The Most Magical Gift of All. Fiona Lowe

       ‘Sophie.’ Imogen ran over to her and grabbed her hand. ‘Look at what Jack and me did. There’s lights too.’ With her large brown eyes shining, the child tugged her towards the biggest faux fir Christmas tree Sophie had ever seen in a house.

      Her mouth dried as she took in the tree, dripping with baubles and tinsel, and then it parched completely when her gaze focussed on Jack. He stood on the top of a ladder with a star in one hand and an angel in the other. Sunlight poured through the bay window, picking up the traces of silver tinsel and cobwebs that clung to his polo shirt and the streak of dirt that dusted his cheek. Gone was the über-uptight doctor who had appeared last night in Parachilna. Right now he looked like a rumpled dark-haired god, whose brooding good-looks would instantly tarnish all the gold of the angels with a glance from those stunning eyes.

      Her lungs cramped.

      

      Imogen tugged at her hand. ‘Isn’t it beautiful?’

      

       Yes, he is.

      The Most Magical Gift of All

      By

      Fiona Lowe

      

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      About the Author

      Always an avid reader, FIONA LOWE decided to combine her love of romance with her interest in all things medical, so writing Mills & Boon® Medical™ Romance was an obvious choice! She lives in a seaside town in southern Australia, where she juggles writing, reading, working and raising two gorgeous sons, with the support of her own real-life hero! You can visit Fiona’s website at www.fionalowe.com

      To Diana, with thanks for sharing her stories.

      

      Many thanks to fellow writing mate Kate Hardy for all her help with ‘UK lingo’.

      Chapter One

      ‘BARRAGONG.’ The florid bus-driver depressed the large black button on the coach’s console and the door opened with a long, slow hiss. Pulling a hankie out of his pocket, he mopped his brow as the hot, midday December sun beat through the untinted windows.

      Sophie Norman slung her rucksack over her shoulder and took a step down, peering out at a red sign that clearly and officially said: bus stop. But apart from the black-top road that stretched as far as the eye could see, straight north to her right and south to her left, there was nothing else that hinted at civilisation: no bus-shelter, no shops, no houses and certainly no hedgerows like back in Surrey. Nothing. Well, nothing if a girl didn’t include shimmering heat-haze, large yellow rocks, thousands of hectares of ochre-red dirt and the most amazing jagged ranges that appeared blue one minute and purple the next.

      She frowned and rubbed her forehead, trying to ease the dull ache generated by long hours of travel before it kicked into a full-blown headache. Forty-eight hours ago she’d been in Mumbai, fighting for space just to walk down the street, and now she was in the middle of nowhere. Outback Australia; nowhere. ‘How can this be Barragong?’

      The driver shook his head slowly as if Sophie was a bit dim and extended his meaty arm towards a smaller road. ‘The town’s a kilometre that way. The evening bus pulls into town, but not this one.’

      ‘Just brilliant.’ Sophie silently cursed the medical-recruitment agency who’d failed to tell her not all buses led into Barragong.

      ‘Someone meeting you?’

      She shook her head. Like so much of her life, she was fending for herself and completely on her own. Just the way she liked it. ‘Due to plane delays I didn’t know exactly when I was arriving and my mobile phone can’t get any connection bars.’

      ‘You need a sat phone out here.’ The driver frowned at her pale skin. ‘You got water and a hat?’

      Sophie patted the large hiking water-bottle on the side of her rucksack. ‘Always.’

      ‘Good. It’s an easy fifteen-minute walk so just stay on the road, love, and you can’t miss the town.’ A wicked grin split the man’s jowly cheeks. ‘Oh, and walk around the snakes. They’ll be sunning themselves about now and they get a bit grumpy if you step on them. They quite fancy a tourist for lunch.’

      Snakes? Sophie swallowed the shriek that battered her lips and somehow forced her shoulders back. Putting up with a few creepy crawlies was a small price to pay if coming to the middle of nowhere in summer meant avoiding Christmas. ‘I’ll be perfectly safe, then, because I’m not a tourist. I’m the locum doctor in Barragong for the next three months.’

      He looked her up and down as if really seeing her for the first time. ‘An English rose on the edge of the desert, eh? Good luck with that.’

      An unexpected squad of butterflies suddenly collided with the wall of her stomach. She’d come to Australia because she needed a few months in a place where stepping outside wasn’t a death wish. She needed some time to live without fear, and some time to be herself and have fun. ‘I’ve dodged bombs and rocket fire in northern Pakistan, so how hard can this be?’

      He gave her a knowing smile. ‘Just keep your hat on, sunshine.’

      Sophie stepped off the bus. A moment later, with a diesel-infused, lung-clogging cloud of exhaust, the coach moved back onto the highway, disappearing quickly into the distance. She jammed her broad-brimmed hat onto her head and walked towards the sign that clearly and reassuringly stated, Barragong Town Centre. Population 1019. She smiled at the crossed-out number eight and the added nine; a baby had been born and a family wanted the world to know the news. Although given the lack of passing traffic perhaps it was a Barragong secret.

      She hoisted her rucksack up high and trudged forward, glad to have hiking boots between the soles of her feet and the broiling asphalt. After the humidity of the sub-continent, the dry heat was almost invigorating, and the silence deafening: no bombs, no screams of terror, no horns, no motorbikes and no wandering cows. The only other living thing she shared with the road was a sluggish lizard with a stumpy tail and a bright-blue tongue. Slowly the blur of the heat-haze receded and the outline of low-rise buildings came into sight. She picked up her pace, keen to see the town that would give her some breathing space and be home for three months, or until the need to move on again became stronger than the desire to stay.

      Mostly amiable, occasionally easy-going but always organised, Dr Jack Armitage yelled. Loudly. And with satisfying invective. ‘If she’s already left Adelaide and she’s not here, where the hell is she? She should have been here last night and I was supposed to have left town this morning. I can’t do that until the locum I arranged through you a month ago, the one you promised me would be here in good time, has arrived.’

      He shrugged off his leather bike-jacket, dropping it onto the nurses’ station in the small A&E department of Barragong and District Memorial Hospital, all the while keeping the phone pressed firmly to his ear. It took two long, deep breaths to control the urge to cut off the incompetent recruitment-officer who didn’t know his elbow from his…

      ‘Doctor, we’re trying to locate Dr Norman, but we keep getting her message bank.’

      Jack’s jaw clenched so hard his teeth ached and he ground out the words very slowly. ‘Then find out if the good doctor has even left Adelaide. Ring the station and the bus depot, contact Port Augusta, find out if she hitchhiked—but just do your job and get a doctor here or you’ll lose your commission. I need a doctor yesterday because I’ve got an adventure to start that’s already five years overdue.’

      He snapped his mobile