Maternal Instinct

by Caroline Anderson

  ‘Don’t ask me in, Eve,’ he murmured, and she wondered how he could read her mind so easily. Was she so transparent, so desperate for his touch that it was written all over her face?

  Probably.

  ‘Maybe I wasn’t going to,’ she said, knowing he wouldn’t believe her but giving it a go anyway. ‘Maybe I was going to tell you I’d see you on Monday.’

  His mouth kicked up in a knowing grin. ‘Of course you were.’ Then the grin faded, and he dropped his hand away from her face and stepped back, his eyes suddenly intense. ‘Thank you for a lovely evening.’

  ‘Isn’t that my line?’

  He shook his head. ‘I don’t think so. Sleep well. Have a good weekend.’

  And without touching her again, without a peck on the cheek or a touch of his hand or the brush of his fingers against hers, he turned on his heel and strode swiftly to his car, sliding behind the wheel and driving away without a second look.

  She felt bereft.

  Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

  ‘Stupid,’ she repeated out loud. ‘You’ve got to work with him. You don’t want him kissing you.’

  Oh, yes I do, her body screamed, so loud she was sure the couple strolling along the pavement behind her just the other side of the railings would hear.

  ‘You’re mad,’ she told herself firmly.

  They lifted their heads and gave her a curious look, and she pretended she was talking into the intercom.

  ‘Truly mad.’

  She had a ridiculous urge to giggle, but the next few seconds of frantic searching dispatched it.

  She had no keys.

  She closed her eyes and groaned. She could see them clearly, on the hall table where she’d thrown them on her way in. Where she always threw them. So what now? Call a locksmith? Wait for the morning and contact the landlord? And sleep where? She couldn’t even get into her car!

  ‘Oh, damn,’ she muttered, and then a car’s headlights swept across the parking area and she blinked in the harsh glare.

  The lights cut off, the engine fell silent and she heard the steady rhythm of a man’s footsteps. Maybe he could let her in.

  ‘Eve?’

  Hugh.

  She turned towards him, her heart kicking against her ribs. ‘Did you forget something?’

  His smile was crooked. ‘It’ll keep. What are you doing out here still?’

  She sighed in frustration. ‘I’ve been really stupid. I’ve left my keys in the flat. I’ve got a spare in my car, but guess what?’

  He grinned. ‘The spare for your car is in the flat?’

  ‘Bingo. And I’m supposed to be clever enough to save lives?’

  His grin got wider, and he propped himself against the glass wall of the foyer and shook his head. ‘That’s a different part of the brain.’

  ‘Well, there’s a mercy. For a moment there I was worried for my patients.’

  ‘No need. They’re safe.’ He pushed himself away from the wall, stuffing his hands into his trouser pockets and cocking his head on one side. ‘So—what now?’

  She shrugged. ‘You tell me. I can’t get in, I can’t go anywhere in the car—I guess I’ll have to find a hotel for the night and sort it out in the morning.’

  ‘Or you could stay with me.’

  Her heart thumped in her chest and she looked at him, her eyes flicking away again, then back. ‘Oh. Well—are you sure? That seems…’

  ‘Seems?’ he prompted gently.

  Her shoulders lifted again. ‘An imposition?’

  He smiled. ‘Oh, come on. I can’t have my favourite registrar sleeping in a cardboard box on the doorstep.’

  ‘I’ll tell Oliver you said that.’

  ‘What? That I don’t want you sleeping in a box?’

  ‘That I’m your favourite.’

  He chuckled. ‘Oliver’s a clever man, he knows. He has all sorts of sterling qualities, but he looks dire in a skirt.’

  ‘And that’s enough to make me your favourite?’ she said, her professional pride suddenly dented. Maybe he was just like the professor after all.

  His eyes were teasing and tender and made her feel funny inside. ‘Oh, yes,’ he said softly. ‘That’s enough—that and the fact that you make the best dinner companion I’ve had for years, and you aren’t afraid to put me in my place when you feel it’s necessary.’ He seemed to relent, his mouth kicking up in a smile. ‘Oh, and it doesn’t hurt that you’re showing all the signs of turning into a damn fine surgeon either.’

  She felt her skin warm at his praise, and tried for a teasing note. ‘Well. Just keep telling me that until I believe it, and maybe I’ll stop looking over my shoulder for Julia and her axe.’

  ‘Axe?’ he said, chuckling.

  ‘She’s got it in for me. Every time I catch sight of her, her mouth tightens up.’

  ‘Ah.’ He looked down, his mouth pursed, then tipped his head on one side in a curiously revealing gesture. ‘That may be nothing to do with you and everything to do with me.’

  ‘You—Oh!’ She felt a ridiculous and crushing sense of disappointment, but he was laughing softly.

  ‘Oh, no. There’s nothing like that. She scares me rigid, but unfortunately it’s not mutual. Let’s just say she wouldn’t have been averse to us getting a little closer.’ He glanced around. ‘Why are we having this conversation here on your chilly doorstep when we could be curled up on my sofa with a nice cup of tea?’

  She hesitated another moment, but it really only was a moment, and she knew she was going to fold like a wet tissue. She really didn’t have a lot of options anyway, and, after all, they’d be well chaperoned by his kids.

  Safety in numbers, she told herself, and there was little more offputting than nosy teenagers. Maybe with them around she’d be able to resist the urge to lob herself into his arms and kiss him!

  He hadn’t known if the kids were going to be in. Unlikely, on a Friday night, but Lucy’s light was on and Tom’s car was in the driveway. For once he was grateful the kids were both around. They could chaperon him, make sure he didn’t rush into anything hasty with Eve, he thought as he slipped the key into the lock and opened his front door.

  Seconds later he thought better of that random fit of gratitude, as Tom strolled barefoot through the hall, a bowl of cereal in one hand dripping a steady trail of milk across the carpet while his attention was focussed on the book in the other hand.

  He looked up just as Hugh reached out and righted the bowl.

  ‘Whoops,’ he said with a grin, then caught sight of Eve and the grin widened.

  ‘Hi, there. Had a good meal?’

  ‘Lovely, thank you.’

  ‘Great. Dad, Lucy wants to see you. She’s having trouble with her homework.’

  ‘She should be asleep,’ he muttered, and turned to Eve, smiling apologetically. ‘Give me a minute—make yourself at home in the sitting room.’

  ‘Actually, I could murder a cup of tea. Should I put the kettle on?’

  ‘You’re a star,’ he said, resisting the urge to drag her into his arms and kiss her senseless. ‘Right, Lucy, you’ve got two minutes,’ he muttered under his breath.

  He ran up the stairs, losing his tie on the way, and rapped on her door.

  ‘Come!’

  ‘I’m not a dog,’ he pointed out, shoving the door open against the heap of clothes. ‘I see you’re hanging your clothes on the floor again.’

  ‘Yeah, yeah,’ she said, and gave him a sleepy grin. ‘Any good at biology?’

  ‘Well, now, let me think,’ he said drily, and rolled his eyes. ‘What do you need to know?’

  ‘I don’t understand this bit—it’s genetics.’

  She thrust an open book in his direction and he stared at it for a second, then gave up.

  ‘I’ll sort it out with you tomorrow. It’s easy, but it’ll take time, and Eve’s here. She’s locked herself out of her apartment, so I’m glad you’re still up. You can go and sort out the spare bedroom. You haven’t cleared it up
since Amy was here last. There are clean sheets in the airing cupboard and you know where the vacuum is. The bathroom could probably do with a look as well. Don’t forget to find her a clean towel, preferably not one of the ones with holes in.’

  He left her grumbling in protest, and ran back down to the kitchen, to find Eve making tea and Tom propped up at the island, munching his cereal and watching her.

  ‘You could have made the tea,’ he said, but Tom just grinned.

  ‘Nah. She’s happy. Who am I to interfere with that?’

  He grunted, went over to Eve and took the box of teabags out of her hand.

  ‘Let me,’ he said, and she relinquished her hold on them and turned, arms folded over that delectable chest as she propped herself against the worktop and watched him.

  Highly distracting. He nearly poured boiling water over his hand, trying not to look at the soft swell of her breasts out of the corner of his eye, and then he mashed the teabags so hard with the spoon that one of them burst.

  ‘You can have that one,’ she teased. Taking the other mug from him, she threw most of the contents down the sink, topped the mug up with hot water and smiled indulgently at him. ‘Why do men do that?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Make tea so strong? When I said I could murder a cup of tea, I didn’t mean you to take me so literally!’

  He grinned. ‘My grandmother used to say something about being strong enough to trot a mouse across the top.’

  Eve snorted. ‘You could trot an elephant across that, Hugh,’ she pointed out, and Tom chuckled.

  ‘So where’s Kelly?’ he asked, as it had suddenly occurred to him that his son was at home alone for a change.

  ‘She’s gone home for an early night—felt a bit rough. I think that pill might be working.’

  ‘Good,’ he replied, glad that one thing was going right in his life. He really, really wasn’t ready to be a grandfather at thirty-five! He took the plastic milk carton out of the fridge, peered at it with a sigh and poured a dribble into each mug.

  ‘Did you have enough milk on your cereal?’ he asked, his voice tinged with sarcasm, but it was lost on Tom, who simply grunted.

  ‘Uh. Yeah, it was fine.’

  Hugh waggled the bottle at him. ‘Sure about that?’

  Tom eyed the empty bottle, pulled a rueful face and slid to his feet. ‘Sorry. There’s more in the freezer.’

  ‘Which won’t help me now. Finished?’

  ‘Yup.’

  ‘Then put your bowl in the dishwasher and go and give Lucy a hand sorting out the spare room, please, so we can have a few moments at least of relative peace and quiet at the end of a killer week.’

  Tom opened his mouth to argue, looked from one to the other and shut it with a grin. ‘All right,’ he said, and, picking up his book, he sauntered off grinning broadly, his bowl still defiantly on the island.

  Hugh rolled his eyes, ignored it and ushered Eve through to the sitting room, somehow resisting the urge to put his hand on her delectably lush, sleek bottom.

  ‘Have a seat,’ he said, watching as she kicked off those crazy shoes and curled up at the end of one of the sofas. Her skirt slid up, revealing a tantalising glimpse of smooth, pale thigh before she rescued it and tugged it into place. Desire slammed through him.

  Music, he thought desperately. He put on a CD—anything to break the silence—and realised after the introductory bar that it was a hopelessly romantic album of Sam Gregory’s that he’d been listening to the night before in a lonely and melancholy mood—a mood that had far too much to do with the beautiful and tempting woman sitting opposite him.

  At first he was going to stop it, cut it off before she realised what it was, blame it on Lucy, who wouldn’t be seen dead listening to something like that. But then he thought, What the hell? We’ve had a romantic dinner. Why not? And it would surely be easier to sit here and listen to Sam’s CD than to try and make conversation in a vacuum when all he could think about was Eve’s legs.

  But it wasn’t easier. She met his eyes, looked away and coloured softly. God, what was she thinking? He wanted to ask her, but he didn’t dare, because if it was anything along the lines of what he was thinking, there was no way he wanted to hear it.

  Not tonight, when his kids were both around and would be keeping a very close eye on what he was up to.

  It was hellish, and when after an interminable time she set down her mug on the coffee-table, he stabbed the remote control and plunged them into a deafening silence.

  The kids must have gone to bed, he realised. Or were keeping quietly out of the way. That was a first. And it left them dangerously alone with their undercurrents.

  ‘You must be tired, it’s been a long week,’ he said eventually, but she didn’t smile. She just looked at him, her eyes a little confused and wary, and with a cross between a growl and a sigh, he catapulted to his feet.

  ‘Come on, time you were in bed,’ he said, and she unfolded her endless legs from under that glorious bottom and stood up. At the door to the hall she paused and turned to him, her thoughtful eyes searching his. ‘Why did you come back?’ she asked softly.

  ‘Back?’

  ‘To my apartment this evening.’

  He hesitated. ‘I forgot something.’

  ‘What?’

  Surrendering to the inevitable, he gave a weary sigh, tired of fighting, and took the small stride that put her in reach. ‘This,’ he murmured. Lifting his hands, he cupped her face, oh, so gently, and lowered his mouth to hers.

  She made a tiny noise, the merest whimper of need, but it unravelled him, and he reeled her in against his chest, threaded his fingers through the glorious waves of her hair and plundered that sweet, soft, open mouth as if his life depended on it.

  Oh, dear God, she still tasted of chocolate.

  His tongue raided every corner of her mouth, every velvety recess, feeling the sharp, clean edge of her teeth, the warm softness of her lips, the smooth glide of her tongue against his. She eased away, her lips sipping his, tasting him, savouring him for a moment before parting again with a groan and giving him access.

  He was going to die. He was. Tonight. Now.

  But then she eased away again, her eyes soft and gentle and full of regret.

  ‘Hugh, no. The kids…’

  Oh, damn.

  He released her abruptly and stepped away quickly, while he still could. ‘You’re right,’ he said gruffly. ‘I’m sorry.’

  Her fingers came up and pressed against his lips. ‘Don’t be,’ she murmured.

  He took her hand in his, pressing her fingers to his lips and closing his eyes, struggling for control. ‘I’ll show you to your room,’ he said at last, and took her upstairs. Lucy and Tom, miraculously, had done a good job of her room, to his relief. There was even a clean towel over the end of the bed, one of the better ones. ‘I’ll get you a T-shirt,’ he said, opening the airing cupboard and pulling out the first one of his he came to. ‘Do you need anything else for the night?’

  Like me?

  Her smile was wry with understanding. ‘No, I’ll be fine. Thank you.’

  He nodded, hesitated a second then brushed her lips with his. ‘Goodnight, Eve,’ he said, his voice a soft, throaty growl raw with desire.

  ‘Goodnight,’ she whispered, and closed the door with the softest click, with him feeling as if he was quite definitely on the wrong side of it.

  Rats.

  Sleep would have been impossible, so he went downstairs, cleared up the mess the kids had left in the kitchen, loaded the dishwasher and cleaned his shoes, leaving them on the side for the polish to dry. He heard Eve moving around in the room above, heard her in the bathroom, then when all was quiet and he thought he was under control he went back upstairs, his bare feet silent on the stair carpet. Without allowing himself the indulgence of hesitating for a nanosecond outside her bedroom door, he went into his own room, shut the door firmly and went to bed.

  He’d kissed her.

  Ev
e lay there in the quiet house as dawn stole across the sky, listening to the birdsong outside her window, and touched her fingers to her lips.

  He’d been coming back to kiss her goodnight.

  She closed her eyes and rolled to her side, tugging the pillow tight into her arms. Dear God. If she’d had her keys, if she’d been in her apartment when he’d got back…

  They’d be lovers by now. No question about it.

  And they were going to be. She knew that, just as she knew the sun would rise in a little while and he would be getting up, showering—

  No! Don’t think about it. Don’t think about hot water streaming over his naked body, coursing through the light scatter of hair on his chest, cascading down that smooth, rigid abdomen, over the rippling muscles and taut flesh, down—

  ‘Eve?’

  The tap on the door made her lift her head.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I’ve made you tea.’

  ‘I’ll come down.’

  ‘No need, it’s here.’

  He opened her door a crack. ‘Can I come in?’

  She was sleeping in the T-shirt that he’d lent her, and so long as she kept her legs in the bed it would be fine. The top she’d worn last night had been more revealing. ‘Of course,’ she said, wondering why her heart was crashing against her ribs and it suddenly seemed so incredibly intimate.

  Not that the room was small. Far from it. It was a lovely, spacious room, but once Hugh was in it, wearing a T-shirt and snug jersey boxers under an open dressing-gown, the walls seemed to shrink. He pushed the door shut with his hip and came over to the bed, two cups in hand, and set one down on the bedside table before hitching a hip on the edge of her bed.

  ‘Sleep all right?’

  She decided not to tell him about the hours spent thinking about him. Instead she nodded and smiled. ‘Fine, thank you. Much better than I would have in a cardboard box.’

  His answering smile was warm and teasing, and all she could think about was kissing him, the feel of his lips, the touch of his tongue…

  ‘God, Eve, don’t look at me like that,’ he groaned, and she looked up from his full, chiselled lips to meet eyes that blazed with such a fierce need that she almost whimpered in response.

  She pushed herself up on her arms, stuffed the pillow into the small of her back and sat up against the headboard, cradling the mug of tea like a lifeline. But they couldn’t just sit there drinking tea and pretending the kiss hadn’t happened, so with her typical straightforward assault on the obvious, she said, ‘This is going to be really complicated, isn’t it?’