His Very Own Wife and Child

by Caroline Anderson

  It was a sit-down meal, but that was as far as the formality went. Instead of at a high table, Patrick and Annie sat alone at a small table, facing them all, and every one else was grouped around a few circular tables, which made it more relaxed. Not that there would ever have been a problem with that. They all knew each other too well, and trying to keep them in order would have been impossible.

  It was beautiful, though. The table settings were simple but smothered in Annie’s little touches—more rosebuds, little gifts by each place—the food was superb, the conversation lively and the wine was flowing freely. In short, it was a great party, and Sally’s duties for now were over.

  She was tempted to dive into her glass head first, but common sense prevailed. She was having enough trouble hanging onto her composure as it was, with Jack so close. The last thing she needed was to lose her fragile grip on her inhibitions! If she’d only known who ‘Oz’ was, she would have had a serious look at the seating plan, but of course she hadn’t known.

  And she should have. She really should, because then she could have—what? Not come to her best friend’s wedding? Hardly. But she might at least have been prepared for this—and she could have put him somewhere else. There was nowhere that would have been far enough away, but even the other side of Fliss and Tom would have been better.

  As it was, David was on her left, with Meg Maguire, now unmistakably pregnant, next to him, and then her husband Ben next to Fliss and Tom Whittaker, and then Jack. On her right. Next to her, so close she could feel him breathe.

  He had been born to wear black tie, the stark white shirt contrasting sharply with his golden skin, the cut of the jacket showing off the breadth of his shoulders and the neat, narrow waist. Thank God he was sitting down and she didn’t have to look at the cut of his trousers. Every time she looked at him, her heart crashed against her ribs. She was so achingly aware of him it was a miracle she didn’t have a neon sign on her head. She probably didn’t need one. Her cheeks were probably doing that job all on their own.

  And because the table was circular and there were seven of them squeezed up together, their knees kept brushing.

  By accident? She wasn’t sure, but she kept her legs clamped firmly together and out of the way, and every little touch sent wildfire racing through her veins.

  And then it was time for the speeches, and they all shuffled back from the table and turned so they could see better, and as his knees moved away from hers, she felt the tension go out of her as if her strings had been cut.

  Lord, he was nervous.

  Nervous, and more aware of Sally than he’d ever been of anyone in his life. Except her, of course. He’d always been utterly aware of her, and that sleeveless, strapless bodice topped by the soft swell of her breasts—hell, he was going to choke in a minute.

  Jack ran his finger round the suddenly tight collar of his shirt and wondered how long it would be before he could shed the dratted tie and release its stranglehold on his neck. Stop thinking about her. Listen to the others, he told himself, and watching Annie’s father’s notes rattle in his hand, and the emotion pucker his features, he forgot about Sally and his nerves and reminded himself what he was doing there.

  To see Patrick, his closest and probably only true friend, take the plunge and get married again. He was amazed he’d had the guts to do it after the last time. Ellie had been twenty-three, bright and bubbly and wonderful, and three days after the wedding she’d had a massive stroke. It had nearly killed her, and at the time he’d thought it would kill Patrick, but he’d found the strength to stick by her for the next nine incredibly long years as she’d lain unmoving in a coma, and last year she’d slipped quietly away with Patrick at her side, faithful to the last. Not many men would have shown such unswerving loyalty and faithfulness, but he’d promised to love her in sickness and in health, and he’d done it, for nearly a decade. Was he thinking about Ellie now, perhaps haunted by that earlier tragedy?

  He flicked a glance at him. No. He was looking at Annie as if he couldn’t believe his luck. Just as he should. Ellie was his past. Annie was his future, and if Jack hadn’t loved him like a brother, he would almost have envied him. Annie was beautiful, her love for her new husband shining in her eyes, and even an old cynic like him could see it was a match made in heaven.

  Her father evidently thought so, too. His speech was a touching welcome to Patrick, ‘the first man I’ve ever met who I thought was good enough for my daughter’, which brought a lump to Jack’s throat, and when they all lifted their glasses to toast the bride and groom, he couldn’t speak.

  Patrick’s reply was simple, short and nearly finished the job Annie’s father had started. For all his cynicism, Jack found himself swallowing hard as Patrick spoke.

  ‘I have to thank you, Ed, not only for your welcome but for your beautiful and loving daughter. You all know that this is a second chance for both of us,’ he said quietly. ‘I don’t want to dwell on the past, today is about the future, a future I didn’t even dare to dream of having, and Annie’s given me that.’ He took her hand and smiled down at her with a tenderness that made Jack’s chest ache. ‘So I want to take this opportunity to thank her for loving me, for agreeing to become my wife. I want to thank Katie, her daughter, for welcoming me into their family. Thank you, sweetheart,’ he said directly to the little girl, and she blushed and smiled back at him, legs swinging. ‘And I want to thank all those of you who’ve supported us both in the past years and months. We wouldn’t be here without you, and it’s a pleasure and a privilege to share this day with you. Thank you all for coming, and for making such a wonderful day possible.’

  There was a moment of silence, then everybody collected themselves and cheered and clapped, and once they’d subsided he cleared his throat and grinned. ‘Now, about these beautiful bridesmaids,’ he said, and Katie wriggled in her chair, delighted at the attention, her eyes sparkling and her cheeks pink. Jack flicked a quick glance at Sally. Her cheeks were pink, too, but her eyes were downcast and her smile was wry. Beautiful? Oh, yes. Maybe not in the conventional sense, but he’d seen her like no one else had, with her eyes wild with passion, her lips parted, her shyness forgotten…

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen, the bridesmaids!’

  Jack dragged his mind back into line and sucked in a deep breath. It was his turn, and if he was really lucky he wouldn’t make a complete idiot of himself. He got to his feet, glanced at his notes and chucked them onto the table. They were no good to him. This was his friend. Probably the only true friend he had in the world.

  He knew what to say.

  Typical, Sally thought. He always had winged it, and he was doing it now, grinning easily as he defused the tension and charmed everyone with that gorgeous, slightly gruff voice and dry delivery.

  And, of course, being Jack, he had them all in stitches. He told stories of their wild youth, crazy stories from their backpacking days, none of which were familiar to Sally. How odd, that they hadn’t talked at all about a person who’d been so close to him, but, then, they hadn’t talked much at all, all those years ago. They’d had other things on their minds, and college pranks had been right down the list…

  She made herself concentrate, laughing as he teased Patrick about the fact that he’d already refitted the kitchen for Annie, but also remembering how close they’d come to splitting up because he’d done it as a surprise, and it had backfired. Annie’s husband had kept his gambling addiction secret from her for years, and she’d hated the idea that Patrick had hidden anything from her. Did Jack know that? Probably not, but all the people at their table did, because they’d been involved in the planning and execution of the surprise, and for a while they’d all been on tenterhooks, but then Annie had calmed down, Katie had stopped panicking about her selling the house and Patrick had given them back their security.

  And his unconditional love.

  And if she thought about that for another minute, she was going to cry.

  There was another ripple
of laughter, and Jack let it die then carried on. ‘I’m supposed to be thanking you for your charming toast to our beautiful bridesmaids, but since one’s your new stepdaughter and the other your wife’s closest friend, they probably wrote that bit for you. If so, they only told the truth, because they are gorgeous, aren’t they?’ His eyes stroked Sally and she felt her skin tingle and start to colour again. ‘Beautiful and charming,’ he went on, ‘and if it wasn’t for the fact that Katie’s only eight and Sally’s already married, my heart would be in serious trouble. And maybe it is anyway, but I’m still going to claim a dance with both of them once the band strikes up. So drink up, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, and get your dancing shoes on, because the band will be ready for you in about half an hour and I…’

  He turned to Sally with that lazy, sexy smile, and her chest tightened in panic. What on earth—?

  He took her hand.

  Took it, and with his eyes never leaving hers feathered a kiss over her knuckles that made her all but whimper.

  ‘I will be waiting.’ Then he straightened and said to David with a smile, ‘With your permission?’

  David gave a short grunt of laughter and served her up to him on a plate. ‘Feel free. I hate dancing. You might need to ask her, but as far as I’m concerned you’re welcome.’

  And Sally could have killed them both.

  Finally!

  He took the tie off, shrugged off his jacket, loosened his cufflinks and turned back his cuffs. Better. Now all he needed was the strength to ask Sally to dance without losing his dignity completely.

  The kids were getting a little wild, and he found his eyes drawn to them.

  To Sally’s boys, especially.

  They were lovely children. The skin under Alex’s left eye was tinged with purple in the corner, and his nose was a little puffy, but it didn’t seem to have made any difference to his enjoyment of the evening. He was loud and boisterous and cheerful, and his little brother was bubbly and full of fun, just as he remembered Sally.

  He flicked a glance at her.

  She was talking to Fliss Whittaker, laughing about something one of the children had said, and he felt his throat contract. If it hadn’t been for Clare, he might have been with her. They could have been his children, his boys, instead of which he’d gone off and done his duty and she’d met and married David, apparently almost as soon as his back was turned.

  ‘So, what brings you to England apart from the wedding? Patrick tells me you’re here for a while.’

  Jack turned to Tom, dragging his attention from Sally, and dredged up a grin. ‘Oh, a mixture of duty and nostalgia, really. I’ve been away for years and, rather than just fly in for the wedding and then out again, I thought it would good to touch base again.’

  ‘Base?’ Tom said, his brow creasing. ‘I thought—Patrick calls you Oz. I just assumed you were Australian.’

  ‘Sort of—I’ve got dual nationality,’he explained. ‘I was born in Australia, but I’m a Brit really. We moved back here years ago when I was twelve but I haven’t been back for nearly ten years now.’ Apart from a flying visit last year for Ellie’s funeral, but now wasn’t the time to go into unnecessary details. ‘Anyway, my parents are getting older, and the other side of the world is quite a way, so I thought I could revisit a few old haunts, catch up with the old folks, do a bit of hill walking in the Lake District maybe.’

  Tom tipped his head on one side thoughtfully. ‘So, technically, you might be free at the moment?’

  Jack felt his eyes narrow a fraction. ‘Free?’he said warily.

  Tom grinned ruefully. ‘I’m in a jam. One of our registrars has damaged himself playing rugby. Actually it’s Patrick’s fault, he dragged him into the team and now he’s out of action with a broken hand—our second casualty to rugby this season. Patrick mentioned you were going to be around for the next two or three weeks, and I just wondered if you fancied doing a little locum work to tide us over? Getting adequate cover’s a nightmare, and Matt Jordan, one of the other consultants, is in Canada at the moment, so we’re really stuffed, and Fliss is going to divorce me if I don’t spend a little time at home soon. I don’t know if you’ve kept your registration up to date…’

  ‘Yes,’ he said, without giving himself time to analyse it. ‘And yes.’

  Tom frowned. ‘To what?’

  ‘Yes, I have, and, yes, I will. Do the locum. Just for three weeks.’

  And God help him, with Sally in the same hospital, but the way he felt, and the way she’d looked at him, he just couldn’t walk away.

  Was he ever going to ask her to dance?

  And did she want him to?

  Oh, yes. Any other response would be an outright lie. The music was unashamedly romantic, and the low, heavy beat was making her body ache…

  ‘I’m going to take the boys upstairs and calm them down and get them to bed,’ David murmured in her ear. ‘They’re getting over the top and they’re still shattered after the flight yesterday.’

  ‘Thanks,’ she said gratefully. Her feet were killing her. She could stand for hours in flat work shoes, but put her in high heels and she was crippled in minutes, especially after flying. And since Jack was networking his way around the room and chatting to all and sundry, she kicked off her shoes under the table and sighed with relief.

  Bliss. All she needed now was a huge glass of iced water and she could drink some of it and dribble the rest on her poor, aching toes—

  ‘Dance with me.’

  It wasn’t an order. Not exactly. More a suggestion. She looked up, struggling to control the racing of her heart, and found Jack staring solemnly down at her.

  As if connected to him by some invisible cord, she got to her feet and moved towards him. ‘I’ve taken off my shoes,’ she said inanely, stating the obvious.

  ‘Good for you. I’ll try not to tread on your toes.’

  He held out his hand, and she put hers in it, feeling the warmth as his fingers closed around her own. He led her onto the little dance floor just as the tempo changed and a haunting love song started to play.

  He met her eyes, and with a soft sigh he drew her into his arms, rested his forehead against hers and linked his hands behind her back, easing her closer. Their legs meshed, their bodies touched and she felt a huge, forgotten ache invade her chest.

  His mouth was right in front of her eyes, his lips soft and full and sensual, slightly parted. She could feel the warmth of his breath against her face, the beat of his heart against her own, the hard, toned muscles of his thighs cradling hers.

  And she wanted him. Wanted him in a way she’d forgotten, a way she thought she’d left behind years ago.

  One touch had been all it had taken, and the years of her marriage had been wiped out as if they’d never existed. It was as if David had never touched her, never held her, never made a baby with her. She couldn’t imagine going to bed with him tonight.

  But Jack—oh, yes, her body sighed, softening towards his. She could imagine that, him reaching for her, touching her, her body opening to his…

  His mouth moved, his lips pressing together, his jaw working as he swallowed. She could feel the change in his body, the shift, the pressure as he unlinked his hands and slid them flat over her back, one cradling her shoulders, the other sliding down to cup her bottom, easing her even closer. His solid, hard thigh wedged between hers, bringing them into intimate alignment and leaving nothing to her imagination.

  Her breath caught, and she turned her head, resting it on his shoulder, her face turned towards his neck in case anybody should read the expression on her face. She ought to move away, to make some space between them, but it was beyond her.

  She felt the brush of his lips against her temple, and her breath sucked in and out in a tiny sob of frustration and confusion. Why had he come back? She’d been happy with David. They had a good marriage.

  Didn’t they?

  And if so, why was she feeling like this, as if it had never existed, gone in an inst
ant, as fleeting as a dream? One of those strange, confusing dreams where nothing really made sense, where you went through a door and up some stairs and came out in a different house, or into a street, or couldn’t find your way home.

  Except she had.

  Here, now, in Jack’s arms she felt as if she’d finally found her way home.

  CHAPTER THREE

  HOW could it be?

  Nine, nearly ten years, wiped away in an instant. Just the touch of her hair against his cheek, the feel of her body, soft and warm and tender against his own, and all the forgotten moments had come flooding back, the passion, the laughter, the intimate little moments that they’d shared all too briefly.

  The party was over now. He’d slipped away into the darkness and found a deserted bench in the garden, snagging a half-empty wine bottle off a table on the way past. Stupid, to imagine that drinking it would take away the feel of her body against his, drown out the clamouring of his blood. Still, he tipped it up to his lips, filling his mouth with the unwanted and unnecessary alcohol in a vain attempt to numb his raging body.

  What the hell was he doing? He ought to go. If he hadn’t already had too much to drink he would have got into his car and gone back to Patrick and Annie’s house and packed his things.

  Except he’d made a commitment to dog-sit for them while they were away on their honeymoon—no, not honeymoon, Patrick didn’t want it called that—and he’d made a commitment to cover for Tom Whittaker’s registrar for the next three weeks.

  Damn.

  Oh, well. He tipped the bottle again. If he couldn’t escape, he might as well make it as painless as possible.

  ‘Drowning your sorrows, Oz?’

  He scowled up at Patrick in the dark. ‘Haven’t you got anything better to do on your wedding night than creep up on me?’