A Mother for Matilda/The Boss and Nurse Albright

by Amy Andrews

  And it was as if they’d done it a thousand times before, moving with a symmetry that was breathtaking, an anticipation of each other’s needs that had them gasping, slavishly addicted to the next touch, the next caress. And yet the sensations were totally new. Stroking and sighing and trembling as each built on the other.

  When he slid inside her it was like he was coming home. She gasped and arced into him, gripping his shoulders, and he put a hand under her back, pulling her closer. Her reaction shook him to the core. He’d been so busy thinking it was impossible he hadn’t considered that it could be so right.

  A sob tore from her throat and he whispered, ‘Easy,’ into her neck.

  Vic would never have believed a first time with anyone could be this perfect. She wanted to hold him inside for ever. Stretching her. Filling her. Completing her. But the need took over and a rhythm surged through both of their bodies as primal as the waves had been on the beach. It built. It would not be ignored. Their bodies moving to its beat, reaching for its promise.

  It itched beneath her skin and hummed in her blood, building all the time like bongo drums in the jungle. Rising to a crescendo. Their cries echoed down through eons and mingled together with all who had come before them in this primitive tangle of limbs.

  And it was in the instant that it broke over them, pulling and tumbling them through a whirlpool of pleasure, that she realised she’d lied. To him. To herself.

  Tonight’s all I need.

  That was what she’d told him. But she’d lied. She needed more. She was always going to need more.

  She loved him.

  Lawson didn’t know how long it took to spin back to earth. He’d collapsed on top of her and they seemed to drift for ever on some astral plane where both their bodies and minds touched. He moved after an age, rolling off her onto his back. Man, he was in serious trouble. He didn’t speak. He couldn’t. He didn’t have the words. He just lay there catching his breath.

  It was left up to Vic to fill the silence. She waited until her breathing had settled, psyching herself into it. ‘I’ve made up my mind,’ she announced into the silence. ‘I’m not going to London. I’m staying here. With you.’

  Chapter Nine

  LAWSON’S post-coital glow evaporated in a nanosecond.

  Oh, no. No, no, no.

  This wasn’t the way it was supposed to go. He’d told her he could only give her the night. And he’d been deadly serious.

  This was bad. It was exactly what he’d feared would happen. She’d give up on her dream to settle for a second-class relationship. He vaulted upright, groped around the floor for his clothes and stepped into his underwear quickly.

  He stood at the end of the bed looking down at her, hands on hips. ‘I’m sorry? You’re not going? Since when?’

  Vic smiled at the forced impassivity of his face betrayed by the stormy turbulence of his gaze. She stayed calm. She’d known it would be a bombshell, which was why she’d chosen not to tell him the true depths of her feelings. That she loved him. That she’d always loved him. She knew it was cowardly and wished she had the courage to tell him the truth. But she couldn’t. He needed to get used to the idea of having her around first.

  Which was fine. She had all the time in the world. She wasn’t going anywhere.

  She shrugged. ‘Since now. Lawson, I’ve had a crush on you for ever—’

  Lawson groaned, interrupting her. He shut his eyes and pressed the heels of his palms into his eye sockets. ‘Oh, God.’ His hands dropped to his side. ‘Please don’t tell me you’ve had a crush on me since you were six.’

  Vic laughed. ‘Of course not, but probably from the moment we were partnered together.’

  Five years? ‘Five years?’

  Vic nodded, finding his abject misery mildly amusing. ‘Except it wasn’t a crush. I know that now. It goes much deeper than that.’ It was as honest as she could get now with Lawson looking at her as if she’d just grown a second head.

  Lawson stared down at her. What the hell was she talking about? He groped around for a response while trying to ignore the fact she was gloriously, shamelessly naked on his bed. ‘Sometimes…it can be easy to get sex…great sex,’ he amended, ‘confused with…other feelings.’

  He picked up the sheet and threw it over her. Certain parts of his anatomy weren’t confused at all. They wanted more and didn’t particularly care that she’d dropped a bombshell.

  ‘Lawson, I’m an adult.’ She rolled onto her side, supporting her head with a hand. She’d panicked him. Of course he was going to fight it. She was instantly grateful she’d not blurted out her love for him. It was something he was obviously not ready to hear. ‘I know you have a hard time remembering that. But I do know the difference between post-coital gratitude and real feelings.’

  Lawson couldn’t believe what he was hearing. ‘For God’s sake, I’m twelve years older than you.’

  The corner of Vic’s mouth quirked upwards. ‘So what, that makes you more grown up than me?’ She laughed. ‘Let’s see…I’m adult enough to apply for my own passport. I’m adult enough to vote in the last two elections. I’m adult enough to babysit your daughter. But not enough to share your bed, your life?’

  Lawson clenched his fists by his side. Surely she could see what she was suggesting was totally preposterous. ‘I said tonight only. I said I couldn’t offer you anything.’

  She shrugged, her heart aching for him as he grappled with the enormity of what she’d just thrown at him. ‘It doesn’t matter—I’m staying anyway.’

  Lawson ran fingers through his hair. ‘No. You’re going to London. To the Mediterranean. To Venice.’

  ‘I’m not going.’

  ‘You have to. Your father wants you to. I want you to. Damn it, Victoria—you want to.’

  ‘Not any more. Not without you.’

  ‘Victoria, this is crazy. I don’t have the time to give to you.’

  ‘I know that. I’m not asking for that.’

  ‘But you should. You deserve the best, Victoria. Courting, dating. Candlelight and roses and long weekends away in the mountains. A proper relationship. Matilda takes up a lot of time. She’s my priority. Between shift work and her needs I’m too exhausted for anything else. I’m in bed at eight o’clock most nights. I’m…boring. You deserve to be someone’s priority.’

  ‘I understand, Lawson. I, of all people, know what it means to have to put a child first. I know it won’t be all hearts and flowers.’

  He shook his head. ‘Maybe when you get back…if you come back…it’ll be different. Matilda will be older.’

  ‘So, what, just go and explore the world in the meantime?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘See things, expand my horizons?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Live a little.’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘Sleep with other men?’

  Lawson opened his mouth to agree, but snapped it shut as a rush of pure jealousy charged through his veins. Of course that was what she should do. Part of travelling involved meeting people, indulging in flings. Brief and intense. Totally frivolous. And absolutely exhilarating.

  ‘Lawson?’

  He looked away from her. ‘Of course.’

  Vic’s heart swelled as he refused to meet her eyes. He had feelings for her too—she knew it. She just had to get him to open himself to them. She kicked off the sheet and rose from the bed, padding naked to where he stood. He took a step back from her but she wasn’t going to pay into his keep-off signals any longer.

  She covered the distance between them and pressed herself against him, her ear to his chest. His heart beat like a sonic boom, reverberating through his chest wall. ‘I don’t believe you,’ she murmured.

  Lawson, who had resisted touching her, felt his arms come around her of their own volition. Her damp hair smelt salty and he could smell himself on her skin. It filled his senses and fed the primal beast that lurked beneath.

  ‘You should,’ he murmured. ‘Logical
ly I know you should. I have no rights to insist otherwise.’

  Vic pulled away slightly. She looked into his face, past the cragginess and the scar. ‘But?’

  His arms tightened around her. ‘I can’t bear the thought of another man touching you.’

  Vic felt sunshine burst in her chest and she grinned up at him. That was all she needed to hear. She rose on her tippy-toes and opened her mouth onto his, feasting on him, powered by a surge of pure feminine possession. And when he groaned she felt bullet-proof, her hands snaking around his neck as his slid up to cradle her jaw. She deepened the kiss, wanting more, needing to get closer.

  Lawson tore his mouth away. He wanted this. Wanted her. But he didn’t want to mislead her. Whether she liked it or not, whether she fancied herself attached to him or not, she had a plan and he was going to make her stick to it. He didn’t want to be the reason she hated herself and resented her life in a decade.

  ‘Victoria,’ he groaned against her lips.

  Their breath fell harshly between them as he feathered tiny kisses against her mouth, her eyes, her cheeks, stroking his thumbs down the sensitive line of her throat.

  Vic placed her hands over his and tugged them gently away. She could hear the anguish in his voice, feel the battle that raged inside him. She knew she had to leave. She didn’t want her presence, naked in his bed or the potency of their sex to sway him. When he next opened his arms to her, she wanted to know it was because he’d finally acknowledged his feelings for her. Whatever they were. She could only hope they mirrored hers.

  She stepped back. He didn’t stop her. He didn’t reach for her. Even though part of her wished he would. Just watched her as she found her clothes and got dressed.

  She tied the bow on her dress and looked at him. ‘This is a lot to take on board. You need some time.’ He didn’t say anything, just looked at her with wary eyes. ‘Goodnight, Lawson. I’ll see you at work next week.’

  And with the ocean still clinging to her body and the memory of their love-making insinuating itself into her DNA, she brushed past him and let herself out of the house.

  Two weeks later Vic had gained no ground with Lawson. His strategy to ignore what was between them and the intimacies they’d shared frustrated her greatly. But amazingly a well of patience had sprung within her and with an instinct born out of her love she knew she’d wait as long as it took for him to realise the truth.

  She could see that he desired her. In rare unguarded moments she caught him watching her and she could see lust turn his gaze smoky. But she didn’t want that from him. She knew he wanted her—the memory of their incredible night together never far from her thoughts—she needed to know he loved her.

  They were crossing the bridge on their way back to the island from a job when Lawson’s mobile rang. She listened unashamedly to the one-sided conversation as she drove. Something was up with Matilda.

  ‘That was Dorothy. Matilda’s come home from school very upset. Swing by my house, will you?’

  ‘Did she say about what?’

  Lawson shook his head. ‘Tilly won’t tell her.’

  Vic nodded. His profile looked forbidding. Tense. Instead of continuing straight ahead to the station, she turned left at the roundabout and headed for Lawson’s.

  They were pulling up two minutes later. Matilda flew out of the house and was running across the lawn to her father even before Vic had shut the engine off.

  Lawson swung her up into his arms. ‘Hey, hey,’ he crooned softly, his heart thumping in his chest. Someone had obviously hurt his little girl and he was ready to kick down doors and knock heads together. ‘It’s okay, Daddy’s here.’

  Vic’s heart went out to Matilda as she sobbed into her father’s neck as if the world were about to end. She related to Matilda in a way no one else could. She knew what it was like to grow up without a mother and a groundswell of empathy clogged her chest.

  Lawson held Matilda tight and Vic didn’t think she’d ever seen him more masculine. Her pulse did a funny triple beat.

  They went inside and sat around the kitchen table while Dorothy made hot chocolates and Lawson tried to get to the bottom of his daughter’s heartbreak. Matilda was being unusually close-mouthed.

  ‘Is it your teacher?’

  Matilda sniffled. She loved her teacher. ‘Nope.’

  ‘Did you do badly on a test?’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘Is someone calling you names?’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘Did you…get kicked off the netball team?’

  This time Matilda just shook her head, looking progressively miserable.

  Vic had an inkling what might be wrong. ‘Is it a boy?’ she asked gently.

  Lawson’s head shot up in alarm. ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ he dismissed. ‘She’s eight years old.’

  But when Matilda wailed, ‘Yes,’ and dissolved into another puddle of tears he was forced to reassess.

  ‘Okay.’ Vic stood. ‘I know exactly what we need.’ She went to the freezer and pulled out the tub of ice cream Lawson always had on hand. The perfect salve for man problems. God knew, she’d eaten gallons of the stuff in the last fortnight.

  She retrieved two spoons from the drawer and sat down next to Matilda. ‘What’s his name?’ she asked as she peeled the lid off and pushed a spoon towards Matilda.

  ‘Hamish Jones.’

  Lawson, his head spinning from the unexpected turn of events, subconsciously cracked his knuckles. He didn’t know this Hamish kid, but he disliked him—immensely.

  Vic loaded her spoon with ice cream. ‘Does he like you?’

  Matilda nodded, her mouth full.

  ‘Well, that’s good, isn’t it?’

  ‘No,’ Lawson interrupted, looking at Victoria as if she’d grown another head. ‘No. That’s not good. She’s way too young for boys.’

  Vic glared at him and then looked back at Matilda. ‘Don’t worry about your dad. He thinks all girls are too young for boys. Even me.’

  Matilda giggled. And Lawson ignored her. ‘She’s eight. It’s ridiculous to be crying over some silly boy.’

  Vic noticed Matilda’s smile die and tears filled her eyes again. How typical of him to dismiss his daughter’s feelings because he was running scared. She gave Matilda an encouraging smile and kept it plastered to her face as she shot him a withering look. ‘Not. Helping.’

  He looked at Matilda as she sniffed back more tears. To say he felt out of his depth was an understatement. He sent Victoria a fix this look.

  Vic dipped in for more ice cream. ‘So is he your boyfriend, then?’

  Matilda’s bottom lip wobbled. ‘No.’

  ‘Ah,’ Vic said around a mouthful. ‘But you want him to be your boyfriend?’

  Matilda nodded. ‘But he wants me to kiss him and I said I wouldn’t ‘cos Daddy always says that you should only kiss a boy when you’re married to him and now he doesn’t want to be my boyfriend.’

  Lawson felt sick. Kiss him? They were kissing at eight? He was going to school tomorrow to kick little Hamish’s butt. How dared he…put the hard word on an eight-year-old girl?

  Vic raised an eyebrow at Lawson. ‘Married?’ she enquired sweetly. ‘You’re kidding, right?

  He shook his head. ‘Deadly. Serious.’

  Vic rolled her eyes. ‘I think we better leave the sex education to me.’

  Lawson clenched his jaw at the thought of her in their lives, being able to discuss girl things with his daughter. As she was doing now. As if she were born to be the mother of an eight-year-old girl. ‘You’re going overseas, remember.’

  Vic smiled at him. ‘No. I’m not.’ She turned back to Matilda. ‘Do you think it’s okay for a boy, for anyone really, to make you do something that you don’t feel right about?’

  Matilda thought for a while. ‘I guess not.’

  ‘So do you really want a boyfriend who’s going to be that selfish?’

  Matilda shook her head. ‘I guess not.’

  Vic grinned
. It was obvious Matilda wasn’t one hundred per cent convinced. ‘There are two types of boys in this world, sweetie. Boys who would never ask a girl to do something they didn’t want to do and boys who think only about themselves and what they want.’ She looked at Lawson. ‘Isn’t that right, Lawson?’

  He nodded vigorously. ‘Absolutely.’

  Lawson watched as Victoria dug her spoon in again and she and Matilda sat and savoured the ice cream together for a few minutes. She was handling this beautifully and Matilda was hanging on every word. Unlike his first reaction, which was to lock Matilda in her room and not let her out until she was thirty.

  It was at times like these he really felt that Tilly had missed out. He knew he’d been a good parent and he knew he could tackle the inevitable girl questions as his daughter went through puberty, but he doubted he could manage them as well as a woman. As well as a mother.

  How much easier would his life be, would Matilda’s life be, if she had a mother? A rush of something he didn’t want to analyse blossomed in his chest as he watched Victoria with his daughter.

  I think we better leave the sex education to me.

  That was what she’d just said. As if she were going to be around for it whether he liked it or not. As if she didn’t doubt for a moment that she was going to be part of their lives.

  She’d handled this perfectly and had always been great with Matilda. But Victoria had sworn off ever being a mother. How fair would it be to expect that of her? Even if that was what she thought she wanted. Had she thought about it from that angle? Instant motherhood? Again?

  Vic could feel him watching them. ‘What type of boy do you think your dad is?’ She noticed Lawson frowning in her peripheral vision and ignored it.

  Matilda swallowed a mouthful of ice cream. ‘The first kind.’

  Vic smiled at her. ‘And wouldn’t you prefer to have a boyfriend who was like your dad? Someone who knew how to treat a girl properly.’ Even though he didn’t have a clue how to treat her properly. The way she wanted to be treated.