‘We might have ended up in France,’ Mac agreed. He’d been carrying his shoes, with the socks stuffed into their toes, to follow her example of walking barefoot on the sand and, along with that taste of chocolate and mint, he’d been aware of the movement of soft sand trickling between his toes.

  He watched Hanna chase a drip of ice cream and capture it with her tongue and felt a different kind of lick happen in his gut. Good grief...it was a revelation that desire could actually increase when you kept having sex with the same person. Or was that because the person was Hanna? Because he was visiting Planet Hanna where so much of life was about the senses and emotions. Bohemian stuff that he’d stayed well clear of in his life so far.

  She was nodding in response to his comment. ‘That’s actually not a bad idea,’ she said. ‘We could go there next. Have you ever been to Corsica? Isn’t that where the French Foreign Legion hangs out? There might be a ferry we could catch.’ Her glance was mischievous. ‘If I’d lived in those days, I might have disguised myself as a boy and joined the Legion to go and have adventures.’

  ‘That doesn’t surprise me in the least,’ Mac said. ‘I imagine you get bored with real life.’

  ‘Not at all.’ Hanna brushed a stray curl of her hair out of the way of her ice cream. ‘I love my job. I wouldn’t want to work anywhere other than in the emergency department, though—where you can never know what might be coming through the door next. Don’t you love that adrenaline rush?’

  ‘I’ve almost forgotten what it’s like,’ Mac admitted. ‘And I’m missing it. I’ve spent too much time being no more than a guest in someone else’s ED while working on my latest thesis.’

  ‘What was the subject of your research?’

  ‘In a word, bruises.’

  He could see the moment and the impressive speed with which Hanna joined the dots.

  ‘Paediatric injuries? Non-accidental?’

  Mac gave a single nod. ‘I’m working on guidelines for an updated screening tool that will hopefully mean that it’s easier to identify at-risk children. There’s a lot of technical stuff comparing methods of imaging as well. Conventional and cross-polarised, infrared and ultraviolet.’

  ‘Ultraviolet like they use in crime scenes to show up blood or other body fluids?’

  ‘It can also be used to identify trauma that may have happened months ago. And infrared imaging can give us additional information about injuries below the surface of the skin. It can cancel out the effect of a higher level of melanin in the epidermal layer, too, which makes it particular useful on bruises that can be invisible on darker skin.’

  ‘I did a postgraduate course on triage in the ED a while back,’ Hanna told him. ‘Part of that was a set of tools to help us differentiate between accidental and intentional bruising. The TEN 4 guidelines?’

  Mac nodded. ‘Bruises on the trunk, ears or neck on a child under four years old.’

  ‘And any bruise at all on a baby under four months old.’

  ‘If they can’t cruise, they can’t bruise.’

  It was Hanna who broke the rather subdued silence that fell between them.

  ‘That speech you gave to open the conference—I was so close to tears with your story.’ She seemed unaware that melted ice cream was starting to drip onto her fingers. ‘I’ve seen that little boy myself, more than once, and...it’s heartbreaking.’

  Yes... Mac could see that heartbreak in her eyes and that, in itself, was a revelation about this woman. She could live in the moment even when it was distressing, and she could embrace that emotion as much as she captured and celebrated something positive like joy. Life was a roller-coaster for Hanna but she wasn’t about to miss any of the ride.

  ‘I’m still haunted by the first case I saw,’ Hanna continued. ‘I’d just started in the ED and the mother of this toddler was so upset because she’d only taken her eyes off him for a minute, she said, and he’d managed to climb onto the table and then fallen off. He’d hit his head and had a seizure. I was trying to comfort her. I was telling her it wasn’t her fault.’

  Mac let his breath out slowly. He knew what was coming.

  ‘One of the doctors noticed there was something odd about the shape of his elbow. And one of his legs was swollen. When they did a scan they found half a dozen fractures. Social Services got called and then the police. The mother blamed her boyfriend but it turned out to be both of them. I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t understand how anyone could deliberately hurt any child, let alone a baby. I’ve never forgotten it. I always have it at the back of my head with every paediatric patient I get.’

  ‘Me, too,’ Mac said quietly. ‘When that kind of trust in people is broken, it never comes back, does it?’ He cleared his throat. ‘But that’s a good thing. It means that you’re more likely to pick up cases of non-accidental injuries and get a child out of an abusive situation.’

  ‘Mmm...’ Hanna still sounded subdued. ‘Was he a real case that you were involved with, that little boy in your story?’

  ‘Yeah...’ Mac closed his eyes for a heartbeat. He couldn’t tell her how real, though. He knew better as an adult, of course, but there was a level of shame that never quite vanished. That feeling that it was somehow his fault that it happened.

  That he’d never been good enough. Or really wanted. That the people who were supposed to love him couldn’t be trusted.

  ‘I hope he got all the help he needed,’ Hanna said.

  ‘I believe so. Eventually.’

  ‘I bet he grows up to become a doctor,’ Hanna said. ‘Because he felt like someone cared about him in the ED?’

  Mac shrugged.

  ‘I wish I could have looked after him,’ Hanna said softly. ‘I wish I could have given him a cuddle and made him believe, even for a little while, that he was special.’

  Oh...man...

  With the kind of control that Hamish MacMillan had over his life—and his emotions—it would be unthinkable to cry in private, let alone in a public place or in front of someone, but he had a lump in his throat that felt like a bit of broken glass. He remembered the initial shock of Hanna holding his hand on that bus ride—of a physical touch that had nothing to do with sex. Of feeling that he wasn’t alone. That someone cared about him. It had been disturbingly powerful as an adult. To have felt anything like that as a small, frightened child must have been completely life-changing.

  Hanna had finally noticed the remains of her melted ice cream and dug a hole in the sand to bury it. Then she got to her feet, a thick layer of sand covering her hands.

  ‘I need to go and find a wave to wash my hands in. I might even have a paddle if it’s not too cold. Coming?’

  Of course he was. Moving would be the best way to clear that jagged lump he could still feel in his throat. Besides, Hanna had just wound another thread around his heart and it felt like he needed to stay close so they didn’t break just yet. She might have no idea of the chord she’d struck by her compassion for that little boy in his story but Mac had the odd sensation that he was being truly seen for the first time for who he truly was. That this bond he’d found with Hanna was more real than anything in his life before this.

  A reality that was, ironically, completely separated from his real life. Mac knew his time in Hanna’s world was short but that was a bonus in itself, because it gave him the freedom to make the most of every moment.

  Hanna had reached the wash of waves on the sand and just walked in, not caring that the hems of her jeans were getting soaked. She swished her hands in the water and looked up to smile at Mac.

  ‘It’s not cold at all,’ she told him. ‘Not in comparison to the liquid ice we get in Dunedin even in the middle of summer. Do you reckon we could get away with swimming in our undies?’

  And, just like that, the moment changed from one that had echoes of the sadness associated with such a grim topic of conversation, and a somewhat disturbingly intense feeling of connection to another person, to one of pleasure in the feeling of sunshine warming your skin and the fizz of seawater rushing over your feet. To the grounding and a reset of mood that being in the moment could provide.

  Mac dropped his shoes and strode towards Hanna and he was laughing as he scooped her up into his arms. She wound her arms around his neck and they were lost in their kiss as the next wave and then another rolled in around his feet.

  The past evaporated and the future was invisible and whether or not this was what being in love was all about didn’t matter. Mac just wanted to bottle this moment and keep it for ever so that, when he needed to in future, he could take the cork out and live in this moment again, even if it was just for a heartbeat.

  Because this...

  This was what most people considered to be the holy grail of being alive, wasn’t it?

  Finding out what happiness felt like.

  Mac had always been of the opinion that the pursuit of personal happiness was not only futile because it was usually so fleeting, it was also supremely selfish.

  Now, he was beginning to wonder if he’d got it all wrong...

  * * *

  Barcelona was a magic city.

  Or, perhaps, the magic came from a combination of the company Hanna was lucky enough to have, the gorgeous summer weather and the unexpected delights that surprised them around every corner.

  They lost count of how many times they walked up and down La Rambla and explored the fascinating alleyways that led off from Barcelona’s famous tree-lined central street. They wandered hand in hand through the bustling marketplace with its astonishing array of meat, vegetables, cheese and flowers and sampled every different, delicious variety of tapas they could find in the cafés and restaurants. They were excited by a wonderful Salvador Dali exhibition they came across quite by accident and they marvelled at still unfinished Sagrada Familia, the iconic work of Spain’s most celebrated architect, Gaudi. What Hanna loved most of all, however, was another of Gaudi’s creations—the Park Güell. From the fairy tale, gingerbread houses with their white icing roofs at the entrance, past the stunning mosaics and up the hill into the soft, green spaces of grass and trees, it was a wonderland.

  The surprise of finding a busker, sitting beneath a tree at the side of a gravelled path, playing one of her favourite songs on a twelve-stringed guitar as he sang, was a moment of pure joy for Hanna. She stopped and stared for a moment and then dropped her shoulder bag, unable to resist the urge to dance. The ruffled layers of her summer dress swirled around her legs as she twirled, her arms in the air, but it was the look on Mac’s face as she saw him watching her that took this space and time to a completely different level.

  If she’d stopped to think, Hanna might have remembered that Mac had told her how much he’d hated dancing lessons at his boarding school but she was acting on impulse when she caught his hands and perhaps the surprise was enough to suck him into this bonus moment of magic. Whatever the reason, she knew instantly that he had either paid attention to those lessons or he was a natural dancer. And that he’d forgotten that he’d believed dancing could never be enjoyable.

  He held her in his arms and they danced in the dappled shade, lost in the music and the lyrics. Hanna’s arms were bare and the touch of Mac’s hands skimming her skin as he sent her away from his body and then twirled her and gathered her close again added to her total immersion in this unforgettable moment. Maybe they weren’t dancing in the dark, or barefoot on the grass like the lyrics they could hear, but it still felt as if they were an integral part of this romantic song—as if it had been written for them—and Hanna found herself closing her eyes as their dancing slowed until they were merely swaying together.

  Was it Mac who dipped his head to touch her lips with his own, or did Hanna go up on tiptoes as she lifted her face to his?

  Whatever...

  It was just fortunate that Hanna still had her eyes closed. That Mac wouldn’t be able to see any reflection in her eyes of what was in her mind right then. In her heart. In every damned cell of her body, in fact.

  She knew this feeling and had been prepared for it to surface. She’d known at the end of her first day with this stranger who was practically her polar opposite that she was probably halfway to falling in love with him and she’d also known that her heart had been even more firmly captured by every new thing she learned about Mac. Experience had taught her that holiday flings could accelerate emotional involvement or create a depth that would never have been there if they’d met in real life but, even knowing all of that, Hanna had not expected anything like this. She’d never felt it take hold of her quite like this, with a power that was almost frightening, and Hanna knew why.

  Because she and Mac had a connection that could change everything. Hanna couldn’t have children. Mac didn’t want any. For the first time since Hanna had had her heart well and truly broken long ago, it seemed as if it might be safe to fall in love. To dream of a future?

  Except that she knew that the kind of future she was thinking of was the last thing that Mac wanted in his life. He was travelling alone. By choice. And she could understand why when the first time he’d been shaping a new future as a husband and father, it had been shattered by someone he’d loved. It was no wonder he felt the need to be in control—to keep himself so buttoned up. A few days of a perfect holiday was hardly likely to change his mind about the way he lived his entire life. Was it...?

  Maybe Mac felt the ripples of what Hanna was feeling even if he couldn’t see her eyes. Perhaps even the musician was aware of what was hanging in the air surrounding them because the music suddenly faltered and the spell was broken. Or it could be that Hanna’s imagination was running away with her and she was the only person with an emotional overload. She was the only one who’d tripped up and fallen in love.

  Mac found money to drop into the busker’s open guitar case, Hanna collected her bag from where she’d dropped it and they simply carried on with their walk as if nothing momentous had just happened.

  But something had happened.

  Something had changed.

  In the same way Hanna had sensed that the attraction between herself and Mac was the kind best suited to a holiday fling because it was going to erupt into fierce flames, she could feel the moment that it began to burn itself out.

  On Mac’s part, anyway.

  ‘What will you do next?’ he asked as they walked on, the music behind them fading. ‘You’ve still got two weeks before you fly home, yes?’

  ‘I do.’

  Two weeks of travelling.

  Alone. With the freedom to go anywhere she chose and experience whatever new adventures each day could present. But, for the first time ever, there was no excitement to be found in the prospect and that was more disturbing than the realisation of how hard she had fallen for Hamish MacMillan. Hanna needed to ground herself again, urgently, before she lost any of the pleasure that anticipating this trip had given her. She took a deep breath and found her brightest smile.

  ‘I shouldn’t admit this because it’s not really in the spirit of nose-following, but I think I do have a bit of a plan.’

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘I liked my idea of catching a ferry to Corsica. There should be another ferry that goes to the south of France on the other side of the island and then I could drift down into Italy. Or I could jump from Corsica to Sardinia and skip France.’ She threw Mac a glance but kept her tone casual. ‘Want to see if we could find a ferry later? You could have at least a day in Corsica.’

  The tiny hesitation on Mac’s part made Hanna’s heart sink. ‘I think it might be a flight I need to find. I’ve been reminded that there’s a satellite symposium happening in Amsterdam the day before my next conference. I had an email from a colleague who’s hoping to meet me there.’ Mac’s steps were slowing. ‘I didn’t say anything because...’ He stopped and faced Hanna. ‘I wanted more time with you. But it can’t last for ever, can it? Isn’t that the definition of a holiday fling?’

  Hanna managed to smile even though she could feel her heart already beginning to break.

  ‘I’ll never forget this,’ Mac said softly. ‘I’ll never forget you, Hanna Peterson.’

  ‘You’d better not.’ Hanna made her tone stern as she started walking again. ‘You’ve learned how to follow your nose now.’

  Her inward breath caught somewhere in her chest. She wasn’t about to forget any of this, either—including how buttoned up Mac had been when she’d met him in front of that clock. She’d never have imagined him walking into waves on a beach and getting his tidy trousers stained with seawater or dancing in a public park and kissing her so passionately in broad daylight. There was something sad in the thought that he might go back to his real life and this time together would be no more than a memory for him.

  ‘You need to let yourself be impulsive more often, Mac. Take a risk or two.’ She caught his gaze over her shoulder because this was important and she needed to know that he was listening. ‘Remember that clock that you love so much and use it to remind you to find the time to do something new. Or to do something that you’ve thought of doing but you’ve never got around to it.’ She offered him another smile. ‘You’ll never know what you might be missing out on otherwise.’

  * * *

  Mac watched Hanna walking a little ahead of him, heading downhill, which would lead them to the way out of this astonishing park.

  He wanted to catch her hand and pull her to a stop again but he couldn’t. What if it made him feel like he had moments ago when she was dancing with him to that guitar music? When it felt like another moment of the kind of happiness he’d experienced on the day they ate ice creams on the beach? What if he ended up risking too much by saying what he was really thinking?