A Very Special Holiday Gift

Help! She was still tingling and zapping from having him take off her coat.

This was such a dangerous moment. She only had to give the slightest hint of acceptance and Zac Corrigan would be kissing her. And she couldn’t pretend that she didn’t want to be kissed. His lips were so close, so scrumptious, so wonderfully tempting.

The air between them was crackling and sizzling. At any moment he was going to lean in …

Now she was struggling to remember why this was wrong. “Zac, we can’t—”

“Shh.” He touched her arm, sending dizzying warmth washing over her skin. “Forget about the office for one night.”

“How can I? How can you?”

“Chloe, you’re an incredibly sexy woman, and I’m absolutely smitten by you.”

A Very Special Holiday Gift

Barbara Hannay

Reading and writing have always been a big part of BARBARA HANNAY’s life. She wrote her first short story at the age of eight for the Brownies’ writer’s badge. It was about a girl who was devastated when her family had to move from the city to the Australian Outback.

Since then, a love of both city and country lifestyles has been a continuing theme in Barbara’s books and in her life. Although she has mostly lived in cities, now that her family has grown up and she’s a full-time writer she’s enjoying a country lifestyle.

Barbara and her husband live on a misty hillside in Far North Queensland’s Atherton Tableland. When she’s not lost in the world of her stories she’s enjoying farmers’ markets, gardening clubs and writing groups, or preparing for visits from family and friends.

Barbara records her country life in her blog, Barbwired, and her website is: www.barbarahannay.com.

For Elliot, with huge, huge thanks for your unfailing faith in my writing … It would never have happened without you.

Contents

Cover

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

EPILOGUE

Extract

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

THE PHONE CALL that changed Chloe Meadows’s life came when she was poised on tiptoe, on a chair that she had placed on top of a desk in a valiant attempt to tape a loop of Christmas lights to the office ceiling.

It was late on a Wednesday evening, edging towards nine p.m., and the sudden shrill bell in the silent, empty office was so unexpected Chloe almost fell from her precarious perch. Even so, she slipped as she scrambled down awkwardly in her straight grey business skirt and stocking feet.

She was slightly out of breath as she finally grabbed the phone just as it was due to ring out.

‘Hello? ZedCee Management Consultants.’ She wondered who would call the office at this late hour. On a Wednesday night.

There was a longish beat before she heard a man’s distinctly English voice. ‘Hello? I’m calling from London. Could I please speak to Mr Zachary Corrigan?’ The voice was officious, like the command of a bossy teacher.

‘I’m sorry. Mr Corrigan isn’t in the office.’ Chloe politely bit back the urge to remind the caller that it was well after office hours in Australia and that her employer was almost certainly at a social function.

On any given week night, Zac Corrigan was likely to be socialising, but that possibility had become a certainty this week, the week before Christmas, when almost everyone was at some kind of party. Everyone, that was, except Chloe, whose social calendar was quiet even at this busy time of the year.

Sadly, the red letter date in Chloe’s festive season was the office Christmas party. This was the third year in a row that she’d put up her hand to be the party’s organiser. She’d ordered the champagne, the wines and beer, as well as a selection of delicious canapés and finger food from François’s. And she’d been happy to stay back late this evening to decorate the office with festive strings of lights, shiny balloons and bright garlands of tinsel and holly.

Secretly, she loved this task. When she’d first landed her job at ZedCee she’d also moved back home to care for her elderly parents, who weren’t overly fond of ‘gaudy’ decorations, so this was her chance to have a little Christmas fun.

‘To whom am I speaking?’ the fellow from London barked into the phone.

‘I’m Mr Corrigan’s PA.’ Chloe was used to dealing with bossy types, matching their overbearing manner with her own quiet calm. ‘My name’s Chloe Meadows.’

‘Ms Meadows, this is Sergeant Davies from The Metropolitan Police and I’m ringing from The Royal London Hospital. I’m afraid the matter is urgent. I need to speak to Mr Corrigan.’

‘Of course.’ Instantly alarmed, Chloe forgave the policeman his bossiness and reached for a pen and paper. She was appalled to think that this urgent matter was in any way connected to her boss. ‘I’ll call Mr Corrigan immediately and tell him to ring you.’

Sergeant Davies dictated his number, Chloe thanked him and her stomach clenched nervously as she connected straight to Zac Corrigan’s mobile.

* * *

The zip in the young woman’s black silk dress slid smoothly downwards and the fabric parted to reveal her delightfully pale back. Zac Corrigan smiled. She was lovely. Tipsy after too many champagne cocktails and without very much to eat, but at least they’d escaped the party early, and she was quite irresistibly lovely.

With a practised touch, he caressed the creamy curve of her shoulder and she giggled. Damn. Why did champagne make girls giggle?

Still. Her skin was soft and warm and her figure was exquisite and, for a repeat of the night they’d shared last weekend, Zac could forgive her giggling.

With a firm hand cradling her bared shoulders, he leaned closer to press a kiss to the back of her neck. His lips brushed her skin. She giggled again, but she smelled delicious and Zac’s anticipation was acute as he trailed a seductive line of kisses over her shoulder.

The sweet moment was spoiled by the sudden buzz of his mobile phone and Zac swore beneath his breath as he sent a frustrated glare in the direction of the armchair where he’d dumped the phone along with his jacket and tie.

‘I’ll get it!’ the girl squealed.

‘No, don’t bother. Leave it.’

Too late. She’d already wriggled free and was diving for the chair, laughing excitedly, as if answering his phone was the greatest game.

* * *

Chloe suppressed a groan when she heard the slightly slurred female’s voice on the line.

‘Hi, there!’ a girl chirped. ‘Kung Fu’s Chinese Takeaway. How can I help you?’

‘Hi, Jasmine.’ Chloe was unfortunately familiar with most of her boss’s female ‘friends’. They were usually blessed with beauty rather than brains, which meant they were always ringing him at work, and Chloe spent far too much time holding them at bay, taking their messages, placating them with promises that Mr Corrigan would return their calls as soon as he was free, and generally acting as a go-between. ‘Hold the jokes,’ she said now. ‘And just put Zac on.’

‘Jasmine?’ The voice on the end of the line was slightly sloshed and distinctly peeved. ‘Who’s Jasmine?’ Her voice rose several decibels. ‘Zac, who’s Jasmine?’

Oops. Under other circumstances, Chloe might have apologised or tried to reassure the silly girl, but tonight she simply spoke loudly and very clearly. ‘This is Mr Corrigan’s PA and the matter is urgent. I need to speak to him straight away.’

‘All right, all right.’ The girl was sulky now. ‘Keep your hair on.’ There was a shuffling, possibly stumbling sound. ‘Mr Corr-i-gan,’ she said next, sounding out the syllables in a mocking sing-song. ‘Your PA wants you and she says you’d better hurry up.’ This was followed by a burst of ridiculous giggling.

‘Give that here!’ Zac sounded impatient and a moment later he was on the line. ‘Chloe, what’s up? What the hell’s the matter?’

‘An urgent phone call has come through for you from London,’ she said. ‘From the police. At a hospital.’

‘In London?’ There was no missing the shock in his voice.

‘Yes. I’m afraid it’s urgent, Zac. The policeman wants you to call him immediately.’

There was a shuddering gasp, then another sound that might have been—

No. It couldn’t have been a sob. Chloe knew her ears were deceiving her. During three years in this job she’d never detected a single crack in Zac Corrigan’s habitual toughness.

‘Right.’ His voice was still different, almost broken and very un-Zac-like. ‘Can you give me the number?’

Chloe told him and listened as he repeated it. He still sounded shaken and she felt a bit sick. Normally, she refused to allow herself any sympathy for her boss’s personal life, which was as messy as a dog’s breakfast, as far as she was concerned. But this situation was different. Frightening. She couldn’t recall any connection between her boss and London and she thought she knew almost everything about him.

‘I’ll let you know if I need you,’ he said.

* * *

Zac was as tense as a man facing a firing squad as he dialled the London number. This emergency had to involve Liv. He was sure of it. He’d been trying to convince himself that his little sister was an adult now and quite capable of running her own life, especially after she’d ignored his protests and left for England with her no-hoper boyfriend... But...

Liv.

His baby sister...

All that was left of his family...

His responsibility...

‘Hello,’ said a businesslike English voice. ‘Sergeant Davies speaking.’

‘This is Zac Corrigan.’ His voice cracked and he swallowed. ‘I believe you’re trying to contact me.’

‘Ah, yes, Mr Corrigan.’ The policeman’s tone was instantly gentler, a fact that did nothing to allay Zac’s fears. ‘Can I please confirm that you are Zachary James Corrigan?’

‘Yes.’ What had Liv done? Not another drug overdose, surely? When he’d rung her two weeks ago, she’d promised him she was still off the drugs, all drugs. She’d been clean for over a year.

‘And you’re the brother of Olivia Rose Corrigan?’

‘Yes, I am. I was told you’re calling from a hospital. What’s this about?’

‘I’m sorry, Mr Corrigan,’ the policeman said. ‘Your sister died a short while ago as the result of a road accident.’

Oh, God.

It wasn’t possible.

Shock exploded through Zac, flashing agonising heat, threatening to topple him. Liv couldn’t be dead. It simply was not possible.

‘I’m sorry,’ Sergeant Davies said again.

‘I—I see,’ Zac managed. A stupid thing to say, but his mind was numb. With terror. With pain.

‘Do you have any relatives living in the UK?’ the policeman asked.

‘No.’ Sweat was pouring off Zac now. Vaguely, he was aware of the girl, Daisy, with the black dress dangling off her shoulders. She was hovering close, frowning at him, her heavily made-up eyes brimming with vacuous curiosity. He turned his back on her.

‘Then I take it you’ll be prepared to be our contact for any arrangements?’

‘Yes,’ Zac said stiffly. ‘But tell me what happened.’

‘I’ll pass you onto someone from the hospital, sir. The doctor will be able to answer all your questions.’

Dizzy and sick, Zac waited desperately as the phone went through several clicks and then a female voice spoke.

‘Mr Corrigan?’

‘Yes,’ he said dully.

‘This is Dr Jameson from the maternity ward.’

Maternity? She was joking, surely?

‘I’m very sorry, Mr Corrigan. Your sister was brought to our hospital after a vehicle accident. There were extensive head and chest injuries.’

Zac winced. Head and chest. The worst.

‘Olivia was rushed to theatre and we did our very best, but the injuries were too extensive.’ A slight pause. ‘I’m afraid we couldn’t save her.’

Zac went cold all over. So there it was. Two people had confirmed the impossible. His greatest fear was a reality. After all these years when he’d tried and failed with Liv, he’d now failed her abysmally...

And it was too late to try again.

He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. Horror lashed at him as he fought off images of Liv’s accident. Instead he clung to a memory of his beautiful, rebellious young sister from years ago when she was no more than sixteen... He saw her on the beach, during a holiday on Stradbroke Island, her slim tanned arms outstretched, her dark gypsy hair flying in the sea wind, her teeth flashing white as she laughed and twirled with childlike joy.

He remembered it all so clearly. With her brightly coloured sarong over a skimpy yellow bikini, she’d looked so tanned and beautiful. Innocent, too—or so Zac had thought—and, always, always, so full of fun.

That was how he’d thought of Liv back then—full of fun and life.

Now...he couldn’t believe that her life had been extinguished.

‘But we were able to save the baby,’ the English doctor said.

Baby? Now Zac sank in weak-kneed horror onto the edge of the bed. What baby? How could there be a baby?

‘Are you there, Mr Corrigan?’

He swallowed. ‘Yes.’

‘You’re listed as your sister’s next of kin, so I’m assuming you knew that Olivia was pregnant?’

‘Yes,’ he lied when in truth he’d had no idea. When he’d phoned Liv only two weeks ago, she hadn’t said a thing about being pregnant. Right now, he felt as if the world had gone quite mad.

‘Your sister was already in labour,’ the woman said. ‘We believe she was on her way to hospital when the accident occurred.’

‘Right.’ Zac sagged forward, elbows on knees. ‘So—’ he began and then he had to stop and take a shuddering breath, which wasn’t much help. He forced himself to try again. ‘So—this baby. Is it OK?’

‘Yes, a beautiful baby girl, perfectly unharmed and born by Caesarean section only a couple of weeks before her due date.’

Zac pressed a shaking hand to his throbbing forehead. His stomach churned. He was sweating again. This woman was trying to tell him that some crazy twist of fate had snatched his beautiful sister’s life and left a baby in her place. How bizarre was that?

He wanted to drop the phone, to be finished with this absurd conversation. No way did he want to deal with the gut-wrenching news that had just been so calmly delivered.

But, of course, he knew he had no choice.

With a supreme effort, he shut off the hurt and pain and, like the cool-headed businessman he usually was, he forced his mind to confront practicalities.

‘I presume you’ve contacted the baby’s father?’ he said tightly, recalling the man who’d convinced Liv to run away with him. A guy from a band—a band no one had heard of—an older man with dreadlocks streaked with grey and restless eyes that could never quite meet Zac’s gaze.

‘Your sister wasn’t able to tell us the name of the baby’s father. There was a man in the car with her, but he assured us he was only a neighbour and not the father, and our blood tests have confirmed this.’

‘But he could tell you—’

‘I’m afraid he doesn’t know anything about the father’s identity.’

‘Right.’ Zac drew a deep, shuddering breath and squared his jaw. ‘So this baby is, for all intents and purposes, my responsibility?’ Even as he said this, he knew it hadn’t come out right. He’d sounded uncaring and hard. But it was too late to try to retract his words. He could only press on. ‘I’ll...er...make arrangements to come over to London straight away.’

* * *

Chloe had just finished pinning the last decoration in place when her boss rang back.

‘Chloe, I know it’s late, but I need you to book me a flight to London.’ His voice was crisp and businesslike, but tight, too, the way people spoke when they were fighting to keep their emotions in check. ‘You’d better make it the soonest flight possible. First thing tomorrow morning, if you can.’

‘Of course, and would you like a hotel reservation as well?’ Chloe hoped she didn’t sound too surprised, or worried... If there was a crisis, the last thing Zac needed was an anxious, fussing PA.

‘Yes, book a hotel room, please. Somewhere central.’

‘No problem.’ Already she was firing up her computer.

‘And I’ll need you to sort out those accounts with Garlands.’

Chloe smiled to herself. ‘All done.’

‘Already?’ He sounded surprised. ‘That’s great. Well done.’

‘Anything else?’

‘Could you ring Foster’s and tell them that Jim Keogh will represent me at tomorrow’s meeting.’

‘No problem.’ Chloe paused, in case there were any more instructions. ‘That’s all then?’

‘Actually, Chloe...’

‘Yes?’

‘You’d better book two flights to London. Just two one-way seats at this stage. I’m not sure how long I’ll need to be over there.’

Ridiculously, Chloe’s heart sank. An annoying reaction. Why should she care if her boss wanted to take the giggling girl who’d answered the phone with him on an all-expenses-paid trip to London? Of course, she couldn’t help wondering how much use the girl be would if Zac had been called away to something urgent.

‘What name for the second ticket?’ she asked smoothly as the company’s preferred airline’s website came up on her computer screen.

‘Ah...good question. Actually...’

Another pause. Chloe began to fill the boxes on the flights search. Point of departure... Brisbane, Australia. Destination... London, UK. Date of flight...

‘How busy are you, Chloe?’

‘Excuse me?’

‘Could you spare a few days?’

‘To fly to London?’

‘Yes. This is an emergency. I need someone...capable.’

Chloe was so surprised she almost dropped the phone. Was Zac really asking her to go to—to London? At Christmas?

‘I know it’s short notice and it’s almost Christmas and everything.’

Her head spun, first with shock and a fizz of excitement, and then with dismay as she thought about her elderly parents at home, waiting for her, depending on her to look after the shopping and to cook Christmas dinner and to drive them to church. They would never cope without her.

‘I’m sorry, Zac. I don’t really think I could get away at such short notice.’

As she said this, there was the sound of a door opening behind her and she jumped. Turning, she saw her boss striding into the office. Of course, he’d had his phone in the hands-free cradle while he was driving.

As always, Chloe’s heart gave a pitiful little skip when she saw him, but at least she was used to that nuisance reaction now. She knew it wasn’t significant—pretty much the automatic reaction shared by most women who encountered Zac Corrigan’s special brand of tall, dark and handsome.

This evening he looked paler than usual and his grey eyes betrayed a shock he hadn’t been able to shake off.

‘If you can come with me, I’ll pay you a hefty Christmas bonus,’ he said as he strode across the office to Chloe’s desk.

But he’d already paid her a generous Christmas bonus. ‘Can you explain what this is about?’ she asked. ‘What’s happened?’

* * *

What’s happened?

Zac lifted his hand and rubbed at his brow, where a headache had been hovering ever since he took the call from the hospital and now throbbed with renewed and vicious vengeance.

‘Are you all right, Zac? You look...’

Abruptly, Chloe pulled a swivel chair from the nearest desk and pushed it towards him. ‘Here, sit down.’

He held up a hand. ‘It’s OK, thanks. I’m fine.’

‘I’m sorry, but I don’t think you are.’

To Zac’s surprise, his PA took a firm grasp of his elbow, gripping him through his coat sleeve. ‘I think you should sit down now before you fall down.’

Zac sat.

‘Can I get you a cup of tea?’

If he wasn’t feeling so strung out, he might have smiled at this old-fashioned response from his conservative and over-conscientious PA. She was dressed in one of her customary businesslike suits. Her white blouse was neatly buttoned and tucked in, and there wasn’t a strand of her light brown hair out of place. Good old, reliable Chloe.

He was so relieved to see her tonight. He’d been desperate to get away from the giggling Daisy and, by contrast, cool, collected Chloe was a reassuring and comforting sight.

‘I don’t need tea,’ he said. ‘I’d just like to get these flights sorted, and I could really do with your assistance in London.’

‘I assume this is all because of the phone call...from the hospital.’

‘Yes.’ Zac swallowed, trying to clear the sharp, persistent pain that seemed to have lodged in his throat. ‘I’m afraid it wasn’t good news,’ he said with quiet resignation. ‘It was bad. Really bad. The worst.’

‘Oh, no... I’m so sorry.’

Sorry... Zac was sorrier than he’d ever thought possible. He looked away from the sympathy in Chloe’s soft brown eyes. Then, staring bleakly at a spot on the grey office carpet, he told her the rest of his news...

When he finished, Chloe took ages to respond. ‘I...I don’t know what to say,’ she said at last. ‘That’s so terrible. I...I never realised you had a sister.’

‘Yeah...well...’ He couldn’t bring himself to admit his estrangement from Liv, or that he hadn’t known about the baby, that Liv had never even told him she was pregnant, that she almost hadn’t told him about going to England.

How could he admit to this prim and conscientious cliché of a secretary that his reckless sister’s pregnancy was just another of the many secrets she’d hidden from him?

‘I guess you’ll need help...with the baby girl...if they can’t find her father,’ Chloe suggested awkwardly.

‘Yes. I’ll be it’s...I mean...her guardian.’ He knew this, because the one thing he’d insisted on after Liv’s overdose was that she made a will. He’d hoped that a measure of reality would shake some sense into her. ‘I couldn’t possibly manage on my own.’

Babies had never registered on Zac’s radar. He’d always supposed they were a dim possibility in his far distant future...when he eventually settled down and chose a wife and all that went with a wife... But, even though he was a godfather twice over, he’d never actually held a baby. There had always been plenty of women with willing arms and he’d been more than happy to buy expensive gifts and the best champagne to wet the baby’s head and then stay well in the background...

‘I’m sure we can find someone.’ Chloe was busy at her computer screen, scrolling through some kind of spreadsheet.

‘Find someone?’ Zac asked, frowning. ‘How do you mean? What kind of someone?’ He didn’t need to find someone. He had Chloe.

She turned back to him with a smile that was almost sympathetic. ‘This is a list of your personal female contacts.’

‘You have them on a spreadsheet?’

‘Well, yes. How else do you think I manage to—?’

‘All right, all right.’ He gave an impatient wave of his hand. He knew Chloe was a marvel at managing his female friends—sending them the appropriate invitations or flowers, birthday or Christmas presents, get well cards, even, at times, offering excuses on his behalf...but he’d never given any thought to how she kept track of them.