by Sarah Morgan
Jake nodded. ‘The risk is minuscule.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘I’ve told them to call me if there’s any change. Let’s go home.’
Aware that Ruth was looking at her with a quizzical expression on her face, Miranda sighed. ‘Jake’s very generously letting me a room in his house, just until I find somewhere suitable.’
‘Good.’ Ruth beamed at both of them, swept up her bag and walked towards the door. ‘I’m off, then. Need to feed my husband and recharge my batteries, ready for another exciting day in the office tomorrow. I feel we’re in desperate need of a run of normal deliveries, just so that we can all remind ourselves that sometimes it can all go swimmingly well, without any of this drama and tension.’
Miranda and Jake walked towards the car. ‘You must be knackered.’ He unlocked the car door and held it open while she slid inside.
‘I am tired.’
‘Quick supper and early bed.’ He drove home quickly, a slight frown on his face as he concentrated on the road.
Sneaking a glance at his strong profile, Miranda wondered what he was thinking. Was he worrying about Cathy?
‘What on earth made you even think of meningitis? It obviously didn’t cross the minds of the GP or my SHO.’
‘I’ve seen a similar rash before. In a child when I was doing a paediatric module.’
‘Lucky for Cathy.’ He turned the car into his drive and pulled up outside the house. ‘You go and have a bath. I’ll knock something up for supper.’
‘I’m cooking tonight.’ Miranda undid her seat belt and wriggled out of the car. Her bump was starting to feel larger by the day.
‘No way.’
‘Jake, you don’t have to wait on me. I want to cook. It’s my turn. Why don’t you have a bath? By the time you’ve finished, I’ll have it ready.’
He opened his mouth to argue and then clearly saw something in her eyes that made him change his mind because he smiled. ‘Good. Fine. In that case, I’ll go for a quick run. I haven’t done any exercise for days. It clears my head and removes the stress.’
‘There’s snow on the ground.’
‘It muffles the sound of my bones creaking,’ he drawled, humour gleaming in his blue eyes. ‘Short run, quick shower then supper. All right with you?’
Miranda took a quick shower herself and changed then wandered into the beautiful, spacious kitchen.
She ran a hand over the smooth work surface, her expression wistful. Who could dislike cooking in surroundings like these?
Pulling herself together, she opened the fridge, pulled out some chicken and vegetables and started chopping.
By the time Jake came back from his run she had garlic and ginger sizzling in a pan and all the ingredients prepared.
‘Smells delicious. ‘He sniffed the contents of the pan and smiled. ‘Stir-fry?’
‘Is that all right with you? It’s just that it’s quick and—’
‘It’s perfect. I’ll be back down in three minutes if I skip a shave.’
She tossed chicken in the hot oil, added water to the noodles and was just assembling everything when he appeared in the doorway, dark hair still damp from the shower. Her heart lurched and her insides shifted alarmingly. Suddenly she wished he’d taken the extra few minutes to shave. Why did the stubble make him more attractive? Was it because he looked less like a respectable consultant and more… dangerous?
She permitted herself a wry smile. All men were dangerous. She knew that better than anyone. Giving herself a sharp talking-to, she rescued the plates that she had warming in the oven and lifted the pan from the heat.
‘Sit down, it’s ready.’
‘I have to confess that I love it when you cook.’ He leaned forward and gave an appreciative sniff. ‘You’re very creative in the kitchen.’
‘I love your kitchen.’ She served a generous portion onto his plate and then took a smaller helping herself. ‘What about you?’
‘I don’t think it’s one of my more obvious talents, but I manage.’
‘Did your mother teach you the basics?’
‘Are you joking?’ He picked up his fork with a grin. ‘My mother doesn’t let anyone into her kitchen. My sister took pity on me after spending a weekend. Or, I suppose, if I’m honest, she took pity on herself. She was fed up with eating my idea of food. How did you learn? Did your mother teach you to cook?’
Her hand froze on the fork. It was a perfectly reasonable question. Hadn’t she just asked him exactly the same one? ‘No.’ She couldn’t keep the stiffness out of her tone. ‘No, she didn’t. I taught myself.’
His gaze lingered on her face for a moment and then he turned his attention back to his plate. ‘You’ve always said that you don’t have any family. What happened?’
She put her fork down, her appetite suddenly gone. ‘I suppose I do have family.’ She almost choked on the word and wondered why she didn’t just lie. ‘It’s just that we’re not in touch any more.’
‘And you don’t want to talk about it.’ His tone was gentle, his blue eyes suddenly intent as he studied the tension in her face. ‘All right, we’ll talk about something else. Are you sleeping better now?’
She gave a faint smile. ‘Hard not to in that amazing bed.’
‘Another one of my sister’s purchases. She always said that since she was my most frequent guest, she was going to buy herself a comfortable bed to sleep in.’
‘You mentioned a niece and nephews, so she’s obviously married.’
‘Oh, yes. To an architect. They worked together on a project, that’s how they met.’ Jake leaned forward and helped himself to more food. ‘And now I have two cheeky nephews and a baby niece.’
Envy sliced through her and she gave a puzzled frown. Why envy? She never envied families. She knew that they were rarely what they seemed. ‘Do they live far away?’
‘Far enough.’ He leaned forward, picked up her fork and handed it to her. ‘Eat, or I’ll have to force-feed you.’
‘I’m not that hungry.’
‘Eat.’
Feeling thoroughly unsettled and not really understanding why, Miranda speared a thin strip of chicken and nibbled it. ‘Why do you say far enough? You’re obviously close to her.’
‘We’re twins,’ Jake confessed. ‘So, yes, we’re close. A bit too close sometimes. She’s inclined to meddle in my life.’
‘Like decorating your house?’
‘That sort of meddling I can live with.’ He picked up his glass. ‘What I don’t like is her interference in my love life. She’s always inviting me to dinner and introducing me to yet another of her recently divorced, unattached friends.’
Miranda couldn’t help smiling. ‘It’s pretty hard to meet people. That sounds as good a way as any.’
‘That’s because you don’t know my sister.’ Jake suppressed a yawn and pushed his chair away from the table. ‘Let’s just say that her idea of my ideal woman and my idea of my ideal woman don’t exactly coincide.’
‘What’s your ideal woman?’ The moment she asked the question she wished she hadn’t. His blue eyes lifted to hers and didn’t shift.
‘I’m looking at her.’
She gave a soft gasp and looked away. ‘Jake…’
‘I know what you’re going to say next so I’ll save you the breath and that way you can concentrate on clearing the food on your plate. You’re going to say that I’ve only known you a short time, you’re going to remind me that you’re pregnant, just in case I’d forgotten, and then you’re going to say that you’re not interested in men because relationships always go wrong.’
It was so close to what she would have said that she gaped at him. ‘Are you a mind-reader?’
‘No, but I think I probably understand women better than most men.’ He put his glass down on the table and leaned forward, his eyes still on her face. ‘I have a twin sister and on top of that I spend every day talking to women at a time when they’re at their most emotionally vulnerable. I have a pretty good idea what all your argu
ments will be, although I don’t understand all your reasons because you don’t trust me enough to tell me about your family. I’m hoping that, in time, that will change.’
She stared at him, stunned by what he was saying. ‘I’ve told you about Peter.’
‘Yes. But there’s more and that’s fine.’ His tone was conversational, as if they were discussing nothing more serious than the weather. ‘I’m willing to wait until you’re ready to tell me.’
She was his ideal woman?
‘Jake—’
‘I’m not expecting a response to what I just said.’ He stood up and flicked on the kettle. ‘You asked me about my ideal woman and I told you.’
‘But that’s ridiculous.’ Her voice was hoarse. ‘Why would you be interested in me? What could I possibly have that you want?’
He turned to face her, dark lashes partially shielding the expression in his eyes. ‘You don’t have a very high opinion of yourself, do you, sweetheart?’
‘I just don’t see why a man like you would be interested in a woman like me. It doesn’t make sense.’
‘A man like me?’ He raised an eyebrow in question. ‘What sort of woman should a man like me be interested in, Miranda? Tell me. I’m intrigued to know.’
She took a deep breath. ‘You’re clever and good-looking, you don’t need me to tell you that. You must have hopeful women trailing after you in droves. You certainly don’t need someone as—’ She broke off and hesitated. ‘Complicated. You don’t need someone as complicated as me.’
‘You’ve worked with me for long enough to know that I thrive on complicated. I find routine and predictability unspeakably boring.’ He smiled. ‘Finish your dinner, Miranda, and stop worrying.’
She ignored her food. ‘I need you to know that nothing is going to happen between us. Not ever. I just don’t—’
‘It’s already happened and you know it.’ His voice level, he spooned coffee into a cafetiere and picked up the kettle. ‘There’s a connection between us that we cannot possibly deny, but I understand that this is a big thing for you. So we’ll just live with it for a bit and see where our relationship goes. I’m a patient man.’
‘Patience has nothing to do with it and our relationship isn’t going anywhere!’ There was a note of panic in her voice. Why wasn’t he listening to her? ‘And what do you mean, it’s a big thing for me? Given that you’re in your thirties and single, it would seem a reasonable guess that a relationship is a big thing for you, too.’
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?’
