Carrying the Single Dad's Baby

by Kate Hardy

  ‘And you’re the first person who’s made me feel anything since Oliver,’ she said.

  So it was the same for her. This crazy pull of attraction that really shouldn’t work. ‘Where does this leave us?’ he asked. ‘Do we just ignore how we feel and try to look at each other as strictly a colleague?’

  She looked at their joined hands. ‘Whenever I see you outside work, it makes me feel like a teenager.’

  ‘Me, too,’ he admitted. ‘Thirty-four going on seventeen.’

  ‘So we’re going to have to do something.’ She paused. ‘Get it out of our systems, perhaps?’

  He hadn’t expected her to suggest that. ‘A fling?’

  ‘I don’t know. Maybe I don’t mean a fling, Maybe more seeing where this takes us.’ She looked at him. ‘Which means, as far as Iain’s concerned, we’re just friends who work together.’

  So if it went wrong between them, Iain wouldn’t be collateral damage. He wouldn’t be hurt. Wouldn’t feel abandoned. ‘Thank you for putting him first,’ Daniel said. ‘I appreciate that.’

  ‘It’s how I’d feel if I were in your shoes.’

  Putting himself in her shoes was much harder. ‘Are you sure you can cope with seeing Iain?’ he asked. If he’d lost his precious boy, it would rip him to shreds every time he came into contact with a child who would’ve been Iain’s age.

  ‘As I said, I have good days and bad days. And he’s a total sweetheart. I enjoyed having him here.’ She sucked in a breath. ‘But I don’t want you to think that I’m just using you to get the child I should’ve had.’

  ‘No, I don’t think that. I think it’s going to be complicated,’ he said, ‘but I also think it’s going to be worth it.’

  ‘So this is a date?’ she checked.

  ‘I think it is,’ he said.

  ‘And, right now, there’s something I really want to do.’ Still keeping his hand linked with hers, he stood up. ‘Would you dance with me?’

  * * *

  She’d been more honest with Daniel than she had with Oliver; her time in counselling had taught her how to open up properly and really talk about a situation, rather than burying her emotions under a smile and pretending everything was just fine. Oliver hadn’t been able to cope with the depth of her pain, shying away from the emotion.

  But Daniel was different. He, too, had had life implode around him. He’d been just as honest with her about his doubts as she’d been with him about her worries.

  This was going to be a new start for both of them.

  No promises of what the future would hold: which meant that everything was wide open. They could crash and burn, or they could find new strength and new joy in each other.

  It had been a long time since she’d felt that sudden surge of possibilities.

  ‘I’d like that.’ She stood up and walked into his arms.

  She couldn’t remember the last time she’d danced with someone. Oliver, probably, at a wedding or something. Years ago. But it felt right to be in Daniel’s arms.

  ‘OK?’ he asked.

  ‘Very OK. Right now I feel as if I’m floating on air,’ she said.

  ‘Me, too.’ He drew her close and they swayed together in the late evening sunshine, cheek to cheek.

  She wasn’t sure which of them moved first, but then they were kissing. The softest, sweetest kiss that started out making her feel all warm and cherished and wanted; and then it was like lighting touch paper and desire flared though her.

  Daniel clearly felt it, too, because when he broke the kiss he looked dazed.

  ‘Beatrice, I...’

  ‘Me, too,’ she said.

  His eyes were full of longing. ‘Right now, I’d really like to carry you to your bed. But I don’t have anything with me.’

  Meaning he hadn’t automatically expected her to have sex with him tonight, even though this evening had been sort of a date. She liked that. ‘I don’t have anything, either,’ she admitted.

  ‘We can’t take risks.’

  ‘Absolutely,’ she agreed.

  ‘Let’s take a rain check,’ he said. ‘I’m going to do your washing up, and then I’m going home, because you tempt me beyond anything I’ve felt in years, and that isn’t fair to either of us.’

  ‘Rain check,’ she said. ‘And maybe we’ll be better prepared another time.’ That wasn’t a maybe. It was a definite. Because she was going to buy contraceptives for the first time in years.

  He stroked her face. ‘Another time. A night when Iain’s at his mum’s, so we’ll have all the time we want. No pressure, no expectations.’

  She could hardly believe she was actually planning to have sex with Daniel Capaldi. But neither of them wanted an accidental baby, so this was being sensible. Acknowledging the attraction and the fact that they both wanted to do something about it.

  ‘That sounds good,’ she said. And her voice would have to croak.

  ‘I’m going to do the washing up, then leave you in peace,’ he said.

  ‘Maybe I’ll let you off washing up duties,’ she said. ‘On the grounds that the longer we’re together, the less likely we are to be sensible.’

  He stole a kiss. ‘You’re probably right. I’m on a late, tomorrow, how do you fancy a walk in the park? We’ll be in public so we’ll be sensible And I’ll buy you a coffee and a bacon sandwich in the café.’

  ‘That,’ she said, ‘sounds perfect.’

  ‘Half-past nine at the boating lake,’ he said. ‘The views over the city are amazing.’

  ‘Half-past nine at the boating lake,’ she agreed.

  The kiss goodbye he gave her at her front door made her feel as if her knees were melting.

  And the kiss hello he gave her at the boating lake, the next morning, had exactly the same effect.

  ‘Well, hello.’ He stroked her face. ‘I’m glad you didn’t change your mind overnight.’

  ‘I thought about it,’ she admitted. ‘We’ve both got a lot of baggage.’

  ‘So we know to be careful with each other. No pity and no pressure,’ he said. ‘And maybe we both deserve a second chance.’

  ‘Agreed.’ She looked at him. ‘This is scary. But, at the same time, being with you makes it feel as if someone turned the brightness up.’

  ‘Same here,’ he said, and took her hand. ‘I promised you views. Let’s walk up here by Alexandra Palace.’

  She gasped when they stopped at the edge of the hill and looked over the railing. ‘That’s stunning. That’s the whole of the City.’

  ‘I hoped you’d like it.’

  They headed down to the park, which seemed to be full of dog-walkers and families out playing ball, but instead of thinking about the might-have-beens, this time Beatrice focused on just enjoying the here and now. The sunshine, fresh air, gorgeous scenery—and the equally gorgeous man holding her hand.

  She noticed two collies streaking across the park; then the dogs came over to her and Daniel and circled them.

  ‘I think we’re being herded,’ she said with a grin.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Look.’ She pointed to the collies. One of them was lying down, watching them closely and keeping his yellow eyes trained on them. ‘If he was human, he’d be playing a character like one of Robert de Niro’s, pointing his index and middle fingers at his eyes and then his index finger at us,’ she said.

  ‘Seriously?’ Daniel asked.

  ‘I dare you to move,’ she said, indicating the other collie, which was standing watching them, ‘because that one’s waiting to round us up.’

  Daniel took three steps to the side, and the collie moved towards him.

  ‘See? He wants you to stay put.’ She crouched down and extended one hand. ‘Come on, boy. I think you’re meant to be playing, not working.’

  The collie moved towards her and sniffed her
hand, just as its owner came puffing up, looking apologetic.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said. ‘They don’t mean any harm.’

  ‘Just their working instinct kicking in,’ Beatrice said with a smile. ‘We used to have sheep when I was younger, and the collies used to round up all the children in the garden whenever we had people over on a Sunday afternoon. They used to round up the cats as well.’

  The woman smiled and looked slightly less embarrassed. ‘Thank you for being so understanding. They can be a bit intimidating. I thought that by having two they’d be company for each other and they’d play together, but instead they just go into herding mode.’

  Daniel smiled. ‘Well, it’s the first time I’ve ever been herded.’

  Once the collies had trotted off with their owner, he looked at Beatrice. ‘So you’re a dog person?’

  ‘Yes. We’ve always had dogs at Beresford. I would’ve liked a dog of my own, a liver and white English springer spaniel, but you know the hours junior doctors work, and Oliver worked long hours, too.’ It had been part of her dreams: a baby and then a dog, taking them both out to the park and playing endless games of fetch. But her life was a different shape now. It wasn’t going to happen.

  ‘I like dogs,’ Daniel said, ‘but I never grew up with them. My grandparents worked really long hours so it wasn’t practical. We had a ginger cat—I got to name him when I was tiny, so he was called Mr Marmalade—but you can’t take a cat for a run in the park.’

  ‘We had cats, too. And in our kitchen you’d find an orphan lamb or two every spring—we’d take turns in bottle-feeding them.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘We don’t have a big flock any more, though. Sandy’s in charge of the farming side now and he’s part way through turning it into a rare breeds farm park so he can do something about conservation. We’ve got Hereford cattle and those big woolly Highland cattle with the long horns, and we’ve got Soay sheep and Jacobs. And every single one of them has a name.’

  ‘It sounds amazing. Iain loves that sort of thing.’

  ‘He could come and help feed them,’ she said.

  ‘We’d both like that.’ He looked at her. ‘So if your middle brother’s in charge of the farming side, is your oldest brother in charge of the castle?’

  ‘That, and learning the ropes from Daddy.’

  ‘Are you sure your dad isn’t a prince?’ he asked.

  His tone was light, but she could tell that he was worried about her background. ‘No. He’s a viscount—which isn’t as grand as it sounds. In peerage terms, that’s the fourth rank; it’s below an earl, who in turn is below a marquess, who in turn is below a duke. And then you have the Queen.’

  ‘So I’d call your dad Viscount Lindford?’

  ‘Lord Lindford,’ she said. ‘But he’d probably tell you to call him Edward.’

  ‘Does that mean you’re Lady Lindford?’

  ‘No, that’s Mummy. My brothers and I have a courtesy title—we’re all Hons—but don’t worry. My brothers aren’t stuffy in the slightest. You’d get on well with them.’ She smiled. ‘I love my family to bits, but they’re hopeless at talking about wobbly stuff. As soon as conversations start to get a bit deep or awkward, they get changed to something bright and breezy. I’m the only one of us who doesn’t do that—and that’s only because I’ve learned how to discuss things from working with patients and from exercises my counsellor did with me.’

  ‘Uh-huh,’ he said.

  She decided to ask him outright. ‘Does my background worry you?’

  ‘Sort of,’ he said. ‘Your family sounds so much grander than mine. You can probably trace your ancestors back to William the Conqueror, and I’ve never even met my father. His name isn’t on my birth certificate.’

  He really thought that would matter to her? ‘Firstly,’ she said, ‘we don’t go back as far as William the Conqueror. The first Viscount Lindford was created by Charles II, and the family story is that’s because his wife was one of Charles’s favourite actresses. Secondly, there’s a bit of a question mark over who was the second Viscount Lindford’s dad—it might have been the first viscount, or it might have been Charles, or it might have been another actor from Lizzie’s troupe. So don’t ever think that your background would make the slightest difference to me or to my family. It’s you who matters.’

  ‘Thank you. And I’m sorry for—well.’ He looked awkward.

  ‘Thinking I might be a snob?’

  ‘Thinking it might matter.’

  ‘It doesn’t. And, at the risk of behaving like my family and avoiding wobbly stuff, I think we’d better go and get that bacon sandwich,’ she said, ‘or you’re going to be late for your shift.’

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  OVER THE NEXT couple of weeks, Beatrice and Daniel snatched as much time as they could together. Not at work—neither of them wanted to be the hot topic on the hospital’s gossip grapevine—but if they were both on a late shift they’d meet for breakfast in a café after Daniel had dropped Iain at school, or they’d stroll through the park and grab a bacon roll from the kiosk there, or Beatrice would make eggs Florentine or smoked salmon and cream cheese bagels and they’d eat breakfast on her patio, teamed with strong Italian coffee. And in the evenings, after Iain had gone to bed, Daniel video-called her and they talked for hours about life, death and the universe.

  Beatrice was finding Daniel harder and harder to resist. At work, whenever she caught his eye and he smiled at her, it made her knees go weak. Remembering what it felt like to be in his arms—what it felt like to kiss him. And she really liked the man he was: clever, capable and kind.

  And, even though part of her was wary about taking their relationship to the next stage, a greater part of her found it more and more difficult to stop at just kissing.

  On Friday night, Daniel video-called her as usual.

  ‘Iain’s at Jenny’s tomorrow,’ he said casually.

  Her heart skipped a beat. ‘What shift are you on?’

  ‘Early.’ He paused. ‘And I’ve a day off on Sunday.’

  Meaning they could have the whole night and day together—because her off-duty just happened to dovetail with his.

  ‘What did you have in mind?’ she asked carefully, aware that her heart rate had just sped up a couple of notches.

  ‘I don’t have to be home early.’

  ‘Or at all.’ The words slipped out before she could stop them.

  ‘Are you saying...?’ He paused.

  Crunch time. He was giving her the choice. She could back away—or she could be brave and reach out for what she wanted. She took a deep breath. ‘You could,’ she said, ‘stay. I have a spare unused toothbrush.’

  ‘A spare unused toothbrush,’ he repeated.

  ‘And a washing machine.’ So she could put his clothes through it quickly that night and they’d be dry by morning. And he wouldn’t need pyjamas.

  ‘So we could go out somewhere. A proper date. Dinner or dancing or something. And then...’

  The sensual expression in his eyes was obvious, even on a tablet screen. It sent her pulse rate even higher. ‘And then,’ she whispered.

  ‘Think about where you’d like to go and text me,’ he said. ‘And I’ll pick you up tomorrow after my shift.’

  She thought about it for the rest of the evening.

  Were they rushing this, making a mistake?

  Or was it better to seize the chance of happiness when you found it?

  The next morning, she texted Daniel.

  How about an early showing at one of the cinemas in the West End, then dinner out?

  He texted back.

  Sounds great. You pick the film and I’ll organise dinner. Somewhere near Leicester Square?

  Perfect, she said.

  They’d talked enough for her to know that they both liked good drama. She found a film she thought they�
�d enjoy and booked the tickets online, then texted him with the show times. And although she normally spent her day off catching up with laundry and domestic chores, she found it hard to concentrate.

  An official date.

  A movie and dinner.

  And Daniel was going to stay the night.

  Her breath caught. Oh, for pity’s sake. Anyone would think she was seventeen, not a thirty-four-year-old senior doctor. But she was nervous and excited in equal parts, like a teenager on her first date.

  Though there was one essential bit of shopping she needed. Hoping that she wasn’t going to bump into anyone from work—or at least that she could hide the condoms in her basket by covering them with a large slab of chocolate—she headed to the supermarket.

  * * *

  When Daniel rang her doorbell later that afternoon, she was a bundle of nerves.

  ‘Hi.’ He presented her with practically an armful of sweet-scented stocks, her favourite flowers.

  ‘They’re gorgeous. Thank you.’ And he looked gorgeous, too, dressed up for a night out. She was glad she’d made the effort with a pretty summer dress and strappy sandals; Daniel was tall enough for her to be able to wear high heels and not tower over him. ‘I’ll put them in water.’

  ‘I brought this as well. Which doesn’t have to be for tonight, and there aren’t any strings attached to it.’ He handed her a carrier bag.

  She looked inside. ‘Champagne?’

  ‘English sparkling wine. It has good reviews.’

  ‘It looks lovely. Thank you. I’ll put that in the fridge.’

  He followed her into the kitchen and kissed her lingeringly. ‘You look beautiful.’

  ‘So do you.’

  ‘Men can be beautiful?’

  ‘Aye, ye big, sleekit...’

  ‘Tim’rous beastie?’ He exaggerated his accent deliberately. ‘I hate to tell you this, but Rabbie Burns was describing a mouse. And I might be holding back at the moment, but I’m no mouse.’

  No. He was all man. Heat shot through her.

  ‘I might even be a troglodyte,’ he said, and twirled the very ends of her hair round his fingers. ‘I love your hair like this.’