by Sarah Morgan
‘Why would you do that?’
‘Because you don’t need a screaming infant keeping you awake at night. And because I can’t lodge here for ever. I need to find somewhere permanent that I can turn into a home.’
He realised with a stab of shock that he wanted her to make her home here. With him.
Startled by his own thoughts, Jake lifted a hand to his forehead and rubbed at the frown lines. This was ridiculous. He’d only known her for a couple of days. The humour of the situation wasn’t wasted on him. He’d lost count of the number of women who had dropped hints about moving in with him. He’d developed various strategies for gently but firmly locking his door with the woman on the outside. So why did he suddenly want to lock the door and keep Miranda on the inside?
‘Fine.’ He knew that his thoughts would have her scurrying hard back to her damp-ridden, gloomy flat without a backward look so he kept them to himself. ‘Consider this a base until you find something more suitable.’
‘It’s very generous of you.’ She fiddled with her hands, clearly troubled by something. ‘I still don’t understand why would you do this for me.’
‘Does there have to be a reason?’
‘Isn’t there always?’ She gave a cynical laugh. ‘I’d be guessing at the sex aspect if it weren’t for the fact that I’m six months pregnant.’
‘There’s a great deal more to my motives than sex.’ His gaze was direct. ‘OK, I’m not going to lie to you, Miranda, because you’ve obviously heard enough lies. The truth is, I don’t exactly know why I want you to live here. There was something between us from the first moment we met on Christmas Day. When I woke up and found you gone I was frantic—frustrated. Then, when I discovered you at work, I felt light-headed until you stood up and I saw that you were pregnant. I’ve always had a rule that I never tread on another man’s toes, so I was prepared to walk away even though I felt as though something important had been snatched away from me.’
Her dark eyes were huge. Wary. ‘Jake—’
‘Let me finish.’ He stood up and walked towards her. ‘Then I discovered that you’re on your own. That I’m not treading on anyone’s toes. And that changes everything, Miranda. Why do I want you to stay here? Because I can’t let you go, it’s as simple as that. I’m not sure what that means, but I’d like to find out.’
‘I’m six months pregnant.’
‘That doesn’t change the person you are.’
‘This is ridiculous, Jake—’
‘Is it?’ He saw the shock in her eyes and in a way it mirrored his own feelings because normally he backed away from women, didn’t pursue them. It was ironic, he reflected, that the first time he was truly interested in a woman she was six months pregnant, fiercely independent and wary of men. With a faint smile of self-mockery he recognised that some of the women he’d dated would view his current situation as nothing more than poetic justice.
She stared at him and the tension in the room rose to agonising levels.
‘I—I don’t really know what you’re saying but I don’t want a relationship, Jake. Not with any man. I’m not trying to create a family.’
He smiled. ‘As I said, you’ve got yourself a family, Miranda.’
‘Well, it’s just going to be me and the baby and that’s fine by me.’
Why? he wondered to himself. Was it just because of the baby’s father or was there more to it than met the eye? Something to do with her own family.
‘You’re worn out,’ he said softly, deciding that it was best to end the conversation before he did something that might frighten her off. ‘Go to bed, Miranda. We can talk tomorrow.’
‘But you can’t just—’
‘Don’t complicate the simple,’ he advised. ‘You’re sleeping here tonight. Any more than that we can discuss at another time.’
CHAPTER SEVEN
‘I DON’T think you should drive me to work,’ Miranda said the next morning as she sipped the cup of tea Jake had made for her and nibbled on a piece of toast.
‘Why not?’
‘Because people might notice and talk. And that would be embarrassing.’
She’d been awake for most of the night, thinking about what he’d said. He hadn’t wanted to let her go. Even while most of her was backing off, deafened by alarm bells, a small part of her was shiny with happiness.
‘Coming from a woman who rides a heap of rust in public, I find it hard to believe that you care about what people think.’ There was laughter in his eyes and she looked away, wishing that his smile wasn’t so compelling.
He smiled at everyone, she reminded herself firmly. It was just the kind of man he was. You felt as though the smile was only for you, but it wasn’t.
She had to be careful. Very careful. It would be foolish and dangerous to allow herself to dream.
‘That’s entirely different.’ She put her empty mug into the dishwasher and then turned to face him. ‘I’m pregnant, Jake. People will make the same assumptions about me that you did, and I don’t want that. I don’t want people thinking that I’m dishonest or unfaithful or any of the other things people assume when they see a pregnant woman with a man who isn’t her husband.’
He gave a shrug, his expression unconcerned. ‘As you told me on Christmas Day, what people see on the outside rarely resembles the inside so what does it matter? Let them gossip.’ Evidently indifferent to the views of others, he strolled towards the door and held it open for her. ‘Come on or we’ll be late.’
She stared at him with mounting frustration. She was so used to taking charge of her own life that she wasn’t sure how to deal with Jake.
But she decided that this wasn’t worth an argument so she slid into the warmth and comfort of his car and squashed down the uncomfortable feelings bubbling up inside her. This was all wrong, she knew it was. What exactly did he want from her? And what exactly did she want from him?
Nothing, was the short answer to that. There was no way she’d ever consider entering into a serious relationship and a fling wasn’t her style.
She had no opportunity to ponder the question further because once they arrived on the labour ward they were so busy that they had no time to discuss anything except the professional.
She felt as though she was on her feet all day and she was more than a little relieved to find Jake lounging by the doorway at the end of her shift, waiting to take her home.
Deciding that this was definitely not the time to argue with him, she slid gratefully into his car, pushing aside the horrible suspicion that people were watching them.
He was right. What did it matter? And why did she care? She, of all people, who knew only too well that outward appearances were entirely deceptive.
He drove her to her old flat and stood while she cleared out the rest of her things. She carried them to his car and then hunted in her pocket for the keys.
‘I just need to deliver these back to the landlord.’
‘Tell me which flat he lives in. I’ll do it.’
‘I can—’
‘You’re tired. Why waste energy walking up the stairs again when all you have to do is point me in the right direction and I’ll do it for you?’
‘He lives in the flat directly beneath mine, but I need to give him notice and explain to him that—’
‘I’ll explain,’ Jake said, prising the keys from her fingers and heading back towards the building.
She ought to have argued with him, she knew that. It wasn’t good to let people do things for you when you could perfectly well do it yourself. But he was right when he said that she was tired.
It was only when he slid back into the car and dropped an envelope into her lap that she realised that she’d actually dozed off for a few minutes.
‘What’s that?’ Muzzy-headed from lack of sleep, she picked up the envelope and gasped as she saw the amount of money inside. ‘Where did this come from?’
‘Your landlord.’ Jake started the engine and glanced over his shoulder before pul
ling away from the kerb. ‘I explained that you were living with me now and he apologised profusely for the state of the property that he’s renting to you and immediately returned your deposit and last month’s rent as a goodwill gesture.’
‘You spoke to the landlord?’
‘That’s right.’ His eyes were fixed on the road. ‘Very reasonable chap.’
There was something about the grim set of his mouth that made her wonder and then her gaze dropped and she saw the red mark across his knuckles. ‘You hit him! Oh, my God, Jake…’
‘He walked into my hand.’
She covered her mouth with her hand, appalled. ‘What’s come over you?’
‘I don’t like people who take advantage of other people.’ He glanced in her direction, his eyes glittering dangerously. For once there was no trace of humour in his gaze, just grim determination and a hardness that she hadn’t seen before. ‘Once we’d had a good chat, he saw sense.’
‘How dare you interfere?’ She was outraged. ‘Jake, I didn’t ask you to get that money for me!’
He pulled into the drive of his house and switched off the engine. ‘The guy is a crook, Miranda.’
‘It doesn’t give you the right to hit him.’ She undid her seat belt with shaking hands. ‘I—’
‘What’s the matter?’
Her heart was banging against her chest. ‘You really need to ask me that question? You just beat someone up and—’
‘I didn’t beat anyone up.’ His voice was weary. ‘He said some things I didn’t like. Things he shouldn’t have said. He’s a bully, Miranda. A sleazy, nasty bully.’
‘You hit him.’
Jake ran a hand through his hair. ‘He attacked me, Miranda,’ he said quietly. ‘Accused me of taking away his business.’
Self-defence? She relaxed slightly and the pounding of her heart slowed. ‘He hit you? I’m sorry.’ Her voice was little more than a whisper. ‘It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have let you go in there.’
‘Better me than you. Next time choose your landlord with more care.’ Without waiting for a response from her, he opened the car door and walked towards the house.
She caught up with him in the kitchen. Looking at his stiff, icy profile, Miranda felt frustration and something else that she couldn’t quite identify. A tiny part of her felt warm and cosseted. No man had ever defended her before. Maybe it shouldn’t have felt good but it did.
He was only trying to help and she’d been rude and churlish. He’d been injured, standing up for her, and all she’d done had been to yell at him.
Suddenly ashamed of herself, she wrapped her arms around her waist and took a deep breath. ‘I’m sorry,’ she began, and he muttered something under his breath, before turning to her with a smile.
‘No, I’m the one who should be sorry. I’m used to women who like to be pampered. You’re the most independent person I’ve ever met. I thought I was doing you a favour.’
‘You were doing me a favour. I hate that man—he makes my flesh crawl. It’s just that I don’t want you to feel sorry for me.’
‘I don’t.’ His voice was soft. ‘But you’re a friend and it’s natural to want to help a friend, isn’t it?’
Miranda bit her lip. ‘I don’t know. I suppose if I’m honest, I’ve never really had a close friend before.’
‘Are you joking?’ He reached into the fridge for a beer. ‘Women always have close friends.’
‘Do they?’ Miranda pushed away thoughts of her childhood and sat down at the kitchen table. ‘I suppose I’ve always found it hard to be close to people.’
He studied her face for a moment and then smiled. ‘Any chance of some first aid for my knuckles?’
She rummaged in his freezer for an icepack and fussed over his hands. ‘Does it hurt badly?’
‘If I say yes, will you kiss it better?’
She shot him a warning look. ‘Be careful or I might damage your other hand.’
* * *
As the days passed Miranda felt nothing but pleased that she’d agreed to move in with Jake. In the warmth and comfort of his house, she slept better. In fact, there were several occasions when Jake had to wake her in the mornings.
She knew that, at some point, she was going to have to find somewhere to live once the baby was born, but she was so busy at work that all she wanted to do when she arrived home was collapse in a heap and sleep until her next shift.
And Jake made it easy for her to do that.
He was easy to live with, she discovered, and after that first night he’d kept the conversation friendly but impersonal.
Which was a good thing, she told herself firmly as she slid out of bed on a Saturday morning a month or so after she’d first moved in. She didn’t want anything else.
Anticipating a slow, lazy day, she dressed in comfortable clothes and went downstairs to the kitchen to find Jake frying bacon.
‘It’s a lovely day.’ He glanced towards her. ‘Fancy a walk?’
After her first, disastrous foray into the mountains, he’d taken her to the mountain rescue base and shown her all the equipment they used in rescues and talked to her about safety. She realised again how fortunate she was that he’d been the one to find her on Christmas Day. Since then he’d found walking gear that fitted her and had insisted on taking her on some gentle hikes.
She slid a hand over her rounded abdomen. ‘You fancy delivering a baby in the wild, Mr Blackwell?’
‘You know me.’ He gave her a wicked grin as he slid crispy bacon onto a plate. ‘I love a challenge.’
She stared at the bacon. ‘Is that for me? Because I can cook my own breakfast and you don’t have to—’
‘I don’t have to wait on you.’ His tone was patient. ‘I know that, Miranda, and I’m not waiting on you. I was making breakfast for myself so adding a few extra rashers of bacon seemed like common sense.’
It sounded logical, put like that. ‘I’m going to be the size of a small bus.’
‘You have no flesh on you whatsoever,’ he said dryly, dropping two slices of bread onto her plate and putting a jug of coffee in the centre of the table. ‘That bump is all baby. Am I allowed to pour your coffee or does that offend your independent streak?’
‘I know you’re laughing at me but I won’t depend on anyone.’
‘You can relax. I don’t want you to depend on me. Just for the record, you’re cooking dinner tonight.’ He poured coffee into two mugs and pushed one across to her. ‘There we are. You should put milk in it. You need building up.’
She patted her stomach and there was humour in her eyes. ‘You want to have to refashion all your doors just so that I can pass through them?’
‘As I said, that bump is all baby.’
‘Big baby, then.’
‘Does that worry you?’ He bit into his own sandwich and she looked at him, thinking, not for the first time, that he was incredibly astute. She saw it over and over again at work and not just among the women he delivered. He noticed when a midwife was slightly off colour, he knew that Delia in the staff restaurant was having trouble with her hip. He didn’t miss anything and she really liked that about him.
Men were supposed to be useless at picking up signals and yet Jake seemed to notice everything.
‘Honestly? A bit, yes. I suppose all women are apprehensive about delivery.’ She picked up the sandwich and nibbled the corners. ‘But I’m sure it will be all right. I took your advice and saw Tom Hunter. He’s a nice guy.’
‘Everything all right?’
‘Yes, seems to be. I’m boringly healthy. Low blood pressure, plenty of movements.’ She felt a little embarrassed discussing it. ‘He didn’t anticipate any problems.’
‘He’s a good obstetrician.’ Jake sipped his coffee and grinned. ‘Not as outstanding as me, of course, but I couldn’t deliver your baby.’
‘Why not?’
His eyes locked on hers. ‘Because I’m emotionally involved and that isn’t a good thing. Obstetricians have to b
e able to take a step back.’
His words made her insides shift alarmingly. ‘Why are you emotionally involved? I’m just your lodger.’
He studied her face for a long moment, his blue eyes revealing nothing of his thoughts. ‘If you’ve finished your breakfast, I think we should go for that walk. Exercise is good for you. If Tom didn’t mention that fact then he should have done.’
‘Jake—’ she couldn’t let the subject drop that easily ‘—we’ve been living together for a month now and you haven’t mentioned—’ She broke off and he smiled.
‘The fact that there’s this amazing chemistry between us?’
She blushed. ‘After a month of living with me you’ve probably discovered that I’m a long way from being your ideal woman. I’m stubborn and independent and I fall asleep when I’m not working—’
‘I’m assuming that the sleep thing will improve once the baby is born, and I happen to like your independent streak.’ He stood up. ‘Let’s leave the clearing-up until later. It’s February and you, of all people, know how changeable the weather can be. The sun’s shining at the moment so we should make the most of it.’
Aware that he’d changed the subject, she followed him to the door, feeling as though the conversation was only half-finished.
‘Jake—’
‘Miranda.’ He turned to face her, his eyes gentle. ‘Are you sure you want to pursue this line of questioning? If you ask me, I’m going to be honest about how I feel and you’ll be obliged to tell me that the relationship isn’t going anywhere and then I’ll argue with you and that will ruin our walk. So let’s drop it for now.’
For now?
He was implying that he still had feelings for her, and yet…
She bit her lip, knowing that he was right. Whatever he said, she was going to back off.
‘Get your boots on.’ Jake pushed them towards her. ‘I’ll do them up for you.’
‘I can do them myself, just about.’ She slipped on another thermal layer and pulled on a jumper and then her coat. ‘I’m boiling.’
