Joanne Barrie Wilson and John Niven Wilson, who are, in fact, the best mum and dad in the world. They’ve raised three daughters who love them very much and cared for and nurtured six grandchildren with endless patience. Whenever either of my sons come out with a ‘fascinating fact’ I know where it came from!

IF ABBY TYLER had known how the day was going to end she might not have got out of bed that day.

As it was, she leaned back in her chair, arched her back and then did something that she never did—put her feet up on the desk. Pelican Cove was quieter than quiet. She hadn’t treated a patient in the last hour.

She took a sip of the strong, dark coffee she’d just made and nibbled on one of the nearby home-made oatmeal and raisin cookies. She gave a huge sigh and smiled over at one of the nearby nurses. ‘Nancy, you make the best cookies.’ Abby closed her eyes for a second. Recovery time. Reuben had woken at three a.m. and came through to tell her a story. The story had lasted the best part of an hour and had been full of animal noises and hand gestures. It seemed as though she’d been blessed with a child who didn’t require much sleep. Through her heavy lids she could see the rest of the emergency-room staff giving her knowing nods and moving off to the far end of the reception desk. The staff here were a great, tight-knit team with a real community approach.

As an emergency-care paediatric physician Abby loved the twelve weeks a year that she covered in the community hospital—in fact, it was one of the reasons that she’d taken the job. San Francisco was much more frantic. This gave her the opportunity to do some much-needed paediatric outpatient clinics and practise emergency medicine.

There was a screech of tyres outside. It startled her, breaking her from the easing, gentle lullaby that had been repeating in her head. Seconds later a pair of heavy feet pounded inside. The dark business suit, crisp white shirt, flash red tie and shock of white-blond hair drew the immediate attention of the surrounding staff.

Abby blinked. Twice. Before breaking into a lazy smile and brushing the cookie crumbs from her scrubs. ‘Luke Storm. I always knew some day you’d come walking back through my door. I never doubted that. Something made it inevitable.’ The words were out of her mouth in an instant. An automatic natural reaction to him, adapted from a film they’d watched together as med students. She ran her eyes up and down his muscular frame. Still every bit the male model. ‘So what can I do for you?’

‘You can take your feet off the desk for a start.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘I take it you work here?’

Abby gestured to the white board on the wall with her name on it. ‘I take it I do,’ she answered calmly, refusing to let him rile her.

‘What facilities do you have for premies?’

That got her attention. ‘What?’ She pulled her feet off the desk and stood up. ‘What on earth are you talking about?’

‘I don’t have time for a debate, Abby. I need to know if you can deal with a premature delivery or not. And I need to know now.’

Abby watched in disbelief as her calm emergency unit was instantly transformed into a scene of chaos. Half a dozen dark-suited men, some with obvious bulges in their jackets, swarmed through the doors and immediately started covering exits whilst muttering into small silver dots on their lapels and holding their earpieces. ‘What on earth…?’

Luke grabbed hold of her arm. ‘What facilities do you have, Abby?’

Abby shrugged her arm from his firm grasp. Her brain shifting sharply into focus. ‘This is a small 25-bed acute-care hospital, Luke. It’s mainly used for routine surgeries and outpatient consultations. We have this emergency department and we have equipment for emergency deliveries but we only have one neonate cot. Once stabilised we tend to transfer to San Francisco Children’s Hospital.’

‘Do you have a paed?’

It was obvious Luke wasn’t thinking straight. What on earth had rattled him so much? Abby tilted her head, a smile dancing across her lips. His words were rapid and harsh and she could see from the deep frown lines in his forehead that a million different things were spinning around in his head. An expression she’d seen more than once.

Her pale-skinned hand reached across the desk and squeezed his golden tanned one. Like chalk and cheese. The way they’d always been with each other. ‘I’m the paed, Luke.’

His head turned abruptly towards her. ‘You’re the paed?’ She could almost see the pieces falling into place in his head as the moment of realisation struck him. ‘Of course you are. Then it’s you that I need.’ His hand closed around hers, pulling her towards the door. Just for a second she saw the characteristic gleam in his eyes that she remembered so well. ‘Don’t suppose you’ve got an obstetrician handy?’

‘Actually, I do.’ She ground to a halt, stopping him in his tracks. ‘But I’ve no intention of phoning him until you tell me exactly what’s going on. I take it you’ve got a patient for me?’