The Nurse's Christmas Temptation. Ann McIntosh

one of the floral patterned porcelain ovoids.

      She staked out the bedroom she wanted, which had a sleigh bed and large windows that were letting in the last of the afternoon light. Outside was a tiny balcony, just big enough for a miniscule wrought-iron table and matching chair, and in the distance was Rurie Manor, sitting in solitary splendor on the top of a gently sloping hill.

      It looked gorgeous, and she wondered if she’d get a chance to see the inside. Although if it had been turned into a hotel, she might be disappointed.

      Hearing Dr. MacRurie coming up the stairs, she went back into the living area just as he came through the front door.

      “Here you go,” he said, putting down her suitcase, seemingly not at all put out by her ill-mannered behavior. “Have you decided which room you want? I’ll put your case on the luggage stand for you.”

      “Thank you. That one,” she said, pointing to the still open door, determined to put her best foot forward.

      He wheeled the suitcase across the living area, speaking as he went. “I hope you’ll be comfortable here. Caitlin and her husband had a dog, so I gave them a cottage instead—for convenience. Knowing you’d have to be here over the holidays, I figured this place is big enough that if you have someone come for Christmas they can stay with you.”

      There he went with the whole Christmas thing again!

      “I won’t.” It came instinctively, pain pushing the brusque words out. Drawing herself up, and not wanting to sound as churlish as she felt, she added, “But thank you.”

      “Oh.” He’d put her bag in the room and was standing in the doorway, his gaze sharp. But all he said was “Well, if that changes you’ll be all set. But if not at least you won’t be bored. This time of year is nice and busy.”

      “This time of year? What’s so special about it?”

      Giving her a surprised glance, he said, “Caitlin didn’t tell you?” Then he answered his own question. “Of course, she had other things on her mind. Eilean Rurie is famous for its Winter Festival. Well, it used to be called the Christmas Festival until the eighties, when my grandfather changed the name. We’re called the North Pole of Scotland, and we attract hundreds of people every year.”

       Oh, come on.

      “You’re kidding, right?”

      “Nope.”

      He gave her one of his killer smiles, and Harmony’s stomach fluttered, making her look away in case her reaction showed.

      “Did you know that celebrating Christmas—well, really it was Yule back then—was banned in Scotland in the sixteenth century? Christmas Day wasn’t made a public holiday until 1958, and Boxing Day was only recognized in the seventies. My great-grandfather decided he wanted to make the holidays a big splash, and encouraged all the islanders to do it too, once the ban was officially lifted. It evolved into the Christmas Festival, and then the Winter Festival, and it’s grown with each year.”

      Plunking herself down onto the squishy sofa, Harmony only just stopped herself from putting her head in her hands in disbelief. Hundreds of people, running around singing carols and doing who knew what else?

       Just shoot me now!

      Yet the smile on the doctor’s face told her there was only one of them in the room who viewed the upcoming festivities with horror. The happy anticipation on his face spoke volumes, and it made Harmony pull herself together once more, even while wondering how many other times this man was going to throw her off-kilter.

      “How on earth do you accommodate hundreds of people here? The village doesn’t look big enough.”

      “Well, the manor has a lot of rooms, and most of the villagers offer bed and breakfast services, using their spare rooms, or even small apartments attached to their houses. Most of the temporary staff are island kids coming back for winter break, but the others who don’t have a place to stay have dormitories behind the church. A couple of really entrepreneurial souls have even put up a few tiny houses on their properties, and rent those out to visitors. We also get quite a few daytrippers, and the ferry runs more frequently to accommodate them. Most of the residents benefit in some way from the festival. If they didn’t we wouldn’t bother. It’s a lot of work.”

      Harmony shook her head in disbelief, still not sure he was telling the truth. “But there’s nothing going on. No one’s putting up lights or decorating.”

      “It’s too early,” he said, somewhat cryptically, then added, “Poke around downstairs tomorrow, if you like, or just rest up from your trip. The surgery is closed on Saturday afternoon, and Sunday, although everyone on the island has my number and will call if they need me. I’ve made a list of numbers and left it on the hall table for you, in case you need anything, and the CIs have stocked the fridge—although, who knows what they put in there? Ingrid’s a vegan, and Katherine’s always on some kind of diet, Dora has a sweet tooth that won’t quit, and Sela is crazy for cheese.”

      By the time he’d finished his recitation Harmony found herself chuckling. “I’m sure I’ll be able to make a meal of whatever they’ve left, and I’ll bless Dora forever if there’s a chocolate something in amongst the rest.”

      Cam was grinning too. “I have no doubt there is, but if you feel up to it nip over to the pub too. They do a really great Scotch pie on Saturdays.”

      “Maybe I will,” she said.

      “Right, well… I have to go. Final planning meeting tonight, and it will no doubt be a fractious one. When we get to this time of year they usually are, because everyone is so frazzled and behind on everything. If you need anything give me a shout. I always have my phone on me.”

      He paused halfway out through the door.

      “Oh, and there’s an Armistice Day ceremony at the cenotaph on Monday, starting at ten. Come along, if you’d like.”

      Then he was gone, clattering down the stairs, leaving her to wonder why, when she had been so determined to stay away from Christmas, she’d landed in the North Pole of Scotland. And why, having decided to ignore men, she found her boss so damned handsome.

      Cam had been right about the meeting being contentious, but he couldn’t seem to keep his mind on the grumbles and arguments going on around him. Instead he found himself thinking about his new nurse. Her sometimes curt way of speaking, juxtaposed with her delightful throaty giggle as he listed the CIs eating habits, made her a fascinating enigma. And, yes, her delicious looks.

      Even though he wasn’t interested in relationships he was still all-male—able and willing to appreciate a beautiful face and a lovely curvy figure. As long as he remembered he could look but not touch, it was all good.

      “Melanie, the theme was decided back in February. It’s not our fault if you’ve not gotten on board with it.”

      At the sound of Dora’s firm rebuttal Cam pulled his thoughts away from Harmony Kinkaid and back to the battle of wills going on in front of him.

      “But it’s silly. We did Love as a theme before. Why do it again?”

      Melanie was as stubborn as ever, and as one of Scotland’s best-known living potters always felt her word should be law. But Dora never fell in line with that concept.

      “That was nigh on twenty years ago. And what better theme could we have for the Winter Festival than that? No matter the religion, or the holiday, love is at the center of them all, isn’t it?”

      Cam intervened, before things got too heated.

      “Melanie, you know full well it’s too late to change the theme, so either you’ve gone with it or not. The choice was yours.”

      Then Hugh Jacobson had a complaint about the decision to extend