Christmas Where She Belongs. Meredith Webber

frowned right back at him.

      ‘You make it sound as if it’s a sin against humanity—have you not heard of minimising your personal carbon footprint? And why would I need a car? A pleasant stroll across the pedestrian bridge over the river takes me to work and the city, I have parklands all around me, I have a bicycle if I want to go further afield. So, no, I don’t have a car.’

      ‘Well, you could fly back out there with me. I’m going this afternoon and I’m almost sure to be coming back down before too long. Otherwise someone in town could give you a lift.’

      He paused, again studying her a little too intently.

      ‘You’ll come?’ he added.

      She thought of her eight-year-old self setting out to walk to the place called Carnock, the page she’d torn from the atlas in the school library folded in her pocket, and suddenly the idea of seeing the town she’d been headed for all those years ago filled her with an excitement she hadn’t felt for a long, long time.

      ‘I’ll come!’ she said, and she scratched Mike’s head, ruffling the rough hair on it.

      CHAPTER TWO

      ASKING for trouble, that’s what it was, encouraging her to visit Carnock. But who’d have expected Hester’s great-niece to look the way she did? Obviously as sensible and capable as Hester had been, yet somehow vulnerable at the same time.

      On the other hand, it was only fair she see the house before she made any decision, Mac reminded himself.

      Her attention was focussed on Mike at the moment, so he could study her without making it too obvious. Not that he hadn’t been studying her ever since they’d met, trying to analyse the unexpected physical bond he’d felt from the moment he’d laid eyes on her.

      Maybe there was a look of Hester about her, but if there was he couldn’t see it. And as far as women were concerned, his preference was for blondes, and longhaired blondes at that. This woman with her gamine looks and hair like a pixie’s cap—she just wasn’t his type.

      ‘You said “fly back” with you. You have a plane?’

      She’d looked up and caught him staring at her, embarrassing him enough to launch him into speech.

      ‘Cessna 172, handy little plane, four seater, has a range of about a thousand k …’ He stopped and smiled at her. ‘You don’t really want to know all that, do you? But, yes, I have a plane.’

      ‘I’ve never flown,’ she said, the vulnerable part of her looks coming to the fore.

      ‘Never flown in a small plane?’

      Well, a lot of people hadn’t!

      ‘Not flown at all,’ she said. ‘Early on I didn’t have the money for expensive holidays and now—I don’t know, I guess I just haven’t got around to planning one.’

      Instinct told him there was more to that story but he wouldn’t pursue it now.

      ‘You’ll enjoy it. It’s only a couple of hours’ flight, three at the most. The weather’s great, and we go over pretty country—the Great Dividing Range and the Downs. It will be all green and gold at the moment with either new crops planted or the last of the sunflowers. Now to plans. I want to call in and say hello to my parents while I’m in town. How long will you take to pack? How about I collect you at one?’

      She was shaking her head, a stunned look on her face, then her lips tightened and she gave a final head shake.

      ‘It’s not that I don’t trust you, but how do I even know you’re who you say you are? I mean, I know it’s highly unlikely someone would choose me to abduct because I’m worth nothing as a hostage. But I’ve known you, what, a couple of hours at most? And now you expect me to hop in a small plane with you and fly off to a place I’ve barely heard of.’

      ‘Ah, but you had heard of it, that’s the point. I suspect that’s why you let me in, when everything about you tells me you’re a very cautious person. I don’t blame you for feeling apprehensive. Look …’ He fished in his pocket for his wallet and, pulling it out, produced a rather squashed card. ‘The hospital number is there—phone the hospital and ask any questions you need to ask. Being Sunday, Annabelle Crane, our—’

      ‘Annabelle Crane—beautiful blonde with a sexy laugh and a never-ending stream of terrible jokes?’ Clancy spoke in what she hoped was a light-hearted voice, although the mention of Annabelle’s name had started heart palpitations.

      Bad heart palpitations!

      ‘You know Annabelle?’

      Fighting an urge to press her hand to her chest, Clancy said carefully, ‘I trained with her, but I lost touch after she married. You said she’s Annabelle Crane? She’s not married now?’

      Not married to James?

      Forget James. The question she needed to ask herself was could she face Annabelle again as if nothing had ever happened?

      The palpitations were so bad she seriously considered telling Mac to keep the inheritance and get out of her life, but the name of that town—Carnock—kept echoing in her head, while memories of a man who’d tossed her in the air as a child …

      And James falling out of love with her and into love with Annabelle hadn’t really been Annabelle’s fault, any more than James using the overseas honeymoon bookings he’d made for himself and her—the insensitivity of which had caused Clancy the most pain—could be blamed on Annabelle …

      And the pirate wondered why she’d never flown anywhere.

      ‘Definitely not married.’ Mac’s reply dragged her out of the past. He spoke casually, but Clancy heard a hint of something behind the words. Were he and Annabelle an item? Why did he put so much stress on the word ‘definitely’?

      ‘They must have split up,’ Clancy said, telling herself it was none of her business if Annabelle and Mac were involved, and that the uneasiness in her stomach was nothing more than to be expected, given how her life had shifted in the last couple of hours.

      ‘Do you want to phone her?’ he said, offering his mobile. ‘The hospital is on speed dial, just press two.’

      Clancy studied the phone—a much better idea than studying the man. But taking it, pressing the number two, would show a level of distrust she no longer felt. Hadn’t really felt at all with this man from the moment she’d seen his picture in the camera by the door.

      Which was stupid.

      But taking the phone, pressing two, would put her onto Annabelle …

      You’re over it! You moved on years ago!

      She took the phone and pressed the number two, wondering at the same time who would answer if she pressed one instead.

      Annabelle?

      ‘Carnock Hospital, Annabelle speaking. That you, Mac?’

      Clancy pressed the button that cut off the call and handed the phone back to Mac, whose hand closed over it just as it began to ring. He glanced at the number displayed and somehow stopped the noise without answering, instead slipping the phone back into his shirt pocket.

      ‘You didn’t want to chat with Annabelle? Catch up on what’s happening? Share a few student reminiscences?’ he asked, though it was apparent he hadn’t wanted to speak to Annabelle either, for who else would have been phoning right then?

      Now she studied the man, a move aimed at distracting her mind from the reminiscences that lay between her and Annabelle!

      Scruffy, that’s what he was, yet it was a very appealing scruffiness, maybe because of the twinkle that was almost always evident in his dark brown eyes.

      It was dangerous, that twinkle, something to beware of, so she ignored it,