The Surgeon's Christmas Wish Read online

  She was in charge. Not Anson, not Fraser.

  Fraser... She would have to make it clear to him that she could fight her own battles. A smile began to play at the corners of her lips. Seeing Anson’s face after Fraser had kissed her had been priceless. Maybe she did owe him a thank you. A little one. And a reprimand. Stealing kisses was most assuredly not in his contract.

  But it would have to wait. It had been a busy day already and, with numbers increasing on the slopes, patients were coming in at a steady rate. Which was just what she needed right now. Work. Focus. And absolutely no men.

  CHAPTER SIX

  “ROOM FOR ONE MORE?”

  The look on Tara’s face told Fraser that waiting for an answer wouldn’t be a good idea. He slipped onto the chairlift beside her and carried on talking as if she’d given him a broad smile of welcome. “I saw you heading for the slopes and thought I’d make good on that race I promised you.”

  “If you were really going to make good on the promise, you would’ve shown up yesterday.”

  “She shoots, she scores!” Fraser called out cheerily. Tara turned away silently from him and fixed her gaze on the ski lift’s path. Ouch.

  Suddenly the lift ride didn’t seem long enough to make a dent in Tara’s mood. She was doing a stellar job of pretending they weren’t sitting thigh to thigh, floating up a mountainside together as the dawn light poured over the ridges of Deer Creek. Her dark curls peeped out from under her red bobbled ski hat and it was all Fraser could do not to lift up a gloved finger and tuck one behind her ear.

  A different tack was needed as the comedy approach was meeting a dead end in the results department. This whole stop-start friendship thing needed to be fixed. He was pretty sure they both needed a bit of “even keel”. Here goes nothing.

  “I think I may have overstepped the mark yesterday. Put my foot in it, so to speak.”

  “Which foot was that? Your right or left?” She looked appraisingly at him, suddenly appearing to enjoy watching him squirm. “Or both?”

  “Probably both if it manifests itself as acting like a jealous boyfriend.”

  Tara laughed away the comment nervously. Fraser’s timing was awful. Perfectly awful. Or awfully perfect? They needed to address the elephant on the chair lift. He was obviously trying to make an effort and she hardly needed to be churlish to prove her point. The new improved Tara was ready for action.

  “In fairness, you probably did me a favor.”

  Fraser gave her a nod to continue. “When you ki— What you did probably helped my ex understand my life is well and truly different—that I am well and truly different.” She pulled her eyes away from his and returned them to the slopes, “Even if it wasn’t an entirely accurate portrayal of things.”

  Having that muscular thigh pressing against her own was hardly a foolproof method of blocking out Fraser’s stab at being a Cro-Magnon yesterday. She could hardly tell Fraser that kissing him again had had the same knee-weakening effect it had had the first time. If romance wasn’t completely off limits he would definitely be her perfect choice.

  Perfect? What was that anyhow? If her life had been a picture-perfect snow globe a few weeks ago she had little doubt who had come and shaken it all up. She looked up at the sky, snowflakes landing softly on her lashes. Ease up, Tara. There are worse things in life than a man trying to protect your honor.

  “What I’m trying to say is thanks and don’t worry about it. We’re good. That man manages to bring out the worst in everyone.” She shot Fraser a horrified look. “Not that you were at your worst. I mean...it was nice what you did. The intent anyway...not necessarily the execution. But—”

  “Tara, stop. It’s all right.” Fraser laid a gloved finger on her lips. A soothing contrast to the rigid commands she was used to receiving from her ex. More like a sexy contrast!

  “Why don’t we just start with a clean slate?” He pointed to the snow gently falling around them. “Pure as the driven snow?”

  Her cheeks went rosy. Traitors! Her thoughts since his arrival had been far from pure. She’d have to work on that.

  “Deal.” She nodded in the direction of the dismount platform as the lift neared the top of the black diamond run. “It looks like you’re going to have an opportunity to prove yourself right about now.”

  *

  “I think we must’ve had two new feet of snow overnight!” Liesel stood at the window of the clinic reception area, eyes sparkling at the prospect of cutting some fresh tracks into the morning’s untouched slopes.

  “Go on.” Tara waved a hand in the direction of the front doors. “Go have a ski if you like. Fraser and I had a good run this morning and I only need you back before the novices start running into new-powder problems.”

  “You and Fraser had a sunrise run?”

  “It was nothing, Liesel.” She waggled a warning finger at her friend. “Just two colleagues having a friendly race.”

  “I’ll bet it was friendly.” Liesel’s eyes danced merrily.

  “Go on—get out of here now before I change my mind.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive. If you wait until this afternoon, the runs will be covered in crud and you’ve more than earned a bit of fresh-powder time.”

  Tara grinned as Liesel skipped out of the clinic. Her ski vocabulary had come a long way since she’d moved to Deer Creek. Not to mention her skills on the slopes. Despite the heavy snow overnight, she’d managed to trounce Fraser soundly that morning. It had been an exhilarating run down her favorite piste.

  After making her agree to a rematch the next morning, Fraser had headed back to the lifts for another few runs while she opened the clinic. He wasn’t rostered on until later in the day and vowed to get his revenge.

  In between patients, Tara checked her laptop to see if the roads were clear. When she called the lodge reception desk they confirmed her ex had checked out. Letting a heavy exhalation whoosh through her lips, she was surprised at how good she felt.

  He had left the clinic knowing his place in her life now—absolutely nowhere. And clearing the slate with Fraser had felt good. She felt grown up—womanly.

  A grown woman. A doctor, for heaven’s sake! A doctor who was having a whale of a time up here in Deer Creek where the snow fell thick and fast. Christmas was practically around the corner and, most importantly, her patients were treated with the high level of care they deserved. The clinic was just a few months away from being her own private practice. A small inheritance from her parents meant she had already been able to partially buy out the previous doctor, who’d decided he’d had enough snow and moved to Hawaii. The resort owned the rest of it for now. By spring, it would all be hers.

  She just needed to maintain her focus. Not let Fraser and those mind-boggling kisses of his get to her. There was no chance she was going to give up all of this just because her heart was turning some fairly wild somersaults.

  A flush of heat began to creep up her cheeks at the memory of exactly why her heart was cartwheeling around her ribcage. She closed her eyes for a moment, realizing too late how easy it was to transport herself back to that first magical moment. There she was, standing between Fraser’s legs as he pulled her in close...

  “A latte for the doc?”

  Tara’s eyes flew open. Yup! It was Mr. Perfect Timing slipping her favorite hot drink across the counter.

  “I thought you were busy trying to improve your race time.”

  “There was so little to improve, I did it in the next run,” he countered with a broad smile.

  “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

  “You’re on. Dawn still early enough for you?”

  “Again.” Tara sent him a doubting look despite the smile playing across her lips, “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

  “You’ve got to learn to let bygones be bygones, my dear.” He sent her a slow wink and tapped the side of his still slightly bruised nose. “Let me start my shift early to make up for it.”

/>   “Fair enough.” Tara picked up the coffee he’d brought her and took a long warming draft. He was right. She needed to learn to let go a bit more. Trust. A lot easier said than done.

  *

  Fraser took a full swig of his latte and immediately pulled a face. Stone cold. That afternoon the clinic had seen back-to-back patients. Even when Liesel had joined them, they had been run off of their feet. Fraser was energized by the work, happy to have somewhere to focus his energies. A fresh snowfall was a big lure to skiers. The new powder was easier on the knees and covered over hazardous runs that could have become icy overnight from too much compaction. But a new layer of snow, particularly one this deep, had its own set of hazards.

  Skiers unfamiliar with the resort wouldn’t know which paths to stick to, and cross-country skiers were often tempted to go well beyond what would have been a safe distance. The worst case the ski patrol had seen that morning had been what could have very easily been a tree-well suffocation. A twenty-something snowboarder had been racing down a black diamond run and fallen head first into a tree well, becoming immobilized. If it hadn’t been for his fast-thinking friends, whistling and calling the ski patrol for help, he might very well be dead now.

  As Fraser soberly signed the young man out of the clinic after an obligatory health check, he reminded him that ninety percent of people involved in tree-well falls were suffocated. “If you can, thrill-seek safely,” he called after him as the clinic doors swung shut.

  Good advice. Could he apply it to kissing a beautiful American woman when he had no intention of staying?

  Fraser had barely seen Tara since he’d arrived that morning. Each of them were kept busy in separate examination rooms as patients arrived presenting with minor head injuries, a couple of broken wrists, several skiers’ thumbs and a particularly painful-looking patella or kneecap dislocation. He’d felt so badly for the poor young girl he’d carried her back to the lodge as her mother had towed her snowboard behind them. The mountains could be so much fun, but a healthy degree of caution was definitely called for when whizzing along the slopes.

  As he returned to the clinic, Fraser caught himself sending a sharp laugh out into the crisp afternoon air. The pithy words of wisdom he dispensed to his patients could very easily apply to his private life. Perhaps there was a way he could superimpose one of those warning signs on Tara every time he looked at that tempting pair of lips of hers. Rein it in, Fraser. It’ll all soon be over and before you know it Tara will be but a distant memory. He sucked in another lungful of biting mountain air. At least that’s what you’ve got to keep telling yourself.

  *

  Tara let herself into her apartment, relieved the day was over. It had been three weeks since she’d had the showdown with her ex and mercifully things at the clinic had been so busy she’d had remarkably little time to think about how much had changed since the arrival of one Dr. Fraser MacKenzie.

  Allowing herself to slump down onto the bench of her kitchen nook, she shrugged off her coat where she sat.

  Sliding her radio into the center of the table, Tara double-checked the receiver was in the “on” position. After being caught out those few weeks ago, she had been doubly careful the radio was always functioning. The lifts had been closed for the day, but occasionally at night the radio crackled to life. Cross-country skiers caught out by bad weather, a slip and fall in the parking lot. Nothing too outrageous had happened over the past year, but she’d heard stories and definitely wanted to be prepared.

  There was more snow forecast for that night and, even though it wasn’t technically her responsibility, if anyone took ill at the lodge she was more than happy to go over and check them out.

  It was funny, she noted, looking around her kitchen. She’d always been perfectly happy to come home to her little bachelorette apartment. Happy to potter around, read a book, do some research, watch a little television. Now, with Fraser’s arrival, her time alone felt quiet in a different way. Emptier. Her early morning runs down the Elk Slip now felt incomplete if he didn’t show. He was there most mornings and—in fairness—if he didn’t show he left a note at the clinic or called her the night before to tell her not to wait for him. More trips to the Valley. He must have really hit it off with the hospital staff down there. Which was a good thing. Right?

  Blowing a sigh through her lightly parted lips, she leant her head back against the wall. In truth, she’d really enjoyed the past few weeks. Fraser was an excellent doctor and she felt they had each made strides professionally. Sharing tips and anecdotes from various cases, each day served as confirmation that the pair of them worked well together. That they made a good team. Professionally, of course. If only she could just stop the butterflies tracking the course of her entire insides each time she was near him, getting through the season would be a whole lot easier.

  Letting her head fall into her crossed arms on the table, Tara allowed herself a small whimper of despair. They were only a few weeks into the first of the winter snow and she was already dreading the end of it. Fraser had probably booked tickets to go on to some other resort on the other side of the world in the spring. She would be a whole lot better off coming to terms with his eventual departure now. Unless...

  Was there anything here in Deer Creek she could use to keep him here?

  She racked her brain. A dozen of Marian’s blueberry muffins weekly for life? Possibly.

  A membership to the valley golf club? Doctors liked golf, didn’t they? Scottish ones in particular. She thought for a moment before sending a barely audible “uh-uh” into the still air of her apartment. She didn’t play golf at all and suspected Fraser, a man who chased snow around the globe, wasn’t a big fan either. Back to muffins.

  An offer of a free massage every week? Nope. Definitely not. Too dangerous.

  She pushed herself up from the table and plodded into the bathroom. It was a pointless exercise. Fraser was a man who liked change. One glimpse at his résumé had told her that.

  And she liked her privacy. Privacy and friendship. Friendship was precisely what she wanted with the sexiest, most spine-tinglingly gorgeous man she’d ever seen. Yessirree!

  Tara twisted the taps open on the bath and a nice whoosh of steam began to fill the bathroom. Maybe a double dose of bubbles would help.

  *

  Tara groaned as she heard the radio crackle to life just five minutes into her relaxing bath.

  “This is Ski Rescue One to Dr. Tara Braxton. Do you read me? Over.” Tara leapt out of the bath, nearly slipping on the floor and cracking her head on the doorframe in the process. Pulling a thick red towel around herself, she lurched into the kitchen and grabbed the radio, water pooling at her feet.

  Trying not to sound too breathless, she pushed the button on the side of the radio and responded with her call numbers.

  “Dr. Braxton, this is your social medic demanding your presence at the Blue Lantern Tavern for Peanut Night. Over.”

  Tara smiled at the radio as she belatedly recognized her colleague’s Australian accent. She swiped at some bubbles bobbling on her shoulder. Ski Medic One was Eric’s call name. With the pair being inseparable outside work hours, it was little wonder how Liesel had gotten hold of the radio. “Ski Medic One, I think you can get through the night on your own.” She took a glimpse out of the window and saw the air was laced with fat snowflakes. A cozy night in by the fire would be just fine. Honestly.

  “Dr. Braxton, declining our invitation is not an option. Snowmobile will be at your stairs for pick-up in five minutes. Over.”

  Tara laughingly tried to reply, but knew Liesel well enough. The nurse would have turned off her radio and, like it or not, her chauffeur-driven snowmobile would be there in a few minutes. Peanut Night at the Blue was an institution at Deer Creek—not just for the locals but for the seasonal rescue crews and medics. After the lifts had shut on a Sunday night, a good crowd of merrymakers would go to the bar to listen to music and share pitchers of beer over bottomless baskets of sal
ty peanuts whose shells you could just toss on the floor.

  Some nights it was a mellow affair and others? Well, Tara had only heard about how wild things could get at the Blue. She’d always managed to sneak out before things had gotten too crazy. Tonight, to keep Liesel happy, she would have a beer or two, maybe brave a game of darts and then slip out when no one was watching.

  “You don’t look ready to go.”

  Tara froze, the towel barely clutched round her. The all-too-familiar Scottish brogue unleashed a ripple of pleasure shimmying around her insides. Why was that voice coming from her kitchen door?

  Because none other than Fraser MacKenzie was standing at her kitchen door, that’s why.

  “What on earth...?”

  “Liesel radioed me and said you’d asked for me to come by and collect you for something called peanut night.” Tara pursed her lips. Of course she had. Nice one, Liesel. Guess you’ve joined ranks with Marian in playing cupid. She’d only just managed to feel as if the “friends thing” could work with Fraser. She hadn’t had a chance to test the theory in a social setting. Terrific!

  “Am I early?” He carried on speaking through the door’s glass window as if it was perfectly normal to stand on someone’s porch on a Sunday night while they dripped bath oil and bubbles onto their kitchen floor.

  “Just a little.” Tara stepped to the door and flipped the lock open, all too aware of the heat creeping up her neck. She was practically stark naked in front of the man she’d had more than one colorful thought about. Not really the way she’d imagined him seeing her. Not that she’d imagined that or anything.

  “Give me five minutes, will you?” Without waiting for a reply, she raced off to her bedroom, ensuring the door was closed. Tight. She was going to kill Liesel when she saw her.

  A couple of minutes of frenzied drying and clothes-grabbing later, Tara let herself fall back onto her bed as she wiggled into a pair of fresh-from-the-dryer jeans. Thank goodness it was poorly lit in the Blue, she thought with a smirk as she slipped the button snugly into place. Rattling through her shirts, Tara chose a loose-checked cotton top with long sleeves she knew hung well on her shoulders. The Blue was hardly dressy, but she joined in the peanut nights so rarely she may as well make a small effort. Looking good for Fraser had nothing to do with it.