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

by Rosalind James

“Cafés. I can give you references, if you like, but they’re not really to the point. Short stints, anyway, with a bit of travel in between. It’s been a nice change, but I’ve decided I want to settle in Auckland and get another teaching post for the new year. And this could be a good interim position before I start that again.”

  “Not too glamorous,” he said dubiously. “Kids, cooking, washing, shopping. Not much cleaning, at least. I have a firm that comes in every week to do that. But still.”

  She noticed his assessing look. She could say with fair confidence that he wasn’t seeing anything glamorous enough to give him pause. At least the weather, and her hair, had cooperated. But she was afraid the plaid skirt and loose jumper didn’t do much for her. She’d wanted to appear serious, but she suspected she might have crossed the line into dowdy territory. That was probably good, though. She didn’t want him to think she was trying to appeal to him, or stalking him.

  Because she had looked him up by now, of course. Not a movie star after all, but New Zealand’s closest equivalent. A star player for the Auckland Blues and a senior All Black, a member of the country’s international rugby team. No wonder he had women applying to live in his house. He would be a major matrimonial prize, even with two kids.

  “Believe me, being a Year One teacher isn’t very glamorous either,” she assured him now. “And I actually like to do those things, odd as it may seem. I do have a few questions, though. Where is Sophie and Harry’s mum, if you don’t mind my asking? Would I be handling visits with her?”

  “Nah. She passed away a few years ago. It’s just me.”

  “Oh,” she replied, taken aback. “I’m so sorry.”

  “You’d have respite help, though,” he hastened to point out. “Because I’ll be gone a fair bit, as I said. Aussie, South Africa, as well as traveling in En Zed. Argentina and Europe as well, later in the year. The last trip, the Northern Tour, that’s a full five weeks. There’d be extra pay, of course, when you were with the kids all the time, and we’d make sure you got your days off. Nyree’s cousin helps out with that.”

  “That sounds fine. About cleaning, though, I did want to tell you that I believe in kids doing some chores. Not to make my life easier,” she smiled. “It’s always easier and quicker to do it yourself, as I’m sure you can imagine. But I don’t think it’s good for children to have someone picking up after them. I’d be expecting them to keep their own rooms tidy, and to help with clearing the table, taking out the rubbish, those sorts of things.”

  “Fair enough. Because I do worry about that, them becoming spoilt. I didn’t grow up with all this.” He gestured around him at the historic villa, restored to gleaming, if comfortable, perfection. “I can’t pretend we’re short of a dollar, but I try to make sure they appreciate what they have, and that they know how to work. And as I’m gone so much, I’d need your help with that. I don’t think Nyree’s had them doing much for themselves.”

  “I’d say that you’ve both done pretty well, though,” she said, “based on what I’ve seen of them. It sounds like you and I are on the same page there. What about cooking? Anything special I should know, or any questions you have? I’m a pretty reasonable home cook, I think, but not a gourmet one.”

  He laughed. “Don’t think any of us would appreciate gourmet cooking. I take a fair bit of feeding, I should tell you, when I’m home.”

  “That works for me. I like my cooking to be appreciated.”

  “Does this mean you’ll take the job?”

  “I’d love to,” she decided. “When do you want me to start?”

  He looked a bit harassed. “Today, if you can. You don’t have a car, is that right?”

  “That’s right. I’ve been traveling light. Just me and a couple bags. And yes, I can start today. I’ll just go back and pack up.”

  He exhaled in relief, then stood up and shook her hand. “Take a taxi back here, and I’ll reimburse you. I’ll be home the next couple days, at least. That’ll give you some time to settle in, before you’re on your own with the kids. And Jenna. Thanks.”

  Brontosaurus in the Water

  “This is your room,” he told her a couple hours later, setting her bags down inside the bedroom door. “Sorry there isn’t an ensuite. You’ll have to share a bath with the kids, I’m afraid.”

  “No worries. I’ve lived in New Zealand for seven years now, remember? I know about sharing the bath.”

  He smiled. “I confess I’ve never understood the American fascination with bathrooms, why everybody in the family needs their own.”

  “I agree with you, actually. This will suit me fine.”

  Jenna looked around the comfortable room. A queen bed with nightstand sat against one long wall, while French doors opened onto one of the villa’s many brick patios, the garden showing green beyond. Closet and drawer space wasn’t overly abundant, but she didn’t have many clothes anyway. And a desk and chair, she saw with pleasure, would provide her with her own workspace.

  Finn scratched his cheek thoughtfully. “Nyree doesn’t live in all the time. So this is all a bit new to us, too. We’ll have to work it out as we go along, I reckon.”

  “She just stays over when you have games?” Jenna guessed.

  He nodded. “But as we’re into the All Black part of the season now, more travel, this way seemed better. Let me show you the rest of the house.”

  He began to conduct her through the grand old villa, and she saw with relief that the ground floor contained a small powder room as well as the large full bathroom with its original, massive clawfoot tub and separate shower. That was the one part of sharing bathrooms that could be a problem with young children, she suspected.

  “Sophie’s room.” He opened the door to the bedroom across the hallway from her own. It was decorated in a pleasant mint green, with accents of yellow and white. “Nyree helped us choose the colors a year or so ago, when Sophie wanted something more grown-up.”

  “You did a good job,” she said admiringly. “And it’s easy to see where Sophie’s interests lie. Besides the obvious clue of the bookshelf. Soccer posters, and the All Blacks.” She looked more closely at the framed poster of the team doing the haka, the pre-match Maori challenge so strongly associated with New Zealand rugby. “Where are you?”

  She looked where he pointed at his image, taller than most of the players, near the middle of the front row. “Wow. Prominent. And I have to say, you look pretty mad. Scary, too.”

  He smiled. “My game face. I try not to show that around the house too much, scare the kids.” He led her out of the room, opened the next door. “Harry, obviously.”

  Jenna laughed. Harry’s room was painted a light blue. But the walls were nearly obscured by maps and posters of animals taken from wildlife magazines and the National Geographic, and low shelves held collections of large and small animal figurines. She saw a farm set, a jungle set, and plenty of dinosaurs. Another set of shelves held Legos, she was glad to see. So Harry had more than one interest, after all.

  “And finally,” Finn told her, opening the door of the room next to her own. “Guest room.”

  “Do you have a lot of company?” she asked. “Entertain a lot? I should have asked that sooner. I don’t have much party planning experience, but I could try.”

  He smiled ruefully. “Other than the occasional birthday party for the kids, or my family coming up for a visit, I’m not much for that. One of the benefits of being a single dad, I reckon. Nobody expects anything.”

  He gestured towards the end of the passage. “I should say, I’m up the stairs here.” He led the way up a carpeted set of stairs that led to a large bedroom and ensuite bath that took up the top of the house, its large windows offering views over the neighboring houses and trees. “Not that you’ll need to do anything with this. The cleaners come on Fridays, and they keep it from getting too disgraceful.”

  “I’d say you’re very neat,” she told him. “Hard to imagine this ever getting disgraceful.” Other than a boo
k on the bedside table, the room was almost painfully orderly.

  “I don’t like clutter,” he admitted. “I can live with the kids’ things,” he went on hastily. “Toys, and that. Not rigid about it, I hope. But I like my own space to be clear.”

  She nodded. Help the kids straighten up before he got home, check. She wasn’t worried about the kitchen. She knew she’d be keeping that clean.

  “Kitchen and laundry?” she asked now. “And we should talk about what you like to eat.”

  “Had this all redone ages ago, the first year we lived here,” he told her when they were standing in the huge, sunny kitchen, with a large rectangular table set into the windowed nook at one end. “Nyree consulted.” He smiled. “I should say, Nyree planned.”

  “Well, Nyree did a great job,” Jenna said. “Anyone could cook well in this kitchen.”

  Nyree planned? she wondered. Not his wife? She viewed the modern appliances and granite countertops with approval. “Now. Favorite foods? Likes and dislikes?”

  “I like pretty much everything. Not too fond of Brussels sprouts and cauliflower, but that’s about it as far as vegies. And any kind of meat. I eat heaps of that, I should warn you.”

  “I can imagine. OK. I can work with that. What about the kids?”

  “They’ll eat most things. Except what I cook.” He made a wry face. “They’re not keen on my efforts. I’m not either, tell you the truth. We end up at the pub a fair bit, when Nyree hasn’t cooked. Or eating leftovers.”

  “Cook extra the night before my day off,” she nodded. “Got it.”

  “If you don’t mind. They’d thank you.”

  “All right, then,” she decided. “Now go do whatever it is you need to do, and leave me to get on with it. Because it’s already one-thirty, and I need to unpack, and then get started here. Tell me where the primary school is, and when the kids get out, and I’ll pick them up.”

  “I’d appreciate it. I have some film from Saturday’s game I’d like to look over before practice tomorrow. And I’ve got a bit behind, being on my own with the kids. It’s five or six blocks away, is all.” He went to the computer set up on a desk in the kitchen and pulled up a map of the area. “Here. You can drive the Toyota.” He showed her where the keys hung on the hook. “I usually take the Range Rover. School’s out at three.”

  “I’ll walk. Now, really. Go watch your film. Because I’m going to need to open every cupboard here, and find my way around. And figure out what I’m going to fix you for dinner, so you don’t sack me my first night.”

  “No chance of that. Just so grateful you took the post, and that you’re here. And that I can go to training tomorrow, and on to Hamilton on Friday, without worrying about what’s happening at home.”

  * * *

  “Go get your dad, OK?” Jenna asked Harry that evening. “Tell him it’s dinnertime. And you and Sophie go wash your hands, please.”

  “OK.” Harry bounced off.

  “Sophie,” Jenna said more sharply, seeing the little girl still sitting at the table she and Harry had just finished setting, once again engrossed in her book.

  When she still got no response, Jenna went over and closed the book gently. “Dinnertime,” she said when Sophie looked up. “Go wash your hands, please.”

  Sophie got up with a sigh, still holding the book.

  “I’ll take this for now,” Jenna told her firmly. “Till after dinner.”

  “Nyree lets me read at the table when Daddy isn’t home,” Sophie objected.

  “Well, first,” Jenna told her cheerfully, “he’s home tonight. And second, I’m not Nyree. Even when he isn’t home, I’m going to be talking to you at dinnertime, and I require my dinner partners to answer me.”

  Sophie gave another martyred sigh, but set off toward the bathroom to wash her hands. Jenna smiled and put the book on the corner of the bench. She understood the fascination. She’d been known to read at the table a fair bit herself.

  “Why are there only three places?” Finn asked in surprise when he came into the kitchen with Harry. “Aren’t you eating?”

  “I thought you’d want family time,” Jenna explained. “On the nights you were home.”

  “So you’d eat, when?” he asked.

  She shrugged. “Afterwards, I suppose.”

  “This is one of those things I should’ve thought of,” he realized. “It didn’t come up with Nyree, because she only stayed for dinner on nights I was gone. But we’re not Poms, and I’m not comfortable with that. Unless you’d really rather not, I’d prefer that you eat with us. Please.”

  “Please, Jenna,” Harry put in.

  “That’s fine with me.” Jenna pulled together another place setting, then turned back to the stove where she’d been keeping the meat warm. “I didn’t have a chance to go to the store today, but luckily you had meat in the freezer.”

  “Steak,” Finn said with pleasure.

  “Easy dinner,” Jenna agreed.

  “What’s this?” he asked, picking up the bowl of sauce she’d set down between the platter of steak and the bowl of roasted winter vegetables.

  “Mustard butter. Try it on your steak and vegies. It’s quite tasty. Next time, I’ll buy some mushrooms and sauté them to go on top of it all. That’s the best.”

  “Quite nice as it is,” he said after sampling it. “So, Harry, how was school today, mate?”

  “Bad. It wasn’t fair,” Harry complained. “Mrs. McMinn was wrong. But she wouldn’t even listen!”

  Finn looked at his son with surprise. “What happened? Did you get yourself in trouble?”

  “She was talking about dinosaurs,” Harry told him indignantly. “And she said Brontosaurus stayed in the water most of the time because it supported his weight. And that’s wrong!”

  “Ah. Dinosaurs. What’s the strength of that? He wasn’t in the water, then, after all?”

  “First,” Harry explained, “it’s Apatosaurus now. Everyone knows that. And they didn’t need to be in the water. People used to think so, but not anymore. But when I tried to explain, she said not to con … con …”

  “Contradict?” Jenna asked.

  He nodded emphatically. “She went crook at me. But she was wrong, Dad.”

  Finn looked at Jenna. “Teacher’s advice, please.”

  “How old is Mrs. McMinn?” Jenna asked.

  “Old,” Harry said. “And mean. Everyone calls her Mrs. McMean.”

  “Harry,” Finn said sharply. “We don’t call her that.” He told Jenna, “She’s an older teacher. Sixty or thereabouts, I reckon.”

  Jenna nodded. “A different generation. And she was right, when she learned her dinosaur facts,” she explained to Harry. “Apatosaurus used to be named Brontosaurus. But you knew that. And they did think, before, that his tail would have dragged on the ground, and that he stayed in swamps because the water supported his weight. All that changed some years ago with new discoveries, and now we know how Apatosaurus really lived. But Mrs. McMinn probably isn’t as interested in dinosaurs as you are. She learned those facts when she was younger, and she didn’t hear about the new information afterwards.”

  “But I should say, if it’s wrong,” Harry argued. “That’s science.”

  “It is,” Jenna agreed. “When new facts come up, scientists have to be able to change their minds. You’re right about that. But let’s think about Mrs. McMinn. She doesn’t like someone to tell her she’s wrong, during class. That makes her feel embarrassed. How else could you have explained it to her, do you think, that wouldn’t have embarrassed her?”

  Sophie spoke up. “You could’ve told her afterwards, maybe?”

  Jenna smiled at her. “That’s a good idea. Think how you feel, if your teacher tells you that you did something wrong in front of all the other kids. Isn’t that embarrassing?”

  Harry and Sophie nodded.

  “Teachers don’t get embarrassed, though.” Harry wasn’t ready to concede yet. “They’re grownups.”

  “
Grownups get embarrassed too,” Jenna explained. “It’s much nicer if somebody tells you what you did wrong when you’re by yourself, isn’t it? So nobody else hears? Even for teachers.”

  “Even for footy players,” Finn put in. “A good coach tells a player the really bad stuff on his own. Nobody likes to be yelled at in front of his mates.”

  “Do you have a book that talks about Apatosaurus?” Jenna asked.

  Harry nodded. “That’s how I know. About Brontosaurus, and everything.”

  “Then,” she suggested, “maybe you can take it to school tomorrow. And when you get a chance, you can show Mrs. McMinn what you were talking about. We can look at it tonight, find the place and mark the page for you.”

  “What if she’s still angry, though, when I tell her?” Harry asked doubtfully.

  “Then that’s her problem,” Finn decided. “If you explain politely, and in private, you’ve done all you can. Because you’re right, I reckon. If you’re studying science, it’s important to get the facts right. Even if the facts change.”

  He turned his attention to his daughter. “What about you, Sophie? Did you get into a stoush with your teacher today, too? Let’s hear all the bad news.”

  “Nah,” Sophie shrugged. “It was boring.”

  “What’s your favorite subject?” Jenna asked. “Reading?”

  “Lunch,” Sophie said firmly.

  Jenna couldn’t help smiling. “Well, help me clear the table, you two, and we’ll have pudding. On that note.”

  “You made pudding?” Finn asked. “What is it?”

  “Wait and see,” Jenna told him.

  When she set the apple crumble and homemade custard on the table, Finn smiled with appreciation.

  “Choice,” he said as he dug in.

  “Daddy loves pudding,” Sophie informed Jenna.

  “So I gather. Good to know. And now I need to know what you all like for breakfast. And when.”

  “We usually have Weet-Bix and toast,” Sophie said.

  “All right,” Jenna nodded. “Easy. Is that what you like best, too?”

  “Waffles!” Harry piped up.