Ann McIntosh - The Nurse's Christmas Temptation / A Mistletoe Kiss For The Single Dad

Her experience with Logan had been lesson enough. She’d thought him the perfect fit for her: a handsome yet staid and sensible Certified Public Accountant with a solid head on his shoulders. At least that was what she’d thought until he’d told her he was in love with an intern at his office and was giving up his job to move to Australia with her and start an Outback tour company.

She’d been totally gobsmacked, in equal parts desperately hurt and angry.

Her mum had seemed sympathetic, but unsurprised, while her gran had said, “He’s too boring anyway.”

But Logan’s lack of excitement was one of the things she’d liked best about him. The last thing she wanted in her life was someone like Dad, whose recklessness and need for adventure had gotten him killed on a mountain that, because of his health concerns, he should never have been climbing. She wanted someone safe, reliable, who wouldn’t break her heart or leave her to struggle on her own to raise their child the way her mum had had to.

Maybe she was better off on her own long term, anyway. Loving others just brought pain as far as she could tell.

As the ferry docked, Harmony put her baleful thoughts aside to heft her tote bag onto her shoulder, then pull up the handle of her wheeled suitcase. Taking another deep breath, she set off for the gangplank, ignoring the flutters of anxiety in her stomach.

Somewhere along the line she’d come to the conclusion that life went on, and that what happened was out of her hands. All she could control was how she faced it, and this new job, in this strange place, was to be met head-on, and with a certain amount of panache, to make up for her fear of the unknown.

Pausing to let an older lady go ahead of her, Harmony ran her hand over the faux fur collar of her favorite tweed trench coat, letting the softness of the fabric soothe her jangling nerves. She’d thought about wearing more casual clothes, but dismissed the impulse. Just because her new job was on an island it didn’t mean she wanted to arrive looking as though she didn’t take it seriously. Besides, she liked nice clothes; she felt more confident when she was well dressed.

With her head determinedly high, Harmony went down the gangplank to the dock. When no one stepped forward to meet her, she kept walking toward the building marked “Dock Master’s Office” for all the world as though she knew where she was going.

Suddenly four older ladies, whom she’d thought were there to meet the woman she’d let go down the gangplank ahead of her, surrounded her, bringing her progress to a screeching halt.

“Nurse Kinkaid?” one of them asked with a smile. “You are Nurse Kinkaid, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, wonderful! Isn’t it wonderful, girls?”

Unsure about what was so wonderful, Harmony made no comment, simply plastered a smile on her face as all the women seemed to be speaking at once.

“So lovely to have you!”

“Are you Scottish?”

“What a looker you are!”

“Do you craft?”

“How old are you?”

“I adore your coat!”

Stunned by the barrage, Harmony let go her suitcase and held up her hands, one of which had her umbrella in it. Three of the ladies fell silent and stepped back in unison. The fourth stood her ground, the smile on her face never faltering.

“Don’t mind those chatterboxes, Nurse Kinkaid. A bunch of magpies, they are.”

She held out her hand and Harmony instinctively took it, receiving a hearty handshake.

“I’m Eudora Moxley, but call me Dora. And these old bags are Ingrid, Sela and Kat.”

“Katherine,” the tallest of the others growled.

“Kat’s a little touchy about her name, but don’t let it worry you. It’s the English coming out in her.”

“For goodness’ sake, Eudora.” The other woman huffed. “I’ve lived here for nigh on thirty years. Don’t I merit being Scottish by now?”

“You got here thirty years too late for that, Kat,” one of the other women interjected, although whether it was Ingrid or Sela, Harmony had no idea. All the women except for Katherine tittered.

“That’s enough of that,” Katherine retorted. “The nurse is going to think we’re loopy.”

“Oh, but we are—and best she knows it from day one,” Dora retorted, giving Harmony’s fingers one last squeeze before finally releasing them. “We’re the Crafty Islanders, in charge of—well…almost everything here on Eilean Rurie. We wanted to be on hand to greet you and welcome you to the island.”

“Thank you,” Harmony replied weakly, still somewhat shell-shocked by what they called a greeting but felt more like a mugging. “Do you have any idea where I might find Dr. MacRurie?”

“Oh, he’ll be along any minute now. The Laird is always on time, and the ferry was early.”

“Laird?” Wasn’t that Scottish for some kind of a peer? Caitlin hadn’t mentioned anything about him being a peer.

“That’s just a nickname, dear,” Katherine said. “Although he does own most of the island, Cam’s not one to stand on ceremony. It’s not like he’s a duke or anything like that.”

“There you go. That’s why you’re not Scottish yet, Kat.” Dora smirked. “Laird is far better than Duke any day.”

“Tosh” was the testy reply. “You’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”

And they started in on each other again, leaving Harmony’s head swimming as insults and ripostes flew back and forth.

If these ladies really did run the place, how did they get anything done? Whether they would impact her ability to do her job was another question she really wanted answered too. As assisting nurse and office manager, she’d brook no interference in her work.

“Ladies,” she said, loudly enough to cut through the arguing, and was relieved when they all stopped and looked at her. “It was lovely meeting you, but if you would just point me in the right direction…?”

“No need,” Dora said, beaming at something behind her. “Here comes the Laird now.”

Instinctively Harmony turned, looked, but all she saw was the guy in the wetsuit coming up along the sea wall. No one else.

Then it struck her—hard.

Her new boss was the handsome jetpack daredevil with the nice bum.

Oh, no.

CAM WAS STILL buzzing with adrenaline from the jetpack as he made his way up from the beach along the path on the seawall. It had been such a rush he’d ridden it for longer than he’d planned, and had missed his chance to change before meeting the ferry. Hopefully his new nurse would be the easygoing type, and wouldn’t be fazed by meeting her new boss when he was wearing a wetsuit.

It was a shame he hadn’t been able to give Sanjit permission to offer water jetpack rides to visitors, but he’d had to nix the idea even though Sanjit had put up a good argument.

“It could be a new draw for visitors in summer, when we have our slump. Another activity to add to the website, making a trip here more attractive at times other than Christmas.”

“True, but the liability issue is one we can’t get away from.” He’d slapped the younger man on the shoulder, then reached for his towel. “It’s a lot of fun, but one major accident and the entire island would suffer the consequences.”

It was true. Because the MacRurie Trust owned most of Eilean Rurie, no matter what insurance Sanjit might purchase to cover operating a water jetpack rental, the trust—and Cam as its director—would still be considered liable should anything go wrong. One major lawsuit might break the bank, or at least severely deplete it. He considered the island to be entrusted to him for posterity, so protecting it and its inhabitants was his first order of business.