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

by Rosalind James

  There—a flash of Nate’s white tee shirt and the sun sparkling off his camera lens.

  “Excuse me.” She dodged around a mother and a toddler with ice cream melting all over her fingers.

  His face half obscured by his camera, Nate crouched in the center of the manicured lawns. The distinctive cry of Maori women welcoming the hikoi onto the Treaty grounds sounded in the distance. The crowd parted, and the marchers, their wide white banner held in front, came into view. Before she could wave at him, Nate was off and running, the camera bag slung across his hip bouncing with every step as he moved quickly toward the solemn procession.

  She soon lost sight of him amongst the push and shove of the crowd. Spotting an empty space beneath the wide-spread branches of a pohutukawa tree, Lauren slipped away and sank cross-legged to the cool grass. She’d wait in the shade for him to do his thing, while she listened to the speeches and the entertainment scheduled for later. Feedback from the sound system squealed, and she leaned against the rough bark. A bee buzzed past, and the shifting patterns of sunlight filtering through the leaves acted like a narcotic. If they hadn’t kept each other up half the night with lovemaking and pillow talk, she might be a little more alert. With a smile, she stretched out her legs and closed her eyes.

  A sudden cacophony of voices jerked her awake. Whether she’d been asleep two minutes or two hours, she wasn’t sure, but even a little disoriented, she recognized that the cheerful party atmosphere had changed into something darker. She scrambled to her feet, shading her eyes at the grim faces of parents hustling their kids across the lawns.

  Blue-uniformed officers swarmed in lines to keep a group of shouting men and women separated from the protestors. Nate, camera pointed at a stocky, red-faced man a few feet in front of him, was close to the center of the clash.

  The man shouted incoherently, swinging a fist at a blue-uniformed constable. Lauren’s heart punched against her ribs. The first strike on an officer was a match-to-kerosene trigger to the anti-protester group, and like a multi-limbed octopus, they surged forward into the police line.

  Oh God—Nate!

  She ran, a full-out, arms-pumping sprint toward the spot she’d seen him last. She slowed before she reached the mass of tussling, shouting bodies, scanning angry faces for a glimpse of him.

  Where the hell was he? If something happened to him…

  The hot dog he’d bought her as they strolled along Paihia’s foreshore on the way to Waitangi was a cold, hard rock in her stomach.

  A strong arm wrapped around her waist and hauled her off her feet, dragging her away from the crowd.

  “Hey—”

  She flung her head back, and frowning green eyes clashed with hers, the camera around his neck bumping her upper arm.

  “Lauren, it’s not safe—what are you doing?” Nate set her on her feet, snatched up her hand and yanked her farther away.

  “Looking. For. You.” Her lungs pinched shut, and she could only stare.

  Lit up like a sugar-fueled kid at a birthday party, Nate vibrated with energy. His hair was mussed, and the skin high on one cheekbone was reddened.

  “I’m fine,” he said. “But I’m working, okay?”

  “But your face.” She touched her fingertips to his cheek.

  He winced then grinned down at her. “Someone wasn’t watching where their elbow went. No big deal.”

  “No big deal? I saw the crowd explode, and there you were…”

  Her voice trailed away as he glanced over his shoulder, his hand unconsciously moving to rest on his camera. Twitchy already, wanting to get back into the thick of it.

  “This could get uglier before it gets better. Maybe you should return to the hotel. Have a swim, lounge in the sun with a book.” He grabbed her hand, giving her knuckles a quick kiss. “I’ll join you for a go on the water slide later.”

  Lauren backed up a step. He barely seemed to notice, his gaze zipping again to the roar of the crowd.

  “You’re probably right. I’ll head back now.”

  Nate kissed her hard and fast then took off with a cheery wave. She tracked him across the lawn, weaving among the onlookers. He was right where he wanted to be—camera at the ready, drama all around him, shooting his verbs.

  The breeze skimming off the ocean popped up goose bumps on her bare arms. Walking in the opposite direction to the mayhem, she risked one last glance back. Nate had climbed onto the makeshift stage, his upper body precariously angled out over the crowd, one hand wrapped around a pole for balance, the other holding his camera. The manic smile on his face told her all she needed to know.

  He was doing what he loved. She could never ask him to give up the adrenaline rush to stay in her safe little world. Lauren turned away.

  She could never ask him, because his answer would break her heart all over again.

  ***

  Time was up. D-Day had arrived.

  A week after they’d returned from the Bay of Islands, Nate’s prospective buyer, Martin Davis, had driven up to inspect the property. The rumble of the developer’s car leaving fifteen minutes earlier had Kathy shooing Lauren out of her kitchen, telling her, “Go sort things out with your man; I’ll watch Drew.”

  So Lauren drove to Nate’s property and parked next to his Range Rover. Filling her lungs with a deep breath, she climbed out. Two days. Due to leave in two days—and Nate was not her man. Yet.

  Mac’s old house looked beautiful. It glowed in the afternoon sunlight, ready to challenge any home featured in the pages of a glossy magazine. A brand new deck surrounded almost the whole house, and the views of the ocean’s blue horizon in the distance would tempt even a highly strung, A-lister to relax in one of the Adirondack chairs.

  Martin Davis would be crazy not to want it.

  She climbed the two steps onto the deck. Nate stepped around the corner of the house in a crisp, white business shirt and charcoal dress pants, and her throat slammed shut.

  “Thought I heard your car.” He finished unbuttoning the second cuff as he walked, then rolled up the sleeve to expose his corded forearm.

  “You’re wearing a suit?” Her voice came out with a squeaky edge.

  Laugh lines around his eyes crinkled, and he stopped, leaning against the wall. “Not quite. But I thought I’d better look like the owner rather than a grime-covered tool-jockey for this afternoon’s meeting.”

  “You look good.” Better than good. “How did it go?” She shoved her hands into the pockets of her shorts to keep from destroying the buttons on yet another of his shirts.

  The laugh lines smoothed into a wary watchfulness. “It went well. He’s gone back to Auckland to finalize the deal through his lawyers.”

  She expected it, knew it was inevitable, but the words still punched hollowly into her gut.

  “It’s done then.” Trying but failing to keep the flatness out of her voice she met his gaze. “You’ve sold it.”

  “Lauren—”

  He straightened and reached out a hand, but she backed away.

  “You knew I always planned to sell to Martin. Is this still about your paparazzi fears?”

  Vertebrae by vertebrae, she stiffened her spine. “Not entirely. I just hoped over the last few weeks you’d reconsider who you sold it to. Maybe that you’d hold on to the place a little while longer until another buyer turned up.” Or you’d decide you didn’t want to sell at all. That you wanted to stay here, with Drew and me.

  “You thought I’d reconsider selling it?”

  He pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head, the molten fire in his green eyes fusing her to the spot.

  “Is that why you invited me to your bed? To seduce me into changing my mind?”

  “No! It wasn’t about changing your mind.”

  “What was it about then?”

  Seconds crept past as cicadas buzzed, and the sun hammered down. “It was about being with someone who made me feel alive inside again.” She offered him a rueful smile. “There were no ulterior motive
s. I knew I’d only have you for a short time, and now that time is up.”

  “I have to go back to the city.”

  He stepped toward her, and she didn’t flinch as his palms skimmed down her bare arms.

  She nodded, keeping her lips turned up so he wouldn’t glimpse the truth behind her smile. “I know.”

  He grinned—a reckless, stunning grin that made her want to jump in his arms and wrap herself around him. “But you and Drew could come, too.”

  “What?” Blood hurtled through her veins, careering past her eardrums until she could barely hear her own voice.

  “Come with me. Drew doesn’t start school for another month, and I’ve got loose ends to tie up in Auckland before I fly out.”

  “I can’t.”

  The words bulleted out of her before she could hold them back, wrenched from deep inside. Not for a month, not when he’d still leave them both behind. Not when he’d never once mentioned love.

  Not when she was one of his loose ends.

  Forehead creasing in harsh lines, Nate dropped his hand from her arm. “Can’t? Or won’t?”

  “This is our home, Nate. Dragging Drew to Auckland just so you and I can have a little more time together isn’t fair to him. He adores you, and even though that’s not your responsibility—”

  A muscle twitched in his jaw, but she sucked in a steadying breath and continued.

  “I won’t give him false hope. I can’t be the woman you want me to be, a woman who’ll accept your offer of an extended affair.”

  Contradict me, tell me I’m wrong—tell me you love me, love us both.

  Nate swore and closed his eyes. He opened them again, and they were as hard as chips of sea glass.

  “Maybe that is all I can offer, and you’re right to be insulted.” He moved back out of her space, his palms spread wide. “I travel. I take photos. It’s what I’ve always done; it’s all I know. Warzones are no place for you and Drew. He deserves better than a part-time father, and you deserve more than a man who’s never around because he’s off chasing the next photograph.”

  No brilliant solutions popped into her head. How could there be a solution to being crazily in love with a man who didn’t love her back?

  “I think it’d be better for all of us if I returned to Auckland early. I’ll be by later to pick up my stuff.” He spun around.

  Each word, like poison-tipped darts, flew straight and true, hitting their mark. Tight bands crushed her chest, and her lungs ached with the effort to breathe.

  “Nate—”

  “Yeah?” Lines of tension rippled across his broad shoulders, but he didn’t turn back.

  He was still too big, too close and too vividly male. Too much of everything she’d ever wanted, too much to ever completely let go of. But let go she must. “I’ll have your gear waiting for you.”

  “Thanks.”

  Lauren walked in measured steps down the deck stairs and across to her car. She wouldn’t run, she wouldn’t cry…and she wouldn’t watch him walk away.

  ***

  Nate climbed the steps to Lauren’s house, hoping the sound of his car hadn’t wakened Drew. He’d timed his arrival late, so the kid should be fast asleep. Coward? Absolutely. And didn’t he feel like the world’s biggest asshole.

  Java strolled out to meet him with a friendly chuff and a tongue swipe up Nate’s jeans.

  “Great guard dog you turned out to be,” he muttered but gave the Rottweiler a rub between his ears.

  He rapped softly on the kitchen door, no longer comfortable with just walking inside uninvited. Things had changed. He expected Lauren wanted to avoid him as much as he wanted to avoid her, to save them both the awkwardness of a final goodbye.

  And it would be final. A clean break was for the best.

  The door opened, and Lauren stepped out of his way to let him through, offering no eye contact as she retreated into the kitchen. “I’ve stacked your things beside the couch.”

  Good. A quick trip in and out. But against his will his gaze was drawn to the curve of her waist, her long, yoga-pants covered legs, and her expressive hazel eyes, which couldn’t hide the redness of a recent crying jag.

  Forcing himself to look away, he strode to the couch and bent to grab his gear. A small, wet sound jerked his gaze up. Drew peeped around the brick archway, his thumb tucked in his mouth and his eyes huge, glistening pools.

  He froze. Ah, hell.

  Drew’s thumb slipped from his lips with a slurping pop. “Nate?”

  Nate’s mind went blank as Lauren hurried out of the kitchen. “Sweetie, I told you to stay in bed, and I’d be back in a minute.”

  Drew dodged past her and flung himself forward, wrapping his arms around Nate’s legs, burying his face into the side of his thigh. “I wanna see him. I wanna see Nate!”

  “Drew…” Nate’s voice trailed off.

  He patted the boy’s shaking back, his fingers brushing over the soft knit of Superman pajamas.

  “I’m sorry.” Lauren touched her son’s shoulder.

  Drew shrugged off her hand, clinging tighter.

  “Are you really going?” He pulled away from Nate’s leg far enough to look up with tearstained cheeks.

  “Yeah, little mate, I am. I have to go back to Auckland.”

  “What for?”

  To sever the roots twining around his heart and tying him to this wild land, to this woman, and to this little boy. Once and for all.

  Nate gently pried Drew’s arms from his leg and squatted down to the child’s level. “You know how I’m a type of reporter, a bit like Clark Kent? Only he writes stories and I take photos?”

  Drew nodded, but his lower lip continued to quiver.

  “Clark and I both have to follow where the stories go. And a lot of times, those stories happen overseas. And because that’s my job—” Nate rubbed a bead of sweat off his upper lip, his stomach solid lead. “I need to get back to work.” Though once he signed on Davis’s dotted line, he would be a free agent. A thought that should’ve filled him with triumph yet strangely didn’t.

  “When’re you coming back?”

  He swallowed to wet his paper-dry throat. “I don’t know. Probably not for a long time.”

  Drew’s face crumpled, and he howled, letting go of Nate’s leg and running into Lauren’s arms.

  He stood and looked into her eyes while Drew sobbed. “I’m sorry.”

  Their gazes locked with an intensity that squeezed his chest until he thought his ribs would crack. But he was making the right choice, the only choice for them all.

  Nate grabbed his bag, tucked the laptop under his arm and got the hell out of there.

  The earth shattering crunch as he drove away? That was his heart hitting his boot soles and splintering into a million pieces.

  Chapter 11

  Lauren pulled the tray of muffins from the oven and cocked an ear at the sound of her brother’s ute pulling up.

  The engine died, and a door slammed. “Hope you haven’t eaten all my muffins, squirt,” Todd’s voice boomed out.

  From the deck came a soft giggle. Lauren squeezed her eyes shut. It’d been two weeks since Drew had smiled, let alone laughed. Two weeks since Nate walked away from them both.

  She shoved the next batch into the oven. Told herself she absolutely would, not, cry. A rap on the French doors and Todd stepped inside.

  “Mail.” He tossed a pile of envelopes onto her dining table then crossed over to shove a large manila envelope into her hand. “Postmarked Auckland,” he added with a raised eyebrow, before swiping a muffin off the cooling rack and swaggering off again.

  Lauren’s tongue glued itself to the roof of her mouth. A glance at the handwriting confirmed it was Nate’s. She wiped her fingers on her apron and tore the flap off the envelope. A cascade of photographs slid into her hands.

  The first one caused her lungs to cease functioning. Framed with diffused, golden light, a mother laughed with a little boy who’d reached up a finger to press a
gainst her lips. Joy and love radiated from the woman and simple trust from the child. The photographer captured the scene with such tenderness that the image sent a flood of scalding tears over her lashes.

  She shuffled through the remaining photos. Christmas Day shots of whānau laughing, playing and celebrating their togetherness. A picture of her, embarrassed and defiant, on the day Nate kissed her. Other close-up shots she never knew he’d taken.

  “You sneak,” she muttered on a half-smile, swiping away the wetness on her cheeks. Her shoulders slumped, and she leaned back against the counter.

  “Mummy, when’re you gonna be done with the muffins?”

  Lauren glanced down at Drew. How long had she stood there crying over a bunch of photographs? She shuffled the pictures together.

  “Look!” Drew snatched up one that had slipped to the floor. “Look, it’s you!” He giggled and bounced on his toes. “I took it on Nate’s camera, ‘member?”

  She plastered on what she hoped was a cheerful smile. “Yes, it’s a good one, isn’t it? We can buy a frame, and I’ll hang it—”

  “You looked mad in that picture. Were you thinking about my daddy?”

  Lauren shoved the rest of the photos back into the envelope, her gut clenching in an iron fist. “No, I was just a bit embarrassed because I was hot and dirty.”

  “Oh.” Drew cocked his head. “Why are you crying? Are you still sad about Daddy and the bad place?”

  She sighed and scooped him up, rubbing her nose against his. “I’m not sad about New York or Daddy.”

  Drew wrapped his arms around her neck, and she drank in the little boy smell of him. “He didn’t love us.”

  Lauren clamped her jaw shut, desperate to keep the sob in her chest from escaping. She swallowed it down and tried to force the quaver from her voice. “Why do you say that, sweetie?”

  “He hurt you and made you cry. He made me cry too. Why didn’t you run away?”