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Every day he rang her. Every day she refused to talk to him. He should let it go. But he couldn't. He couldn't accept that they were really over, that there was no hope left. Since Molly had died, his whole focus had been on helping other people who self-harmed. He hadn't needed anyone or anything else. Now nothing mattered if he couldn't share it with Ginger. She was his soul-mate. The one person who understood what drove him, who understood his work, his patients, his life. He wanted to share all that with her but she had washed him out of her life as if he had never been, and that hurt more than anything.

'Cameron?'

Iain's voice cut through his introspection. 'Mmm?'

'What's wrong, buddy?' His friend sat opposite him, resting his arms on the table. 'You've not heard a word I said. In fact, you've not been yourself for days. I thought you'd be over the moon to win this backing and see the plans for the clinic come to fruition.'

'I am.'

'Sure, you're positively gushing with enthusiasm,' Iain drawled sarcastically.

Cameron flicked him an irritated glance. 'What did you want to talk about?'

'That can wait a few moments. Tell me what's going on.'

'Nothing. I—'

'Come on, Cameron, this is me sitting here,' Iain persisted. 'I've known you too long to take that crap.' He paused a moment, gaze intent. 'Is this something to do with that woman you were seeing? What's her name... Ginger?'

Just hearing it twisted the knife inside him. 'Yes.'

'And?'

Cameron's jaw tightened. 'Let's just say I can't find much joy in the fulfilment of my dream when it comes at the expense of Ginger's.'

'I'm sorry.'

'Can we move on? You wanted to discuss something.' He needed to talk about anything other than Ginger.

'Properties,' his friend announced after a few moments of tense silence.

'What about them?'

'I have some more details you should look over. A couple look quite promising. Why don't we drive out and take a look this weekend?'

Unable to drum up any enthusiasm, Cameron nodded. 'Sure. Why not?'

'Great,' Iain declared with false jollity. 'By the way, the interview you recorded for the local news goes out tonight on their magazine programme. They sent a copy of the tape over. You did good.'

Running a hand through his hair, Cameron stood up. He couldn't give a fig about the TV interview and was annoyed with himself for his sour mood. This was what he had been planning for over four years. He was doing this for Molly. Whatever else happened, he couldn't forget that motivation, or the people who relied on him to make this project work.

'I have to go, I have consultations scheduled.' Thinking of Jamie, who was making good progress, should have raised his spirits, but he couldn't banish the flatness inside that had gripped him since the Ackerman letter had arrived. He slid his jacket off the back of the chair in the Chamberlains' kitchen and pulled it on. 'Give my love to Maxine and Harry.'

'Sure, buddy.' Iain rose, too, giving his shoulder a friendly slap as he walked him to the door.

Pausing a moment, Cameron wrestled with his conflicting emotions. 'We'll arrange something for Saturday and visit those properties.'

Ginger looked at the dark-haired girl who sat across from her, knowing she should feel a sense of satisfaction at how much improvement had occurred in the last weeks. She
was
pleased. Delighted. She was just finding it hard to show her emotions and her enthusiasm lately.

'You've done so well, Tess,' she praised, forcing a smile. 'You should be proud of the efforts you've made.'

Tess had put on a few kilos since first coming to them and there was more colour in her cheeks, a new spark in her eyes. It was a major -breakthrough. What remained of concern was the girl's relationship with her parents. Ginger frowned as she looked over the latest diary entry. Since being asked to record her thoughts, Tess had written extensively, and not just about food.

'How are things at home?' she asked, watching Tess carefully.

The teenager attempted a nonchalant shrug.

'My parents are still anxious about all this, about me wanting to do something different with my life rather than what they planned for me. It's my father, mostly,' she finished with a deep sigh.

'How would you feel about attending a family session with us?'

'I don't know.'

The girl's tension was clear. Ginger paused a moment, frowning when she thought of Mr Carstairs and his gruff exterior, his rush to bury his head in the sand. The man needed to understand, to listen to his daughter. 'Tess, you have a right to live your life the way you want. Sometimes, discussing those things with your parents in a controlled environment can make a big difference.'

'OK, I'll think about it.'

Ginger managed another smile. 'Thank you. We'll talk about it again next week.'

After the girl had gone, Ginger folded her arms on the desk and rested her head on them. She felt exhausted, physically and mentally. The last days had taken their toll and she wasn't sure how much longer she could go on at this pace and with so little sleep. As much as she tried to avoid admitting it, to herself or anyone else, the problem was Cameron. She missed him terribly. She loved him. All of him. Yes, he was incredibly sexy and compelling, but he was also kind and compassionate, smart and funny. He made her laugh. He made her feel desired and cherished.

Now he was moving on with his life without her, as she had known would happen when the decision was made. He called her every day and left messages on her answering-machine but she couldn't talk to him. She cursed her foolishness for listening to his husky voice, for not switching off the machine and cutting off that final contact. It only made it more painful and difficult to let go. And let go she must. She had to pick herself up, start planning for the spring when she would need to move on, in every sense.

A knock on the door preceded Pip's entry into the consulting room. 'Tess Carstairs is looking well.'

'Yes.' Ginger straightened, busying herself tidying her files, avoiding Pip's penetrating gaze. 'She's worked hard.'

'Unlike you, who are working far, far
too
hard.'

'Pip—'

'Now, don't Pip me! I'm worried about you, Ginger. You can't go on like this.' Sighing, the motherly nurse sat down. 'Lovey, why are you doing this to yourself? I know it's terrible not to win the funding but there are other options and none of it means you can't see Cameron any more.'

Ginger flinched at the mention of his name. She didn't want to talk about him, think about him. She hurt so much, more than she would ever have thought possible. 'It wouldn't work, Pip.'

'So you'll just throw away the best thing that's ever happened to you?' the older woman challenged, frustration lacing her tone. 'I know he's tried to talk to you. Why won't you give him a chance?'

'There's nothing left to say.'

Shutting out her emotions, Ginger gathered her things and rose to her feet. She couldn't do this. It was always going to be a temporary thing, not only because of their work conflict but because Cameron had told her he wasn't interested in a relationship again after his unhappy marriage. What they had shared these few weeks had been amazing, special—she would never forget it, would always love him, but the complications were too many and too insurmountable, especially now he was moving on with his career and dreams while hers were stagnating, dying.

After another long day, Ginger went home to a cold, lonely house, trying to banish her disturbing thoughts by watching the local evening news. Every part of her froze in shock and pain when Cameron's face appeared on the screen. Oh, God. Her fingers shook as she reached for the remote control but they wouldn't obey her demand to turn off the television. Torturing herself, she couldn't stop looking at him, seeing the uncharacteristic pallor beneath his usually healthy complexion and the tiredness that tightened his face. As for his voice, it seemed to reach through the screen and wrap around her, throaty and intimate, his sultry grey eyes staring down the lens at her alone.

Slowly his words sank in. Apparently the local press had discovered the story of the Ackerman donation and Cameron's plans to open a specialist self-harm unit in Strathlochan. He was clear and succinct as he discussed the desperate need throughout the whole country and she was stunned when he mentioned her own field of eating disorders, too. It was bitter-sweet to know he had thought to try and help raise awareness.

Ginger was scarcely aware of the tears that were sliding down her cheeks. She leaned forward and traced the fingers of one hand down his face on the screen, the knowledge that it was really over and she would never touch him in the flesh again too much to bear.

'What the hell is this place?' Cameron groused on Sunday morning as he parked his car in an overgrown driveway of a property for sale a few miles outside Strathlochan.

He and Iain had spent all day Saturday looking at building plots, all of which were useless for a variety of reasons. He wouldn't have thought it could be so hard to find a suitable piece of land on which to build the kind of unit he needed, but it was proving to be a nightmare. As a last resort, he'd agreed to come out here with Iain today, although he held little hope it would be any use at all.

'I've lived in Strathlochan most of my life and I never even knew this was here,' Iain admitted, opening the passenger door and climbing out, the particulars and keys held in his hand. 'It says here it was a rehabilitation centre during the First and Second World Wars and since then it has been put to a variety of uses, from a children's holiday centre to a religious retreat. All sorts of things. Most recently it has belonged to a charitable trust who used it as an education centre before renting it out.'

'It doesn't look as if it's been occupied in a while,' Cameron remarked, walking towards the sprawling building, enjoying the peace and solitude of the surroundings.

'Want to see the floor plan? It's built in a U-shape with two wings leading off the central part of the facility.' He paused a moment before reading on. 'Says here that it's in good structural condition and even has a catering kitchen, along with offices, function rooms and several small dormitories.'

Cameron grunted. 'It all sounds too good to be true. Are you sure this is within budget?'

'Positive. It's been on the market for ages but the charitable trust who owns it is fussy about what use it is put to,' Iain explained. 'When I talked with the solicitor handling the sale, he said your project is just the kind of thing that would appeal to the trustees.'

They looked around the massive building. Inside it would need a lot of redecorating and remodelling but the cost of buying it and doing all the work would be less than starting from scratch. The position was excellent, nestled within overgrown grounds and surrounded by woodland, and there was far more space than he needed. Indeed, enough space to really expand the kind of facilities he'd been planning.

For the first time since the decision had come through he felt a flicker of excitement licking inside him. If only he could share this with Ginger. The pain of losing her was far greater than any he had felt at Lisa's betrayal and the breakdown of his marriage. He simply couldn't imagine life without Ginger. If only there was some way to win her back.

'This place is amazing. It's huge!' Iain enthused when they met back in the main part of the building a short while later. 'What are you thinking?'

'Show me the floor plan again.'

Cameron spread the paper Iain gave him on a dusty old reception desk. He swore softly under his breath as the idea hit him between the eyes. 'Damn! Of course!'

'What?' Iain probed, a frown on his face.

'It's so obvious!' Cameron laughed for the first time in days. 'Why on earth didn't I think of it before?'

Puzzled, his friend shifted restlessly beside him. 'Think of what?'

'I'll tell you later.' Folding up the floor plan, Cameron turned and headed for the door. 'Come on, we have to go.'

Iain hurried after him. 'Why?'

'I'll drop you at home. There's something I have to do.'

'Talk to me, Cameron!'

'Trust me. Give me a couple of days, Iain, and I'll explain everything.'

After resisting his friend's probing questions on the journey, Cameron dropped Iain at his house before heading back towards Strathlochan. Filled with new hope, he had to find Ginger. He just hoped he wasn't too late.

Ginger stared into space, unable to concentrate on clearing the mountain of paperwork on her desk. She had come to the office on Sunday to give herself something to do, if only to stop brooding, stop thinking about—

The door to her office burst open. As if she had conjured him up from her thoughts, Cameron stood before her, looking windswept and temptingly delicious in leg-hugging jeans and a bulky jumper, his face unshaven, his grey eyes sparkling.

She opened her mouth to beg him to go away, but no sound would come out. She watched in shock as he grabbed her coat off the stand by the door and walked towards her.

'Ginger, I need you to come with me.'

'What?' Had the man taken leave of his senses? 'I can't.'

'You can,' he encouraged, taking her hand and pulling her to her feet.

'I'm not going anywhere with you! Leave me alone.'

Her good intentions failed when he helped her on with her coat, then picked up her bag and handed it to her. 'Come on.'

'Wait a minute! I—'

'Please, Ginger.'

Why could she never say no to this man? 'I don't understand,' she protested.

'You will.'

She tried to ignore the feel of her hand in his as led her from the room. He locked the door, slipped the key into her pocket, then guided her down the stairs and out of the hospital. Before she knew it, she was in his car and he was driving down the hill to the town.

'Cameron, what is going on?' she demanded, struggling with the flood of emotions washing through her at being back in his presence, the way her heart was pounding, her skin tingling, and every nerve cell aware of him.