The Doctor's Love-Child

by Barbara Hart

  ‘Oh, Dr Henderson?’

  ‘Yes, that’s the one.’

  Her mother gave a low chuckle. ‘This Andrew seems to be playing a big role in your life at the moment. Do I detect more than a professional relationship between you two?’

  Helen sighed. ‘I know it sounds silly, but I’m not really sure. I’d certainly like it to be more than just a professional relationship, but Andrew is a bit of a mystery man. I never know what his thoughts are on that subject.’

  ‘Would you say he’s playing hard to get? I’ve met one or two like that in my time. We used to call them confirmed bachelors…until they met that special woman and then they fell hook, line and sinker.’

  ‘Maybe that’s it,’ mused Helen. ‘I’ll just have to zoom in on him and make him realise that I’m that special woman!’

  ‘I should think so!’ said her mother emphatically. ‘In my completely biased opinion you’re so special that I doubt there’s a man on this earth good enough for you. And Jack feels the same way! You know that your stepfather couldn’t be prouder of you if you were his own daughter.’

  Tears stung Helen’s eyes. The conversation was getting a little on the emotional side, reminding her that, no matter how far she travelled following the rapidly rising star of her medical career, homesickness was never too far below the surface.

  ‘You don’t mind, do you?’ she asked again, trying to keep her voice on an even keel. ‘You don’t mind if I work in New York for a year or so instead of coming straight home when my Moreton scholarship ends?’

  ‘Of course not!’ emphasised her mother. ‘You’re young and brilliant, with the world at your feet. You must do exactly what you want to do, my darling daughter, and don’t be worrying about us back home in Milchester. And like you said, Jack and I can come over for a nice holiday in America.’

  Helen heard the music from a long way off, coming from the direction of the ballroom of the Seattle hotel where they were staying. It was the last night of the conference.

  The music from the Cajun band was unmistakable, toe-tappingly hypnotic…and it drew her towards it like a magnet.

  ‘We’ve got to find out where that’s coming from!’ she said, dashing along the hotel corridor, following the sound as if it were being played by the Pied Piper.

  Andrew had to break into a run to keep up with her. As the sound got louder, Helen’s enthusiasm soared. They rounded a corner and found themselves in the midst of a throng of people dancing to the distinctive sounds of the Cajun band at the far end of the large ballroom.

  ‘This is my all-time favourite kind of music!’ she said, shouting to make herself heard.

  Andrew took her hand and led her across the dance floor, finding a small space amid the mass of gyrating couples. He held her close, placing her arms round his neck, and they began to dance slowly and sensually.

  Her body seemed to melt into his in unspoken surrender. They remained tightly entwined in each other’s arms, dancing slowly and languidly—even when the band switched to a faster rhythm. Filled with desire and longing for him, Helen clung to him tightly, never wanting the dance to end, never wanting to let him go. She sensed he felt the same, the way he ran his hands down her back, pressing her to him as he moved against her in a manner that was unmistakably sexual.

  It felt so good, so right…their bodies melting together as one. They couldn’t be any closer—apart from actually making love.

  She moved her hands to the back of his head, entwining her fingers in his thick, dark hair. Andrew’s mouth found hers and he kissed her roughly, passionately and with a domination he’d not used before. This time his kiss was different, hot and erotic, plundering her mouth with a sweet invasion, his arousal obvious to her in more ways than one.

  By the time the band had struck up the first chords of their next number, Helen and Andrew had left the ballroom and, wordlessly, were hurrying along the corridor to the hotel lift. They were the only people in it and almost missed their floor because they were kissing each other so ardently, completely oblivious to their surroundings.

  Once inside his hotel room, Andrew shut the door firmly but not before placing the DO NOT DISTURB sign on the doorhandle. Leaning against the closed door, he pulled her roughly to him, kissing her hungrily, at the same time sliding his hand down the back of her dress, opening the zip fastener with one swift movement. Helen was equally impatient to remove Andrew’s clothes and within moments of stepping into the room they each stood naked, surrounded by hastily discarded items of clothing.

  Her heart was beating like a wild thing as he led her to the bed. Lying next to her, he gave a low moan as he ran his hands over her body. The look of desire on his face filled her with elation as his gaze covered every inch of her. Her mother had been right. Now she was sure that Andrew had been waiting for ‘that special woman’ and she was equally sure that she was the one. Surely only a special person could inspire such a look of ardour on a man’s face?

  They made love with an intensity she hadn’t known she was capable of. They were like two untamed creatures ferocious with need for each other, abandoning themselves to reckless passion.

  ‘Oh, God,’ he said when it was over, his voice low and unsteady.

  As he spoke it suddenly struck Helen that these were the first words either of them had uttered since they’d left the dance floor. She snuggled against him, sighing contentedly. She was truly delighted to discover that a man who, in his professional life, was so cool and clinical could also be so passionately sensual. She drifted off to sleep in his arms.

  Andrew, however, was unable to sleep. The moment after they’d made love, he regretted it. Not the actual love-making, of course. That had been wonderful. She was wonderful. And that was the problem. He had wanted her so much…the way their bodies had become as one…Everything about her cried out to him to take her in his arms and love her again.

  A great wave of guilt engulfed him, blotting out the sexual stirrings within his body. How could he have involved her in his life when he had nothing to offer her but uncertainty? How could he ask her to possibly sacrifice her own career for his? She was so trusting but she just didn’t know what she’d be letting herself in for by getting involved with him. She could be putting at risk everything she’d worked for.

  When he’d suggested they attend the Seattle conference he’d known there had been the possibility that they might end up in bed together. There was such a powerful attraction and sexual magnetism between them and for that reason he’d deliberately kept his distance. It had been that damned Cajun band and their hypnotic music that had drawn Helen onto the dance floor and into his arms. The moment their bodies had touched, her arms entwined around him and the sweet scent of her invading his senses, he’d known he was lost. All his good intentions had been thrown to the wind.

  Andrew pressed his face into Helen’s hair as the conflicting emotions of guilt and desire battled on inside him. She stirred slightly but didn’t wake. He longed to run his hands over her drowsy body and awaken her with kisses on her face, her breasts and down across her hips and stomach as a prelude to making love to her again, this time more slowly and sensually in contrast to the urgent desperation of the first time. But instead he sighed deeply and, turning his back to her, tried to go to sleep.

  Early next morning, Helen woke up and, stretching and yawning, remembered where she was—and with whom she had spent the night. A warm glow filled her body. She turned over towards Andrew and snuggled up to him.

  ‘Mmm,’ she said, ‘you smell good…all warm and masculine and very desirable.’ She ran her hand over his body and down past the curve of his hip. He reacted like a scalded cat, swiftly moving away from her probing hand and sitting up in the bed.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ she asked huskily, amused at first by his reaction.

  He pulled away from her, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, his back to her.

  ‘I’m sorry about last night,’ he said hoarsely. ‘I didn’t mean for
us to get involved like this.’

  She looked at him, puzzled for a minute. ‘What do you mean?’ She frowned.

  The look on Helen’s face, not surprisingly, was one of hurt disbelief which only served to make Andrew feel even more guilty.

  He stood up and went into the bathroom, returning almost immediately wearing a bathrobe.

  ‘Let’s just say the time isn’t right for us,’ he said, trying to soften the blow.

  Helen pulled up the cotton sheet, covering her nakedness. She shivered involuntarily, shocked by Andrew’s sudden and unexpected reaction.

  ‘Why? What do you mean, Andrew?’ she asked slowly, looking at him with eyes wide with shock, an empty feeling filling the pit of her stomach. ‘I thought we had a good relationship.’

  ‘We have a very good relationship,’ he said carefully. ‘A good working relationship.’

  Shock suddenly turned to anger, the adrenalin of fury making her blood boil. ‘That’s not what I meant and you know it!’ She looked at him scornfully. ‘Frightened of any commitment, I suppose?’

  He sat on the edge of the bed next to her and attempted to put a consoling arm around her shoulders. She shrugged it off.

  ‘Helen, there’s something I have to sort out, something to do with business—and I can only do it by myself. I don’t want to get you involved. I have to go away shortly and I may be away for some time. So you see—’

  ‘You sound like Captain Oates! Do me a favour, cut the heroics!’

  Helen dragged the sheet off the bed and wrapped herself in it as she walked over to where her clothes were lying in a heap on the floor. She tried to keep her voice calm and level. ‘That’s the most feeble excuse I’ve heard in a long time for telling a woman you just want a one-night stand, no strings attached!’

  ‘It’s not like that,’ he protested. ‘Believe me, Helen.’

  ‘Believe you? Why should I believe you? You’re just a man who’s scared of commitment, that’s what you are!’

  She grabbed her clothes and her handbag and, still with the sheet wrapped around her, opened the door. She was fuming, experiencing a furious mixture of emotions—a most unpleasant combination of anger, sorrow and humiliation.

  ‘Oh, by the way,’ she snapped at him. ‘Where are you going away to for this thing you have to do by yourself?’

  He hesitated for a beat before replying, ‘Chicago.’

  ‘Chicago! At least I know where that is. They call it the Windy City, don’t they? How very appropriate! And when are you going?’

  ‘In a few weeks’ time,’ he answered, looking and feeling wretched.

  ‘I’ll say goodbye now, then!’ she threw back at him.

  She stepped outside into the corridor, which was mercifully empty at that particular moment, slamming the door behind her. Her own hotel room was five doors away and she made the distance, wrapped in the bed sheet, unnoticed by any of the other hotel guests. She was in such a pent-up mood she wouldn’t have given a damn if her outlandish exit from Andrew’s room had been witnessed by a conference of church leaders.

  Once inside her own room she stepped into the shower. She tried to blot out the memory of their delirious love-making of only a few short hours ago.

  ‘That’s something I must put right out of my mind,’ she muttered to herself as the warm water washed off the foaming shower gel. ‘And something else…somebody else I must put right out of my mind is Andrew Henderson. I wish to heaven I’d never set eyes on him.’

  Another man Helen was beginning to wish she’d never set eyes on was Professor Mulberry. Almost from her first day at the Institute she’d been aware that the director of sports science was taking more than just a fatherly interest in her.

  At least once a day he would call in at the laboratory on some pretext or other and make straight for wherever Helen was standing or sitting. Mulberry was one of those people, she decided, who seemed to invade one’s personal space. Whether or not it was deliberate, she was never too sure. She found it quite unnerving as she inched away from him, only to realise that he was moving closer to her, inch-by-inch, until invariably she ended up trapped in a corner or against a bank of computers.

  He would never actually touch her. No doubt he was all too aware of the sexual harassment cases that were detailed in all the newspapers. Nevertheless, she found his interest in her creepy, particularly the way his eyes would stray to her breasts or, if she was seated, peer down her cleavage if she ever made the mistake of opening more than a couple of buttons on her blouse. He even asked her out on a date, having made it crystal clear that he and Mrs Mulberry enjoyed the freedom of an ‘open’ marriage.

  Helen turned him down as tactfully as she could but found the experience very uncomfortable. She told Marcie about it.

  ‘We all know that Old Mulberry has the hots for you. We can see the way he drools over you—he can hardly keep his fat little paws off you!’

  ‘At first I imagined he was just trying to be kind,’ said Helen.

  Marcie gave one of her high-pitched squawks. ‘He’s trying all right! And I’ve a good idea what he’s trying for!’

  Ten days after the Seattle conference Professor Mulberry called her into his office.

  ‘I believe you were at a sports conference on the West Coast a couple of weeks back,’ he said, not looking at all pleased.

  ‘That’s right, Professor. It was over a weekend and therefore I didn’t take any time from my research at the Institute.’

  ‘That’s as may be,’ he said putting his plump hands together in an attitude of prayer. He moved them to his equally plump lips as if to kiss them. He looked deep in thought. Helen remained silent wondering what, if anything, she’d done wrong.

  ‘That’s as may be,’ he repeated. ‘I believe, Dr Blackburn, you were in the company of Dr Henderson. Is that not so?’

  On hearing Andrew’s name mentioned, Helen blushed. For ten days she’d been trying to forget the damned man and she didn’t want the professor reminding her about him.

  ‘We were both at the conference, yes.’ What was Mulberry getting at? Helen wondered.

  ‘It has come to my notice that you and Dr Henderson are possibly becoming…how shall I put it? Becoming close. Would you say that was the case?’

  Helen was irritated that Mulberry was asking her about her relationship with Andrew. It was really none of his business, but instead of rising to the bait she took a deep breath and replied calmly.

  ‘Dr Henderson and I are not close. Not in the way you mean.’

  Mulberry’s facial expression relaxed. ‘Ah,’ he said. ‘I’m glad to hear that, my dear. You see, I wouldn’t want you to become too embroiled with him, if you follow my meaning.’

  ‘Whatever are you talking about?’

  ‘If you’re not involved with him, there’s nothing to concern yourself about. It’s just that Dr Henderson has his own agenda, his own way of doing things, and I wouldn’t want you getting caught up in…’ He waved his hands in the air in his search for the correct word or phrase. It escaped him so he left the sentence unfinished.

  Helen narrowed her eyes.

  ‘What are you telling me about Dr Henderson?’

  Mulberry put on an innocent, wide-eyed look. ‘Nothing. Nothing specific. You see, I feel a certain responsibility for you, my dear, having brought you over here. I wouldn’t want you getting…embroiled in anything.’

  Embroiled…He’d said that before. It was a word that could mean anything and Helen was no nearer to knowing what Mulberry was on about.

  As she rose to leave, he leaned over the desk and said conspiratorially, ‘You know about Chicago?’

  ‘He told me he had to go there for some time to sort something out.’

  ‘Well, there you are,’ said Mulberry, moving from his desk to the door. He tapped an index finger against the side of his nose. ‘The least said the better.’

  He was, as usual, standing very close to her and she had to brush against him to get through the door
. He put out a hand as she passed him and it touched her on the breast. He pretended it was an accident.

  ‘Sorry, my dear. I was just about to say I have tickets for Swan Lake at the Lincoln Centre. A wonderful performance, by all accounts. I wondered if by chance you might like to accompany me on Friday evening?’

  The combination of Mulberry touching her and at the same time hitting on her for a date made Helen feel nauseous.

  ‘I’m afraid I can’t,’ she said quickly. ‘I’m going out with Jane, my flatmate.’

  She walked swiftly away in case Mulberry had been about to say he’d change the tickets for another day.

  Following the Seattle weekend, Andrew tried on several occasions to get in touch with Helen by telephone, but she didn’t return his calls. When he attempted to see her in the Institute, she just froze him out and walked away without letting him speak to her. In July, a few weeks later, Jane thought she had some news for her flatmate.

  ‘He’s gone to Chicago!’ she announced as she let herself into the apartment one evening after work. ‘Your gorgeous Dr Henderson…off to Chicago, just like that! We’re all heartbroken in the ER because, as you know, we all fancy him like mad—’

  ‘I know,’ interrupted Helen, continuing to stir-fry the freshly chopped vegetables.

  ‘You know that we all fancy him like mad? Yes, I know that you know that—because I’m always telling you so!’ Jane flopped down on the kitchen chair in an exaggerated gesture of exhaustion.

  ‘I know about Chicago,’ said Helen. ‘He told me he was going.’ She carried on with the cooking, not daring to let Jane see the distressed look on her face. Even though she’d known Andrew was leaving New York she hadn’t been sure exactly when that would be. Jane had now confirmed he’d gone…and it all seemed so final.

  ‘You knew?’ Jane was flabbergasted. ‘You knew he was going to Chicago and yet you never said anything?’

  ‘Why should I?’ Helen put on a bright smile. ‘I’d got lots of other things on my mind…getting on with my research and looking for a job for when the funding ends…’