by Sarah Morgan
With a sigh he leaned forward and removed the redundant fork from her numb fingers. ‘It’s big, yes. Of course it is. But I’m not scared of commitment. And I’m only single because I’m very, very choosy.’
‘Have you ever been in love?’ The question flew from her lips before she could stop it, and he paused for a moment.
‘Yes.’ His voice was quiet. ‘Once.’
‘What happened?’
His hesitation was fractional. ‘Before I could say anything to her, she fell in love with another man. Chances are it wouldn’t have made a difference if I’d spoken up earlier, but I made a promise to myself that if I ever met another woman who affected me as much as she did, I was going to tell her straight away.’ He stabbed some food onto the fork and held it to her mouth. ‘Eat, sweetheart. The baby needs it even if you don’t.’
Why did the moment seem so impossibly intimate? The words he’d just spoken? Or the look in his sexy blue eyes or the fact that he was feeding her with her own fork? Whichever, she felt warm colour touch her cheekbones.
If he was choosy, why had he chosen her when she surely possessed none of the attributes that he was likely to look for in a prospective partner? She wanted to ask about the other woman. The woman he’d been in love with. But she was all too aware that she was probing into his life while revealing nothing about her own.
Why did she want to know about him?
Why was she interested?
Confused and unsettled, she took the fork from his hand and finished the food on her plate, knowing that he was right that she needed to eat. The fact that she didn’t feel hungry was irrelevant.
It didn’t matter that he was patient, she told herself as she chewed listlessly. And it didn’t matter that he thrived on complications. It didn’t even matter that he’d been honest and told her how he felt. Their relationship wasn’t going anywhere. All right, so there was chemistry there, she’d be a fool to deny it. But chemistry didn’t make a firm foundation for a relationship. Nothing did.
There was no way she’d risk ever exposing her child to a relationship that would inevitably go wrong.
Not even with a man as seductively attractive as Jake Blackwell.
CHAPTER EIGHT
WHY did he always fall in love with unobtainable women?
Working his way through a busy antenatal clinic the next morning, Jake found his attention wandering back to the previous evening.
Of all the women he’d ever met, he’d never encountered one as complex and wary as Miranda. How could a woman be both spirited and fiercely independent and yet touchingly vulnerable at the same time? What had happened in her past to score such deep wounds through her confidence? What had created that determined independence? Genetic make-up or the influence of family?
There was obviously something in her past, something that she refused to reveal. It was impossible to move forward, to counter her fears and anxieties, when he didn’t understand the cause. He was determined to find out more about her. Determined to give her the confidence to open up and confide in him.
Patience, he reminded himself as he checked a set of blood results that one of the midwives had handed him. Patience. Hopefully, given time, she’d be able to trust him. In the meantime, he was going to make sure that they spent as much time together as possible.
Given that they were working and living together, it proved gratifyingly easy.
He was called up to the labour ward later that afternoon to see Paula Webb, a woman who had been on the ward for two days following premature rupture of membranes.
‘I started having contractions an hour ago. You said you thought that would happen. But I’m only thirty-five weeks, Mr Blackwell,’ she muttered, and Jake gave her shoulder a squeeze.
‘It’s going to be fine, Paula. The baby’s heart rate is doing exactly what we like it to do. Try not to worry. I’ve told you before, that’s my job.’
‘But it’s too early.’ Paula screwed up her face as another contraction took hold. ‘Is he going to end up in an incubator?’
‘I can’t promise that he won’t,’ Jake said honestly, ‘but in all likelihood he’ll be fine.’
‘I really want to have a normal delivery.’
‘And that’s exactly what we want.’ Jake glanced at Miranda, who was looking after Paula. ‘She’s six centimetres now. There’s no reason why she should have any problems but I’m around if you need me.’
Paula looked at him anxiously. ‘What time are you going off duty?’
Jake smiled at her. ‘When you’ve had your baby. I’ll see you later.’
He walked out of the room and Paula gazed after him. ‘He is such a lovely man. One of my friends had Mr Hardwick and she didn’t see him once, not once in her entire pregnancy, but I’ve seen Mr Blackwell almost every time and now he says he won’t even go home until I’ve had the baby.’
‘He’s an excellent obstetrician.’ Miranda sat with Paula and monitored her contractions for the rest of the afternoon, and by five o’clock she was fully dilated and pushing.
Miranda hit the buzzer to ask for some help and then opened a delivery pack just as Ruth and Jake walked into the room.
‘Everything all right here?’ Jake glanced at the foetal heart rate and gave a satisfied nod. ‘That looks good. How are you doing, Paula? Tired?’
‘Determined.’ Paula screwed up her face and pushed again. ‘You’re not going to use those forceps on me or do a Caesarean section.’
‘Glad to hear it,’ Jake’s tone was mild. ‘I’m essentially lazy by nature, so I have no intention of doing any of those things unless strictly necessary.’
‘I can see the head, Paula,’ Miranda said. ‘One more push and I think we’re there.’
Jake looked at Ruth. ‘Call the paediatrician. Just in case.’ He spoke softly so that Paula couldn’t hear, and Miranda knew that he was still slightly concerned about the baby. He was a man who didn’t take any chances and she liked that.
The paediatrician arrived just as the shoulder was delivered and the baby slithered into Miranda’s waiting hands.
Immediately the baby howled with indignation and Miranda placed him gently in Paula’s waiting arms.
‘Your son, Paula,’ she said huskily, and Paula’s eyes filled with tears.
‘Oh, he’s so beautiful…’ She turned her head against her husband’s shoulder and he held her as she started to sob.
‘I love you, Mike.’
‘I love you, too, babe. We’re a proper family now.’ Her husband’s voice was choked and Miranda swallowed down the lump in her throat.
What was the matter with her? She wasn’t usually so emotional. It was impossible to watch Paula and her husband and not wonder what it must be like to have that sort of love and support from someone.
Fortunately the delivery was far from over and she concentrated on the placenta and then on making Paula comfortable, blocking out the emotional scenes in the delivery room.
She was still holding herself firmly in check when she walked to the car with Jake.
‘That was such a nice delivery. I’m so glad it went smoothly for Paula.’
‘Me, too.’
‘They’re a lovely family.’
‘Yes.’
He glanced towards her. ‘No cynical comment? Aren’t you going to tell me that he’s probably having an affair with someone else and she’s really pleased because she hates him anyway?’
‘No.’ She interrupted him and looked away, unaware of the soft brush of snow on her cheeks. ‘No, I’m not going to tell you that. I think Paula’s lucky. I’m glad nothing went wrong. I was worried it might. You knew it would be all right, didn’t you?’
He shrugged. ‘No one can ever be certain, of course, but, yes, I had a good feeling.’
‘How? Why?’ She looked at him helplessly, wishing she had his antennae. ‘You just seem to know when something is about to go wrong and you’re always there to sort it out before things reach crisis point.’
He pressed the button on his keys and unlocked the doors. ‘That’s not instinct, that’s experience.’
‘But don’t you ever panic?’ She slid into the car and huddled her coat more closely around herself, suddenly feeling the cold. ‘Things can go wrong in the blink of an eye in obstetrics but I’ve never seen you anything but calm.’
‘Do I panic?’ He started the engine and frowned thoughtfully. ‘No. To be honest, I don’t. I just see a problem and try and solve it.’
‘You don’t worry about the responsibility? Litigation?’ Her teeth were chattering and she wished the car would warm up. ‘These days everyone is trying to sue everyone.’
Jake laughed and reversed out of his parking space. ‘Fortunately the UK isn’t as bad as the US. In America they actually have groups of lawyers dedicated to suing us obstetricians for malpractice. Delightful.’
‘How do you cope with the pressure?’
‘I stay up to date, I listen to mothers and midwives, I don’t ignore small warning signs because they invariably mean something and, having done all that, I relax. If you worry too much, you cease to be effective. Put my coat on. You’re shivering.’
He noticed everything, she thought as she reached into the back seat for his coat and snuggled underneath it. ‘Pregnant women are supposed to be hot all the time. I’m frozen.’
‘Probably something to do with the fact that we had two inches of snow last night and you haven’t eaten since lunchtime.’ He turned the heat up in the car and took a sharp corner carefully, his hands steady on the wheel. ‘You must be starving. Or, at least, I hope you are because you’re about to be presented with a mountain of food.’
‘We’re going out?’
‘I’m too tired to cook and I’m sick of pizza.’ He suppressed a yawn. ‘I’m taking you to dinner with some friends of mine. Christy is a wonderful cook. All we have to do is sit there and eat.’
She was horrified. ‘But I can’t just turn up to dinner! I don’t know them and—’
‘I know them.’
‘But who are you going to say I am? How are you going to introduce me?’
He slowed the car as he drove down a narrow lane and into a huge driveway. ‘A friend? My lodger? How would you like me to introduce you?’ He switched off the engine, gave her a maddeningly placid smile and then climbed out of the car.
She followed him with a million questions on her lips, none of which she was able to ask because instantly the door opened and a beautiful red-headed woman stood there, smiling.
‘I hope you’re hungry because I’ve over-catered.’
‘Those are the words I’ve been fantasising about all day. No lunch—big appetite. Hello, my angel, how are you?’ Jake leaned forward and kissed the woman warmly. Miranda stopped dead, suddenly feeling all sorts of things that she didn’t want to feel.
Who was the red-headed woman?
And why did she feel such a powerful urge to know?
Jake was perfectly entitled to have a girlfriend.
She was still trying to rationalise her thoughts when a handsome, dark-haired man appeared behind the woman. ‘Unhand my wife, Blackwell.’
His wife?
The tension left Miranda and she had a wonderful evening. The conversation was lively and the food excellent. After tucking into salmon in a creamy herb sauce, Miranda helped clear the plates and was immediately trapped by Christy in the kitchen.
‘So—where did you meet Jake?’
Miranda put the plates down on the table. ‘We’re working together,’ she said carefully, deciding not to reveal the story of their Christmas Day meeting.
‘That’s nice.’
‘I’m just his lodger. We’re friends, nothing more,’ Miranda said hastily, and Christy shot her a searching look as she pulled open the fridge door and removed a large fruit salad.
‘Am I allowed to ask about the baby or is it a taboo subject?’ Balancing the dish on one hand, Christy opened a drawer and rummaged for a large spoon with the other. ‘If it’s a tactless question, ignore me.’
‘It’s not tactless.’ Miranda rubbed a hand over her abdomen. ‘I’m seven months pregnant but I’m not with the father any more. It was a short relationship and he turned out to be married. I didn’t know that until afterwards.’ Somehow it was important to her that Christy knew the truth.
‘Ouch. You poor thing.’ Christy’s voice was soft. ‘That must be difficult for you. Still, at least you have Jake now.’
‘Oh, no!’ Miranda looked at her, startled. ‘I don’t have Jake. It isn’t like that at all. He just—’
‘He just can’t take his eyes off you,’ Christy finished with a womanly smile. ‘I’ve never seen Jake so smitten and I’ve known him for a long time. I’m thrilled. Alessandro and I have been waiting for him to meet someone special.’
‘I’m just his lodger.’
Christy’s smile widened. ‘To the best of my knowledge, Jake doesn’t have any financial problems, so his reasons for wanting you to share his house must amount to more than a boost to his income.’
‘He’s been very kind to me, that’s true, but—’
‘You’re the first woman he’s ever brought to dinner here so that says a lot.’ Juggling fruit salad and bowls, Christy walked back towards the kitchen door where she paused. ‘Jake’s had plenty of girlfriends but hardly any serious relationships. I just want you to know that. Be kind to him.’
Be kind to him?
And suddenly, without a shadow of a doubt, Miranda knew that Christy was the woman Jake had been in love with.
When? He didn’t seem like the type to chase after a married woman.
Her own mind suddenly full of questions, she followed Christy back to the table and Jake looked up.
‘You were a long time. Everything OK?’
‘Fine.’ Miranda managed a smile and Christy dished out fruit salad.
‘My fault. I was delving into all her secrets. Woman’s prerogative.’
Jake’s gaze was thoughtful but he didn’t pursue the subject until they were safely back in the car.
‘I’m sorry if Christy upset you. It didn’t occur to me that she’d ask you questions about your pregnancy, but perhaps it was inevitable.’
‘She didn’t upset me. She’s really nice.’
‘And Alessandro?’
Miranda thought about the dark-haired, brooding A and E consultant who had challenged his wife on so many points. ‘A bit intimidating,’ she said honestly.
‘Most women find him irresistible.’ Jake’s tone was dry. ‘Mediterranean heritage and all that.’
‘She was the one, wasn’t she?’ Miranda couldn’t not ask the question. ‘Christy was the woman you were in love with.’
‘What makes you say that?’
‘Just something she said when we were in the kitchen. Something about her caring about you.’ She frowned slightly and Jake gave a smile.
‘I should hope that she does care about me. That’s what friends are supposed to do and, yes, Christy is the woman I was in love with, but it was a long time ago.’
‘Does she know?’
‘Yes.’ Jake’s voice was calm. ‘Funnily enough, I told her just before Christmas.’
‘This Christmas?’
‘That’s right. She and Alessandro were going through a bad patch. I wanted to remind her that what they had was special. Worth fighting for. I gave her up because I could see that they were perfect together. They still are.’
‘You really believe in perfection? Isn’t that rather romantic and idealistic? If you expect perfection then any relationship is doomed to fall apart.’
‘I didn’t say I believed in perfection, I said that they were perfect together. Not the same thing. In fact, I would say that it’s their imperfections that make them so perfect.’
Miranda laughed. ‘Now you’ve lost me.’
‘Well, they both have fiery tempers and they tend to communicate by flinging plates at each other and a great deal of hand-wa
ving and raised voices. Hardly perfect. But they understand each other. They love each other. It works for them.’
She stared at him. ‘Ever considered being a marriage guidance counsellor?’
‘No. Far too depressing. A large number of people who marry do so for all the wrong reasons. Those marriages cannot possibly be saved and then they’re faced with all sorts of nasty, uncomfortable decisions, like whether they should stay together for the sake of the children, that sort of thing.’
‘Why did Christy and Alessandro separate?’
Jake was silent for a moment. ‘They didn’t really. It was a classic case of miscommunication. I suppose they lost their way for a while. It happens all too easily. It’s why it’s so important to share things with your partner.’ He glanced towards her. ‘What do you think makes a relationship work?’
‘I don’t know many relationships that have worked so I’m not a good person to ask.’ She looked out of the window and recognised the road. ‘Oh—we’re very near to my old flat. Can we just stop for a second so that I can drop my spare set of keys with the landlord?’
‘Can’t we just post them?’
‘It will only take a minute—I’ll just pop them through his letter-box.’
Jake took the necessary detour and pulled up outside the unwelcoming block of flats. ‘Give me the keys—I’ll do it. I don’t want you anywhere near that place.’
‘We’ll go together. Look what happened last time you went on your own.’ Miranda undid her seat belt. ‘Someone needs to keep an eye on you. If he happens to be there, I don’t want him hitting you again.’
His eyes gleamed with humour. ‘What are you, my bodyguard?’
‘Absolutely. Pregnant bodyguards are all the rage, haven’t you heard?’
As it turned out, the landlord’s flat was in darkness and they posted the keys through the door without mishap. They were just returning to the car when Miranda stopped dead.
