Josh rolled his eyes again, scooped Max up, laid him in the waiting crib and looked down at him sceptically. ‘I thought the other day you said you were thirty-five weeks, Molly? Can you lot count?’
Molly chuckled. ‘Apparently not. We’ve gone by the ultrasound dates but they were a bit few and far between,’ she confessed. ‘Hugh revised it up to thirty-eight yesterday.’
‘Good,’ Josh said. ‘Because I was beginning to think you were all totally incompetent. I reckon he’s pretty much full term, even though he’s a little on the small side. He’s certainly mature enough to cope without problems. What did the scans indicate?’
‘I missed one or two,’ Molly pointed out. ‘Milestone scans, really, because I was too busy either at work or with the kids.’
‘The ones you had threw up date anomalies, though, all the way along the line, if you read the reports,’ Hugh pointed out, ‘but you seemed so positive about the timing, and who am I to disbelieve a midwife and an obstetrician when they tell me when their baby’s due? By yesterday it was obvious that you two were just plain wrong. Maybe you need a calendar on your bedside table?’
Sam coloured slightly and grinned. ‘We might have made a mistake with the dates, I suppose. We’re a bit hit and miss in the common-sense department, and the house is always so busy it’s a miracle we found the time to conceive him, never mind keep track of it! As to when it was—does it matter? He’s fine, Molly’s fine, I need a quiet lie-down to get over it and then I’ll be fine. I think it’s time for a vasectomy, actually. I think Molly’s had enough babies, and I’m damn sure I have! Any repeats of today and I’ll be a basket case. Funny how it’s just so different when it’s your own.’
‘Tell me about it.’ Josh laughed softly, completing his check of little Max with the hated hip check. With a gentle apology to the protesting baby, he lifted him carefully and handed him back to his mother.
‘One gorgeous little fellow, all present and correct. I take it he’s been feeding all right in the last few minutes?’
‘Fine.’
‘Good. Too much amniotic fluid can be a sign of oesophageal atresia, but if he’s suckling well and not regurgitating, I think we can safely rule that out. Keep an eye on him, though, and call me if you’re worried. I don’t think you need to be, not for him, but his head hasn’t been moulded a great deal, so I guess you were the one to bear the brunt of it.’
‘I don’t doubt it,’ Molly said a little shakily. ‘I’m beginning to feel a bit shocky—it was so fast.’
‘You’ll be fine. Well done. Can I go and get on with my gardening now, please? Lissa’s got plans for this afternoon but if I don’t get the lawn cut it’ll need a goat to deal with it.’
‘Go on, go away,’ Molly said with a grateful smile. ‘And thanks.’
‘My pleasure.’ He kissed her again, gave Sam a brief, hard hug and a slap on the back and sauntered out, whistling cheerfully.
‘Right,’ Hugh said gently. ‘Let’s have a look at you, Molly. You did really well there to get him out so fast, but I’ve got a horrible feeling Josh is right and you will have torn.’
‘I have. I felt it,’ she said, starting to tremble all over with the shock of the rapid delivery.
He checked her very carefully, then nodded. ‘Yup. Sorry, love. You’ll need a few sutures.’
‘I can fix it,’ Sue said calmly, taking Molly’s hands in hers and rubbing them vigorously. ‘Why don’t you guys take Sam and feed him some breakfast? I’ll look after Molly. She needs a brisk rub-down and a cup of tea, and then we’ll worry about the rest. She’ll be fine with me.’
‘Are you sure?’ Sam asked, looking at his shaking wife with concern. Molly pulled him over, kissed him and patted his cheek. ‘I’m fine, really. I’ll be fine in a minute. It happens all the time. Go on. You can go and plan your vasectomy and Sue and I will finish up here.’
‘Coffee first,’ he said, looking squeamish at the mention of a vasectomy, ‘and a few thousand phone calls. Sue, page me if you need me back here. Right, guys, breakfast is on me.’
He slung an arm around Eve’s shoulders and hugged her as they left the room. ‘Thanks for turning out for us.’
‘You’re welcome. Actually, I didn’t have a lot of choice. I was at Hugh’s, because I managed to lock myself out of my flat last night and I didn’t have anywhere to go, but I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.’
He gave a hollow laugh and looked at Hugh across the top of her head. ‘Thanks for everything,’ he said ruefully. ‘Sorry I was such a nightmare.’
‘Only what I was expecting,’ Hugh replied, grinning. ‘If you think about it, the external version was a pretty routine procedure on a patient like Molly. You wouldn’t have thought twice about having a go on one of your patients. The prolapsed cord made it all a little bit too exciting, though. We could have done without that.’
Sam nodded, pressed the lift button and then looked down at their scrubs. ‘You two aren’t really fit to go down to the canteen. Why don’t you change while I make a quick call, and we’ll meet there in five minutes?’
‘Good idea,’ Hugh agreed, and they parted company, Sam to his office, Hugh and Eve to Theatre to retrieve their clothes.
‘That was amazing,’ Eve said as they walked back. ‘How on earth did you know she’d get the baby out in time? Weren’t you worried?’
He gave a strained laugh. ‘Just a tad, but it was her fifth delivery, the baby was small, she knew the score, and I’ve come up against Molly’s determination in the past. I was pretty sure she could do it or I would have tipped her up the other way and rushed her into Theatre.’
‘And made Sam a happy man.’
He laughed again and hugged her. ‘Sam didn’t want her to have a section, he just wanted everything to be all right. His trouble is he knows too much. Right, clothes.’
She put her glad rags back on, wishing she’d worn something a little less clingy and revealing than that top, and rather more sensible shoes, because she was going to have to walk back to her apartment to meet her landlord shortly and, despite her protests to Hugh the night before, they weren’t really that comfortable to walk in.
On the way down to the canteen, she phoned her landlord and he agreed to meet her with the keys, but the only time he could do it was immediately, which, of course, scuppered their plans for breakfast.
She put her phone back in her bag and looked up at Hugh. ‘That’s a shame. I have to go now. I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t be. Do you want to take my car? I don’t really want to leave Molly until I’ve checked her over again, but you can’t walk in those shoes, whatever you say.’
‘Would you mind? It’s a bit far and I do need to be there fast.’
He pulled out his keys and pressed them into her hand. ‘Here. I’ll see you later.’
‘I can phone you when I’m done and come back for you.’
‘Or I could come round when I’ve finished here in—say, half an hour? Three-quarters?’
And suddenly all their earlier tension that had been diffused by Molly’s delivery was back in spades.
‘Make it an hour,’ she said, her breath catching in her throat.
He nodded, bent his head and brushed his lips lightly over hers. ‘One hour,’ he promised, and straightened up, his eyes burning. ‘I’ll be there.’
‘Wow. That looked pretty intense.’
Hugh met Sam’s eyes and looked quickly away. ‘Uh—yeah.’
‘Good.’
‘Good?’
‘She’s just what you need—a sensible, delightful woman with her life all mapped out, who isn’t going to make waves at home or try and take over your life and upset your kids. A nice, liberating, short-term relationship with no strings. That’s what you want, isn’t?’
Hugh frowned. That was what he was after—wasn’t it? He always had been in the past, ever since he’d lost Jo. No strings, nothing to complicate his already complicated life. And everything Sam was saying made sense,
but it sounded so empty—so hollow.
Was that all Eve was offering?
He thought of the way she’d returned his kiss last night, the way she’d been looking at him all morning, and he didn’t think so. He wasn’t going to argue with Sam, though, not now. Not this morning. In fact, he didn’t really want to talk about it at all.
He slung an arm around Sam’s shoulders. ‘Never mind me, let’s go and get your breakfast, then I need to check on Molly and you need to get home and tell the troops.’
And then he could go and see Eve.
It was amazing what you could do in an hour.
She met her landlord at the front door, apologised profusely, retrieved her keys from the hall table, ran to the corner shop and bought milk and a packet of condoms as an afterthought, then came back, stripped the bed and remade it, plumped up the sofa cushions, had the fastest shower on record. She was just pulling on her clothes when the doorbell rang.
‘Hello?’
‘It’s me.’
She pressed the button on the intercom, heard the click and let it go, then went to the door, pausing to zip her jeans and run her fingers through her hair.
Lord, she was so nervous! She hadn’t felt like this for years. For ever, maybe.
She flicked her tongue over her suddenly dry lips to moisten them, then opened the door, just as Hugh raised his hand to knock.
He smiled at her, but it was strained, and she opened the door wider and gestured to him to come in.
‘Get your keys sorted?’ he asked.
She nodded. ‘They were on here,’ she said, pointing to the table. Then their eyes locked and the strained smile faded from his face, leaving nothing but need, raw and undisguised.
Her heart hitched against her ribs, then settled to a steady thunder. She reached out her hand, placing it on his chest, feeling his heart beat just as fast.
‘Oh, Hugh,’ she murmured, and then she was in his arms, and his mouth was locked on hers, and she thought she was going to die if he didn’t make love to her right now.
She didn’t need to worry. There was no way Hugh was letting her out of his arms any time soon. Well, only so he could tunnel his fingers through her hair and anchor her head and slant his mouth more firmly over hers.
Her fingers threaded through the soft, damp strands of hair at the nape of his neck, her other hand sliding down his spine and coming to rest tucked in the waistband of his trousers, urging him against her. He’d showered, she thought inconsequentially, but then she stopped thinking, because with a ragged groan he backed her against the hall wall, one hard, urgent thigh wedging between hers as he ground his hips against her.
Heat flooded her, taking away her strength so she sagged against him with a cry. Without taking his mouth from hers, he hauled her up into his arms, pushed open the bedroom door with his foot and dropped her on the bed, coming down beside her and finding her mouth again with his.
His breathing was ragged, his heart pounding against her chest, and one hand found its way under her soft sweater and curled possessively round her breast. She bucked against him, and he tore his mouth from hers, dragging the jumper over her head and fastening his mouth over one aching, pleading nipple and suckling hard.
She cried out, reaching for him, her hands clawing at his clothes, and then they were naked, hands, lips, tongues everywhere, searching, seeking, until finally he raised his head and stared down at her with wild eyes.
‘Condom?’ he said economically, and she reached over to the bedside table, her fingers shaking. He took them from her, and moments later he was moving over her, his big, gentle hands cradling her head, his eyes locked on hers as slowly, endlessly, he entered her with one long powerful thrust.
‘Hugh!’ she cried, and he stroked again, and again, and again, harder, faster, until she was mindless with need, striving, reaching…
‘Come with me, Eve,’ he said, his voice hoarse with control, and slowly, like some primeval force, she felt the ripples start, felt her body clench around him, felt the shudder run through him, the sweat break out on his skin as he stiffened and arched against her, her name a harsh plea on his lips.
‘Hugh.’ She wept, and then she shattered, her body convulsing around his, cradling it, holding him close to her heart as he poured himself into her with a savage cry of triumph.
Then he lifted his head and stared down into her eyes, and she saw that his eyes were glazed with tears.
He lowered his head, brushed the sweetest, gentlest kiss on her lips and rolled to his side, taking her with him, wrapping her hard against his chest while their hearts slowed and the sweat dried on their skin and the echoes of their release faded quietly away, leaving them at peace.
CHAPTER EIGHT
‘EVE?’
She rolled her head towards him, her eyes soft with sleep.
‘Mmm?’
‘I have to go.’
Her eyes opened wider, and she propped herself up on one elbow. ‘Really?’ she said, her voice laced with regret.
‘Really. The kids will be expecting me. We’re meeting in town for lunch. Why don’t you come?’
Some unnamed emotion clouded her face and she looked away. ‘I don’t think so.’ She sat up, wrapping her arms around her knees, the quilt falling away to reveal the smooth, warm curve of her breast. He ached to touch it, to lean over and stroke the fine, delicate skin with his tongue, but he didn’t have time. If he touched her, let himself reach out…
‘Why not? They won’t mind if you join us. They’d like to see you again. They both seem to like you.’
She shook her head. ‘It’s too soon, Hugh. They’ll take one look at us and they’ll know.’
‘Know what?’ he asked, wondering how she’d reply, but she just shrugged.
‘That we’ve spent the morning in bed,’ she said frankly, and while he shouldn’t have been surprised, and it was, after all, only the truth, nevertheless he felt a little shaft of disappointment.
Stupid. What had he been hoping she’d say? That the kids would know they were in love? Crazy. Ridiculous! They’d only met nine days ago, worked together less than a week. Of course they weren’t in love! He was just feeling sentimental because of Sam and Molly and the baby.
He threw back the quilt and stood up, starting to gather his clothes together. ‘Maybe you’re right,’ he said. ‘How about coming for lunch tomorrow?’
‘Why don’t you come here?’
His body reacted with enthusiasm, and with a growl of frustration he rounded up the rest of his clothes, yanked them on and turned to face her again. ‘Because I don’t want this to be all there is for us—just a hole-in-the-corner affair, sneaking around behind my children’s backs.’
‘I don’t want to sneak, Hugh,’ she said, her face troubled. ‘I’m just not ready to go public. What will they think?’
He had no idea. He didn’t really understand his need to parade her in front of them, unless it was something to do with testosterone and proving to his apparently sexually active son that he wasn’t over the hill yet.
And that was something he really ought to think about before he dragged Eve into it.
He scrubbed a hand round the back of his neck and sighed. ‘Maybe you’re right,’ he muttered.
‘So when will I see you again?’
He gave a hollow laugh, because he was wondering just how soon he could decently—or indecently!—escape from his family. ‘The kids are bound to be out tonight. They always are on Saturday. How about eight?’
‘I could cook for you.’
‘Then I won’t be able to eat with the children, and they’ll realise I’m eating out.’
‘So don’t eat too much, and I’ll do dessert.’
He surrendered on a huff of laughter, bent over and kissed her soft, willing mouth very thoroughly. ‘Dessert it is. I’ll see you at eight.’
It was the start of a wonderful interlude.
At least for Eve it was wonderful. She wasn’t so sure how Hugh felt abou
t it. He was the most amazing lover. Tender, passionate, very physical and totally at ease with both her body and his. She’d never had a lover like him before, and if she allowed herself to think about it, she knew she never would again.
But sometimes, after they’d made love, she would catch an expression in his eyes that made her heart ache. It was almost as if he wanted to tell her something and didn’t quite know how, as if he hadn’t yet worked it out.
She had. He was falling in love with her, and the thought horrified her.
It would never work for them. She couldn’t love him. It was impossible. She had her career to think of, and love and her career were mutually exclusive. She had things to do, goals to achieve—promises to fulfil. Promises that at times now were beginning to seem intolerably demanding and crushing in their importance. And anyway, the last thing on earth she wanted was to be involved with the father of two highly vocal and free-thinking teenagers!
Well, no, that wasn’t quite true. She didn’t mind being involved with their father, but the kids themselves—no way. She remembered the strain of her own upbringing, the endless times she’d covered for her brother, lied for him, run interference so her father didn’t kill him while all the time nothing she did was good enough. For years she’d been the mediator, and she didn’t want to be involved in all that again, reminded of such an unhappy time in her life.
Her younger brother had been hell as a teenager, and they’d all been miserable—her father, a brilliant doctor and an absolutely lousy and unintuitive parent, her mother, trapped at home, looking after them all and deeply resentful, her brother, once perfect in her father’s eyes but now running wild, irritated by his goody-two-shoes big sister who was all there was between him and the thrashing he probably deserved.
He hadn’t been nearly as out of control as he would have liked them to think, but bad enough that his exam results had reflected his lack of commitment. Bad enough that his father’s continual disappointment had had serious foundation, at least until it had been too late and he’d been dying.
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