the kind of support he’d needed.

‘I vote we go back to the hotel now,’ he said. ‘We can check in and get a few things sorted.’

Chloe nodded. ‘I’ll check out those funeral parlours, if you like. It might be hard to find a—a place—with Christmas and everything.’

Zac was about to agree, but then he remembered the heartbreaking decisions he might be required to make. ‘I’d better talk to them, Chloe. Anyway, you’re probably exhausted.’

‘I feel fine, actually.’ She smiled. ‘Being outside and grabbing a breath of fresh air makes all the difference.’

You’re a breath of fresh air, he almost told her, and then thought better of it. Even minor breaches of their boss-PA boundaries seemed to make Chloe uncomfortable and now that she’d given up her Christmas and had come all this way, he didn’t want to upset her. Instead he said, ‘And I’ll also make contact with the share house people.’

‘Yes, it might be worth finding out what Liv’s already bought before you start shopping.’

Zac frowned. Suddenly, his mega-sensible PA wasn’t making any sense at all. ‘Shopping?’

‘For the baby.’

‘Oh.’ He gulped nervously. ‘Yes, of course.’

A vision of a mountain of nappies and prams and tins of formula mushroomed in Zac’s imagination. He felt overwhelmed again as he raised a hand to hail their taxi.

In a matter of moments, they were heading back into the city centre. Chloe leaned back in the seat and closed her eyes. She was probably worn out, even though she’d denied it. Zac had never seen her like this—with her eyes closed, her dark lashes lying softly against her flushed cheeks, her lips relaxed and slightly open.

She looked vulnerable and he found his attention riveted...

This wasn’t the first time he’d entertained the idea of kissing Chloe, of making love to her, but, just as he had on the other occasions, he quickly cut off the thought.

From the start, when he’d first employed Chloe, he’d quickly recognised her value as his PA and he’d set himself clear rules. No office affairs. Ever.

Of course, there’d been times when he’d wished to hell that he wasn’t so principled where Chloe was concerned. More than once they’d been deep in a business discussion when he’d been completely distracted by her quiet beauty, but it was almost certainly for the best that his common sense had always prevailed.

And now, once again, Zac dismissed ideas of tasting her softly parted lips and he wrenched his thoughts back to his new responsibilities.

A tiny baby...such an alarming prospect for a commitment-shy bachelor. If he took Liv’s little daughter into his care, she would rely on him for everything—for food, for shelter, clothes...love. As she grew older she would look up to him for wise guidance, for entertainment, for security. She would require vast amounts of his time and patience.

No doubt she would view him as her father.

Her daddy...

The thought brought shivers fingering down Zac’s spine. He couldn’t deny he’d been hoping that the baby’s biological father would emerge and make a claim, but he’d also been worried by the prospect. Knowing Liv, the guy was bound to be a no-hoper. Now, the possibility of a father galloping up on a white charger to save the day was fast disappearing and this left Zac with a different, but equally worrying set of problems...centring on his own, very real inadequacies...

He was very aware that his personal life was at best...haphazard...but there was a good reason for that—in more recent years he’d been making up for lost time.

Liv had been so young when their parents died, and for many years Zac had made her his first priority. He’d juggled several part-time jobs so that he could be at home for as much of Liv’s out-of-school time as possible.

It was only after Liv had turned eighteen and struck out on her own, that he’d decided he might as well have some fun, so when it came to dating women he’d been a late starter. By then he’d also discovered he had a head for business as well as a talent for attracting gorgeous girls. He’d enjoyed the combination of work and play so much that he hadn’t felt a need to settle down.




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