by Sarah Morgan
Alfie’s face was scarlet. It was obvious that he hated being in the wrong.
Hayley knew that feeling.
‘Uncle Dan left his credit card by the phone,’ the child mumbled, and Patrick’s mouth tightened.
‘And you took it?’
‘If he was careless enough to leave it lying around then he can’t complain if it was abused,’ Hayley said firmly, glaring at Patrick as he sent her a slow, fulminating look. Really, he was hardly in a position to be self-righteous, was he?
He turned back to Alfie, who was gazing at Hayley as though she were a lifebelt and his father was a giant wave. ‘I’ll pay him back, Dad. I promise. I’ll clear snow or something and earn some money.’
‘How could you place an advert? Didn’t the newspaper know you were a child?’
‘They asked me how old I was and I made a joke of it. I said my dad had no idea how to cook a turkey and I needed an expert.’
‘So if she rightly insisted on checking with a grown-up, how did this advert…’ Patrick waved the cutting slowly ‘…end up in the paper?’
‘Uncle Daniel walked back into the room and I told him he needed to just say that the advert was all fine.’ Alfie swallowed. ‘And he did that. He wasn’t concentrating. Posy was coughing really badly. He thought he was confirming the kitten advert.’
Patrick scanned the crumpled, torn newspaper in his hand. ‘Instead of which he confirmed an advert for a housekeeper to come and spend Christmas with us.’
‘I thought if it worked out all right, you’d be pleased,’ Alfie confessed in a small voice. ‘And then when I woke up today, I wasn’t so sure. I thought you might be angry. Are you really angry, Dad?’ Alfie looked so forlorn that Hayley’s spine stiffened at the injustice of it.
Poor Alfie.
She glared at the back of Patrick’s head, determined not to notice his cropped dark hair. Who cared if he looked macho? And good shoulders weren’t everything, were they? He was a snake. How dared he give his son that you’ve-disappointed-me-with-your-behaviour look, while betraying his marriage vows in every empty bed he could find, and with a woman who had no taste in lipstick.
Hayley was about to leap passionately to Alfie’s defence when Patrick tugged the boy into his arms.
‘How can I be angry when it’s my fault for being so lousy at cooking Christmas dinner?’ His tone gruff, he released his son and ruffled his hair. ‘I like the fact you saw a problem and tried to solve it. And I’m proud that you used your initiative.’ He spoke quietly, keeping the conversation between him and his son. ‘I also like the fact that you’ve been honest with me and not tried to duck out of it. But it was wrong of you to use Uncle Daniel’s credit card, Alfie. That was stealing. We’ll need to talk about that later.’
Hayley subsided slightly, although she was still simmering at his devoted dad act. Devoted dads didn’t take advantage of their sex appeal, did they? Devoted dads weren’t supposed to turn into sex gods in their spare time.
Patrick straightened and looked her directly in the eye and Hayley glared back, hoping he couldn’t read her mind and wishing she could look as cool and unflustered as he did.
‘There’s been a mistake.’ As his eyes flickered to her mouth she wondered exactly which mistake he was referring to—the advert, or the night they’d spent together.
‘I can see that. You obviously don’t want a housekeeper so I’ll leave you to cook your own turkey and I hope you find a good home for the kittens.’ Trying to maintain her dignity, she picked up her bags and smiled at Alfie. ‘You have a lovely Christmas. I hope Santa brings you everything you want.’
Proud of the way she’d handled herself so far, Hayley knew that what she needed to do next was turn and walk away, but walking on snow hadn’t been a great success so far, had it? And, anyway, where was she supposed to walk to? They were in the middle of the countryside with snow-capped mountains behind them and the stream in full flood only a few steps away. If she stalked off here, her body would be discovered frozen in the morning encased in a layer of ice and very possibly washed into the next valley. And dignity and hypothermia were definitely incompatible. ‘Go back inside. It’s freezing. I’ll call a taxi.’ Hopefully before his wife emerged to see what was going on.
At least he didn’t know she’d come here specifically to see him.
That was one small consolation.
‘You can’t go!’ Alfie sounded horrified. ‘And we do need a housekeeper. Dad can’t cook a turkey, honestly. And if you leave, you won’t be able to surprise your friend. Remember? You told me that on the phone. You said you were coming over to surprise a special friend and you needed somewhere to live while you tracked him down.’
Oh, no. No, no, no.
Feeling Patrick’s gaze on her face, Hayley wanted to throw herself into the stream. Her impetuous nature had got her into some embarrassing situations in the past, but none quite so embarrassing as this one.
It was almost as bad as that day at school when she’d discovered that her stepbrother had planted a camera in the girls’ showers.
All she needed now was for Patrick to produce her knickers from his pocket and her humiliation would be complete.
He leaned against the doorframe, watching her. ‘You came here to look for…someone?’ His pause was significant and Hayley felt her face fire up to a shade that probably matched the dreadful Mrs Thornton’s vampire lipstick.
How dared he look amused? Obviously he was a sadist as well as being hugely insensitive. And an adulterer. This situation was about as amusing as discovering you were the only one in fancy dress and everyone else was in black tie. As the list of his crimes grew longer, Hayley grew more affronted.
‘I’m not looking for anyone. I mean—I might have been, originally, yes…’ She knew she was babbling incoherently, but all hope of a smooth response had deserted her. ‘My friend let me down.’ She looked at him pointedly and saw his eyes narrow slightly. ‘So I won’t be looking for him.’
‘Is that right?’ His soft drawl was as annoying as his blank expression and Hayley wondered whether falling face down in the snow would put out the fire in her cheeks.
Deciding that she needed to make her exit no matter how undignified, Hayley started to back away but Alfie grabbed her arm.
‘No, I won’t let you go! Dad, tell her she has to stay! I know you didn’t put the advert in, but she’s here now and think how great it would be to have someone helping over Christmas. Dad? Say something.’
Chapter Two
SHE had the sexiest mouth he’d ever kissed.
Not beautiful—her mouth was too wide to qualify for beautiful—but soft, full and with a slight pout that made a man think the most basic, primitive thoughts. And then there was the tiny dimple in the corner that was so deliciously feminine. Suddenly Patrick wished life wasn’t so complicated. All he wanted to do was throw her over his shoulder and carry her up to his bed.
The fact that she was flustered, embarrassed and visibly angry with him did nothing to cool his libido. Far from it. It just reminded him how refreshingly open she was with people. He’d seen that from the first moment they’d met—been intrigued by just how much she’d divulged about herself as she’d shown him around the hospital.
He even found her slightly ungainly battle with the ice appealing. The fact that she didn’t seem fully in control of her legs simply reminded him that she had incredible legs. Incredibly long legs.
A vivid image of exactly how long her legs were brought a groan to his lips but he managed to stifle it. Why did everything about her make him think of sex?
He remembered the moment when she’d landed flat on her back in the snow. For an unsettling moment, the contrast between her dark hair and the white powder had reminded him of how she’d looked against the sheets in his hotel room and he’d been on the verge of lowering himself on top of her and doing what he was burning to do when Alfie had disturbed his red-hot daydream.
And now his son was looking at him,
waiting for an answer.
Dragging his mind away from sex, Patrick tried to remember the question.
But what did you say to a woman with whom you’d been intimate but hadn’t expected to see again?
Hi, there—what are you doing on my doorstep?
Patrick stood in silence, the reality of his life squashing the fantasy. He felt the children looking at him and he knew that, no matter what he said next, someone was going to be hurt. If he told her that they didn’t need a housekeeper then she’d be hurt and so would Alfie. If she stayed—
He dismissed the thought impatiently.
How could she possibly stay?
They always said that the past would catch up with you, but he hadn’t expected it to catch up with him this quickly—hadn’t thought his children would find out about what had happened in Chicago.
On the other hand, there had to be a reason why she was here. And only one reason came to mind.
She was pregnant.
She had to be pregnant. It was the only explanation for the fact that she was standing on his doorstep on Christmas Eve. She’d travelled over six thousand miles to talk to him.
Patrick closed his eyes briefly, forcing himself to stay calm and think clearly.
He still didn’t understand how her visit to the UK had somehow become entangled with Alfie’s innocent advert for a housekeeper. All he knew was that his private moment of self-indulgence was no longer private. And the fact that she was pregnant…
Biting back a word he tried never to say in front of his children, Patrick ran his hand over the back of his neck and concentrated on her face. If he looked at his kids he’d just feel guilty and lose his thread, and that wasn’t going to help anyone.
They were going to be hurt. That was inevitable.
It was up to him to try and minimise the damage.
‘Dad?’ Alfie was throwing strange looks at him. ‘Say something. She can cook, Dad,’ he urged. ‘I know she’s a stranger, but why wouldn’t you want her to stay?’
Because she wasn’t a stranger.
But he wasn’t ready to confess as much to Alfie. Not yet. Not until he’d worked out the best way of handling the situation. For now he needed to pretend that this was the first time he’d met her.
Patrick’s eyes lingered on her long, dark hair. It was damp from the snow and curled softly over her shoulders, the rich colour emphasising the pallor of her skin.
Her eyes met his briefly and then she turned to Alfie.
‘Don’t worry.’ Despite her obvious agitation, she gave the child a soft, reassuring smile. ‘I can see there’s been a mix-up.’
The icy wind blew a flurry of snow around her ankles and Patrick noticed that the bottoms of her jeans were as wet as her coat.
‘You’re wet—shivering.’ The doctor in him suddenly felt concern but she shrugged it off.
‘I’m fine.’ Avoiding his gaze, she dug her hand into her pocket and pulled out a shiny pink phone. ‘Go back in the warm. I’m sorry I can’t help you out with those kittens. I’ll just call a cab and I’ll be out of your way.’
She thought he was just going to let her go?
Did she think he was the sort of man who would let a pregnant woman walk away in the depth of winter?
Feeling the familiar weight of responsibility, Patrick decided that the first thing he needed to do was get her inside quickly, before she became any colder.
Hypothermia wasn’t a good state for anyone, let alone a pregnant woman.
‘Dad?’ Alfie nudged him. ‘It’s really bad manners to keep someone on the doorstep! You taught me that.’
‘Yes. Hayley, please come inside.’ Without giving her the opportunity to object, he stepped forward and picked up her small suitcase. ‘We can talk about it in the warm. It’s freezing out here and it’s snowing again. And you’re wet.’
‘I’m only a little damp.’ Her teeth were chattering. ‘Nothing that won’t dry.’
‘Nothing is going to dry out here.’ He watched with mounting exasperation as fresh snowflakes settled on her hair. ‘Come in. Please.’ He could see her backing off and his mouth tightened. Doubtless, now that the moment was here, she was dreading having to tell him her news.
‘I’ll call a taxi.’
‘Hayley, it’s Christmas Eve. You’re in the Lake District, not London. There won’t be that many taxis around, and they won’t be driving out here.’
‘Jack only dropped me twenty minutes ago. I’m sure he’ll be happy to turn round and pick me up again.’
‘Jack?’ Her suitcase still in his hand, Patrick frowned. ‘Who is Jack?’
‘The taxi driver.’
‘You’re on first-name terms with the taxi driver?’
‘He was a nice guy.’
‘Right.’ He’d forgotten how friendly she was. And yet hadn’t it been her warmth and humanity that had attracted him to her that day at the hospital in Chicago? She’d had a smile and a greeting for every person they’d passed. ‘Well, Jack has probably gone home to his family by now. Come inside, at least while we decide what to do.’
He didn’t blame her for being wary of him. He’d hardly given her a warm welcome, had he?
‘Please.’ Alfie slipped his hand into hers. ‘Come and see my kittens. And I can show you the presents under the tree.’
Hayley murmured another refusal but Alfie gave her hand a determined tug and she stepped over the threshold of the barn, as cautious as a deer sensing danger. ‘Just for a moment. Then I’m calling a cab.’
Patrick put her cases down and closed the door on the cold. ‘I’ll make a hot drink while we decide what to do. Tea? Coffee? Hot chocolate?’ Was she nauseous? No, she couldn’t possibly be nauseous. It was too early.
‘Tea, please.’ Her tone was polite and she seemed to be making a point of not looking at him. ‘Tea was the thing I missed most. It just doesn’t taste the same in America.’
‘You’ve come from America?’ Alfie’s eyes were round. ‘My dad went to America a few weeks ago. He had an interview for a job, but he didn’t like it.’
Patrick closed his eyes briefly. This was her chance to drop him in it but she merely smiled at Alfie, her cheeks dimpling prettily.
‘Is that right? Well, you live in a beautiful place and I can quite see why he wouldn’t want to leave it. After all, he has family here.’ Her eyes slid to Patrick’s and he saw the accusation in her gaze. ‘A lovely family.’
Alfie opened the cake tin and helped himself to a brownie, oblivious to the sudden tension between the two adults. ‘Are you American?’
‘No.’ Her smile didn’t slip. ‘I’m English.’
‘Then why were you working in America?’
Her hesitation was so brief it was barely noticeable. ‘I wanted a change. A fresh start. So a year ago I took a job there.’
‘Why did you need a change?’
‘Alfie!’ Patrick’s tone was sharp and he turned away to fill the kettle, still trying to work out how he was going to engineer privacy so that they could have the necessary grownup conversation. ‘It’s rude to ask so many questions.’
‘It’s all right. I’m not big on secrets.’ Her swift, pointed glance in his direction was another accusation. ‘I wanted to do something completely different, Alfie, to prove to myself that I could. Sometimes when people have knocked your confidence, you start to see yourself the way they see you. Then it’s good to get away from everyone and see what you can do when you haven’t got people waiting for you to make a mistake.’
‘Someone was waiting for you to make a mistake?’ Alfie’s horrified expression reflected Patrick’s own thoughts.
‘Who?’ He barked the question angrily and then saw Alfie’s startled look and frowned. ‘What?’
‘Dad, you look really mad.’
‘I’m not mad,’ he lied. ‘I just…’ He gestured with his hand. ‘I mean, Alfie and I would both—we’d like to know who undermined your confidence.’
Hayley was looking at
him as if he was slightly mad and he didn’t blame her. The strength of his reaction had shocked him, too.
‘That doesn’t really matter,’ she said faintly, turning her attention back to Alfie. ‘Anyway, as I was saying, I wanted to prove myself so I took a job in this big, fantastic hospital in Chicago.’
Alfie nodded. ‘I’ve seen Chicago on television.’
‘Right. Well, I’d never even been to America before. I didn’t know anyone and at first it was hard—strange…’ She frowned slightly. ‘But then I settled down and it felt good. I love midwifery.’
‘You’re a midwife?’ Alfie gave a gasp. ‘Dad, did you hear that? Hayley is a midwife!’
Patrick ran his hand over the back of his neck. Alfie was a bright boy and any moment now he was going to put two and two together. And there was absolutely nothing wrong with his son’s maths. ‘That’s…great.’
‘My Dad’s an obstetrician,’ Alfie said proudly. ‘You guys can talk about babies if you like. I don’t mind.’
Patrick winced. He had a feeling that the subject of babies was going to be right at the top of their list of conversation topics.
What were her plans?
Was she upset about being pregnant?
Was that why she kept sending him angry looks?
‘Tell her she has to stay, Dad.’
Patrick made two mugs of tea. If she was pregnant then she’d be staying a long time. Was that what she wanted? Was that what he wanted?
No. Definitely not. A baby was not a reason to get married. He’d learned that the hard way. There were other ways of being responsible. ‘Hayley and I need to talk in private, Alfie.’ He decided that there was no point in postponing the inevitable. ‘I’d like you to take Posy and go and watch a cartoon or something.’
‘I’ve seen all the cartoons on television.’ Alfie didn’t budge. ‘It’s Christmas Eve. And Hayley doesn’t have anywhere else to go because she thought she was going to be living here. We’ve got plenty of space—I don’t understand why you want her to go.’
