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

by Rosalind James

  * * *

  Finn stuffed the phone back into his pocket, picked up his bag and headed out of the hotel room toward the lift. He needed to get his skates on, or he really would be late getting on the bus.

  Everyone on the squad with a partner or kids was feeling the same way just now, he reminded himself. Nothing on earth came without a price attached. Not even the All Blacks.

  Long Distance

  “Where are you calling from?” Jenna asked with pleasure, ten days later.

  “Hotel lobby. Trying for a bit of privacy to talk to you.”

  “In the lobby? Doesn’t sound too private.”

  “Standing in the passage, next to the loos,” he admitted. “Not too scenic, but quiet. Anyway. Sophie said you were feeling a bit crook again yesterday. Are you better now?”

  “It’s just something I’ve been fighting.” Well, actually, a baby that had been fighting her. She welcomed every bout of morning sickness as proof that her hormones were still doing their job, responding to her continuing pregnancy. She’d feel even more reassured, she hoped, after her first appointment with the midwife on Thursday.

  “I’m glad,” Finn was saying. “Get Miriam in to help you as much as you need her, though.”

  “I’m fine,” she assured him. Time to move the conversation away from her queasy stomach. “I don’t know why we’re talking about me anyway. How are you feeling? That game looked brutal, when we finally saw it on tape delay last night. Sophie was pretty worried. She kept calling them ‘the filthy French.’”

  He laughed. “Yeh, they have a bit of a reputation. They’ve been known to cross the line into dirty play. Eye-gouging, going after the wedding tackle. We kept them in line this time, though.”

  “Those boots,” she guessed.

  “Maybe a bit,” he acknowledged with a smile in his voice. “Got the win, anyway. That’s the main thing.”

  “So are you hurt? Take a picture in the mirror and send it to me. I want to see.”

  “A few stitches,” he admitted. “No worries. It looks worse than it is.”

  “A picture,” she demanded. “As soon as we hang up and you go back to the room.”

  “Right,” he sighed. “I should ask you for one too. That’d be more worth looking at.”

  “I look the same, though.”

  “And I haven’t seen how you look for four weeks. You may recall that I wasn’t allowed to bring any photos of you with me. At least you’ve seen me on the telly. A photo isn’t the same as having you here, but I’ll take what I can get.”

  His words warmed her. “So what did you do today to recover? Besides eat. I have that one figured out.”

  “Pool day. We went to a big place in the suburbs. They roped off a couple lanes and the diving pool for us. A lot of clowning around, pretty ridiculous. But it was fun. The boys let off a bit of steam after last night, loosened up in the water. It was good.”

  “Did you dive?”

  “Only off the low board. You still have the record there. But I’ll have to tell the kids, I jumped off the highest platform. It was a fair way up there, too.”

  “Is there a picture of that? I’d love to see it.”

  “The film crew was taping, yeh. Because the clips of the squad with their shirts off are always the most viewed, for some reason. I’ll see if I can get an advance copy for you.”

  “Can’t imagine why people would want to see that,” she agreed. “Do send the clip to me, if you can. The kids would love it. And I’d love to see you in your togs. It’s been a long time for me, too.”

  “I’ll do my best. Only seven days to go till we see each other in the flesh. And I can’t tell you how much I’m looking forward to your flesh.”

  “You sound like a cannibal,” she laughed.

  “Feel like one, too. I miss you every way a man can. That way most of all. But also—not sure how much longer I can take rooming with Lackie.”

  “Driving you crazy?” she asked sympathetically. “What’s he doing?”

  Finn groaned. “He’s a bloody pig, that’s what. Not a bad kid, but you should see his side of the room. Dirty clothes in heaps, dirty dishes, stuff everywhere. Nightmare. You’d think a man with two kids would be used to a bit of mess, but you’ve got me too spoilt. Turns out his mum still comes over and cleans up after him, can you believe it? The bloke’s twenty-two.”

  “Remember when I interviewed?” she reminded him. “And I told you I believed in kids helping with chores and keeping their rooms clean? Behold the rationale.”

  “And you were so right. Because I hate to think of my kids living that way.”

  “Weren’t you messier, though, when you were that age?”

  “Hope I wasn’t that bad. But probably not as good as I think I was.”

  “Too bad they didn’t match you up with another seasoned citizen,” she commiserated.

  “Nah. They never put the oldies together. That mentoring thing again. Babysitting, more like. Want to make sure the young boys aren’t slipping out and getting on the piss. Or bringing girls back to the room.”

  “You aren’t allowed to do that?” she asked in surprise. “Well, you aren’t, obviously. We had that conversation too. But, nobody is?”

  “Nah. Too much opportunity for things to go wrong. There was a horror story a couple years ago with one of the Baby Blacks. The Under-20s,” he explained. “In Safa for the world championships. They lost in the final, got pissed in a club afterwards, drowning their sorrows. One of them had a girl in his room that night, and it ended in a rape inquiry. He wasn’t charged, and who knows what the true story was, but I reckon it ended his chances in Super Rugby. That’s the extreme result, but heaps of things can go wrong. No girls in the rooms, no going out on the razzle without the team. And that’s me, the chaperone. The Morality Police.”

  “The dad.”

  He laughed. “Can’t escape it, I reckon. Anyway, I’m used to it. It’s not too bad. Except the mess. That’s getting to me, a bit.”

  “You have a day off again tomorrow, right?” she asked. “No training? Hopefully you won’t be spending too much time in the room. What’s on the agenda?”

  “Versailles in the morning. Then we get on the plane for Edinburgh. Back to practice again the next day, prepare for that final match.”

  “Versailles? That sounds great.”

  “My tenth Northern Tour, remember? And probably my fifth trip to Versailles. I’m looking forward to Scotland, though. We didn’t go last year. Good tucker. You’d be surprised.”

  “Well, obviously that’s the most important thing. You do sound jaded, though.”

  “Listen to me, whingeing about having to sightsee. Revolting, isn’t it? The truth is, though, this gets harder every year. I miss the kids. And this time, I miss you too, so it’s even worse.”

  “Maybe you should arrange to have the kids get out of school a week early next year,” she suggested. “They could see your last game, and you could all spend some time together afterwards, wherever that is. They’re old enough to make that long trip, and to get something out of the travel. It’d give you something outside the rugby to look forward to.”

  “World Cup next year, in England,” he reminded her. “No Northern Tour. But it’s an idea. I could have them join me for the last bit. The final, and then we could do a bit of traveling.”

  “You’re pretty confident. That you’ll be in the final.”

  “Semifinal, anyway. Every World Cup but one, we’ve got at least that far. I’m tempting fate by assuming I’ll be on the squad. May as well go all the way and plan to play in the final.”

  They talked a bit more, Finn promising to call the next morning to tell the kids about his high-dive prowess. After he rang off, though, a niggle of anxiety surfaced as he thought back on their conversation. She’d talked about the kids joining him next year. But only the kids. She’d encouraged him to tell her about what he was doing, but had volunteered almost nothing about herself, beyond the kids’ act
ivities.

  He went into the men’s toilet to snap a photo with his iPhone in the mirror and text it to her. He wasn’t sure his bruised, stitched face was anything to make her heart sing. But at least it would remind her that he was thinking of her.

  Seven more days, he told himself. One more week. That wasn’t long. Then they could pick up where they’d left off.

  * * *

  “This is the big day, eh.” The midwife, Rose Albertson, pulled the sheet down and Jenna’s gown up, squirted the cold jelly on her abdomen. “We’ll have a look at what’s going on here. Always an exciting moment.”

  Jenna tried to be excited, but felt only a sick dread. She began to get lightheaded, forced herself to breathe as the wand moved over her belly. The seconds stretched on, her fear mounting with each moment that passed.

  “And there we are,” Rose said triumphantly at last. “There’s your baby.”

  Jenna stared at the screen, at that pulsing white spot. Her baby’s heart, beating strongly inside her. Her eyes filled with tears that spilled over, blurring her view.

  Rose smiled and handed her a handful of tissues. “A beautiful sight, isn’t it?”

  Jenna nodded, sobbed with the relief of it. “I can’t tell, though. Can you show me what you’re seeing?”

  “Head,” Rose pointed out. “Forehead, nose, see? And here are the torso and legs.”

  “You can’t tell the sex yet?”

  “Another six weeks or so. And then only if the baby cooperates. Sometimes they’re shy, keep you guessing.”

  “But everything looks all right?” Jenna asked anxiously.

  “Everything looks perfect,” Rose assured her. “And from this, I’d say our dates are spot on. Coming up on twelve weeks. You should be through the worst of that morning sickness any time now, feeling a bit better in general.”

  “I don’t care about that. I’m just …” Jenna fought back the tears that threatened to overwhelm her again. “I’m just so happy to see it.”

  “I’ll make you a disk, shall I?” Rose asked. “So you can take it home, look at it. Email a photo to your mum.”

  That wasn’t happening, but Jenna wasn’t going to explain. She’d be looking at those images every day, she knew.

  “And,” Rose said, helping Jenna sit and seating herself as well, “this would be a good time for me to ask about the baby’s dad. He isn’t here today, I notice.”

  “No. He’s traveling.”

  “And?” Rose prompted. “Does he know about your pregnancy?”

  “Not yet. I’m planning on telling him once he’s back.”

  “And when will that be? It’s hard to do this without support, you know. And I’m guessing you don’t have any family close by.”

  “No. No family.” Jenna swallowed the lump that rose in her throat. “He’ll be back in a few days. The baby’s dad, I mean. And I’ll tell him then.”

  “Meanwhile, what other support systems do you have?” Rose asked.

  “I have a couple friends.” That sounded pathetic. “I mean, in Auckland,” Jenna went on hastily. “I do have more than two friends. I haven’t mentioned it to them yet, either. But I will, soon.”

  “Do that,” Rose told her firmly. “This isn’t the time to be independent. You need to ask for help. And if the baby’s father doesn’t come through the way you’re hoping,” she added gently, “there are services for that as well. I can help get you started with it.”

  Jenna nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

  Rose handed her the disk she had made. “That’s it, then. Keep taking the vitamins, and take care that everything you do eat is nutritious. You’ve lost a few kilos, but that’s all right at this stage. Get your rest, get any help you can. And I’ll see you next month.”

  “And, Jenna,” she said as Jenna prepared to leave. “Good luck.”

  Homecoming

  “Do you think you could take the kids next Tuesday, sometime?” Jenna asked Siobhan. They were sitting in the café celebrating the last day of school before the summer holidays. Her last day of freedom, Siobhan had joked.

  “Course,” Siobhan said. “When does Finn get back?”

  “Monday evening at six.” Jenna took a sip of her mint tea and nibbled at a digestive biscuit from the packet she carried in her purse all the time now. “But it’s such a long flight, Edinburgh to London, then home. More than twenty-four hours. He’ll be pretty jetlagged. I thought he could use a rest, that next day.”

  “Overexplaining,” Siobhan told her with a knowing smile. “Never mind. Declan and I like to take those ‘rests’ ourselves, when we can get them.”

  She smiled again at Jenna’s startled look. “What? Did you think I didn’t know?”

  “I …” Jenna couldn’t think of an answer. “How?”

  “Dunno. Could’ve been the shag rays coming off the pair of you every time you walked the kids to school together. Or the fact that you did walk the kids to school together. Or maybe the way you asked me to take them three times that last week he was here. Or …”

  “OK. Stop.” Jenna was laughing in spite of herself. “I get it. I just hope everyone else isn’t as sharp as you are.”

  “There may have been a bit of guessing. Gossiping,” Siobhan admitted. “But I didn’t say anything, no worries. Denied knowing anything about it. Which was the truth. You’ve been discreet, I’ll give you that. Why, though? What’s the secret?”

  “The kids. And, you know, the jokes. Shagging the nanny.” Jenna shuddered. “We decided to keep it quiet, till he gets back. Till I move out.”

  “Which is when?”

  “A week after he gets home.”

  “Which is all good, right?” Siobhan asked. “So why’re you looking like that?”

  “Like what?”

  “Like you’re about to be sick. Oh.” Siobhan’s eyes suddenly went wide, her mouth opening in shock. “Oh. That’s it. The penny’s dropped. Whoa.”

  “What?” Jenna faltered.

  “The mint tea. The bikkies. How green around the gills you’ve been.” Siobhan assessed her, eyes calculating. “Are you telling me he doesn’t know?”

  “Know what?” Jenna asked desperately.

  “Come on,” Siobhan said impatiently. “This is me you’re talking to. I’ve had two kids, and had my head in the toilet both times. Candied ginger, by the way. That’s the best. Think I lived on that, with Eth.”

  “All right,” Jenna capitulated as Siobhan continued to stare at her expectantly. “You’re right. I would’ve told you. It would have been a relief. But I didn’t think it was right for anyone else to know before Finn did.”

  “You’re worried about how he’ll react,” Siobhan guessed. “That’s why you’ve kept it to yourself.”

  “Yeah.” Jenna finished her tea, reached for her bag. “I figure we might need some time, when I do tell him. Pretty hard to have that conversation with the kids around. Or in the middle of the night.” She flushed. Too much information. “So, Tuesday?”

  “Tuesday,” Siobhan promised, clearly restraining herself with an effort from probing further. “Two o’clock do you? I’ll take them to the beach.”

  “Perfect,” Jenna said in relief. “Thank you so much. And I’ll be expecting the kids tomorrow night.”

  She followed Siobhan as the other woman made her way to the door.

  “If you still want them,” Siobhan said dubiously once they were outside again.

  “I need the distraction. Then we’ll watch that last ABs game on Sunday morning, and the next day he’ll be home. And I’m so nervous about the whole thing,” Jenna burst out. “Terrified.” It was a relief to say it at last. She rubbed her hands over her arms to calm the shakes that had come over her at the admission.

  Siobhan turned in the middle of the pavement to give her a comforting hug. “If he doesn’t want you, my love, he’s a bloody fool. And I don’t think Finn’s got where he is by being a fool.”

  * * *

  Jenna repeated Siobha
n’s words desperately to herself on Monday evening. The kids had been impossible all day, alternately wildly excited, squabbling, and bursting into tears. She’d felt like bursting into tears herself, more than once. Now they were fidgeting beside her, their eyes on the monitor above the big sliding doors in International Arrivals, waiting for the first sight of a black-clad figure.

  She smoothed a hand over her hair. She’d stood in front of the mirror for a full forty-five minutes earlier that afternoon, trying on and discarding outfits, looking for the perfect combination. Something that would conceal the little belly she was having a harder time disguising now, but that would still look good. And appeal to Finn, she admitted. She’d settled on a yellow tank with a floaty blouse over it, with skinny low-rise jeans whose waistband rode under her bump. The jeans fit better than ever, thanks to her persistent morning sickness. And her pregnancy had emphasized her centerfold proportions, forcing her into the shops to buy new bras a few weeks ago. She knew that, at least, would have plenty of appeal for Finn.

  He wouldn’t be getting too close today, and after tomorrow, for better or worse, the truth would be out there. After that, she could wear whatever she wanted, could show off her belly instead of working so hard to hide it.

  “Sophie,” she said sharply now, pulling the little girl back to her again. “Stay with me. He’ll be here in a minute.” She took a deep breath, looked up at the monitor again, took another sip of water to quell the nausea that rose in response to her tension.

  Come on, Finn, she begged silently. Come home.

  * * *

  Finn stepped through the doors, his eyes searching the crowd. He registered the gathered supporters, ecstatic over yet another victorious Tour. As they surrounded the squad, eager hands thrusting out paper and pen, he shifted his duffel on his shoulder, shook hands, signed autographs, focusing as always on the kids, the rugby-mad boys who were his most fervent admirers.

  His eyes swept the crowd from the advantage of his height until he spotted Jenna at the back, restraining the kids while he did his duty. He watched her face light up as their gazes met, and a wave of emotion swept over him. He’d thought he’d realized how much he was missing her, but he hadn’t known the half of it. His kids, too, jumping up and down now, waving. He couldn’t stand here any longer. He scribbled his name a couple more times, smiled his thanks, and pushed through the crowd to them.