by Tina Beckett
“She’s special to you, and you wanted to be there for her. Neither of you could have predicted this would happen.”
She glanced over at the table, where two doctors were still operating on Amy. “What am I going to tell her?”
“The truth. That no one could have foreseen this. It’s not her fault. Or yours.”
He was a great one for giving that kind of advice. He’d convinced Jess to lie to her parents and sister about their relationship.
To keep her from being hurt.
And why was that? Because of his own past? Because of the way he’d been hurt by his biological family? Jess’s case was very different from physical abuse. But he knew from experience that words sometimes wounded just as badly and left terrible scars—scars that might not be visible but that were there just the same.
Jess scrubbed her palms over her eyes. “What if she doesn’t make it?”
“Let’s not go down that road, yet.” He paused. “Does Amy have family here?”
“No. She’s all alone. This is her very first baby.” She swallowed. “It looks like it’ll be her last, if he survives.”
He squeezed her shoulder and then released it. “There are other ways. We both know that.”
“Yes, but that’s not going to make her feel any better right now.” She licked her lips. “I keep thinking this could be Abbie lying there. That the baby could have been Marissa.”
“But it’s not. They’re both fine.” He glanced back as another doctor came into the room. Within a few minutes, they’d gotten the baby hooked up to the ventilator and orders were written up for the other tests.
“She’s going to want footprints made...just in case.”
“I’ll order it.”
Jess’s brown eyes were rimmed with moisture. She drew a stuttered breath. “Thank you. This means a lot to me.”
“I’m going with him. I’ll let you know as soon as I know something.”
“I want to come with you.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to stay until she’s out of surgery?” He nodded toward Amy.
“I can’t do anything for her right now.” She looked up at him. “Except for this.”
They had footprints made as the newborn was rushed from one department to another. When they’d finally gotten him to the SCBU, two hours had gone by.
They went to check on Amy and found Isabel just wrapping things up. “She’s still out. We’ve given her three units of blood,” Isabel said. “Who’s the next of kin?”
“She doesn’t have any that I know of. I’m her friend. I’m listed as her contact person.”
They were evidently pretty close friends. You didn’t just hand something like that over without a lot of trust on both sides.
With her family the way it was, Dean was glad she had someone to talk to. He’d never even thought to ask about who her friends might be or if she even had any. Maybe because Dean had always been kind of a lone wolf, never really forming those kinds of relationships. Nor had he ever felt the need to.
And judging from the way Jess was hurting for her friend, he wasn’t sure he really wanted to. He’d cried into his pillow from time to time at the boys’ home after his mum had left. But it was always when no one could see. By the time he was eighteen, the tears had stopped. He couldn’t remember a time since when he’d really cried.
Maybe it was a good thing he didn’t do relationships.
“You’ll let me know if anything changes, right?” Jess turned toward him. “I’m going to stay with her for a while.”
“Are you sure?” Even as he said it, there was something inside of him that urged him to stay as well. Which was exactly why he needed to leave. Now.
“Yes. I want to be here when she wakes up.”
And who would be there for Jess?
Not him. It couldn’t be. He headed for the door, but just before he went through it, he stopped. Went back over to her. He wanted to kiss her cheek, but the doctors were still there finalizing things. He settled for gripping her hand for a minute. “Ring me if you need me. You’ve got my mobile?”
She nodded. “Thank you. I will.”
As he made to leave once again a part of Dean that was centered squarely in his chest hoped that she would.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
DEAN WAS TALKING to someone on his mobile. Propped against the wall of one of the hallways, he didn’t look happy. She couldn’t hear the conversation, but he appeared to be doing more of the listening than the talking. Anything he said was short and curt, lips thin, face tight. She started to back away, when his eyes met hers, and he motioned her over.
Great. She’d been on her way to see Marissa this morning. Amy had finally regained consciousness last night and had sobbed in weak, tired squeaks that broke Jess’s heart. The baby was still hanging in there, and they’d gotten news that there was brain activity. And the baby was already breathing on his own. All hopeful signs. Even so, it had been awful telling her friend what the doctors had had to do to save her life.
* * *
Feeling tired and just a little sad, she made her way over to where Dean was, noticing that he was doing his best to get off the phone.
“I’m not interested in meeting.”
His tone was so grim, she wondered who in the world he could be talking to. Had one of his female friends decided to get too clingy and was demanding he turn a one-night stand into something more?
The thought made her cringe, especially after what she’d been thinking of doing.
“Who I’m seeing is none of your business.”
Wow. Now that was harsh.
Jess gave a quick wave and mouthed, “See you later,” only to have him reach out with his free hand and catch her by the wrist.
“Well, I really wish they hadn’t given you this number.”
His eyes darkened ominously for a second or two. “You’re not my father. You stopped being that a long time ago.”
Oh! It wasn’t a woman. It was his father. Dean had said his dad had been released from prison and might try to see him. She’d almost forgotten.
What had he been in prison for? White-collar crime? Or something worse? For Dean to say the man was no longer his father, it had to be something quite serious. Or maybe Dean was just angry that his dad had broken the law. He seemed to be a very by-the-book kind of guy. Except when it came to relationships. And lying to her parents.
That still stunned her when she thought about it. She had no idea what had made him step up that day and claim to be her significant other, but he’d done her a huge favor. It had stopped the haranguing and nagging from both her sister and her mother, and those comments about how driven she was by her career.
Which she wasn’t. Not at all.
Wasn’t she? She’d thrown her heart and soul into her job, going as far as to further train in crisis management—which was why she was often called in on difficult cases. And she was good at her job. She loved it.
But was it enough? She’d thought so once she’d gotten out from under her mum’s thumb. But when she’d started in again during their visit, it had made Jess doubt herself.
As did Dean.
Even as angry as he seemed right now, the man was gorgeous. And she could see herself falling for someone like him under the right circumstances.
Which these were not.
“Please don’t ring me again.” With that, his thumb hit a button on his mobile and evidently disconnected the call. He let go of her hand and dropped his phone back into the pocket of his lab coat. “Sorry about that.”
She wasn’t exactly sure why he’d called her over there. “That was your father, I take it?”
“Mmm, no. Didn’t you hear? I don’t have one of those.”
Her heart ached to hear the ro
ugh edge that still clogged his voice.
“You may not like whatever the man has done, but he is still your dad.”
Another sound came from the back of his throat. “Don’t think so. And it’s probably best not to assume you know him.”
That made her blink. “Sorry. I was only trying to—”
He leaned his head against the wall. “Damn it. I’m sorry, Jess. I have no right to take my anger out on you.”
“What did he do, anyway, that landed him in prison?”
He turned to look at her. “He put my mum in the critical care unit.”
“He what?”
“He hit her. Until she broke.”
Her heart froze for a second, and then pounded back into a chaotic rhythm. “God, Dean. I’m so sorry. I never would have guessed. Did she divorce him?”
“I don’t know, actually. She left town almost as soon as she got out of hospital.”
She swallowed. So his dad had gone to prison, and his mother had left. How old had Dean been when all of this happened? “Were you grown and gone?”
“Not quite. And I have no idea why I’m telling you any of this. Sorry. I actually wanted to say I’d be happy to pick you up for the Christmas party.”
The event was the day after tomorrow, but she wasn’t ready to let go of the other subject quite so easily. “Are you going to see him? Your dad, I mean.”
This time he smiled. “You don’t believe in beating around the bush, do you?”
“You once said I say exactly what I think, so why hold back now?”
“No, I’m not planning on seeing him. Ever.”
It was none of her business, really, but something made her say, “Maybe he’s changed or wants to apologize for what he did?”
He seemed to mull that over for a few seconds. “It’s too late for any of that. If he wants to start his life over, he can do it without me.”
Jess could understand exactly why he would say that. She’d tried to do that with her sister at one time. It was why she’d moved away from London, so that she could get a fresh start.
Without the shadows from the past crowding in.
She was still nervous about going to the hotel where her sister had gone into labor. Maybe if she arrived with Dean, it would make things easier.
“I get it. Believe me. And as far as the other subject goes, yes, I would appreciate you picking me up. As long as you don’t mind leaving if it gets to be too much.”
“Absolutely. We can make a secret sign. When I see you flash it, I’ll know it’s time.”
Something in her heart warmed that he would be willing to do that for her. “What kind of sign?”
He glanced down at her feet. “You said you were going to wear some killer heels. Maybe if you reach down and slide your finger under one of the straps as if they’re uncomfortable. It would also make a handy excuse for leaving.”
“Good thinking. I like it.”
“Great. So how about six-thirty? That should get us there in plenty of time for the buffet line to open.”
“Sounds good. You already know where I live.”
“I do.”
Jess couldn’t believe she’d had such doubts about going to the party with him. Now it seemed like the perfect solution.
Except for one thing.
She’d toyed with asking him to go home with her, but he might prefer someone else. She needed to at least give him an out, if he wanted one. “What if you meet someone there that you’d like to get to know a little better? Should we have a sign for that? I mean, I don’t want you feeling like you’re stuck with me.”
“I won’t.”
Did he mean he wouldn’t meet someone he might like or that he wouldn’t feel stuck?
As if reading her mind, he slid his fingers under her chin. “We won’t need a second sign.”
“O-okay.” Suddenly very aware of the masculine scent that was weaving through her senses and that there was a nurse at the far end of the hallway, she backed up a step. “I need to get back to work.”
Something else popped into her head. “And I’m sorry about your dad. And your mum.”
“Thank you, but it was all a long time ago. Water under the bridge, as they say. I need to get back as well. I’ll see you Friday evening, if not before.”
With that, Dean headed down the hallway, nodding at the nurse as he passed her. Jess turned as well, suddenly forgetting where she’d been going when she’d spotted him. Maybe because she couldn’t quite wrap her head around the fact that she was going to the Christmas party with the playboy of Cambridge Royal.
And if nothing else went right for the rest of the day, that was enough to make her smile.
* * *
Talk about a prophecy coming true...nothing else went right. Although Amy’s baby, Matthew, was still holding his own, three other labors had turned into full-blown emergencies. She’d barely had time to go down and visit Amy and then Marissa. Then Jess’s sister had rung in the middle of one of those emergencies and had bullied her way through the system until one of the nurses had pulled her from the room to take the call.
It had not gone well. Jess, at the end of her rope, had almost lost her temper and undone the tentative truce she and her sister had forged.
All she could think of at the end of the day was that the Christmas party had better be pretty damned good. Because she was looking forward to it far too much. And looking forward to seeing Dean in that tuxedo?
Yes. That also worried her a little bit. He’d become far too intuitive where she was concerned, and this little voice inside of her said that she might even be falling for the man. That would be a disaster.
And what about that idea of a fling she’d entertained over the few days? Could she do it and not want more?
That wouldn’t happen, because Dean wouldn’t let it. So even if she did the unthinkable and got a little too attached, she had him to drag her back to reality. Which was a good thing, really.
She got her bag out of her locker as her shift ended, vowing she was just going to take things one day at a time and see what happened. In the meantime, she had some walking to do. If Dean expected her to be wearing those sexy shoes she’d purchased, she’d better work on breaking them in.
* * *
Dean pulled up in front of Jess’s house and gripped the steering wheel. His bow tie felt a little too tight all of a sudden. He hadn’t seen her since that ugly conversation with his father—who’d tried to ring him several more times over the past day and a half. Dean had let all of the calls go to voicemail. He had no desire to talk to the man. Or to see him.
But he did want to see Jess. He’d never wanted a home or a family, but there was something about her that made him feel utterly comfortable in her presence. Maybe because the woman was who she was. She didn’t try to play games or say things she didn’t mean—except to her parents, and that was his fault for initiating the whole fake dating thing.
Nothing to do but get out of the car and ring her buzzer. He sat there for a moment longer staring at the cozy little cottage, wondering what Jess was doing right now. She was the punctual type, so he didn’t see her still rushing around the place putting last-minute touches on her hair or makeup.
Was she sitting on the couch waiting for him to come to the door? Was she calmly sipping a cup of tea?
She was calm. He couldn’t quite picture her losing her temper the way she said she had at her parents’ anniversary party.
And yet, she’d gotten angry with him at the pub, so he knew she was capable of it.
Actually, he liked that unexpected flash of fire. Maybe that was what drove her sister to provoke her. There was something satisfying about knowing he could wring a reaction out of her when nothing at work seemed to.
Ridiculous. Why on ea
rth would he want to rattle her?
And why was he just sitting here like a stooge?
He exited the car and headed up to the door. Pressed the buzzer.
As he’d suspected, the door opened almost immediately. And his eyes almost fell out of his head.
She was dressed in a deep blue dress that looked like something a Greek goddess would have worn; the garment was gathered into tiny pleats at her waist with a gold sash. The neckline was bound with the same type of gold edging that went on to form wide straps at her shoulders.
The woman was gorgeous. Beyond gorgeous.
It was quite cool outside, so she must have a wrap of some kind inside the house.
Even as he thought it she opened the door and motioned him in. “I was just finishing a cup of tea. Would you like one?”
Mystery one solved.
Mystery two...her footwear. The long dress covered her shoes, so he had no idea what they looked like. It didn’t matter, he’d see them before the night was through, because she’d eventually have to throw him that signal, right?
Judging from the added height, though, they had to be quite tall. He stepped inside. “No, thank you, on the tea, but take your time. We still have half an hour before things really get under way.”
“Let me just get my coat and put my cup in the sink, then. Have a seat, I’ll be right back.”
When Jess turned to head toward the kitchen, his breath stuck in his throat. The band that formed the straps of her dress dropped past her shoulder blades and traveled halfway down her back, before meeting in the middle, exposing a large expanse of pale silky skin.
How could the woman even wear anything underneath it?
You will not look when she comes back.
Of course, when she did, that was the first place his eyes went. Bloody hell. How had he missed that? The fabric was loosely draped over her breasts, but when she reached for a minuscule handbag and a jacket, he caught sight of a distinct pucker.
That meant nothing. She could just have a thin bra on.
Only his body didn’t think so. It was coming up with all kinds of interesting images, none of which were doing him any good.
