by Sarah Morgan
Without any further questioning, Jake immediately took charge.
‘We’ll try the McRoberts manoeuvre. I need you on your back, Daisy, and I need you to stop pushing—can we get her onto the bed, please?’
Ruth and Miranda quickly helped Daisy onto the bed and flexed and abducted her legs while Jake washed his hands and pulled on a pair of gloves.
He applied supra-pubic pressure then did something magical with his hands and the baby slithered out, screaming and bawling.
‘Little girl, Daisy,’ Jake said calmly, clamping the cord and handing the baby to the mother, as relaxed as if it had been a perfectly normal delivery.
It was only then that Miranda realised that she’d been holding her breath. The tension left her in a rush and her knees suddenly felt weak.
As if sensing her state, Jake gave her a gentle smile. ‘Everything’s fine. Good job, Miranda.’
She swallowed, grateful for the praise but not at all sure that it was justified. He was the one who’d delivered the baby, and with a minimum of fuss and bother. He’d been so calm that it was quite possible that Daisy had no idea of just how serious the situation had been. Suddenly she was swamped by uncertainties and insecurities. What if he hadn’t been just down the corridor? What if they’d had to call Mr Hardwick away from his dinner? He never would have arrived on time.
‘She’s so beautiful,’ Daisy breathed, just as the paediatrician hurried into the room. ‘Did someone bleep me?’
Jake glanced up briefly. ‘Everything’s fine here, Howard, but, given that you’ve made the trip specially, perhaps you’d be good enough to take a look at the baby for us,’ he said easily, focusing his attention back on the delivery of the placenta.
Daisy released the baby reluctantly and the paediatrician checked her over and pronounced everything to be fine. An hour later mother and baby were transferred to the ward. It was three hours after Miranda’s shift should have ended.
Drained and exhausted and more than a little troubled by the events of the day, she walked slowly towards the changing room and dragged on her coat and scarf.
Wondering how on earth she was going to find the energy to cycle home, she pushed open the door that led to the stairs and then stopped. Jake was standing there, his broad shoulders leaning against the wall, blue eyes narrowed as he watched her.
‘I’ve been waiting for you—you’ve just worked a ridiculously long day. Again. Are you all right?’
She almost laughed. She was so far from all right that it wasn’t true, but she could hardly tell him that, could she? ‘I’m fine.’
‘You’re a liar.’
She lifted a hand and tried to rub away the nagging ache in her forehead. ‘If you want a rehash of last night’s conversation, I ought to warn you that this isn’t a good time. I know you’re mad with me, but—’
‘I’m not mad with you.’
‘Last night you—’
‘Last night I was angry, yes,’ he admitted, ‘but you have to admit that I had a lot to take in. I’ve had time to think about what you said and you’re right, of course. Your life is none of my business but, for some reason that I don’t entirely understand, I keep wanting to make it my business.’
‘Jake—’
‘I’m worried about you.’ His voice was firm and masculine and his gaze was disturbingly intent. ‘You shouldn’t be working these hours when you’re six months pregnant. I hope when you get home, he’s spoiling you and feeding you decent food.’
Miranda thought of the contents of her fridge and gave a wan smile. ‘Of course.’
Something flashed in Jake’s eyes and he straightened. ‘Come on, then. The least I can do is drop you home again.’
She glanced at him, startled. He hadn’t actually dropped her home the night before, but he didn’t know that, of course.
Too tired to argue with him, she followed him down to street level and watched in weary silence as he secured her bike to the back of his car.
Without speaking, he took the same route that she’d given him the day before and pulled up in the same street. Then he looked at her with a strange gleam in his eyes.
‘Are you going to tell me the truth now?’
‘About what?’
‘Well, about where you live, for a start.’ His tone was pleasant. ‘I know it isn’t here.’
Her spine straightened. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘Oh, I think you do.’ He switched off the engine. ‘You don’t live here, do you, Miranda?’
She stared at him. ‘I—’
‘After I finished on the phone last night, I went looking for you. I knocked on every door in this street but no one had ever heard of a midwife called Miranda.’ His gaze didn’t shift from her face. ‘Funny, that, don’t you think?’
She swallowed hard. ‘Jake, I—’
‘So then I started to ask myself why you’d lie about where you lived.’ His voice was steady and calm. ‘It’s obvious that you’re involved with someone and that’s fine, but I would like to know why you’re lying to me. Why not just tell me the truth?’
‘I’m not lying. I haven’t lied once—’
‘We’re sitting outside a house where you don’t live. What’s that if it’s not a lie?’
She looked away from him. ‘I’m not used to confiding in people.’
‘Giving me your address counts as confiding?’ His tone was mild and she turned back to look at him.
‘All right, you can take me home. But then I want you to leave. I’m not prepared to answer questions and I don’t owe you any explanations.’
* * *
Jake pulled up outside the dimly lit block of flats and felt a shiver pass through him. In the darkness the whole area was threatening and unsavoury, and he knew from experience that daylight didn’t improve it at all.
It was rough and dangerous and left him with one burning question that needed answering.
What on earth was Miranda doing, living in a place like this?
It seemed that the longer he spent with her, the less he knew about her life.
‘Thanks for the lift.’ She undid her seat belt but his hand closed over hers before she could open the door.
‘Not so fast.’ Her hand was slender and cold and he felt it tremble slightly under the pressure of his. Suddenly he knew she was hiding something. Something big. ‘I’ll see you to your door.’
‘There’s really no need. I can—’
‘I’ll see you to your door.’ His mouth set in a grim line, Jake released her hand, opened his own door and walked round the car to help her out. ‘Or are you afraid that your partner is going to give me a black eye?’
He was testing her reaction because he’d come to the conclusion the previous night that she didn’t have a partner, and his suspicions were proved correct as she hesitated fractionally and then her slim shoulders sagged.
‘I’m on my own.’ Her voice was so soft he could barely hear her. ‘No one is going to give you a black eye. But I still don’t need you to walk me to the door.’
‘Indulge me.’ In fact, she looked so exhausted he wondered whether he should carry her, but he managed to stand aside as she walked towards the steps and led him up two flights.
‘This is where I live.’ She took a key out of her pocket. ‘Thanks for bringing me home. I’ll see you tomorrow.’
She pushed open the door and he caught a brief glimpse of damp patches and threadbare carpet.
It was enough to make up his mind. There was no way he was leaving her here without at least understanding what was going on.
He followed her into the room, resisting her feeble attempts to close the door on him with a gentle push of his shoulders. Once inside, his gaze bordered on the incredulous as he glanced around the gloomy room. ‘What are you doing, living in a place like this?’ He winced suddenly, aware that his words were insulting, but then he decided that there was absolutely no way that she could possibly think that her living conditions were anything other than awful.<
br />
It explained a great deal. It explained why she’d hesitated over using the word ‘home’. No one in their right mind would refer to this flat as ‘home’.
She lifted her chin. ‘It’s fine.’
He eyed the huge damp patch on the wall. ‘Miranda, it’s miserable.’
‘I’m saving my money. And now I’d like you to leave, please, because—’
‘I’m not going anywhere.’ He pushed the door shut behind him and noticed that it made very little difference to the freezing temperature. The place bordered on the uninhabitable.
‘Jake—’
‘I can’t believe you’re living here. And I’m not leaving until you tell me why.’
She sighed. ‘It’s cheap.’
‘I can believe it.’ His expression was grim as he stared at the carpet. ‘Is that the most important factor? Why do you need to save your money? Why isn’t he supporting you?’
‘Who?’
‘The guy who made you pregnant. You might not still be with him, but at the very least he has a responsibility towards his child.’ Anger tore through him and suddenly he wanted to plant his fist through the damp, mouldy walls.
Her eyes narrowed dangerously. ‘I don’t need anyone’s support, Jake. I can look after myself.’
‘But it’s not just you, is it, Miranda?’ His eyes dropped to the smooth swell of her stomach. ‘It’s the baby, too.’
‘The baby is fine and, please, don’t judge me. You don’t know anything about me and you couldn’t possible understand.’
‘I happen to want to understand. Did he leave you?’ He knew that he probably shouldn’t be asking but he couldn’t help himself. He just knew that he couldn’t leave her here like this. ‘Is that what happened?’
She dragged off her coat and dropped it on the bed. ‘Why do you care?’
He exhaled sharply, forced to admit that it was a reasonable question. And one he was having trouble answering. ‘I care. Let’s leave it at that.’
For a moment his eyes held hers and then she looked away. ‘He was never here. He left as soon as he found out about the baby.’
‘Honourable guy.’ He couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of his voice and wanted to kick himself when he saw the pain in her eyes. ‘Damn, I’m sorry.’
‘It’s fine.’ She sounded so tired that he wanted to gather her up and hug her. Take her away from all this.
‘Miranda—’
‘It really doesn’t matter. I’ll see you tomorrow, Jake. Thanks for the lift.’ She walked through to the tiny kitchen. It was so small that she could barely turn in it and he decided that whoever had designed the flat should be made to live in it for a day.
‘You think I’m going to leave you here?’ He leaned against the doorframe and watched as she put the kettle on and pulled open the fridge—a fridge that was empty except for a box of eggs and one small carton of yoghurt. It was the final straw. ‘Go and pack your things.’ He said the words quietly and she turned with the yoghurt in her hand, her expression startled.
‘Pardon?’
He couldn’t blame her for looking surprised. He felt surprised, too. Wondering whether he’d gone mad, he folded his arms across his chest.
‘I said, go and pack your things. I’m taking you back to my house.’
She pushed the fridge door shut. ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’
He tried to lighten the atmosphere. ‘Sweetheart, you’re the only woman I’ve ever made that offer to, so think hard before you turn it down.’
The brief flash of laughter in her eyes assured him that she hadn’t lost her sense of humour.
‘I think you’re the one who probably needs to think hard. If it’s seduction on your mind, Mr Blackwell, I think you’ve chosen badly.’
What exactly was on his mind? He had absolutely no idea. He just knew that there was no way he could leave her in this place, any more than he could have left her on the mountain. ‘Come with me.’
She sighed and put the yoghurt down. ‘Are you always this stubborn?’
‘Yes.’ He watched her steadily. ‘On second thoughts, where’s your suitcase? I’ll pack for you.’
‘Jake—’
‘I’m not leaving here without you. It’s as simple as that.’
‘This is ridiculous.’
He smiled placidly, pleased by his decision. It felt right. ‘No. It’s just the way it is. Pack, Miranda, or I’ll carry you out of here wearing only the clothes you’re standing in, and we both know that my clothes are far too big for you.’
The reminder of the last time she’d worn his clothes brought a faint flush to her cheeks and he felt something stir inside him.
Never in his life had a woman posed so many questions. And never had he so badly wanted to discover the answers.
‘Has anyone ever told you you’re a bully?’
‘I’m not a bully. I just know what I want and I’m very good at getting it.’ In this case he knew what he wanted but he didn’t understand why he wanted it. He valued his personal space more than anything else in his life. No matter who he dated, no matter how hot the relationship, no woman had ever moved into his house.
‘I know what I want, too, and—’
‘You’re too exhausted to have the first clue what you want.’
She gave a weary smile. ‘You might be right about that. I just want to lie down for five minutes.’
He wondered whether he should point out that she looked as though she needed a lot longer than five minutes but decided against it. ‘Just pack, Miranda, and in under half an hour you’ll be lying in a deep bubble bath with a soft, comfy bed awaiting your arrival.’
Something close to longing flashed into her eyes. ‘You make it extremely hard to say no.’
‘That’s the general idea.’
She walked towards him. Without her shoes she barely reached his shoulders and he stared in fascination at her delicate bone structure and silky, dark hair. She was a woman of contrasts. Who would have thought that underneath that fragile, feminine exterior lurked the strength and determination of a lioness? She was the most independent woman he’d ever met.
She lifted an eyebrow. ‘You’re blocking my door and I need to pack for an overnight stay.’
Relieved and elated but unable to identify exactly why, Jake decided to get her out of there before she had time to change her mind. ‘Pack for longer than that. I’m not bringing you back here until the place has been remodelled. I’m surprised you haven’t gone down with some vile disease.’
‘I’m tougher than I look.’
‘Evidently.’ He stood to one side and she wriggled through, her cheeks flushing again as their bodies touched.
Visibly flustered, she walked away from him, grabbed a bag and stuffed a few things inside. ‘I’m ready.’ Her eyes flickered with uncertainty. ‘I still think this is ridiculous.’
‘Not ridiculous.’ He took the bag from her and gave her a gentle push towards the front door, eager to get her into his car before she had time to change her mind. ‘Sensible. And be careful on those stairs. Don’t fall asleep on your way down.’
CHAPTER SIX
FOR the second time in a week, Miranda lay in a deep, warm bath full of bubbles in Jake’s gorgeous house.
Deep down she knew that she probably shouldn’t be here. She should have put up more of an argument. But Jake wasn’t a man to take no easily and she hadn’t been able to find the energy to protest.
And who could blame her for that?
What woman in their right mind would chose squalor over luxury, even if it was only for a short time? She was so exhausted that her whole body was shrieking with protest and at that precise moment she wasn’t sure that she even had the energy to climb out of the bath. And she felt desperately worried about everything that had happened with Daisy. Had it been her fault? Should she have been able to anticipate the problem that had arisen?
A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts and Jake appeared, carrying two mugs. ‘I bro
ught you sustenance.’
Miranda gave a soft gasp of embarrassment and slid further under the bubbles. Why hadn’t she remembered to lock the door? ‘You can’t come in here!’
He pushed the door shut with his shoulder. ‘Why not? You’re tired. I was worried about you. I wanted to check you hadn’t fallen asleep in the bath.’ Totally unrepentant, he put the two mugs on top of the laundry basket, then reached for a towel and held it out to her. ‘Get out now while you’re still awake and you can drink the hot chocolate I made you.’
‘Hot chocolate?’ With only her face showing through the snowy bubbles, Miranda stared longingly at the mug. ‘Is that the same sort of hot chocolate you gave me on the mountain?’
‘The very same.’ He’d changed out of his suit into a pair of jeans and a soft, casual shirt that had obvious been washed repeatedly. He’d pushed the sleeves up to the elbows to reveal strong forearms dusted with dark hairs. ‘Drink it now and by the time you’re dressed, dinner will be ready.’
‘You’ve cooked?’
‘Not exactly.’ He grinned and gave a shrug. ‘I had some help from the local pizza company. Full of calories, I know, but you look as though you could do with building up.’ His eyes lingered on her face. ‘Are you all right? You look worried.’
He was observant, she had to give him that. ‘I’m worried that I did all the wrong things with Daisy,’ she blurted out suddenly. ‘Should I have spotted a problem sooner?’
‘Is that why you’re frowning?’ He sat down on the chair next to the laundry basket. ‘The simple answer is, no, it certainly wasn’t your fault. Why would you think it was?’
‘I’ve never seen shoulder dystocia before,’ she confessed. ‘I’ve heard about it, of course. Who hasn’t? But I’ve never actually seen it. I keep wondering whether I missed some important signs earlier. Perhaps if I’d spotted something, it wouldn’t have happened.’
‘Don’t be too hard on yourself.’ His tone was firm. ‘A significant proportion of cases have absolutely no identifiable risk factors. You know that as well I do.’
Miranda was still running through the entire nightmare in her mind. ‘Perhaps I should have done something differently when I saw the head retract. I tried left lateral then I tried putting her on all fours and then I moved her through 180 degrees but it didn’t work.’
