The Family She Needs

Praise for Sue MacKay

‘The Gift of a Child by Sue MacKay is a deeply emotional, heart-rending story that will make you smile and make you cry. I truly recommend it—and don’t miss the second book: the story about Max.’

—HarlequinJunkie

‘What a great book. I loved it. I did not want it to end. This is one book not to miss.’

—GoodReads on The Gift of a Child

‘Were you ever hit? Shot, I mean?’ The question was quiet, and filled with a lot of other questions.

‘No.’ Logan straightened and looked directly at Karina. ‘No.’

That wasn’t a lie. A dead hostage was no use to anyone. The guns had been pointed a metre either side of him, the bullets kicking up the dust close enough that he’d felt the grit on his legs, the warning explicit. Don’t think you can get away.

Logan looked deep into Karina’s eyes, saw nothing but her big-hearted concern and felt his heart roll. His finger touched her chin, his thumb slipping over her smooth skin.

‘But you had a bad time?’

‘Yeah, Karina, I did.’

Then he bent and brushed his lips over hers to stop her talking any more. Except the instant his mouth touched hers he had to have more, had to lose himself in her. His arms came up and wrapped around her, hauling her warm, soft body in close against his chilled, frightened one. He could forget the horror while Karina deflected him. He deepened his kiss. Karina returned it, meeting each of his moves with one of her own. Then her arms slid around his neck and pulled him even closer and he felt safe. Warm and cared about and safe.

Dear Reader,

Many years ago I moved from Auckland to the small rural town of Motueka—talk about a culture shock! But once I got my head around no traffic lights, and all the apples and kiwifruit anyone could wish for growing everywhere, I quickly discovered some of the most wonderful people and made a lifelong friend there.

When I wanted to tip Karina Brown out of her usual Auckland haunts and into somewhere that could nurture her I naturally chose Motueka, and let the locals work their magic on her, too. And then along comes Logan Pascale—and if ever there’s a man who needs help it’s him. Of course it’s Karina who really gets him back on his feet, with her big heart and a ton of love to share.

I hope you enjoy following these two on their journey to happiness.

Cheers!

Sue MacKay

With a background of working in medical laboratories, and a love of the romance genre, it is no surprise that SUE MACKAY writes Mills & Boon® Medical Romance™ stories. An avid reader all her life, she wrote her first story at age eight—about a prince, of course. She lives with her own hero in the beautiful Marlborough Sounds, at the top of New Zealand’s South Island, where she indulges her passions for the outdoors, the sea and cycling.

The Family She Needs

Sue MacKay

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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To Jacqui. Thank you for the keys to your house, a sympathetic ear, lots of advice I mostly ignored, and the best ever parties. It might’ve been a long time ago but I’ve never forgotten.

Table of Contents

Cover

Praise for Sue MacKay

Excerpt

Dear Reader

About the Author

Title Page

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

‘I’M AFRAID IT’S a no from this bank, Miss Brown.’ The manager stood abruptly, indicating the interview was over.

Karina gritted her teeth to hold back a sharp retort. Miss Brown? In a town where everyone from millionaires to bag ladies was on first-name terms, she had just been insulted. She’d lived in Motueka for a little under a year but no one called her Miss anything. She was Karina Brown. End of. Had been since the day she’d left Auckland in a blaze of flashing media cameras and pushy reporters shoving microphones in her face as they demanded answers to questions she’d had no intention of answering. The day she’d gone back to her maiden name and left her old life behind to go and reinvent herself.

‘Thank you for your time, Mr Pederson.’ She gave the same back through clamped jaws.

Rising from the chair, she was astonished to feel her legs shaking. Smoothing down her knee-length pencil skirt and tugging her shoulders back tight inside her tailored jacket—not worn since Auckland—Karina strode out of the bank manager’s office with all the aplomb of her old persona. She would not grovel for the money she desperately needed to buy the other half of the house—not yet. Being told no just increased her determination to achieve her goal.

‘How’d that go?’ Rebecca called, only loudly enough for her to hear.

Crossing to her friend, who was more commonly known as Becca, despite her name badge, stationed at the bank’s customer service desk, Karina shook her head. ‘A big fail. Apparently I’m not a good prospect for lending money to.’

Ironic, considering her background. Once upon a time several hundred thousand dollars had been chickenfeed to her. Nowadays she lived on the wages she earned as a nurse at the medical centre she jointly owned in the small rural town of Motueka, far removed from that glamorous life. She had a tiny nest egg, put aside for rainy days, but nothing big enough to buy out Logan Pascale.

‘Don’t you dare think like that,’ growled Becca.

‘I showed him the property valuation and suggested I could spread the loan out for thirty years.’ She’d be sixty-four and nearly ready to retire by then, but it would be worth it.

Becca leaned closer. ‘It shouldn’t mean a thing, but half the problem is you’re not a local. Here, coming from the Big Smoke up north is like coming from another country.’

‘I’ve heard that enough to know it’s true.’ But it didn’t explain the malicious gleam in Pederson’s eyes as he’d told her no. He’d been enjoying himself at her expense. ‘Bet he’s looked me up online.’

‘Are you sure you want a mortgage hanging over your head? Couldn’t you ask someone in your family for the money this once?’

‘What?’ Karina shuddered. Prove to her father that what he believed had been right all along? That she couldn’t make it on her own? ‘No!’ she barked, too loudly.

Becca wouldn’t understand her need to stand on her own two tiny feet and do what was right for a little boy who relied entirely on her for everything.

‘I can’t do that,’ she reiterated, more quietly. This was the toughest test she’d faced so far in her stand to be independent. So suck it up and beat the odds.

‘I figured that’d be your answer, but don’t let your pride get in the way of what’s right.’

Jeepers, Becca, be blunt, why don’t you?

‘Anything I do will be what’s right for Mickey.’

Mickey. The boy she loved as if he were her own. As one of his two guardians, she intended doing everything within her power to make sure she kept the only home he’d known. She’d promised his parents no less.

‘How is that bundle of mischief? I haven’t seen him for days.’

‘Mickey’s cool.’

Damn, but this was hard. She also needed to keep everything exactly as it was for herself. She’d crafted a new life in which she was in control and happy, in a quiet, comfortable way.

‘Just the usual hiccups. Not enough honey on his toast and me putting the wrong shirt out for him to wear to kindergarten.’

‘I bet you give him everything he wants.’

‘How can I refuse when he gives me that gappy grin? But this morning he was very clingy and didn’t want to go to kindergarten. Most unusual. Said his tummy was sore.’

‘Did you insist on him going?’

Karina shrugged. ‘Jonty’s looking after him while I’m here.’

Becca returned to the original problem. ‘What are you going to do about buying out Dr Pascale now?’

‘Know a millionaire with lots of cash stashed under his bed?’ A few hundred thousand was all she needed but, hey, in for an apple, in for a sack full of dollars.

‘You want a sexy hunk to go with those millions?’

‘Rich and sexy? All in one package? What’s the catch?’ Because she’d had that package and knew the pitfalls all too well.

‘I don’t know any guy around here fitting the description.’ Becca grinned.

‘Just as well.’ Karina smiled back, thankful that her friend hadn’t pointed out which of them actually knew the most millionaires.

‘You still don’t want to put your toe in the dating pond?’

‘That’s the last thing I want. I’m enjoying being in charge of my own life. Why would I want to give that up to be told which functions to attend and who to invite to dinner?’

Becca chose not to answer that. Instead she went with ‘Heard when the good doctor’s actually arriving?’ A gleam of excitement lit up her eyes.

‘Not a dickey bird. I don’t even know if he’s left Africa yet.’ Hopefully he was still out in the wilderness, working with people who needed his medical skills. ‘The longer I hear nothing, the longer I’ve got to come up with a solution for the house.’

But the days were running out—fast.

‘Wonder what he’s like? Even if he doesn’t have millions under his bed he could be sexy.’

‘Like that’s going to make a difference to anything.’

The situation was complicated enough, with them sharing guardianship of Mickey and having joint ownership of the house and attached medical centre. They’d never met, which suited her perfectly. She’d kept everything ticking over since Maria and James had died. Dr Pascale hadn’t made it home for his brother and his sister-in-law’s funeral—hadn’t talked to Karina at all, even by phone. Their only communication had been through the lawyers acting for the unusual partnership put in place solely to protect Mickey.

When a letter had arrived from the estate lawyers stating that Dr Logan Pascale wanted to sell the property and invest the money for Mickey’s future, she’d felt a familiar punch in her stomach. Only this time she refused to fold. This time she would stand up to anything being thrown at her and would not be told what to do. Mickey shouldn’t be moved away from all his memories of his parents.

When Maria and James had approached her about becoming a guardian if the unthinkable happened, she’d promised to do everything to make Mickey happy. Maria, her best friend ever, had hugged her and said that was exactly why they were asking. Now she had a promise to keep.

Putting that aside, Karina said, ‘Guess I’d better be getting home.’ She turned to stare out through the glass doors and shivered at the sight. ‘It wasn’t raining when I walked up here.’ Though the sky had been grey and threatening. ‘My car needs two new tyres.’ It sat in the driveway going nowhere in the meantime.

‘I’d offer you my truck, but my brother’s borrowed it.’ Becca handed her a large umbrella with bright blue logos splashed across it. She winked. ‘Compliments of the bank. They’re only for our most important clients.’

Karina couldn’t speak for the sudden lump in her throat. Thank you, she thought as she stared at this woman who’d unexpectedly become a good friend. Thank you. Hopefully Becca understood.

The wind blew rain into her face as she headed down High Street towards home. Home, Mickey, the surgery: her life. The life she liked to think she controlled.

‘Mostly…’ she muttered as the rain got worse.

Within minutes her skirt was soaked and her blouse was getting damp down the front. Her jacket hadn’t been designed to be closed across her breasts. Very classy, but totally impractical for her newer, more prosaic lifestyle. She hurried along the footpath, quickly giving up on avoiding the puddles. She’d have jogged all the way, but given she was wearing three-inch narrow heels—all to impress an unimpressionable goat of a banker—she figured that might be a little crazy even for her.

The cooler air did nothing to chill her anger at being refused a loan. She should have asked on what grounds she’d been turned down, but giving Mr Pederson the pleasure of knowing he’d upset her hadn’t been an option. Now she’d have to think of another way to raise the capital. Oh, yeah, like how? Short of selling herself down at the wharf, there weren’t any ideas shining out at her.

Shoving the disappointment and her sense of unfairness down deep, where she kept insurmountable problems, she focused on reaching home as soon as possible. Before lunch she needed to change Jonty’s wound from when he’d fallen in the chook pen and caught his forearm on a stake.

Dear old Grumpy Jones. Secretly, she adored Jonty. Underneath all that griping he was such a sweetheart, and so helpful. Without him she’d never have got the garden dug in time to plant spuds and onions. He’d complained about it with every turn of the soil, but when she’d tried to wrest the spade from him he’d given her an earful.

A gust of wind slammed into her and caught the umbrella, turning it inside out. The heavens poured water onto her carefully styled hair and turned her blouse see-through. So much for trying to look half-decent for once. Of course the bank’s umbrella was rubbish. Went with the miserable manager’s image.

Locking the gate at the bottom of her driveway, she turned for the house and groaned. The hole in the asphalt had overflowed, sending water streaming out to the road. Water, water everywhere …

‘It’s so tempting.’

Despite her angst with the world she felt a flicker of mischief unfurl deep inside, and she raised a grin. Might as well get some fun out of the day and act like the delinquent Mr Pederson believed her to be. This hopelessness needed stomping on—and stuff the shoes. It was doubtful she’d be wearing them again anyway.

Karina breathed deep and leapt into the air to land in the shallow hole. Splashes of murky water shot in every direction, including up her legs. Up, down, splash, splash. She pretended the tears leaking from the corners of her eyes were from pure pleasure, and not exasperation at her inability to fix the current crisis.

‘I want to do that!’ Mickey yelled from the veranda.

‘Come on, then.’

So the sore tummy had recovered. She watched anxiously as he leapt off the steps and charged towards her.

‘Go easy,’ she muttered. She hated that he believed he was invulnerable. But she also acknowledged that his condition mustn’t hold him back.

Splash. Mickey’s round face split wide into a grin. Bending his knees, he bombed his feet into the deepest water he could find. His shrieks filled the air, and soon Karina was laughing hard. To hell with banks and money and everything. This was what life was about: enjoying the little things, and especially having fun with this boy she loved so much.

When Mickey was totally soaked she grabbed his hand and started for the house. ‘Let’s get into dry clothes and then I’ll make us hot chocolate drinks.’

‘Can we?’ Mickey shouted. ‘Really?’

‘I reckon.’ She bounded up the steps and kicked off her shoes. ‘Is Mr Grumpy here or out in the shed?’

‘Inside our place.’

She untied Mickey’s laces and tugged his shoes and socks off. ‘Straight to the bathroom, please. Get out of those clothes while I find you some dry ones.’

‘What about my hot chocolate?’

‘After you’ve changed.’

She ruffled his hair and gently pushed him inside, before banging the door shut behind them. Dropping her sopping bag and the useless umbrella into the bucket in the corner, she spun around to head to her bedroom and pulled up short at the sight of a man walking towards her.

‘Who are you?’ she gasped, though from the way goose-bumps were lifting her skin she already had an inkling. So much for hoping he was weeks away. But, hey, it was that kind of day.

‘Logan Pascale.’ The long and lean, tanned man held a hand out to her. ‘You’re Karina Brown?’ His eyes were very wide, and definitely not focused on her face.

Automatically putting her hand in his, she tried to lock eyes with him, but he was staring at something below her chin. When she followed the direction of his gaze she gasped again. Every last scrap of her clothing was wet, clinging to her like plastic wrap, and her blouse was more see-through than if she’d worn nothing. Her breasts pushed hard against her bra … her very lacy, transparent bra.

Open up, floor, right now. Gobble me up.

When nothing happened she dredged deep for what little pride she could muster. ‘Yes, I’m Karina.’ She lifted her head to study the stranger who held the future of Mickey’s home in the warm, strong hand she was still holding. Snatching her hand free, she stepped back and returned to scrutinising him.

‘Jonty let me in. He’s popped home for a moment.’

Despite the chill settling over her due to all that wetness, warmth eased through her body, touching her tummy, her toes, her face. He might be too lean for her taste, but her body didn’t seem to care if the way it responded when she looked at him was an indicator. His face was gaunt, as if he needed feeding up. But those eyes were what really caught at her. Piercing, yet guarded, while also holding a hint of humour and compassion. A disturbing mix.

Oh, man, this was so wrong. The guy should come with a warning label. Don’t come near unless you hold all the aces. She was short on aces today. Worse, she couldn’t stop staring.

Tall … Okay, anyone was tall compared to her. Oh, and he had the most gorgeous crop of overlong black hair, while his day-old stubble made her mouth water.

‘Karina, I want my clothes!’ Mickey yelled.

‘Coming,’ she called back, far more quietly.

‘I’ll wait for you in the kitchen,’ her distracting visitor told her. ‘Want me to make that hot chocolate I heard you mention?’

‘With marshmallows, ta.’

He was already acting as if he lived here. She shrugged. Get over it. Logan Pascale owned half the place; he could come and go as he pleased. Was that good or bad? That warmth he’d engendered evaporated, leaving her shivering with cold and apprehension as she opened drawers to find Mickey some clothes.

Logan did hold all the aces. He wanted to sell the place she’d made her home and had believed she’d live in for many years to come. He had as much right to make decisions about the property and Mickey’s future as she did. But had he even heard of joint decisions? Her sigh was filled with annoyance and frustration of the most irritating kind. If he thought selling up would help his nephew’s cause then he didn’t know damn all about Mickey.

But of course he didn’t. Visiting briefly once a year meant he hardly knew his nephew. Hadn’t seen the day-to-day growing up stuff, didn’t know what he liked and hated, wouldn’t understand how the Down syndrome affected him.

No doubt Logan intended getting things done fast so he could fly away again, leaving her to cope with the mess he’d created.

Well, think again, Pascale. I’m made of stronger stuff. You won’t get away with it. I’ve grown a backbone because of men like you. Men who charm women out of their three-inch-high shoes all because they have a hidden agenda.

CHAPTER TWO

LOGAN DRAGGED HIS eyes forward and headed to the kitchen. His mouth twisted into a tight smile. He might have stopped staring at that bundle of unbridled energy, but her image still seared his brain. Her small body, with those clothes moulded to each and every curve, those enormous eyes the colour of the hot drinks he was about to make blinking out of that elfin face.

From the little he knew about her he understood that she’d walked away from an extremely comfortable life and all that entailed. He certainly hadn’t been expecting to be surprised by her energy for life. When he’d first seen Karina carrying on in the driveway, before Mickey had joined her, he’d thought she was a teenager playing hooky from school, not the qualified nurse taking care of his nephew.

He’d felt a delicious shock when he’d realised those curves certainly didn’t belong to a teenager, but instead to an all-grown-up woman. A very tempting grown-up woman. It wasn’t difficult to imagine running his hands over that body. Damn it. He couldn’t afford to get sidetracked, even for a few hours. He might have been living the life of a monk lately, but that would have to continue at least while he visited Motueka and sorted out Mickey’s future—starting with making arrangements to sell this place.

‘Kar—ina, where are you? I’m ready.’

Did Mickey ever talk in fewer decibels than a jet on take-off?

‘Coming, kiddo.’

At least Karina replied quietly, in a soft, almost caressing tone.

Caressing. As in stroking, touching …

Logan stomped through to the kitchen, where everything appeared spotless. Nothing like what he was used to in the over-used, under-tidied kitchens of Nigeria, where all energy went into helping people rather than putting things away in cupboards only so that someone could remove them again moments later. This was kind of a nice change. Homey.

Whoa. They were going to sell this place. Getting comfortable and cosy wasn’t an option.

He had no difficulty finding chocolate to go into the milk he’d put on to heat. A stack of bars stood right beside the tin of drinking chocolate powder in the pantry, along with packets of marshmallows. He popped a marshmallow in his mouth as he stirred the milk, savouring the sweet burst of flavour on his tongue.

Karina bounced into the small space, using up what little air there was, bumping him with her elbows or hips every time she moved—which was constantly. While those curves were now hidden under trousers and a chambray shirt, he knew they were there. Her hair was damp and curls were beginning to fly, adding to that waif-like appearance.

‘Will you look at that?’ She nodded in the direction of the window. ‘It’s already stopped raining. Put on for my benefit, was it?’ She came closer and peered into the pot. ‘Looking good. Pour Mickey’s before it gets too hot. He doesn’t like waiting for it to cool.’

Trying to ignore the scent of roses and damp hair wafting around her, Logan reached for the mug she held out. ‘Sure. He’s grown heaps since I was last here.’ Concentrate on Mickey and the perfume will eventually evaporate. He hoped.