Scarlet Wilson - A Bond Between Strangers

There was still time. He still had some chance of meeting someone new, someone who might want to settle down and have kids. But at his age, thirty-nine, the chances seemed to be reducing every day. It had been three years since they’d tried IVF—two years since Tabitha had left. And in two years? He hadn’t had one date that had remotely interested him. Too young, too old. Too career orientated, and the best one—the women who were only interested in him because he was a doctor.

Just like Tabitha. Once bitten, twice shy.

He turned the letter over in his hands.

This was it. His final dealings with the clinic. The letter telling him that the remaining viable embryos had been destroyed.

And for now his hopes of fatherhood would have to be put to one side.

He tore open the envelope, pulled out the letter and scanned the page.

He gave a jolt. As if a bolt of electricity had just ran through his body. He stood up, his body on autopilot, his eyes never leaving the page as he tried to take in the words. ‘…our sincerest apologies…never in our clinic’s history…wrongly implanted…numerous messages.’

He marched into his house. Sure enough. The answering-machine was blinking. He hadn’t looked at it in the last three days—work had been crazy. Sixteen messages. He didn’t even need to listen to them. He started stripping off his running gear as he strode into the shower. Work was the last place he would be today.

Somewhere out there—someone was carrying his baby.

LILY GRAYSON carried out her safety checks one last time. It didn’t matter that she was jumping with a fully qualified instructor. It didn’t matter that this airfield and accompanying flying school had an impeccable record. It didn’t matter that a fully qualified rigger would have already packed her chute. It didn’t matter that she was almost fully qualified herself.

Lily always checked her own parachutes—main and reserve—herself. Period. For an adrenaline junkie like Lily it was all part of the build up to the event. Part of the rush.

She gave a little smile as she glanced down at her new bright purple flight suit, complete with pink writing on the back, ‘Here Comes Lily’. No one could miss her.

She was fed up with wearing the ugly khaki regulation suits. This was her third jump for charity—her twentieth for herself—so she’d decided the investment was worth it. She pulled on her matching helmet and wandered over to where the newbies stood. They were hanging onto instructor Ryan’s every word as if their lives depended on it—which, in fact, it probably did. Their knees were trembling so much the sound was almost audible.

She couldn’t remember ever feeling like that. Why be scared? This was one of the most exhilarating things in the world. The feeling when you jumped out into nothing, the smack of the air hitting your cheeks, streaming through the tiny hairs sticking out the back of your helmet. The whoosh when you pulled the cord and you were suspended in mid-air and the ground was rushing up to meet you.

The palms of her hands itched. She couldn’t wait to get up there.

‘Hi, stranger. You again. What charity did you hoodwink this time to get a free jump?’

Dan, one of the other jump instructors, flung an easy arm around her shoulders. His six-foot-five frame dwarfed her five feet five.

She shot him a grin. ‘I’ll have you know I’m about to raise over seven thousand dollars for a leading children’s cancer charity. They were very keen when I offered to jump for them.’ A glint appeared in her eye. This was definitely a two-way street. She got to do the thing she loved and the cancer charity got to make money. She wished she’d thought of this years ago.

‘I just need another five minutes with these guys.’ Dan waved his arm towards the nervous participants.

Lily gave a nod. The hangar was hot today and she unbuttoned the top of the flight suit and wriggled her arms out, tying it at her waist. The bright pink T-shirt she wore matched the writing on her suit and the jump shoes on her feet. She wandered over to the open hangar doors and stood looking out over the airfield.

There were several planes being prepared and she gave a smile as one of the pilots gave her a wave. That was what she liked about this place. All friends. No drama. Just a warm welcome whenever you arrived.

Out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of a motorbike speeding along the country road. He was going far too fast. But, then, he was obviously experienced, hugging the corners and dipping down towards the road.

She saw his helmet rise as if looking for the turn-off then, sure enough, he signalled and moved into the airfield. She shook her head. She’d no idea who he was, but there was no way Dan would let anyone jump without the full briefing. Evel Knievel would have to wait for the next jump.

* * *

Carter felt his heart pounding in his chest. Almost two weeks on and his world had collapsed around him. His wayward ex-wife couldn’t be found.

He’d spent exorbitant amounts of money hiring an attorney and a private detective. The attorney was dealing with all the legal aspects from the clinic as Carter was too angry to speak to them right now. The private detective? So far, he’d been to Los Angeles and Las Vegas and found nothing.

Not even his ex-wife’s bank would help. They wouldn’t even tell him how she was accessing his money.

His attorney was an old friend from college and had made a new suggestion. It was probably for the best that Tabitha couldn’t be found—she would be horrified by what had happened, and she probably wasn’t a poster girl for motherhood.

But Carter and Tabitha had spent a long time selecting their egg donor from the hundreds of women on file with the clinic. He’d seen her picture, knew what age she was, knew she had an Ivy League education and knew she lived locally. How hard could it be to find her?

And so he’d put his private detective to work again. To track down his egg donor. And he’d found her. Lily Grayson, twenty-seven. Trained at University of Pennsylvania and working as a nurse in one of the other San Francisco hospitals. And today she was here, doing a jump for one of the charities.

He swung his leg over the bike and stretched his back, pulling off his helmet and looking around him. How hard could she be to find? He’d been here before. He’d done a few jumps from here—another of his thrill factors. Maybe he’d find someone who knew her?

He could see a number of figures around one of the hangars and moved swiftly in that direction. A woman was leaning against the hangar door, her bright purple flight suit around her waist, her pink helmet in her hand.

He glanced quickly at his photo. No, she was definitely a blonde. The woman he was looking for was a brunette. Pity.

She sat her helmet at her feet and folded her arms across her chest, covering his view of her well-shaped body. ‘Well, lucky me,’ came the sassy voice as she raised her eyes skyward. ‘Someone up there has definitely been listening to my requests. A big, solid, dark-haired leather-clad biker, all to myself.’

He could see the smile dancing around her lips. And he could smell her perfume, but it wasn’t spicy like her, it was light and floral, a scent he recognised from his garden—honeysuckle.

‘And who might you be looking for?’ she continued. There was a twinkle in her brown eyes and for a second he almost wished they were green. Like the photo in his pocket.

It was the first time in a long time he’d felt inclined to flirt.

He sighed, then gave her a smile anyway. ‘I’m looking for a beautiful woman, but unfortunately she’s a brunette, not a blonde.’ He gave a nod at her blonde hair.