Once Upon a Christmas (18 page)

Sexy man?

Helen bit her lip, shocked that she was noticing how sexy Oliver was when she’d been engaged to someone else until two weeks before.

Surely she shouldn’t be noticing?

But it was impossible not to notice Oliver Hunter. He was powerfully built, very good-looking and so self-confident that almost every woman in the room was casting wishful glances in his direction.

And he was so different to David. For a start David
had been the same height as her and quite slight in build. Oliver was taller and broader and more solid. She knew that Bryony and both her brothers were in the mountain rescue team and she found it easy to imagine Oliver in that role. He was the rugged outdoor type, his dark hair cropped short, his hard jaw showing the beginnings of stubble. And he looked totally out of place in formal dress. On his way to the dance floor he’d discarded his jacket and rolled his sleeves up, revealing strong forearms covered in dark hairs. She had the feeling that he’d much rather be in jeans.

He looked tough and capable and very, very male.

‘What?’ He gave her a lazy smile, his blue eyes trapping hers. ‘You’re giving me funny looks. Should I be flattered or offended?’

She blushed. ‘I’ve just realised I’m probably hogging the only available male in the room.’

His smile faded and he pulled her closer and swung her in time to the music. ‘I’m not available. I’m with you.’

His words made her heart miss a beat and her first thought was one of guilt.

She shouldn’t be responding to another man.

And then she remembered that she no longer had any reason not to respond. She could flirt with anyone she liked.
Except that it had been so long since she’d flirted with a man that she’d forgotten how to do it.

Her cheeks grew pink under his steady gaze. ‘You’re unbelievably kind.’ Her voice sounded croaky and she wondered if he could hear her above the music. ‘But I don’t want you to spend the evening being kind to me and miss out on the opportunity to meet someone exciting.’

‘I’ve met someone exciting.’

His expression was serious and she gave a little laugh. ‘Then you’d better be getting back to her.’

Oliver laughed, too. ‘Glad to see that your sense of humour is returning.’

‘Returning?’ She lifted an eyebrow. ‘How do you know I have a sense of humour to return?’

His gaze slid over her face in slow motion. ‘Because you have smile lines around your eyes. Dead give-away.’

Helen’s smile faded and she felt her tummy tumble. Those compelling eyes locked with hers and tension hummed between them.

Sexual tension. It felt dangerous and deliciously unfamiliar.

As if aware of her thoughts, he stroked a warm hand down her back. ‘Just relax and have fun, Helen. Stop thinking. It’s a dangerous pastime.’

She stopped moving, trapped by the expression in his lazy blue eyes and by the feel of his strong hands on her body as he coaxed her closer still.

Close enough to feel the warmth and strength of his body against hers.

Close enough to feel the evidence of his arousal.

Desire curled low in her pelvis and she gave a little gasp and leaned her forehead against his chest, shocked by the power of her own response.
Confused.
Suddenly the dominant emotion she was feeling wasn’t pain.

Her fingers tightened on his shirt and she felt the steady thud of his heart through the thin fabric, felt the strength of his body against hers as he held her.

And then she caught a glimpse of Bryony across the dance floor.

The bride.

And reality came rushing back.

She wasn’t free to flirt with Oliver Hunter, however sexy he was. She was carrying too much baggage.

‘I’m really sorry but I have to go.’ She dragged herself out of his arms, cast a last look at Bryony and then fled across the dance floor.

O
LIVER
swore fluently and followed her, grabbing his jacket and car keys on the way out of the manor house.

Outside, snow lay thickly on the ground and it was easy enough to spot her footprints forming a pattern that led away from the house.

He gritted his teeth.

Where did she think she was going?

They were in the middle of nowhere and she was wearing ridiculous heels and a thin suit that wasn’t designed for winter weather. She was going to freeze to death. And so was he, if he followed her on foot dressed in this ridiculous suit. He glanced down at himself in disbelief, watching as snowflakes settled on his arms, merging with his white shirtsleeves.

Without bothering to put on the jacket, he sprinted to the car park and slid into his car. Switching on the headlights, he drove slowly, squinting into the darkness, until he spotted her halfway down the long drive.

He pulled up next to her and sprang out of the car. ‘Are
you mad?’ He paced in front of her, blocking her path, forcing her to stop. He was still in his shirtsleeves, his bow-tie hanging around his neck. ‘It’s below freezing out here and you’re not even wearing a coat!’

She looked at him blankly, her cheeks pale in the glow of his headlamps. Snowflakes clung to her dark hair and dusted her suit and she was shivering violently. ‘I just want to go to the cottage.’

Oliver was about to shout at her for taking such a risk but then he took another look at her and realised that she seemed to be in shock.

And he was rapidly freezing to death.

‘You can’t walk there,’ he said gently, glancing down at her strappy high-heeled shoes with a mixture of disbelief and fascination. If it hadn’t been on her foot he wouldn’t have known it was a shoe. How did women ever walk anywhere in that sort of foot gear? ‘Have you any idea how far it is from here?’

Her teeth were chattering. ‘I thought I’d be able to get a taxi from the end of the road.’

Oliver sighed and jerked open the passenger door, guiding her firmly across the slippery drive. ‘This is the Lake District, sweetheart, not London. Taxis don’t go past the end of the road unless you call them, and even then you usually have to wait for hours while they dig themselves out of a snowdrift.’

She shivered but resisted when he tried to bundle her into the car. ‘What are you doing? You can’t leave the wedding. You’re the best man.’

‘And my part is over. Bryony and Jack are leaving to catch their flight soon and the rest of the guests are enjoying
themselves.’ He gave her a gentle push. ‘Get in. I’m taking you home.’

She collapsed into the passenger seat and he closed the door firmly, shaking his head as he saw the marks that her slender heels had made in the snow. It was a wonder she hadn’t broken her ankle.

Then he opened the boot and grabbed two thick down jackets from the back seat, vowing that the next time he went to a wedding in early January he was going to wear appropriate dress.

‘You might need to rethink your footwear while you’re staying here,’ he said tactfully as he slid into the car next to her and handed her a jacket. ‘Put that on and, please, tell me you have some sensible shoes in your luggage.’

She took the jacket from him, her expression slightly glazed. ‘I don’t know what’s in my luggage. To be honest, I don’t know what I stuffed in the case. I dropped it at Bryony’s cottage earlier today.’

Oliver eased the car gently down the snowy drive, his teeth gritting as he realised that there was virtually no traction. It was like driving on an ice rink.

‘Well, let’s hope there’s something suitable for tromping around in the snow because we have more than our fair share of it at the moment in this part of the world.’

He pulled onto the main road and cursed slightly as the wheels spun and the car slid away from him. With the ease of experience he turned into the skid, regained control and gently coaxed the car forwards, careful not to touch the brakes.

‘Should have brought the four-wheel drive,’ he muttered to himself, his large hands strong and steady on the wheel.

‘Why didn’t you?’

‘It’s easier to pull when you’re driving a flashy car.’ He winked at her. ‘I thought I might get lucky if I brought the sex machine.’

Helen gave him a wan smile. ‘And instead you got stuck with me.’

Her voice faltered slightly and Oliver resisted the temptation to pull over and do something radical to bolster her confidence. The snow was falling thickly and he was afraid that if he stopped the car he might not get it started again.

Assuring himself that he’d be able to concentrate on Helen once he had them both safely home, he flicked on the windscreen wipers, squinting to see through the steady fall of flakes that threatened to obscure his vision.

‘If you reach into the back, there’s a blanket.’ He suddenly realised that, despite his spare coat, she was still shivering. ‘Wrap yourself up before you freeze.’

Helen twisted in her seat but before she could do as he’d instructed Oliver caught a flash of red out of the corner of his eye.

Muttering under his breath, he gently brought the car to a halt.

Carefully he reversed a little way back down the road and pulled into a farm gateway. ‘Did you see something?’

‘No.’ Her teeth were chattering now. ‘Nothing.’

Convinced that he wasn’t imagining things, Oliver flicked on the hazard warning lights and reached into the glove compartment for a torch. ‘I’m just going to check. Stay there. I’ll keep the engine running and the heater on full.’

He zipped his jacket up and then walked down the road, his footsteps muffled by the fresh snow. And then he saw it.

A little red car, lying nose first in the ditch. ‘Damn.’ He sprinted forward and flashed the torch, trying to make out if there were any passengers. ‘Is there anyone in the car?’

He turned in surprise to see Helen standing there, swamped in his bulky jacket, a mobile phone in her hand.

‘Get back in the car,’ he ordered, glancing at her feet and wondering once again how any woman could walk in such high heels. But he was touched that she cared enough not to even think about herself.

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ She slithered into the ditch beside him. ‘You may be Super-Doc but surely even you can’t do this on your own. I’m a nurse. I can help. I’ve turned your engine off, by the way.’ She reached out and grabbed the torch from him, directing the beam into the car. ‘Oh, no! Oliver, there’s a baby!’

She suddenly seemed galvanised out of her almost catatonic state and Oliver blinked in amazement at the change in her. With some difficulty he transferred his attention back to the car.

‘And there’s a woman in the driver’s seat,’ he added grimly. ‘Call the rescue services and then get back in my car before you freeze or we’ll be rescuing you, too.’

He told her which road they were on and then proceeded to yank the driver’s door open. At first it refused to budge, buckled by the force of the accident, but Oliver braced his shoulders and yanked again and this time the door groaned and opened with a hideous cracking sound.

‘They’re on their way,’ Helen muttered, and he realised that she was right beside him again.

‘You need to get back in the warm.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Helen said calmly, ignoring him and reaching into the car to remove the keys. Then she made her way to the boot and opened it.

‘What are you doing?’ Oliver watched in amazement as she hitched up the skirt of her suit and climbed into the back seat, via the boot, displaying an amazing amount of slender leg in the process.

‘I’m checking the baby,’ she called back to him, ‘while you deal with the driver. And there didn’t seem to be any other way in without climbing over your patient.’

Stunned by the change in her and temporarily hypnotised by her fabulous legs, Oliver opened his mouth and then shut it again as he heard the injured woman groan.

In a flash he was beside her, his mind back on the job in hand. ‘Hi, there.’ His voice was firm and reassuring and then suddenly he recognised the driver. ‘Michelle? Oh, you poor thing—what have you been doing? Sweetheart, it’s Dr Hunter. You’re going to be fine. Can you tell me where you hurt?’

The woman gave a moan and gasped for air. ‘Oh, Dr Hunter—thank goodness. What about Lauren? Tell me she’s OK.’

‘If Lauren is this gorgeous baby, she seems to be fine,’ Helen said immediately from her position in the back seat. ‘She’s still strapped in and doesn’t appear to be hurt, but I’m not moving her until the paramedics arrive, just to be on the safe side.’

Michelle gave another gasp. ‘The car skidded.’

‘The roads are terrible,’ Oliver agreed, frowning slightly as he heard her laboured breathing. He flashed his torch to see if he could see visible evidence of injury. ‘I need to take a look at you, Michelle, before we get you out of this car. Where are you hurting?’

‘Chest …’ The woman gave a gulp. ‘I can’t really breathe properly.’ She gave a panicky gasp and Oliver flashed the torch again, this time conducting a swift examination. He shone the light on her trachea and noticed that it wasn’t quite central.

Damn.

He heard Helen talking quietly to the baby and then heard the shriek of an ambulance siren and saw the vehicle pull up by the edge of the ditch.

‘Michelle, I think you’ve broken a couple of ribs,’ he said gently, ‘and one of them has punctured your lung. You’ve got air where it shouldn’t be and at the moment it can’t escape. That’s why you’re having trouble breathing.’ And her breathing was becoming more and more laboured by the moment. Grimly aware that he was facing a serious medical emergency, Oliver started to undo the buttons of her coat. ‘I’m going to release that air and then you’ll be able to breathe again.’

And for that he needed access to her chest.

His gaze flickered to Helen and she gave a brief nod of understanding and wriggled her way out of the boot again, this time minus his coat which was now resting carefully over the little baby.

‘Needle thoracotomy. I’ll get you a large-bore cannula and some oxygen,’ she said quietly, and Oliver watched as she scrambled up the snowy bank, wondering what sort of
nurse she was. Obviously a very efficient one. He shook his head as he contemplated how cold she must be in her thin suit.

He turned his attention back to Michelle who was gasping for breath. ‘I’m just going to move your coat and your jumper, sweetheart, so that I can get to your lungs. Then I’m going to put a little tube in to drain your lungs and that will make it easier for you to breathe on your way to hospital. You’re going to be just fine, angel. Trust me.’

‘Here. One 16G IV cannula and oxygen.’ Helen handed him the equipment he needed and proceeded to quickly adjust Michelle’s clothing so that he had access to the side of her chest. ‘We can’t undress her in this weather so I’ll just hold her clothes while you do it.’

Oliver glanced at her. ‘The paramedics lent you a jacket.’

‘That’s right. Just a shame they don’t have the same size feet as me,’ she said ruefully, and Oliver laughed.

‘Michelle, I wish you could see this woman’s shoes.’ As he spoke he was swabbing the skin and getting ready to insert the cannula. ‘You’ve never seen anything more ridiculous in your life. Just a few pieces of ribbon and a heel that looks like a lethal weapon.’

Michelle gave a weak smile as she breathed through the oxygen mask. ‘I love shoes, Dr Hunter,’ she rasped, and Oliver rolled his eyes.

‘Women! You’re incomprehensible.’ He used his fingers to find the right position and then gave Helen a quick nod to warn her that he was about to perform the thoracotomy. ‘All right, Michelle. This might be a bit uncomfortable for a second but it’s really going to help you breathe, sweetheart.

Hold Helen’s hand for a minute. It will help warm her up. Heaven knows, she needs all the help she can get.’

Somehow Helen managed to hold the patient’s clothes out of the way, angle the torch so that he could see what he was doing and provide the necessary comfort and reassurance.

‘How are you doing, Oliver?’ One of the paramedics stuck his head through the other side of the car and Oliver gave him a nod.

‘Steve, can you get Lauren out and into the warm while I finish up here?’ he requested, his expression grim. ‘And then we’ll need a backboard to be on the safe side. I know about the ribs and the lung but I haven’t had a chance to assess the rest of her.’

Because she was going to die if he didn’t act soon.

As he spoke, Oliver unsheathed the cannula and used his other hand to feel for the second intercostal space. He would have preferred anaesthetic and sterile conditions but unfortunately neither was available. ‘This will hurt a bit, Michelle,’ he warned, but she barely flinched as he pushed the needle in. Instantly there was a hiss of gas and Helen released a breath herself.

‘Bingo.’

‘Give me some light on her face.’

Helen flashed the torch again and Oliver was relieved to see that Michelle’s colour had improved immediately and that her breathing was already easier.

‘That’s quite a party trick,’ Helen muttered. ‘I thought you were a GP.’

‘And that makes me brain-dead?’ Oliver glanced at her quizzically. ‘Am I supposed to be offended?’

‘No.’ She laughed and looked a little embarrassed. ‘But none of the GPs who I worked for in London would have been able to do what you just did, I’ll tell you that now. Have you done A and E?’

‘In my youth,’ Oliver said, carefully checking Michelle’s breathing. ‘But I deal with emergencies all the time in the mountain rescue team.’

Despite the steadily falling snow, she was still right beside him, this time holding a roll of tape in her hand. ‘Better secure that cannula,’ she advised, tearing off some tape and handing it to him. ‘Don’t want to undo that good work. Inserting chest drains in freezing weather in the dark isn’t to be repeated, however impressive it seemed the first time.’

He hid his surprise. Less than an hour ago the woman had been in a sodden heap of misery at his sister’s wedding. Now she was brisk and professional, standing right beside him as they dealt with the accident, seemingly oblivious to her high heels and the fact that the weather was bitingly cold.