by Sarah Morgan
‘No. Not yet.’ He shook his head, his gaze flickering over the baby. ‘When you’ve finished taking the samples we’ll set up an IV and get her to the ward. I’ve got a bad feeling about this little one. She’s going to end up being ventilated.’
‘I hope not,’ Bryony murmured, but she knew that Jack was always right in his predictions. If he thought the baby was going to need ventilating, then it was almost certain that she would.
He looked at her quizzically. ‘Is the mother around?’
As he asked the question the doors to Resus opened and the paramedics came back in, escorting a tall woman wrapped in a wool coat. Her face was pale and her hair was uncombed.
‘Ella?’ She hurried over to the trolley, her face lined with anxiety, and then she looked at Jack.
Bryony didn’t mind that. She was used to it. Women always looked at Jack.
Even before they knew he was the consultant, they looked at him.
And it wasn’t just because he was staggeringly, movie-star handsome. It was because he was charming and had an air of casual self-assurance that attracted women like magnets. You just knew that Jack would know what to do in any situation.
‘I’m Dr Rothwell.’ He extended a hand and gave her that reassuring smile that always seemed to calm the most frantic relative. ‘I’ve been caring for Ella, along with Dr Hunter here.’
The woman didn’t even glance at Bryony. Her gaze stayed firmly fixed on Jack. ‘She’s been ill for days but I thought it was just a cold and then suddenly today she seemed to go downhill.’ She lifted a shaking hand to her throat. ‘She wouldn’t take her bottle and she was so hot and then tonight she stopped breathing properly and I was terrified.’
Jack nodded, his blue eyes warm and understanding. ‘It’s always frightening when a baby of this size is ill because their airways are so small,’ he explained calmly. ‘Ella has picked up a nasty virus and it is affecting her breathing.’
The woman blanched and stared at the tiny figure on the trolley. ‘But she’s going to be OK?’
‘We need to admit her to hospital,’ Jack said, glancing up as the paediatrician walked into the room. ‘This is Dr Armstrong, the paediatric registrar. He’s going to take a look at her now and then we’ll take her along to the ward.’
‘Will I be able to stay with her?’
‘Absolutely.’ Jack nodded, his gaze reassuring. ‘You can have a bed next to her cot.’
Deciding that Jack was never going to be able to extricate himself from the mother, Bryony briefed Dr Armstrong on the baby’s condition.
She liked David Armstrong. He was warm and kind and he’d asked her out on several occasions.
And she’d refused of course. Because she always refused.
She never went on dates.
Bryony bit her lip, remembering Lizzie’s letter to Santa. She wanted a daddy for Christmas. A pretty tall order for a woman who didn’t date men, she thought dryly, picking up the baby’s charts and handing them to David.
Dragging her mind back, she finished handing over and watched while David examined the baby himself.
A thoroughly nice man, she decided wistfully. So why couldn’t she just accept his invitation to take their friendship a step further?
And then Jack strolled back to the trolley, tall, broad-shouldered, confident and so shockingly handsome that it made her gasp, and she remembered the reason why she didn’t date men.
She didn’t date men because she’d been in love with Jack since she’d been five years old. And apart from her one disastrous attempt to forget about him, which had resulted in Lizzie, she hadn’t even noticed another man for her entire adult life.
Which just went to show how stupid she was, she reflected crossly, infuriated by her own stupidity.
Jack might be a brilliant doctor but he was also the most totally unsuitable man any woman could fall for. Women had affairs with Jack. They didn’t fall in love with him. Not if they had any sense, because Jack had no intention of ever falling in love or settling down.
But, of course, she didn’t have any sense.
It was fortunate that she’d got used to hiding the way she felt about him. He didn’t have a clue that he’d featured in every daydream she’d had since she’d been a child. When other little girls had dreamed about faceless princes in fairy-tales, she’d dreamed about Jack. When her teenage friends had developed crushes on the boys at school, she’d still dreamed about Jack. And when she’d finally matured into a woman, she’d carried on dreaming about Jack.
Finally the baby was stable enough to be transferred to the ward and Nicky pushed the trolley, accompanied by the paediatric SHO, who had arrived to help, and the baby’s mother.
Bryony started to tidy up Resus, ready for the next arrival, her mind elsewhere.
‘Are you all right?’ David Armstrong gave her a curious look. ‘You’re miles away.’
‘Sorry.’ She smiled. ‘Just thinking.’
‘Hard work, that, for a blonde,’ Jack said mildly, and Bryony gave him a sunny smile, relaxed now that the baby was no longer her responsibility.
‘Why are men like bank accounts?’ she asked sweetly, ditching some papers in the bin. ‘Because without a lot of money they don’t generate much interest.’
David looked startled but Jack threw back his head and laughed.
‘Then it’s fortunate for me that I have a lot of money,’ he said strolling across the room to her and looping her stethoscope back round her neck.
For a moment he stood there, looking down at her, his eyes laughing into hers as he kept hold of the ends of the stethoscope. Bryony looked back at him, hypnotised by the dark shadow visible on his hard jaw and the tiny muscle that worked in his cheek. He was so close she could almost touch him, but she’d never been allowed to do that.
Not properly.
He was her best friend.
They talked, they laughed and they spent huge amounts of time together. But they never crossed that line of friendship.
Jack’s pager sounded and he let go of the stethoscope and reached into his pocket. ‘Duty calls. If you’re sure you can cope without me, I’ll be off.’
‘I’ll struggle on,’ Bryony said sarcastically, and he gave her that lazy wink that always reduced her legs to jelly.
‘You do that. I’ll see you later, then. Are you joining the team at the Drunken Fox tonight?’
‘Yes. Mum’s babysitting.’
The whole of the local mountain rescue team were meeting for a drink to celebrate her brother’s birthday.
‘Good.’ He gave a nod. ‘See you there, then.’
And with that he strolled out of the room with his usual easy confidence, letting the door swing closed behind him.
David stared after him. ‘Don’t you mind the blonde jokes and the fact that he calls you Blondie?’
Bryony shot him an amused look. ‘He’s called me that for twenty-two years.’ She fiddled with the stethoscope that Jack had looped round her neck. ‘He’s just teasing.’
‘You’ve known him for twenty-two years?’
‘Amazing that I’m still sane, isn’t it?’ Bryony said lightly. ‘Jack was at school with my two brothers but he spent more time in our house than his own.’ Mainly because his parents had been going through a particularly acrimonious divorce.
‘He’s practically family. He and my brothers were at medical school together.’
Nicky entered the room in time to hear that last remark. ‘I bet the three of them were lethal.’
‘They certainly were.’
David looked at her in surprise. ‘Of course—why didn’t I realise before? Tom Hunter, the consultant obstetrician—he’s your brother?’
Bryony smiled. ‘That’s right. And my other brother, Oliver, is a GP. When I’ve finished my rotation I’m going to join him in his practice. He’s the reason for the trip to the pub—it’s his birthday today.’
Not that they needed an excuse for a trip to the pub. Most of the mountain r
escue team members lived in the pub when they weren’t working, training or on a callout.
David looked at her. ‘I can’t believe that I didn’t click sooner that Tom Hunter is your brother.’
Bryony shrugged. ‘Well, we don’t know each other that well.’
‘And whose fault is that?’ David said in an undertone. ‘I keep asking you out.’
And she kept refusing.
Conscious that Nicky was within earshot, Bryony handed David the last of the charts. ‘Here you go. Everything you need on baby Ella. I hope she does OK.’
‘Thanks.’ He hesitated and then gave her a smile as he walked out of Resus.
‘That man fancies you,’ Nicky said dryly, and Bryony sighed.
‘Yes, I know.’
‘Don’t tell me, you’re in love with Jack, the same as every other woman on the planet.’
Bryony looked at her, carefully keeping her expression casual. She’d never admitted to anyone how she felt about Jack, and she wasn’t going to start now. ‘Jack’s my best friend. I know him far too well to ever fall in love with him.’
‘Then you’re more sensible than the rest of the female population,’ Nicky said happily. ‘Every woman I know is in love with Jack Rothwell. He’s rich, single and sexy as sin. And most of us could scratch your eyes out for being so close to him. According to rumour, he spends half his life hanging around your kitchen.’
Bryony smiled. When she’d lived at home Jack had always been there, and when she’d moved into her own cottage he’d taken to dropping round so often that he was almost part of the furniture. ‘Don’t get the wrong idea. Usually he’s telling me about his latest girlfriend. He’s my brothers’ closest friend, he’s my daughter’s godfather and we’ve been in the mountain rescue team together for years. I can assure you there’s nothing romantic about our relationship.’
Unfortunately.
Nicky sighed. ‘Well, it sounds pretty good to me. I’d love to have him in my kitchen, if only for his decorative qualities. The guy is sublime.’
‘Nicky, you’re married.’
Nicky grinned. ‘I know. But my hormones are still alive and kicking.’
Bryony busied herself restocking one of the equipment trays. Strictly speaking it wasn’t her job but she didn’t want to look at Nicky in case she gave herself away.
Her relationship with Jack was good.
They had a fantastic friendship.
But even the most fantastic friendship didn’t soothe the ache in her heart.
She was about to say something else to Nicky when the doors to Resus opened again and one of the paramedics stuck his head round.
‘Has the baby been transferred to the ward? Only I’ve got her father here.’
‘I’ll speak to him,’ Bryony said immediately, glad to be given an excuse to get away from the subject of Jack. She followed the paramedic out of the room.
A tall man in a suit was hovering anxiously in the corridor, his face white with strain.
‘I’m Dr Hunter,’ Bryony said, holding out her hand. ‘I’ve been looking after Ella.’
‘Oh, God…’ he breathed out slowly, obviously trying to calm himself down. ‘I came as soon as Pam called me but I was at a meeting in Penrith and the traffic was awful.’
Bryony gave an understanding smile and slowly outlined Ella’s condition, careful to be realistic without painting too grim a picture.
‘So she’s on the ward?’ He ran a hand over the back of his neck and gave a shuddering sigh. ‘Sorry. I know I’m panicking like mad but she’s my baby and—’
‘It’s OK,’ Bryony said gently, putting a hand on his arm. ‘You’re her father and you’re entitled to be worried.’
His shoulders sagged and he looked exhausted. ‘You don’t know what worry is until you have kids, do you?’
Bryony thought of Lizzie and shook her head. ‘No,’ she agreed softly, ‘you certainly don’t.’
‘Do you have children yourself, Doctor?’
‘I have a little girl.’
They shared a smile of mutual understanding. ‘And the bond between a little girl and her daddy is so special, isn’t it?’
Bryony tensed and then she smiled. ‘It certainly is,’ she croaked, feeling as though she’d been showered with cold water. ‘Very special.’
She directed the man to the children’s ward and stared after him, feeling sick inside.
She loved Lizzie so fiercely that she rarely thought about the fact that her little girl didn’t have a father. She had plenty of father figures—her two brothers and Jack, and she’d always consoled herself that they were enough. But Lizzie obviously didn’t think so or why would she have asked for a father for Christmas?
Lizzie wanted the real thing. She wanted a father to tuck her up at night. A father who would read to her and play with her. A father who would panic and leave a meeting because she was sick.
Bryony gave a groan and covered her face with her hands. How was she ever going to satisfy Lizzie’s Christmas wish this year?
How was she going to produce a father when she didn’t even date men and hadn’t since Lizzie had been conceived? And not even then, really.
Bryony let her hands drop to her sides, torn with guilt at how selfish she’d been. Because of the way she felt about Jack, she’d shut men out of her life, never thinking about the long-term effect that would have on Lizzie.
It was true that she didn’t want a man in her life, but it was also true that Lizzie needed and wanted a father.
And suddenly Bryony made a decision.
She was going to stop dreaming about Jack Rothwell. She was going to stop noticing his broad shoulders. She was going to stop noticing the way his cheeks creased when he smiled. She was going to stop thinking about what he looked like with his shirt off. In fact, she was going to stop thinking about him altogether and start dating other men.
Finally she was going to get a life.
And Lizzie was going to get a daddy.
CHAPTER TWO
BRYONY paused outside the entrance to the pub, her breath clouding the freezing air. She could hear the muffled sounds of laughter and music coming from inside, and she lifted her chin and pushed open the door.
They were all there. The whole of the mountain rescue team, most of whom she’d known for years, crowding the bar and laughing together. In one corner of the bar a log fire crackled and the room was warm and welcoming.
‘It’s Blondie!’
There were good-natured catcalls from the moment they spotted her and Toby, the equipment officer, slipped off his stool and offered it to her with a flourish.
‘Hi, guys.’ She settled herself on the stool and smiled at the barman. ‘Hi, Geoff. The usual, please.’
He reached for a bottle of grapefruit juice. ‘On the hard stuff, Bryony?’
‘That’s me.’ Bryony nodded her thanks and lifted the glass in a salute. ‘Cheers, everyone. And happy birthday, Oliver.’
Her brother grinned. ‘Thanks, babe. You OK?’
‘I’m fine.’ In fact, she was better than fine. She was brilliant. And she was finally going to restart her life.
As if to test that resolve, Jack strolled over to her and dropped a kiss on her cheek.
‘What did the blonde say when she walked into the bar?’
‘Ouch,’ Bryony answered wearily, rolling her eyes in exasperation. ‘And, Jack, you really need some new jokes. You’re recycling them.’
He yawned. ‘Well, I’ve been telling them for twenty-two years—what do you expect?’
‘A bit of originality would be nice,’ she said mildly, taking another sip of her drink and making a point of not looking at him. She wasn’t going to notice Jack any more. There were plenty of men out there with good bodies. He wasn’t the only one. ‘Maybe I should dye my hair brown to help you out.’
‘Brown? Don’t you dare.’ Jack’s voice was husky and enticingly male. ‘If you dyed your hair brown, you’d ruin all my jokes. We love you the way y
ou are.’
Bryony took a gulp of her drink. He didn’t love her. And he never would love her. Or, at least, not in the way she wanted him to love her.
‘Bry, are you free on Thursday or Friday?’ Oliver leaned across the bar and grabbed a handful of nuts. ‘Mum wants to cook me a birthday dinner, whole family and Jack in attendance.’
Bryony put her glass down on the bar. ‘Can’t do Thursday.’
Jack frowned. ‘You’re on an early shift. Why can’t you do it?’
Bryony hesitated. ‘Because I have a date,’ she said finally, and Oliver lifted his eyebrows.
‘A date? You have a date?’
Jack’s smile vanished like the sun behind a cloud. ‘What do you mean, you have a date?’ His voice was surprisingly frosty. ‘Since when did you go on dates?’
Bryony took a deep breath and decided she may as well tell all. ‘Since I saw Lizzie’s Christmas list.’
At the mention of Lizzie, Jack’s expression regained some of its warmth. ‘She’s made her list already?’
‘She has indeed.’
‘Don’t tell me.’ His voice was indulgent. ‘She wants something pink. A new pair of pink wings for her fairy costume?’
‘Nope.’
Oliver looked at her searchingly. ‘Well? We’re all dying to hear what she asked for. And what’s it got to do with you going on a date?’
Bryony sat still for a moment, studying her empty glass. ‘I’m going on a date,’ she said slowly, ‘because Lizzie wants a daddy.’ She looked up and gave them a bland smile. ‘Lizzie has asked for a daddy for Christmas.’
There was a long silence around the bar and the men exchanged looks.
It was Jack who eventually spoke first. ‘Does she realise that they’re not all they’re cracked up to be?’
There was bitterness in his tone and Bryony frowned slightly. She knew that his parents had divorced when he’d been eight and she also knew that it had been a hideously painful experience for Jack.
But it was unlike him to ever mention it.
Like most men, Jack Rothwell didn’t talk about his feelings.
‘A daddy?’ Oliver cleared his throat and exchanged looks with Tom. ‘Does she have anyone in particular in mind?’
