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

by Rosalind James

  Todd threw back his head and bellowed out a laugh. “Doesn’t she just?” Then his expression turned serious. “Lauren’s not the same broken woman who arrived on my doorstep two years ago.”

  “No, I imagine she’s not. She’s incredible, the bravest woman I’ve ever met. But she and I both know this is a temporary deal.”

  “Temporary, huh? I thought the same thing while Kathy and I were fooling around. Thought I could end it whenever I pleased. Don’t tell me you’re as dumb as I was?”

  “It’s not dumb knowing it’d never work between us. She wants to remain here, hidden away with her family; I want to travel the world and document it. Incompatible wants.”

  “What you want and what you need are often not the same.”

  “Thank you for your wisdom, Yoda.”

  Todd shrugged good-naturedly. “You’re welcome, young Jedi. I get it, you know. It’s scary when a woman gets her hooks into your heart. Makes your brain start telling you all sorts of stupid shit, like run when you should stay.”

  “Whoa—there are no hooks in my heart or anywhere else.”

  Todd coughed, the cough sounding like a sarcastic, “Yeah, right.”

  Nate staggered to his feet. “I’ve only got another two and a half weeks—three, tops— before I’m outta here.”

  “Because all this”—Todd flung a wetsuit-covered arm out toward the sea—“and the potential of a life with an amazing woman and a kid who thinks you’re one step above Superman, can’t compete with bumming around the world with your camera?”

  “It’s what guys like me do.”

  But Nate couldn’t draw his gaze from the waves rolling onto the beach and the ache in his gut at the idea of driving away from Lauren and Drew for the last time.

  Todd stood and picked up his board. Shot Nate a look of resignation. “You keep telling yourself that, boss. Maybe you’ll end up believing it.”

  Chapter 9

  “Popcorn?” Nate leaned back into the couch, propping his bare feet on the coffee table.

  “Check.” Drew hugged the massive bowl and wriggled closer to him.

  “Pajamas?”

  Drew jerked a thumb at his Superman pajama-covered chest. “Check.”

  “Superman movie marathon no girls allowed?”

  “Check, check, check!” Drew grinned and shoved a hand into the buttery popcorn.

  Nate hit the play button on the remote and glanced at the clock. Six thirty. Lauren would’ve been on her way back with Kathy from the baby shower, except Kathy’s sister had gone into labor after the excitement of twenty women bearing gifts and squealing, “That’s so adorable.” Well, according to Lauren’s report on the phone an hour ago.

  Which left him babysitting a lot longer than he’d anticipated. Not that it was a problem. Drew was a good kid—a great kid—and the fact Lauren had asked him instead of her brother to sit with Drew created a warm, fuzzy feeling in his chest.

  “Let’s do this thing,” he said as the opening credits rolled onto the screen. “And go easy on the popcorn.”

  Drew rested his head on Nate’s arm and looked up with a smile that transformed the warm fuzzy into a scalding-hot flood.

  Indigestion. Nate snatched up a handful of popcorn and turned back to the screen. Indigestion from the nachos Lauren had left the two of them for an early dinner.

  He couldn’t have this kid, he couldn’t have this cozy life. And he couldn’t be the husband-slash-dad who left his family alone for months at a time, or the husband-slash-dad who dragged them with him, either.

  Men like him and Steve? The family thing didn’t work for them—not without leaving a trail of broken hearts behind. No way would he do that to this little boy who’d already been through so much.

  “How about some juice to wash down the popcorn?” Nate asked a few minutes into the movie.

  Drew’s head on Nate’s arm weighed more than an anchor, dragging his thoughts down into murky waters.

  “Okay.” Drew never took his eyes off Clark Kent’s bespectacled face.

  Nate eased away and got up to pour the drinks. When he returned, he sat on the opposite end of the couch and piled up cushions between them. “You can lie down if you get tired.”

  One and a half movies later, Drew was out for the count. Nate scooped the sleeping child up and carried him upstairs, ignoring Drew’s sleepy snuggling and murmured protests as Nate lowered the boy into his bed.

  Tip-toeing out of Drew’s room, Nate sighed and headed back to the couch. Time for a well-earned brew while he waited for Lauren to get home. He stretched out with his beer and the remote.

  Babysitting, he thought after he’d emptied the bottle. Like a boss.

  Shrill screams scoured down the stairs and ripped Nate out of a light doze. Rolling into a dead run before his brain had a chance to catch up, he tore back upstairs. The moment he flung open Drew’s door, he started cursing himself. Stupid, thoughtless dolt—he’d forgotten to switch on the boy’s nightlight.

  “Hey, hey, it’s okay. I’m here.” He fumbled for the bedside lamp.

  Warm light exploded into the room, and for a second, his pounding heart stuttered at the sight of Drew’s empty bed. Then he spotted the little boy, curled into a huddle in the corner of the bed between the wall and footboard, wild-eyed and shaking.

  Nate’s fists tightened, his lungs struggling to get enough air with the stony weight pressed on them. Lucky for Jonathan Knight’s mortality that two oceans separated them.

  He flicked on the nightlight switch and sat on the edge of Drew’s bed. “I’m sorry. I forgot to put on your nightlight.”

  “Where’s Mummy?” Drew’s lower lip trembled. “I want Mummy.”

  “She’s not back yet. She’s with your Aunty Mel who’s having a baby.” Nate raked a hand through his hair.

  Baby-sitting boss? Hah. He had no clue what to do if Drew worked himself up into a frenzy because his mother wasn’t home.

  “Come and lie down again. You’ll get cold.”

  “I had a bad dream about Daddy.” Drew didn’t budge, just turned those huge, dark eyes up to his. “He hurt Mummy.”

  “Your daddy won’t hurt her again—or you,” Nate said firmly. “Come on, now. I’ll stay with you until you fall asleep.”

  Drew crawled up the bed and lay down, squishing his body against the wall and patting the mattress in front of him. “You have to lie down too, like Mummy does.”

  Nate hesitated, took one look at the kid’s face and sighed, folding himself into the confines of the single bed. “If I break the bed, your mum’ll never let me hear the end of it.”

  “She’ll put you in time-out.” Drew scrubbed a fist across his tear-stained face.

  “Or swat me with her wooden spoon.”

  Drew offered him a tiny smile. “She smacked Uncle Todd once when he stole three muffins, but the spoon broke.”

  “Ouch.”

  Drew yawned, his eyelids fluttering shut. “Mummy wouldn’t do that, though. She likes you”—another jaw-stretching yawn—“and I like you, too.”

  Nate’s throat clamped shut as the boy nestled in under his chin, resting his small head on the crook of Nate’s arm. He didn’t dare move as Drew’s breathing evened out and his warm hand clutched Nate’s arm.

  Nate closed his eyes so he wouldn’t have yet another heart-breaking memory to add to his collection. He pulled the comforter over them both.

  “Right back at you, little mate.”

  He was only making it harder on himself when the time came to walk away.

  A time that drew closer and closer.

  ***

  By the time Lauren had driven home from the hospital it was closer to dawn than midnight. Lights still burned downstairs, and after a quick pat of Java’s head, she walked into an empty kitchen then family room.

  Well, now. She’d expected to find Nate flaked out in front of the TV, remote on his stomach and feet propped on her coffee table. Moving farther inside, Lauren spotted the remote
on the floor, its battery guts spilled open as if it’d been thrown. Prickles jabbed the base of her spine, her stomach suddenly twisting. She dropped her bag and hurried up the stairs, forcing herself to take long, slow breaths.

  He was fine. Drew was fine.

  A sliver of golden light sliced across the floor under Drew’s door, and she gently pushed it open. The bedside lamp glowed, casting back shadows and highlighting Nate’s broad back curled forward in the single bed. Drew’s soft snores and the louder, deeper breathing of the man precariously perched on the edge of the mattress were the only sounds. She crept into the room. Tucked into Nate’s body, Drew slept with his hand clutching Nate’s tee shirt, one pajama-clad leg hooked over his knee.

  Tears stung the corner of her eyes. The wanting, the yearning for this to be a real, tangible foundation for her and Nate to build a lifetime on throbbed with every heartbeat.

  She wanted him for Drew; but more, she wanted him for herself.

  His kindness, his strength, her belief now that he saw her—saw her right down to her scarred soul and accepted her unconditionally.

  She walked to the bed and crouched beside it, laying a hand on Nate’s shoulder and murmuring his name so as not to startle him. He came awake instantly, twisting his head up to meet her gaze, a sheepish smile curving his lips.

  Between the two of them, they gently eased Drew away from Nate so he could climb off the bed. Lauren tucked her son in then laced her fingers with Nate’s and led him to her bedroom.

  Closing the door behind them, she turned and peeled off her dress.

  But before Operation-Seduction went into action, he said, “How’s Mel and the baby?”

  Her throat constricted, blood booming past her eardrums as she stood in her underwear and stared across the room. It was too late, dammit. She’d stupidly gone and fallen in love with Nate Fraser.

  Not in the moment when she’d found him asleep with her son, not when he’d smiled at her in Drew’s bed, his green eyes shimmering in the lamplight. No. She’d tripped over the line when he’d seen her standing almost naked in front of him and he’d thought to ask about someone in her family.

  Lauren pressed a hand to her chest as a reminder to her lungs to keep functioning.

  “Mel had a healthy baby boy, and they’re both doing well. Adam’s not doing quite as well since he fainted during the delivery and ended up with five stitches in his forehead.”

  “That’s got to hurt.” Nate ran his fingers through his rumpled bed hair and muffled a yawn.

  “More his ego and the knowledge that Todd and his other brothers-in-law will never let him live it down.”

  She swayed toward him, running her palms up the ridged muscles of his chest and planting a soft kiss on his stubbled jaw. “Come to bed.”

  A flash of straight white teeth. “I’ve already had a nap, I’m not that tired.”

  “Good. Because sleeping is not what I had in mind.”

  Lips curving into a smile, she traced the hard angles of his face as he backed her up to the bed. She belonged here, in his arms, falling into a tangle on the sheets.

  Nate claimed her mouth, his hands possessive as he stripped away her bra and panties. Shoving up his shirt with one hand, she gently raked her nails down the solid line of his abs.

  She broke the kiss, fumbling with the stud of his jeans. “Too many clothes.”

  “Fixable.” He stripped off his jeans and shirt, grabbed protection from her nightstand and came back to her, all hot skin on hot skin.

  Wedged between her thighs, his forearms braced either side of her shoulders, he nuzzled her neck. “You’re in a hurry.”

  In a hurry? No, she wanted every moment of this night preserved in Technicolor detail. The imprint of his face, his musky male scent, the explosion of sensations as he sucked on her earlobe—she wanted it to last. She wanted to remember it all.

  “Make love to me,” she said.

  His arousal pressed intimately against her, and she arched her hips, drawing him deep inside.

  He took her lips again, the dance of his tongue dipping into her mouth mimicking the measured strokes of his body. Crossing her legs over his hips, she encouraged him to move faster, delicious heat spiraling through her core. The wall of his chest grazed her aching nipples as he rocked them both, slicking a fine sheen of sweat across her skin. She couldn’t hold back, couldn’t hold anything back from him.

  Her body convulsed around his, and pleasure drew out a moan so deep part of her scarred heart ripped away with it. Lauren buried her face in the curve of Nate’s neck and held on as if she’d never have to let him go.

  ***

  Nate didn’t want to say yes to his old boss’ request, but his bills wouldn’t pay themselves. Two days in the Bay of Islands covering a pre-Waitangi Day protest would help boost his dwindling bank account.

  “You and Stevie would’ve fought like alley cats over this, not so long ago.” The man’s patronizing voice buzzed down the line from a sky-rise office in downtown Auckland.

  Nate kept the phone pressed to his ear, careful not to move off his deck—the only place he could get decent cellphone reception. Lauren bent over a spindly sapling, and he leaned against the railing to further admire her shorts-clad butt. She and Drew had arrived earlier that morning with a packed picnic lunch. Afterward, she’d taken it upon herself to plant half a dozen young native trees along the driveway.

  “Steve is dead, Wally.” Calling Walter Beaumont the Third “Wally” irritated the man almost as much as it irritated Nate to hear his friend called “Stevie.” And it bugged the hell out of Nate more to admit the truth in Wally’s words.

  When it turned out Steve’s weight loss wasn’t due to a new health kick but instead was the dreaded Big C, eating his lungs from the inside out, he’d sucked up his pride and taken any jobs going to help his friend pay the ever-increasing mountain of bills.

  Walter tsked in Nate’s ear, a noise with no trace of sympathy. “Yes, terrible thing, that. But life goes on, and you’re just about on location. You want the job or not?”

  Lauren straightened and turned toward him, the brim of her god-awful sunhat and oversized sunglasses blocking a clear view of her eyes. The sly curve on her lips told him she knew he hated that damn hat, knew exactly what he’d been looking at, and knew exactly what he’d wanted to do to her all morning. They stared at each other across the expanse, Walter’s voice a distant mosquito whine in the background.

  I see what’s behind your smile, sweetheart. You can hide from the camera’s eye, but I see you.

  Drew’s sudden cry broke the connection. His gaze zeroed in on the boy sprawled on the ground with Java nosing his legs. Lauren covered the distance quickly and stooped down to help the boy to his feet.

  “All right, I’ll do it.” His autopilot functioning, Nate interrupted Walter’s spiel, mentally assessing Drew’s movements to determine if the kid really was injured. “I’ll leave in an hour.”

  He disconnected and strode across the grass, which would soon be sculptured into a stunning entrance to the house. He stepped around the sites marked out for flowerbeds and a barbeque area—things that would eat up more of his cash reserves. So he’d try to see this two-day trip as a blessing.

  “Hey, guys,” he called out.

  Boy and dog rushed Nate in a tangle of paws and legs. He gathered Drew up before the dog could trip him a second time. Drew buried his snot-streaked face in Nate’s shoulder.

  “Higher, Nate. Higher! Java’ll get me again.”

  A knot formed in Nate’s stomach, but he hauled the squirming boy up and over so that he sat straddling his shoulders. “Better?”

  Giggles filled the air as Java braced his front paws on Nate’s chest and licked Drew’s toes, which caused more enthusiastic wriggling. Nate glanced over at Lauren. She angled the sunglasses down to reveal slightly drawn brows, a thoughtful expression flittering across her eyes.

  “Listen, I’ve got to take off to the Bay of Islands for an assign
ment. I shouldn’t be away longer than two days.”

  Lauren’s half-smile slipped into a straight line, but she tugged the corners up again and said in an easy tone, “Sure.”

  Drew stilled. Small hands clamped around Nate’s chin and tilted it so far back, he copped a perfect upside down view of the kid’s trembling lower lip.

  “You’re going away? But you’re coming back, aren’t you?”

  A second knot in his stomach appeared beside the first.

  “Sweetie, Nate has to work—”

  He shot Lauren a quelling look, and she fell silent.

  “It’s okay. Drew and I will sort this out.” He kept a firm grip on Drew’s ankle and turned away. “I’ve got something for you in the car.”

  Nate swung Drew off his shoulders as they stopped in front of his Range Rover, getting a clip in the ear from one bony kneecap on the way down. He couldn’t help but grin. Kid was going to be tall like his mum, all sky-high, lanky legs. Would probably be six foot by the time he hit the teen years.

  Not that he’d be around to witness the boy’s awkward transition into the adolescent wilderness. He wouldn’t be around when Drew started primary school or when he graduated from training wheels to the challenge of balancing on two. He wouldn’t be around to teach the kid how to really see a subject before even raising a camera to his eye. He wouldn’t be the one to show him how to cast a line, or to have the kid laugh at him while they learned to surf. And he wouldn’t be the one to put an arm around his shoulder the first time some girl inadvertently broke his heart.

  The thought left him feeling like a leaky bucket, all his joy draining away into a pool of emptiness.

  Drew, forgetting he was upset, bopped up and down. “Whatcha got in your car for me?”

  Nate opened the back door and slid out his camera case, popping open the lid. From a little pocket tucked into the lining, he removed a cracked plastic sleeve attached to a bootlace. Inside the plastic sleeve was a scrap of blue card with the word “reporter” printed across it in faded ink.

  “Superman is a reporter, yeah?”