Wish Upon a Star

by Sarah Morgan

  He smiled. ‘I know the one you mean. Healthy, happy and smiling. Two children and a dog. The sun is shining and there isn’t a cloud in the sky.’

  ‘That’s the one.’ She put her drink down on the small table next to the sofa, laughter in her eyes. ‘But do you want to know the truth? The father is probably having an affair with his wife’s best friend and the wife doesn’t know yet but wouldn’t care anyway because she has a secret life as a high-class escort whenever her husband is away on business. It actually suits her that he isn’t around much because she doesn’t particularly enjoy his company except when they’re eating yoghurt in front of a film crew.’

  Amusement flickered in his gaze and he tilted his head to one side as he listened. ‘And the children?’

  She nestled more deeply in the sofa, wondering why he was so easy to talk to. ‘The girl has been so damaged by the lack of attention from her parents that she’s now shoplifting regularly with her friends and has already started smoking and taking drugs behind the toilets at school, and the little boy is being badly bullied but hasn’t told anyone and no one has noticed because they don’t show enough interest in each other as individuals.’ She stopped and took a breath and he lifted a dark eyebrow in question. The amusement in his eyes had been replaced by speculation.

  ‘And the dog? Looked like a perfectly good-natured Labrador to me. No vices. Are you about to tell me that he’s bitten the neighbour and needs a doggy psychiatrist?’

  She laughed. ‘They’ve received an official warning from the police because he regularly fouls the pavement and barks so loudly that he wakes the neighbours. So far he hasn’t actually bitten anyone but don’t think that just because he looks friendly he can’t have a bad side. Dogs and people have a way of surprising you.’

  ‘That’s right. They do.’ He studied her closely. ‘Sounds like the family from hell.’

  Her smile faded. ‘A pretty normal family, actually. I’m just making the point that the picture presented by the media falls short of the real thing. Families are full of imperfections.’

  ‘Is that your experience?’

  She realised suddenly that she’d said too much. Revealed more than she’d intended. ‘It’s the truth.’

  He swirled the last of his drink around his glass. ‘I agree that families are complicated,’ he said slowly, ‘and I agree that it’s pretty hard to find the right person and make it all work in today’s fast-paced, driven, consumer-orientated environment. And I think happiness is probably something different for each person. The important thing is to find someone like-minded and then live your own definition of happiness together.’

  She stared at him. ‘You really believe that?’

  ‘Why wouldn’t I?’

  ‘Because it’s a romantic view of relationships.’

  ‘I disagree. I think it’s a realistic view.’

  ‘Believing that a family can be truly happy isn’t realistic.’

  His gaze was searching. ‘Clearly you’ve never met anyone in a good relationship.’

  ‘Neither have you.’ She lifted her drink. ‘You can’t judge a family by watching from the outside. You have to be on the inside to know the truth. You probably have friends who you think are happy…’

  A slight frown touched his brows and something flickered across his face. ‘I have friends who I know are happy,’ he said softly, and she shook her head.

  ‘How do you know? Are you there when the door closes and they’re left alone together? Do you know anything about the rows that they have in private?’

  ‘No, but I know a lot about the rows they have in public,’ he said dryly, reaching for the bottle and topping up his drink. ‘He’s Spanish and she’s Irish and to call their relationship volatile would probably be to risk accusations of understatement but, believe me, they’re happy. It might not work for everyone, but it works for them. And that’s what I mean when I say you have to find someone who wants what you want. One person’s happy marriage is another person’s living hell.’

  Miranda felt the cold trickle down her spine. She knew everything there was to know about hell.

  For a moment she sat in frozen silence and then felt the sofa dip as he sat down next to her.

  ‘Tell me about yourself. Tell me what you’re thinking about.’

  She shook the shadows away from her mind. ‘Nothing.’ She’d already said far too much. She smiled at him and handed him her empty glass. ‘So—given that you’re such a romantic, why aren’t you married?’

  He pulled a face. ‘I’m not sure that I’m particularly romantic. And I don’t have a wife because I happen to be picky about who I spend the rest of my life with.’ The gleam in his blue eyes made her heart skip and dance and she gave herself a sharp talking-to. It wasn’t so long ago she’d fallen for a charming smile and smooth patter. She wasn’t about to do it again in a hurry.

  He put her empty glass down on the table. ‘If you ask me, the biggest problem with relationships is the reality gap.’

  ‘Reality gap?’

  ‘The gap between reality and expectations. People are basically flawed. If you expect families to be perfect then you’re doomed to disappointment.’

  ‘Maybe.’ She was suddenly very aware of him. ‘Do you realise that I haven’t even asked your name?’

  He smiled. ‘It’s Jake. Jake Blackwell.’

  She nodded. The name fitted the man, she decided, leaning her head back against the sofa. Strong. Masculine. ‘Well, Jake Blackwell, I haven’t thanked you properly for rescuing me today.’

  ‘It was my pleasure.’ His gaze lingered on her face. ‘It’s good to have company on Christmas Day. But promise me you won’t go out in the mountains again without the proper equipment and experienced company.’

  She lifted her head. ‘I’ll do something about the equipment but the company is outside my control. I’ve only just moved to the area. I don’t know anyone.’

  ‘You know me.’ His quiet statement hovered in the air between them and there was something in his eyes that made her stomach flip.

  She gave herself a mental shake and looked away, determined to ignore all the signals that her body was sending her. Mind over matter. Common sense over chemistry.

  ‘I’m sure you have better things to do than walk with a complete beginner who thinks that a whiteout is something you can achieve with a good washing powder.’

  He laughed. ‘Not really. Any time you want to walk in the hills, I’ll be happy to act as escort.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Her voice was husky and she still didn’t dare meet his eyes. Neither did she think it worth telling him that, after today, she wouldn’t be seeing him again.

  How could she?

  It just wasn’t possible. Her life was already more complicated than she would ever have believed possible and so far she hadn’t begun to work out how she was going to unravel it all. And, anyway, he probably wasn’t interested in tomorrow either. Hadn’t he been honest about the fact that he just didn’t want to spend Christmas Day on his own?

  ‘You ought to eat something. I’ll go and raid the kitchen and then we can sprawl on the sofa and watch agonisingly awful Christmas television. We can spend the afternoon guessing what’s really happening behind the happy families.’

  ‘Sounds good to me.’

  He brought out a selection of food and switched on the television but, in the end, they talked more than they watched and it was dark by the time Miranda glanced at her watch and realised how late it was.

  She really ought to be going, she thought reluctantly, but somehow couldn’t find the enthusiasm or motivation necessary to move. And was that surprising? All that awaited her was a cold, cheerless bedroom in an equally cheerless flat. But at least it was cheap, which was the important thing. At the moment she just needed to save her money.

  Jake had retreated to the kitchen in search of more food and she flicked idly through the channels, stopping at the picture of a sad-looking child. The narrator informed her in low,
mournful tones that the little girl was just one of many children waiting for adoption who would be without parents this year.

  Miranda felt tears prick her eyes and blinked furiously. What on earth was the matter with her? Then she gave a sigh. She knew exactly why she was feeling so emotional, but it didn’t make it any easier to cope with!

  Strolling back into the room with a plate full of warm mince pies, Jake deposited them on the nearest table and sat down next to her on the sofa. ‘You look really sad. What’s the matter? Are you crying?’

  Horrified at her uncharacteristic lack of control, she summoned up a smile, wishing he hadn’t chosen that precise moment to come back into the room. ‘Of course I’m not crying. Just a bit tired, I think.’ It was a partial truth. ‘Just ignore me. I need to go home and go to bed.’

  ‘Not until you’ve sampled these gorgeous mince pies. And if you think I’m going to let you go home when you’re upset, you don’t know me. It’s still early. There’s no hurry.’ His expression was concerned. ‘I wish you’d tell me what’s the matter. Is it the whole Christmas thing?’

  ‘No. I’m just being stupid.’ Despite her best efforts, her eyes filled again. She heard him give a soft curse and then she was pulled into his arms.

  He was all hard muscle and masculine strength and for a long, indulgent moment she closed her eyes and allowed herself the luxury of leaning on someone. Just for a moment, she promised herself. What harm could it do?

  Then he released her slightly and slipped his fingers under her chin, tilting her face to look at him. ‘You’re very beautiful, do you know that?’ His voice was low and husky and she felt her heart bang hard against her ribs as she stared into those, blue, blue eyes.

  Pull away now, Miranda, a voice said inside her head, but she suddenly found that she couldn’t move.

  His gaze lingered on hers, dropped to her mouth and then his head lowered.

  And he kissed her. Gently at first, his mouth brushing over hers, his gaze holding her trapped. Then he coaxed her lips apart with the tip of his tongue and slid both hands into her hair, holding her head steady while he took the kiss several stages further.

  Her eyes drifted shut and suddenly she felt as though she were falling. Her head spun, her body felt suddenly weak and everything inside her was either pounding or fluttering.

  Never before, in her entire adult life, had she felt like this.

  By the time he finally lifted his head, she couldn’t remember why she’d been crying. She couldn’t remember anything.

  ‘Oh… You… I should go,’ she muttered in a feeble attempt to regain some sort of control.

  ‘Stay,’ he breathed, his mouth inches from hers. ‘Stay the night with me and we’ll spend tomorrow together. You don’t need to go.’

  Her senses shimmered with awareness and everything weakened. She didn’t want to feel it. She didn’t want to feel anything. Feeling meant vulnerability and vulnerability just meant pain. ‘Work tomorrow. I have to go… home…’ She stumbled over the word because no one in their right mind could really apply that word to a grotty room with damp patches on the walls and a threadbare carpet.

  ‘Tomorrow,’ he groaned, bringing his mouth against hers again. ‘You can go home tomorrow.’

  How had he ever learned to kiss like that? she wondered dreamily as his mouth transported her to a different place entirely. Threadbare carpets and cranky landlords were forgotten as she was enveloped in a sensual cloak of erotic anticipation. Suddenly everything seemed perfect, even though things were about as far from perfect as they could get.

  ‘Upstairs…’ Jake murmured, tugging at the jumper, and she suddenly froze and shook her head. She couldn’t let him remove the jumper. If he removed the jumper then he’d see—

  ‘No—really, we can’t.’

  ‘Why not? You’ve already said that there’s no one at home to worry about you.’ His hands were warm on the bare skin of her back and she pulled away quickly.

  She almost wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the situation. But at the same time she wanted to cry. Why did he have to come into her life now, when there was absolutely no room for him?

  ‘I suppose this is the point where I’m supposed to apologise for rushing you.’ His voice was soft. ‘But I’m not going to apologise for doing something that felt completely right.’

  She bit her lip and waited for the frantic bump of her heart to slow to something approaching normal levels. ‘Did I see you bring a mince pie into the room?’

  His mouth was still close to hers. ‘Are you changing the subject?’

  ‘Yes.’ She wished he wouldn’t look at her like that. There was a sexy gleam in those wicked blue eyes that made it almost impossible to concentrate. ‘I’m hungry.’

  He hesitated briefly and then sat back. ‘You have a ferocious appetite for a woman,’ he drawled, moving away from her and reaching for the plate. ‘Anyone would think you haven’t eaten for a month.’

  She gave an awkward laugh and helped herself from the plate. ‘They’re good. Did you make them?’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous. I’m a man. I can cook the basics but I draw the line at mince pies. These are courtesy of my sister, who filled my freezer when she was here last.’

  ‘Is that the same sister who is the mother of those children?’ She glanced across at the photograph and he nodded.

  ‘Jessica.’

  Miranda sighed. What would it be like, she wondered, to have a sister to fill your freezer?

  She ate another two and decided that any more would appear greedy so she stopped and snuggled back against the sofa. Suddenly she felt deliciously full and alarmingly drowsy.

  ‘Five minutes,’ she murmured, closing her eyes. ‘Just five minutes and then I’m going to have to go home.’

  And as she finished speaking, she fell asleep.

  CHAPTER THREE

  THE telephone woke him from a delicious dream of being wrapped in silky dark hair and kissed by a warm, soft mouth.

  Cursing softly, still half-asleep, Jake reached out and answered it. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Mr Blackwell?’

  He recognised the voice of the senior midwife on the obstetric unit and was instantly awake. ‘Ruth?’ He glanced round his living room and realised that he was alone. Where was Miranda? She’d fallen asleep and he’d covered her in blankets and then proceeded to fall asleep next to her. Only there was no sign of her now. And the weak, winter sunlight shining through the windows told him that it was morning.

  ‘Jake—are you still there?’

  Trying to ease the ache from his shoulders, he forced himself to concentrate on the phone. ‘Yes, I’m here. What’s happening?’

  Was she using the bathroom?

  ‘I’ve got a nightmare going on here, that’s what’s happening. I’ve just admitted a woman who was hoping for a home birth—fifth baby. But the last one was delivered by Caesarean section.’

  Jake struggled to make sense of what she was saying. ‘Fifth baby?’ His brain was still foggy with sleep and his shoulders ached. He hadn’t slept on a sofa since he’d been a student and now he remembered why. ‘She doesn’t sound like the best candidate for a home birth.’

  ‘Which is presumably why she didn’t register with anyone,’ Ruth said wearily. ‘She was staying with her parents for Christmas and she’s just turned up here in labour because her mother-in-law has bullied her into it. Very stroppy. Hates hospitals. Hates doctors. I’ve managed to persuade her to let me check the foetal heart rate and there’s some bradycardia. I’m not very happy about her really and I don’t want to call Mr Hilton because I think she’s going to be quite difficult to manage and you’re good with difficult patients and he’s not.’

  Merry Christmas, Jake.

  He closed his eyes and breathed out heavily. ‘All right—what else?’

  ‘You’re not going to like the next bit of news.’

  ‘I wasn’t crazy about the last bit.’ He smothered a yawn. ‘Go on.’

 
‘Lucy Knight’s waters have broken.’

  Lucy Knight? Jake rubbed his eyes with his fingers, trying to wake himself up. The penny dropped. ‘Oh, hell—Lucy. She’s only thirty-four weeks. When?’

  ‘She called us early this morning.’

  ‘Is she on her way in?’

  ‘She’s here already. Mr Hilton was prowling around and wanted to see her, but I said you were coming in today.’

  ‘You’re a star.’ Having a colleague like Edgar Hilton was of dubious benefit. The man was a revered obstetrician with myriad publications to his name, but he was also renowned for his inability to let a mother labour without interference. It was a subject on which he and Jake disagreed at regular intervals. ‘So is she having contractions?’ He kept the phone to his ear as he wandered through to the kitchen, listening as the senior midwife outlined the situation. ‘And you’re sure it’s amniotic fluid? OK—well, put her on the monitor and I’ll be in as quickly as I can.’

  ‘I feel guilty asking you. You’re not supposed to be working today.’

  Jake prowled round the kitchen, still holding the phone to his ear. No sign of Miranda. ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Ruth. It’s my job.’

  When had she left? During the night or early this morning?

  ‘Well, even you’re allowed a day off.’

  ‘I had a day off. Christmas Day.’ And it had turned out to be better than he’d ever hoped. Finally, he’d met a woman who fascinated him in every way. And now she’d vanished. Why had she vanished? He knew that she was interested in him too. Was it because he’d rushed her? Was that why she’d left? Pondering the facts, he reached for a jumper that he’d left over the back of one of the chairs. ‘Give me ten minutes to shower and sort myself out here and then I’ll be in.’

  He replaced the receiver and sprinted upstairs, calling Miranda’s name and checking in the bedrooms and the bathrooms. There was no sign of her.

  She’d gone.

  And he had absolutely no idea where because he hadn’t had the sense to take her address. Hadn’t seen the need, because he’d had no idea that she was going to perform a vanishing act.