Tempted by the Hot Highland Doc

And the here and now for him was that Kristie would still be visiting for three days a month for the next four months. And if that was all he’d get, he’d be a fool to let it slip through his fingers.

* * *

Her anxieties were slowly but surely beginning to melt away. She would always hate hospitals. They would always have that association for her. But somehow, this time, things felt different.

Different because she knew Rhuaridh had her back.

If she needed a minute—if her heart started racing or her breathing stuck somewhere inside her chest—she didn’t need to hide it or pretend it was something else entirely. And the weird thing was that none of those things had actually happened.

Maybe it was Bill, the older man, who’d distracted her completely. In a lucid moment he’d just told her about his wife dying fifteen years before and how much it had broken his heart. Then he’d started to gently sing a Christmas carol they’d loved together. Kristie had joined in and when, a few moments later, he’d become confused and panicky, she’d taken his hand and reassured him about where he was, who he was, and what he was doing there.

This could be her. This could be Rhuaridh. This could be anyone that she knew and loved. No one knew what path lay ahead for them, and if she could give Bill a few moments of reassurance and peace then she would.

Rhuaridh came over and placed a warm hand on her shoulder. ‘I’ve just finished. Do you have some more people to film?’

She shook her head. ‘Gerry’s looking tired. I think we’ve done enough today. We’ll come back tomorrow and finish then.’

Rhuaridh gave a nod. ‘Okay. The snow’s got a bit thicker since yesterday. We might be able to scrounge up a few snowballs. Are you game?’

She wrinkled her nose. ‘Game? What does that mean?’

He laughed. ‘It’s like a challenge. It means are you ready to do a particular action—like making snowballs.’

Now she understood. She took a few minutes to say goodbye to Bill, then joined Rhuaridh. ‘Okay, then, I’m game.’

Gerry joined them outside, and grabbed the car keys while they plotted. The hospital grounds were large, with a grassy forecourt lined with trees.

‘Why go anywhere else?’ asked Kristie. She zipped up her new red winter jacket—which would never see the light of day in LA. She kicked at the thick snow on the ground. ‘Let’s just have our snowball fight here.’ She put her hands on her hips and looked around, her breath steaming in the air in front of her. ‘Or maybe we should start with a snowman. I’ve always wanted to build a snowman.’

Rhuaridh pulled some gloves out of his pocket. Kristie winced. Gloves. She’d forgotten about gloves. He walked closer. ‘Did you forget the most essential tool for playing with snow?’

She grimaced, hating to start on the back foot. ‘Maybe.’

He handed his gloves over. ‘Here, use mine.’

She grinned. ‘Doesn’t you being a gentleman give me an unfair advantage?’

His eyes gleamed. He leaned forward, his lips brushing against the side of her face as he whispered in her ear. ‘Yeah, but that would only count if I thought you might actually win.’

‘That’s fighting talk.’ She gave him her sternest glare but she knew he was teasing.

He nodded. ‘It is. So let’s start. First to make a snowman wins.’

She looked across at the wide snow-covered lawn and wagged her finger encased in the thick gloves. ‘We split this straight down the middle. Don’t try and steal my snow.’

‘Your snow?’

‘Absolutely. This is my snow.’ She gave him a wary nod. ‘I’m the guest.’

‘You are, aren’t you?’ He bent down and scooped some of the snow into his bare hands. ‘I haven’t told you, have I?’

She frowned. ‘Told me what?’

‘I might have a bit of a competitive streak. Go!’ Something streaked across the dark sky towards her, hitting her squarely on the shoulder and splattering up into her face.

She choked for a second as Rhuaridh’s deep laugh rang across the night air. He didn’t waste any time. He ran straight into the middle of his patch and started trying to pack snow together.

She shook the snow off her hair and out of her face. ‘Cheat! I’ll get you for that.’

‘Keep up!’ he shouted over his shoulder.

She didn’t waste any time, running to her own patch of snow and trying to pack it like Rhuaridh was doing. After a few minutes she had pressed enough together to form a giant snowball that she could start rolling across the grass to make it bigger. She couldn’t hide her delight. Within a few minutes she was out of breath. Pushing snow was harder than she could ever have imagined.

She looked up. Rhuaridh was making it look so easy. Ratfink.

She kept going, loving the whole experience of being in the snow. Before long she had a medium-sized snowball, just about big enough to be a body.

Rhuaridh had already positioned his in the middle of the green and was rolling another. She ran to catch up, ignoring the fact hers already looked a bit smaller than his.

If he thought he had a competitive edge, he had nothing on her.

She stopped for a moment, distracted by seeing him blow on his hands for a few seconds. Just watching him gave her a little thrill. His dark hair, which always looked as if it just about needed cutting, his broad shoulders and long legs. Jeans suited him—though she’d never say it out loud. Even from here she could see the deep concentration on his face as he went back to rolling the second ball for the snowman’s head. It gave her the opening she needed. She pulled together her first small snowball and threw it straight at him. It landed right at his feet.

He looked up and smiled. ‘Given up already? What’s happened to your snowman?’

‘I’ve taken pity on you,’ she said quickly, not wanting to admit that she’d no idea how, if she rolled a second ball of snow, she’d actually get it on top of the snowman. She grinned and grabbed some more snow, trying her best to shape a snowball and throw it at him. But it seemed she didn’t quite have the technique and it disintegrated in mid-air.

‘Seems like you LA girls need some snow training,’ he said as he strode towards her. He was laughing at her.

She tried again then started to laugh too when it didn’t quite work. ‘What is it? Do they teach Scottish kids how to make a snowball at birth?’

He shook his head. ‘Much earlier. We learn in the womb. It’s a survival skill.’

He was right next to her, his tall frame standing over her. She dusted off the gloves and looked up, taking a step closer. She wanted to hold her breath, to stop steam appearing between them. His hair was in front of his deep blue eyes—and they were fixed on hers. Behind him was the backdrop of the navy sky speckled with stars, followed by the snow-covered outline of the cottage hospital. Right now, it felt like being on a Christmas card.

He lifted one hand and touched the side of her cheek, his cold finger made her jump, and they both laughed. ‘Red looks good on you,’ he said huskily.

‘Does it?’ She couldn’t help it, she stepped forward. She just couldn’t resist. It was as if there was a magnet, pulling them together. They were already close but this removed the gap between them. His other hand went instantly to her waist.

He gave a little tug at the scarf around her neck. ‘I guess I should say it now.’

She swore her heart gave a jump. ‘Say what?’

His cold finger traced a line up her neck, and across her lips. Teasing her.

His head dipped down towards her. ‘It’s a little early.’

Yip, her heart had forgotten how to beat steadily.

‘Early for what?’ she whispered.

He pulled something out of his pocket. She recognised it. It was plastic, green and white, slightly bent, and had come from the decoration box in the hospital.

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‘What are you doing?’ she asked.

‘This,’ he said, ‘is mistletoe. And I thought it was time to say Merry Christmas and introduce you to the Scottish tradition.’

She slid her arms around his waist as her smile grew wider. ‘And what tradition might that be?’

His lips lowered towards hers. ‘The one of kissing under the mistletoe.’

His lips weren’t as cold as his hands and the connection between them sent a little shockwave through her body. Last time they’d kissed had been in his front room. It had been comfortable. Warm. And had felt so right.

This was what she’d been waiting for. This had been the thing that had teased in her dreams for the last two months. Expectation was everything. And Rhuaridh Gillespie was meeting every expectation she’d ever had.

Because kissing the hot Highland doc was like standing in a field full of fireworks. And if things got any hotter, they’d light up the entire island.

CHAPTER NINE