IT WAS her perfect house.
And there was no one home. Louisa tried the doorbell again
and cuddled her long wool coat around her to keep out the
freezing wind. It had started snowing again and soft
flakes settled on the ground and clung to her tumbling
dark hair. She'd only stepped out of her car a few minutes
before and already her fingers were freezing and she
couldn't feel her toes.
If she was going to spend Christmas here, she needed more
clothes.
She gave a shiver and pressed the bell again, this time
keeping her finger on it for much longer. Someone had to
be there. Josh had assured her that his brother would be
at home. That he was expecting her.
Giving up on the bell, she took a step backwards and
looked at the huge white house. It was gorgeous. The sort
of house she'd dreamed about as a child. The sort of house
that should have been full of kids and dogs and laughter.
She stared, wistfully. On the ground floor, huge glass
windows faced out to sea across a wide deck, piled with
drifted snow. A large, rambling garden stretched all the
way down to the sand dunes, wild and neglected.
It was a house with a story to tell. And today there were
no signs of life.
Remembering everything that Josh had told her about his
brother and why he hated Christmas, Louisa stared
anxiously at the house.
Just how much did Mac Sullivan hate Christmas? Did he hate
it enough to — to...? She gazed up at the huge windows and
bit her lip. Christmas was a bad time of year for lots of
people, even without tragedy in their lives. What if he
was lying in there, an empty bottle of tablets by the side
of his bed? Maybe he'd left a note —
No.
She shook herself and wished her imagination wasn't quite
so lively. He was probably just watching TV or something.
He probably couldn't hear the doorbell.
Wishing she'd worn a thermal vest under her jumper, Louisa
walked up to the window and peered inside, hoping to see
signs of life.
She'd been told to arrive at lunchtime and this was
lunchtime.
The living room was elegantly furnished with large white
sofas set on a rich wooden floor, but the room had a
formal feel that suggested that no one actually sat on the
sofas. The cushions were plumped and smooth, like
something prepared for a photographic shoot for an
upmarket magazine.
It didn't look lived in.
She frowned thoughtfully. A house like this was meant to
be a home and this didn't look like any home she'd ever
imagined. Especially not at Christmas. A room like that
should be filled with holly and presents and a massive
tree.
Did Mac Sullivan have no one to buy presents for? Had he
shut everyone out since his wife had died?
Blowing on her fingers to warm them, Louisa gazed up at
the upstairs windows but they were all firmly shut.
Worry started to gnaw at her brain again and she gave a
shiver and mentally listed the options. She could stand
still and wait for someone to turn up, but that could take
for ever and would be of no help at all if he was really
in trouble. Or she could give up on the whole idea and
drive back to London, but that would mean being
unemployed. And being on her own at Christmas. Not to
mention letting Josh down when she'd promised she'd step
in and help.
And, anyway, she couldn't possibly leave before she knew
that Mac was all right.
Which meant finding another way into the house so that she
could check that he wasn't lying in a heap somewhere.
Deciding that living in rural Cornwall meant being
resourceful, she picked her way through the snow to the
back of the house and immediately saw the open window.
Her eyes narrowed as she measured the space. Just large
enough for her to wriggle through.
It had been a while since she'd used a window to gain
access to a building but in this case it seemed like the
only option. And she was expected so it could hardly be
classed as breaking and entering, could it?
Mac heard the muffled thud the moment he switched off the
shower. Someone was in the house.
He was being burgled.
Questioning the sense of tackling a burglar half-naked, he
grabbed a towel from the heated rail and looped it round
his hips before padding barefoot onto the landing to
investigate.
There was another clatter and he winced. Whoever it was
didn't have a great future as a burglar.
Probably someone who knew he was a doctor and thought he
might keep drugs on the premises. Some crazed addict
looking for a fix?
His dark hair was wet from the shower and he raked it out
of his eyes with an impatient hand before reaching for a
hammer that he'd used a few days before to put up a shelf.
His dark eyes gleamed with anticipation and he walked
softly downstairs, his feet leaving damp marks on the
carpet. As he reached the bottom, he wondered whether it
was better to take the man by surprise or make a din and
warn him of his presence.
In the end he went for the surprise option. Growing up
with a brother, he'd never been afraid of the physical. He
was six feet two and he had a black belt in judo. He was
pretty confident that he could take most people, even
dressed only in a towel.
The noise came from the visitors' toilet and Mac's mouth
tightened as he recalled the number of occasions he'd
asked Nicola, the last and most determined of his
housekeepers, to sort out a lock for that window. It
hadn't closed for months but it was one of the many things
that she hadn't managed to fix before she'd walked out on
him. Once he'd made it clear that he wasn't interested in
a relationship it had appeared that she was no longer
interested in working for him.
And his house was falling apart. He spent too long at the
hospital to do more than the most basic maintenance and
this house needed far more than basic.
And now he was paying the price. Shifting his weight to
prepare for a fight, Mac pushed open the door to the
toilet and pounced, his weight taking the other person
down hard. "Don't move!"
There was a shocked gasp from beneath him. "How can I
possibly move? You weigh a ton! And you're soaking wet!"
Registering a distinctly feminine voice, Mac gave a grunt
and shifted his weight slightly, his hands grasping hers
firmly and holding them above her head. He didn't intend
to drop his guard just because his intruder was a woman.
He stared down into the widest, brownest eyes he'd ever
seen and felt something stir inside him. She was soft and
yielding under him and she smelt like a dream. Clouds of
dark hair dusted with snow framed a perfect heart-shaped
face and her soft cheeks were pink from the cold. And she
was laughing.
"OK, muscle man — are you going to lie on top of me all
day?" She sounded slightly breathless as she gazed up at
him, her smile almost as wide as her face, 'because I
ought to warn you that you're making it jolly hard for me
to breathe."
He rolled away from her, thinking that she looked nothing
like a burglar.
She looked like something straight out of a bad boy's
dream.
Reminding himself that he wasn't interested in becoming
involved with a woman, especially one who had just
wriggled through his toilet window, he frowned down at her.
"What the hell are you doing, climbing through my window?
You were looking for a doctor?"
"Well, in a manner of speaking, I was looking for a
doctor, yes." She struggled to sit upright, her long legs
going in different directions like a foal who still hadn't
quite got the hang of standing. "But I'm not a patient. Or
at least I wasn't until you landed on top of me. Now I'm
not so sure. I think there's a distinct possibility that
I'm injured. Possibly seriously. Were you planning to use
that hammer on me?"
"Only if you proved to be especially violent," Mac said
dryly, placing the hammer on the window-seat and holding
out a hand to help her up. Her skirt had ridden up almost
to her bottom and he found his attention snagged by her
legs. She had fabulous legs. "Do you always climb through
windows when you're looking for a doctor?"
"Never before. But I was worried that you might be lying
unconscious at the top of the stairs, unable to call for
help. I thought you might need rescuing." She reached out
and took his hand and he pulled her to her feet, surprised
to find that she wasn't as tall as he'd thought. Obviously
most of her was leg.
He dragged his eyes away. "Why on earth would you think
that?"
"Because I rang the doorbell and no one answered." He
lifted an eyebrow. "And that meant I was lying
unconscious? You didn't think I might be out buying a loaf
of bread?"
"I have a vivid imagination," she confided happily, her
wide smile lighting up her whole face. Her eyes were the
colour of rich coffee and a few freckles dusted her
nose. "There didn't appear to be a shop open in the
village, so you couldn't have been buying bread."
"So you thought you'd break in?" He stared at her with
incredulity. "Is that a frequent habit of yours?"
"Only when essential. It's part of my naturally
interfering personality." She brushed herself down and
shook the snow out of her hair. "I'm so relieved you're
all right. So, if you weren't lying unconscious, why
didn't you answer the door?"
His eyes narrowed as he looked at her. "Because I was in
the shower."
"At lunchtime?"
Mac sighed, wondering why he was explaining himself to
this woman. "I was up all night in the unit. Motorbike
accident. The roads are lethal at the moment. When I came
in I spent ten minutes arguing with my brother and then
got stuck into some paperwork before deciding to take a
shower. Are there any more details of my life that you
feel you need to know?"
She wrinkled her nose thoughtfully. "Probably, but they
can wait until later. The most pressing thing is to dry
myself off and get settled in. Where do I put my things?"
Deciding that he must be more tired than he'd thought, Mac
stared at her blankly. "Put your things? What do you mean,
put your things?"
She waved a hand towards the window. "I left my bags in
the car but the boot leaks terribly so I really ought to
bring them in before they get damp. It's snowing again.
But, of course, you know that because it's all over me."
As if to prove her point, she shook herself like a kitten
and more snow drifted onto the floor. "Let's look on the
bright side. At least I didn't fall head first down your
toilet. That would have been an unhappy experience."
Mac studied her in silence, an uneasy suspicion forming in
his mind. "You haven't told me what exactly you're doing
here..."
"No, I haven't, have I?" She smiled warmly and held out a
hand. "Your brother said I could come. I needed somewhere
to stay and he told me you needed help. So here I am.
Apparently I'm your Christmas present. Pleased to meet
you, Dr Sullivan."
Her new boss had a fantastic body and at the moment
virtually every delicious inch of him was on display.
Louisa stood in the corner of the small room, trying not
to focus on that broad chest or the well-defined muscles
of his abdomen. If she'd needed the perfect illustration
of the male anatomy then it was standing in front of her.
His body was hard and tough with no soft edges. The body
of a man used to strenuous physical activity.
And as for the rest of him... With a huge effort of will
she stared into his cold, handsome face and forced herself
to breathe normally.
Josh had told her that the house was huge. He'd told her
that the Cornish seaside fishing village was so small that
you couldn't sneeze without the entire population asking
you about your cold the next morning.
What he'd failed to mention was the fact that his brother
was drop-dead gorgeous.