Christmas Down Under: Six Sexy New Zealand & Australian Christmas Romances

by Rosalind James

  Owen kept his calm, however, showing the owners how to use treats to reward the puppies when they did the right thing rather than punishing them when they didn’t. By the end of the session, most of the dogs were sitting on command, and a couple were even staying put when the owners backed away.

  At one point, Owen beckoned Skye forward, paired her up with Mozart, and got her to join in as well. He made everyone else watch as she instructed the Lab, and although she was embarrassed at first, she soon began to enjoy herself as she realized Mozart almost seemed to know what she was going to say before she said it—in fact, she was pretty sure the dog was training her rather than the other way around. Everyone was amazed at the Lab’s obedience, and it was easy to think for a moment she was a superb trainer, and it didn’t have anything to do with the hours of practice that had led to that point. Owen watched her with a small smile, and she didn’t miss the sneaky high five he and Mozart gave each other after the class.

  “You’re worse than Batman and Robin,” she told them as the other owners left. “Talk about a double act.”

  “We prefer to think of ourselves as Cassidy and Sundance.” Owen pointed his fingers into a revolver and fired them at the Lab. “Bang. You’re dead.”

  Mozart rolled obediently onto his back and splayed his legs in the air.

  “I’d be more interested to see the roles reversed,” Skye said wryly.

  “Later, sweetheart.” Owen snatched a quick kiss. “I’ll be happy to perform for you.”

  The second session was for Search and Rescue volunteers, and turned out to be much more serious. “Some emergency situations can take hours to resolve,” Owen explained to Skye. “It’s essential to keep the dogs’ stamina up and their fitness at peak levels.”

  Marty helped him set up an obstacle course in the barn followed by a large circuit outside, and Owen walked around as the owners took their dogs through their paces, correcting and guiding where necessary. Skye watched him demonstrate occasionally with Mozart, who stuck to his side like glue whenever they were performing, barely taking his eyes from his master. She could see the hours of training they must have put in together, because the Lab was by far the best-trained dog there, reacting immediately to each of Owen’s commands and following his hand gestures as he guided the dog over bales of hay, through tunnels, and in between poles.

  After the class, Owen stayed behind for a further thirty minutes to give Mozart an intensive workout, and Skye watched with more than a little admiration as he put the Lab through his paces. Alone in the field, the man and his dog seemed to forget she was there for a while, working as one as they completed several circuits together, then rotated through a sequence of commands.

  By the time they finished, both of them looked worn out.

  “Hard work,” Marty observed.

  “His tongue’s hanging out,” Skye agreed as they walked back to the car. “And Mozart looks exhausted too.”

  Marty laughed, and Owen gave her a wry look. “Time for lunch, I think.”

  They said goodbye to Marty, got in the car, and headed west for Kaitaia.

  “I guess you need a triple shot latte to keep you going through the afternoon?” Skye asked.

  Owen winked at her. “Just one look at you is enough to keep me going.”

  She laughed, winding down the window and letting the summer breeze blow through the car. Closing her eyes, she felt the warm sun brush over her skin. What a beautiful day, and the weather showed no sign of changing anytime soon, either.

  They called in at a café on the way. Skye had a chicken Caesar salad, while Owen chose a cheese soufflé with his salad, and then they headed for the town of Kaitaia for his last class of the day.

  Skye found this one just as interesting as the last as she didn’t know much about orienteering. Today’s lesson was on night orienteering, and she learned how to read compasses and maps at night, and what to do if the visibility was further limited, such as with fog.

  In this, too, Owen exhibited extensive knowledge, and by the end of the day she was left in no doubt of how skilled he was at his job.

  “You’re very impressive,” she said as he drove home late that afternoon, Mozart dozing in the back.

  Owen glanced at his crotch.

  She rolled her eyes. “I meant with your knowledge.”

  “Ah.” He grinned. “Thanks.”

  “Any news on whether they plan to keep the Far North branch running?”

  “Not yet. They’ll probably decide in the New Year.”

  “I hope they do. You’re obviously doing a marvelous job.”

  He smiled, pleased by her compliment. “Thank you. By the way, you’re still coming home with me, right?”

  “Yes, Owen. I could do with picking up some stuff from the sleep-out, though.”

  “Sure. Have you told your folks yet?”

  “Yes.”

  “And? How did they take it?”

  She rubbed her nose. “I might not have been completely honest. I told Mum this morning I’d be staying with a friend for a few days.”

  He glanced across at her. His smile faded. “I see.”

  “You don’t know my parents, Owen. I didn’t want a hundred-and-one questions, and to have to explain myself.”

  “I understand.”

  She knew he didn’t, because he looked hurt. “It’s not because I didn’t want to tell them about you. They’ll be meeting you at the wedding anyway. I’m just trying to put off the inevitable interrogation.”

  His lips twitched. “Yeah, I get it. So, what do you want to do tonight?”

  She didn’t mention her parents again and neither did he, and instead they talked about what movie they were going to watch, and what they were going to have for dinner. Inside, though, Skye felt a twinge of shame. Owen deserved better than this. He was fond of her, and it must look as if she was brushing off his affection, as if she were ashamed of being with him.

  Wanting to make it up to him, when they stopped at the sleep-out, she quickly packed some clothes, and also shoved some of her drawing equipment in a bag. She’d brought her box of pencils, paints, and brushes with her from Europe, and had purchased a large pad of watercolor paper from a local art shop.

  “What’s that for?” He looked with interest at the bag when she placed it in the boot. “Are you going to draw me?”

  She got in beside him. “Maybe later. First, I’m going to do a sketch of Mozart for you.”

  His face lit up. “Oh, I’d like that.”

  Pleased, she began planning the sketch in her mind’s eye. Although she enjoyed working in oils, because she moved around so much she tended to concentrate on watercolor paints because they were easier to transport and dried more quickly. She’d take a photo with her iPad of Mozart sitting up, and then if he moved at least she’d have the original pose to guide her.

  By the time they arrived at Owen’s house, she was itching to get started. Owen made them some pasta while she took the photo and began the sketch, and after they had eaten she started brushing on the color, watching the movie with one eye while Owen stretched out on the sofa with Mozart curled up beside him.

  She finished about ten minutes before the movie ended, but wouldn’t let Owen see until the final credits rolled. Then she made him stand by the window before turning around the pad.

  He stared at the sketch. Glanced at her. Looked back at the sketch. His jaw dropped.

  “Do you like it?” She nibbled her fingernail.

  “Skye…” He came closer and took the pad from her. “I thought you said you were doing a sketch.”

  She frowned. “It is a sketch.”

  “Honey, a sketch implies a ten-minute scribble on the back of a cigarette packet. This is a fucking masterpiece.”

  Her face glowed. “It’s really not, but thank you for the compliment.”

  He shook his head, staring in wonder at the picture. “It’s amazing. I don’t know how you’ve done it, but you’ve made him look so real. Look at h
is fur! How did you get texture like that?”

  “Just pencil beneath the paint.”

  “Just?” He stared for a long time at the pad, then finally put it down, slowly and carefully, as if it were a Turner or a Picasso. Finally, he turned to her and pulled her into his arms. “You’re spectacular, Skye Graham.”

  She fingered the St. Anthony pendant on his chest. “It’s just a painting.”

  “I’m not talking about the painting this time.”

  She looked up, and he was smiling. “I wanted to say I’m sorry,” she blurted out.

  His eyebrows rose. “What for?”

  “Because I haven’t told my parents about us. I hurt your feelings, and that made me sad.”

  “I’ll survive.” He dipped his head and kissed her.

  She waited for him to move back before adding, “I need you to know that it’s not because I don’t want them to meet you, Owen. I’m just…scared, I suppose.”

  “Of what?”

  “That when they see us together, it’ll be obvious.”

  She waited for him to ask, What will be obvious? But he didn’t, and she realized he understood. When her mother saw her with him, she would see immediately that Skye had feelings for him, and Skye wasn’t ready to address that problem yet, because she didn’t know the answer to that conundrum herself.

  “Okay,” he said softly. “One step at a time.” He wrapped his arms around her. “Now, it’s time for bed.”

  So Skye let him kiss her, then lead her to the bedroom. He was right—there was no point in worrying about the future. She had to concentrate on today and let tomorrow take care of itself.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The rest of the week passed in a confusing blur of happiness and despair for Skye.

  It was difficult to fight against a rising sense of wellbeing, even though she felt certain what she was feeling was only a holiday high. Working at Treats proved an unexpected bonus, and she was enjoying reconnecting with Maisey, as well as getting to know the other girls. Kole came by a lot too, and although sometimes it was odd to be the three of them instead of the four they’d been all through childhood, Skye was aware the cloud that had hung over them all the last time she’d visited had lifted. They talked frequently about Harry with fondness, recalling events from their youth and laughing at joint memories, and although the sadness hadn’t completely vanished and would probably always remain, she was pleased to see their anger had faded.

  After work, she drove down to Kerikeri to be with Owen. One evening, he took her out to dinner, and another night they went to the cinema. The other two nights they ate in, spending their free time together in a blissful haze of lovemaking. Skye was overwhelmed by his sheer joy in her. When they were together, it was as if he couldn’t get enough of her. He was attentive, funny, and sexy, everything she’d ever wanted in a man.

  And that was also why despair kept threatening to overwhelm her. It was like being on a diet—every minute she spent with him was like another calorie she knew she shouldn’t be consuming, and yet she couldn’t have said no to him for the world. Deep down, though, she couldn’t shake the knowledge that this was only a holiday fling, and it wouldn’t be this way if she weren’t leaving in a month. It lent an intensity to their relationship that wouldn’t be there if he knew he could have her whenever he wanted. If they really lived together, that passion would eventually die, the same way it had with Matt when she’d moved in with him.

  At first, back in London, her affair with Matt had been exciting and passionate. He’d only recently left his wife when she met him, and now she realized he’d been captivated by being with a younger woman and exploring a relationship with someone other than his wife, who he’d been with since a teenager. He’d cared for Skye—she had no doubt about that—but once she’d moved in with him, his passion had waned. She’d loved him, but the pull of the deep relationship he’d had with his wife had proved too strong. He hadn’t loved Skye enough to stay with her, and eventually he’d gone back to his wife. She’d learned a harsh lesson about the difference between love and lust, and she’d promised herself she wouldn’t make the same mistake again.

  No doubt it would be the same with Owen. If they lived together, after a glorious honeymoon period, he would start to lose interest in her. He would grow tired of spending every minute with her, and he would start going out with his mates, and growing irritated if she wanted them to be together. It would never work, she was certain of it—the intensity of what they were feeling could never continue. Like a beautiful rose in a garden, she had to admire it and appreciate it for what it was, while also accepting its temporary nature.

  Friday dawned—the day before Tasha and Kole’s wedding, and Skye covered Tasha’s afternoon shift in Treats so the bride-to-be could double check preparations for the big day.

  “Are you actually wearing a dress?” she asked Tasha with a straight face.

  Tasha grinned and waved as she headed out the door. “Wait and see. You still coming tonight?”

  “Yeah, I’ll be there.” Skye waved her goodbye. The girls were all going out with Tasha that evening to a bar in Mangonui while the guys were heading south to Paihia to the new bar on the seafront.

  The afternoon passed quickly, with plenty of customers and tourists wishing to stock up on chocolates for Christmas presents, as well as regulars coming in for their daily shot of caffeine.

  At five o’clock, Skye took off her apron and called out to Maisey, “I’ll be back in fifteen to help clear up.”

  “No worries.” Maisey waved her goodbye. Skye had told her she wanted to call in at the doctors’ surgery briefly, and Maisey, Caitlin, and Elle were happy to hold the fort for a while.

  Skye walked up the hill the short distance to the surgery and checked in at the reception. “I rang earlier this morning,” she explained, “and I think you were going to try and fit me in today at the end of surgery?”

  The receptionist checked her computer and smiled. “Yes, Miss Graham, Dr. Heaven had a cancellation last thing, so we booked you in.”

  “Ah…” Skye hesitated. She’d known Maisey’s fiancé, Joss, since they were teenagers—would it be weird being his patient? “Is nobody else available?”

  “Sorry, no, we’re quite busy today. The next appointment’s Monday.”

  Skye sighed. “Then that’s fine, thank you.” She took a seat and picked up a magazine. He was a professional, and besides, she wasn’t there for anything intimate. He could prescribe painkillers the same as any other doctor.

  It was only five minutes before he called her name, and she looked up to see him waiting for her, a smile on his face.

  “Hey,” he said as she walked up to him. “I did a double take when I saw your name. Are you okay seeing me?”

  “Yeah, it’s nothing serious.”

  “Sure, come on then.” He led the way down to his office, let her precede him, and closed the door behind them. “Have a seat.”

  Skye sat by his desk, smiling as he took the chair opposite her. “This is weird, I have to say. You look all…grown up.”

  He grinned. “You too. It’s been a long time since we were all kids together, eh?”

  “Yeah.” She wasn’t going to think back to their teens, not now, when Tasha and Kole were getting married tomorrow. Look forward, Skye, not back. “I’m so glad you and Maisey hooked up. I didn’t think she’d ever grow up, but she really seems to have settled down with you.”

  He leaned back in his chair, twirling his pen and smiling. “I’m glad too. She seems happy enough.”

  “She’s ecstatic at being with you.” Impishness made her add, “Lord knows why.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  She laughed. “I didn’t mean it. I’m sure you’ll make a great husband.” She meant it, too. Joss was handsome, sexy, and yet had a dependable down-to-earth manner he hadn’t exhibited when he was younger. She had no doubt he was going to make Maisey very happy.

  “Well, Kole’s threatened t
o break my legs if I make her cry, so there’s that to consider.” He gave her a wry look as she chuckled. “Anyway, what can I do for you today?”

  “I wondered if you can give me something for this stupid jet lag. I can’t seem to shake it, and I don’t want to spoil Christmas by feeling off color.”

  He pulled his keyboard toward him and tapped a few keys. “I’d be surprised if it’s still jet lag bothering you—maybe you picked up a virus on the plane. That’s fairly common when you think of all those germs circulating through the air con for twenty-four hours. What sort of symptoms do you have?”

  “I’m a bit achy and tired, and I just feel…I don’t know…odd. Emotional, although I was expecting that, coming back here. But a bit nauseous, too.”

  “Any particular time of the day?”

  “Mornings, usually. Coffee normally settles my stomach, but I’ve not fancied it the last week or so.”

  Joss stopped typing, and he glanced over at her.

  She blinked as he didn’t say anything. “What?”

  He swiveled in his chair to face her, leaned back with his fingers linked, and tipped his head to the side. His blue eyes were suddenly very intense. “When was your last period?”

  Skye’s cheeks warmed. “Um… It was due last Sunday, but sometimes I’m a bit irregular.”

  “Breasts tender?”

  “Christ, Joss, next you’ll be wanting to do an internal…” Her voice trailed off. He didn’t say anything, but his eyes turned half-cautious, half-amused, as he waited for the penny to drop.

  “Oh. My. God.” Skye’s head spun. She suddenly felt incredibly stupid. “I can’t be pregnant.”

  Joss raised an eyebrow. “You and Owen aren’t having sex?”

  “No! I mean yes, but we’re using protection.”

  “What kind?”

  “Condoms.” Breathe out, she scolded herself, conscious that if she kept inhaling she was likely to pass out.

  Joss shrugged. “They only have a ninety-eight percent success rate.” He glanced at the computer and scrolled the mouse down. “It says here you have a latex allergy.”