A Mommy for Christmas (13 page)

‘Side,' she said, lifting her arm, and he found the tab and unzipped it, then grasping the fabric, he tugged her dress down. For a moment it resisted, then slid away and puddled at her feet, and he sucked in his breath, his eyes fixed on her.

Oh, Lord. Her scar. She'd forgotten…

He reached out a hand and touched not the scar but one breast, his thumb skimming lightly over the tip, making the air lodge in her throat.

‘James…'

‘I want you so much,' he muttered unevenly.

His head bent, and she felt the warmth of his breath on her skin just moments before his tongue brushed her nipple, circling it, teasing it as his thumb had done. Then he drew it into his mouth and suckled it, while his other hand cupped and kneaded the other one, rolling her nipple between finger and thumb until she thought the sensation would push her right over the edge.

Her legs buckled, and he caught her and lifted her, putting her down in the middle of the bed and carrying right on exploring her with his mouth. His lips moved on, over her ribs, feathering a gentle, healing kiss along the scar before moving down, his breath hot across her abdomen. His fingers traced the edge of the audacious red French knickers she'd been wearing under the dress.

‘You wicked woman,' he murmured, running his finger round the loose leg, grazing her most sensitive spot with the back of his knuckle, making her gasp. ‘Oh, yes,' he whispered. Bending his head, he laid his mouth over the aching mound and blew hot breath on her, so that she cried out, bucking under his hands.

‘James, please…'

‘I thought you'd never ask,' he teased, but his voice was tight with control, and as he shucked off his trousers and reached for the pocket, she felt her heart nearly stop.

Oh, it had been so long. What if she disappointed him? What if—

His hand slid over her, curling around her breast, down over her ribs, across the flat plane of her abdomen, then on, catching the lacy knickers and peeling them away as he ran his hand slowly, firmly down her legs and over her feet, then drew his hand back up, his fingertips skimming the spot behind her knee that seemed to link with every erogenous zone she had and set them all on fire.

Then he parted her legs, kneeling between them and staring down at her, his breath coming hard and fast. She couldn't see his eyes, but she could feel the burning intensity of them as he lowered himself down and touched her, his hand testing her, parting her, making way for the long, slow thrust of his body entering hers.

‘Kate…'

Her name was a breath on his lips, and she wrapped herself around him and drew him in, her heart opening to him as surely as her body, and then he started to move, slowly at first, then faster, harder, carrying her along until she felt the first tightening of her orgasm claiming her.

‘James!' she sobbed, and then he was with her, driving her over the edge, his body shuddering against her in release, until at last he rolled to his side, drawing her with him. Pressing his lips to hers, he cradled her close against his chest until their breathing slowed and their hearts settled and the silence of the night enfolded them…

H
E DUCKED
out of lunch with Dan and his girlfriend, taking the children over to the house instead to check that everything was all right, and then doing some work in the garden.

It was a lovely day, and he felt full of energy and life and hope.

Not that he thought anything would come of his relationship with Kate. She'd made it clear that she wasn't ready yet to settle down and have a family, and the one thing he could be sure of was that he had a family!

But their love-making had been spectacular, and he wasn't sure he could sit at her parents' table and have a civilised conversation with the frantic, desperate sounds she'd made last night still echoing in his ears. So he dressed the children up warmly, and they ran about in the garden and dug in the sandpit and Freya went on the swing and Rory pushed her, and he cleared the dead leaves and stems from the perennials and cut back some of the shrubs and started a bonfire, and then they went and bought burgers and shoestring fries for lunch and watched the fire burn down.

Then, when the sun started to get low in the sky, he took them back to Kate's. There was a sports car on the drive when they pulled in, and Andrew was at the woodpile with a huge log basket. He straightened up and waved as they got out of the car.

‘James! We missed you at lunch. Have you had a good time?'

‘Wonderful, thank you. We've been in the garden.'

‘Well, come on in, we're in the drawing room—Sue's just made a pot of tea and there's cake and all sorts, not that anybody'll be able to eat another thing, but you know how she is. Come and join us and warm up.'

He glanced down at their clothes and shook his head ruefully.

‘We're not really dressed for it, Andrew.'

‘Nonsense! You're fine. Come on in. Dan's girlfriend's got a little boy just Rory's age. They'll have fun together.'

It was impossible to refuse without sounding rude, but he at least had to stall.

‘I need to change Freya's nappy, and we really are grubby. Can you give us five minutes?'

‘Of course. Take as long as you like, and let yourselves in—just follow the noise.'

 

He looked gorgeous—windswept and ruddy and full of the outdoors, and it suited him.

Kate smiled at him as he came in, and patted the sofa beside her, and after he'd greeted everyone and been introduced to Dan and Rachel and her little boy Sean, he sat down beside her with a muffled groan.

‘Hi, there.'

‘Hello again. Are you all right? I gather you've been gardening.'

‘I have—and I haven't done it for years, so just about everything hurts!'

She chuckled. ‘But you had a good day?'

‘Great. We've cleared up a lot of the garden, and we had a fire.'

‘I know, I can smell the woodsmoke on you, and you've got some colour in your cheeks, all of you. It sounds like you've had fun,' she said wistfully.

‘We have. I'll probably regret it for a few days, but we had a good time.'

She hesitated. ‘I don't like to spoil it, but I had a phone call from the hospital.'

He frowned and went still. ‘About?'

‘Tracy Farthing—her boyfriend was so grossed out by the idea of the hairball that he dumped her, so she tried to hang herself in the bathroom from her IV line.'

He dropped his head back and closed his eyes. ‘Oh, my God. Poor little kid. Are Psych on it?'

‘Oh, yes, but she's very distressed.'

‘I'm sure she is, and it won't help her at all.'

‘No, it won't,' she agreed. ‘What an idiot.'

‘Her or the boyfriend?'

‘Both, but I meant him. What is wrong with people that they have to hurt each other all the time?'

‘He probably just needs some counselling himself. I think it was quite a serious relationship. I had a chat with her. You know they were sleeping together?'

‘That doesn't necessarily mean it's serious,' she said. Why should it? James had slept with her last night, but she was under no illusions about the long-term nature of their relationship. After all, he'd run a mile that morning rather than have lunch with her family.

‘I think she was serious,' he said thoughtfully. ‘Maybe more than him, I don't know. Kids are complicated, and hormones are dreadful things.'

‘Not always,' she murmured, and she saw his eyes flare.

‘No, not always,' he agreed with a lazy smile. Turning his attention back to the children, he drank his tea and made polite conversation with her family while all she could think about was getting him away from them, settling the children for the night and taking him back to bed.

 

He went and saw Tracy on Monday morning, and found her subdued and miserable.

‘Hiya,' he said, and perched on the edge of her bed. ‘You've had a bit of an eventful weekend, I hear. I'm sorry about your boyfriend.'

She turned her head away. ‘He said I'm disgusting.'

‘You're not disgusting, Tracy. You didn't even know you were doing it and, anyway, it's not so much disgusting as worrying, because it can make you ill. Do you think it would help if I talked to him?'

‘The shrink was going to do that, but he wouldn't see him. Anyway, it's over. I'm dumped, and that's that.'

Her voice broke, and she started to cry, but then pulled herself together and sat up carefully. ‘I'm all right, Mr McEwan. I'll be OK. I'm not going to try anything silly like that again.'

He wasn't in the least bit sure she was OK, but he left her, promising to have a word with her boyfriend if he wanted to talk about it, and he went back down to the main surgical unit to catch up with Kate.

‘So how is she?' she asked.

He shrugged. ‘Pretty down. I said I'd try to have a word with the boyfriend if he comes in—maybe ring him if he doesn't. I might be able to get through to him.'

‘When the others haven't?' she asked, looking doubtful.

‘Well, it's worth a try. The whole mental health team seems to be female, so are most of the ward staff—I just thought maybe, being a man, he might be more likely to listen to me and I might be able to bring a different perspective to it.'

‘Well, as you say, it's worth a try.'

‘If he even agrees to speak to me, which is a bit of a shot in the dark. So, how is it down here? Anything I should know about?'

‘Pete Graham—he's looking good. I was hoping we could discharge him now the brother's out of the way. His mother said he can go home and she'll look after him. He lives in a bedsit or something, so as long as he does go home to her, that's fine with me. Do you agree?'

He felt his eyebrow climb. ‘You're asking my opinion?'

She smiled wryly. ‘Only for a male perspective, since we're on the subject. So—do you think he's ready?'

‘I think he's ready to be discharged, but only if the brother really is out of the way. We don't want him getting bail and going back for another go.'

‘No, we don't, but we can't babysit the man, he's twenty-four and it's up to the police to make sure he's safe, not us. If you think he's fit, then he goes. We need the bed.'

‘We always need the beds,' he pointed out, and wondered if she really thought Peter was ready or just wanted him out of the way, because of the uncomfortable reminders. No. He was ready. And they couldn't babysit him, she was right. ‘OK, let's send him home and clear the bed. Did they have a busy weekend?'

‘Looks like it. Let's hope tonight isn't busy, because we're on. Will your mother be able to look after the children?'

He shrugged. ‘I don't know. I haven't spoken to her for a day or two. To be honest I'm so frustrated with her I don't know what to think. Is it all right if she stays at the barn? Assuming I can get her to do it.'

‘Of course it is! Don't be silly. Ring her and sort it out, James, and if she can't do it, bribe your childminder, because if we're busy, I'm going to need you.'

 

He gave her a keen look, then nodded and walked away, and she sighed. She couldn't stop being his boss just because they were sleeping together.

Or had done for two nights.

Not even slept, because of the children. Each time he'd gone back to his room afterwards and stayed there in case they woke, and she'd missed him.

Stupid. Stupid, stupid woman. Fancy letting him get so deeply under her skin so quickly. It didn't help that he was so damned good at it. No other man had ever made her feel the way he did, as if she'd die if he didn't touch her, and it wasn't even just that. There were the kids, as well, and she could so easily imagine them all together.

She picked up a pile of notes, glanced through them and made her way to her office. She'd catch up on some paperwork before her clinic started. If she didn't do it now, she'd never get it done.

And it would take her mind off James and his all too enchanting family.

 

‘Mum, of course I'm speaking to you.'

‘But only because you need me.'

He sighed. ‘That's rubbish and you know it. We went into this knowing it was going to be hard, and you agreed to be there for them when I'm on call. If I'd known you were going to…' He broke off, and mentally changed ‘be' to ‘find it'. ‘Find it so difficult, I would have made other arrangements in advance, or not taken the job. It's only for four months. Please, don't let me down.'

‘It's not a case of letting you down.'

‘Well, what the hell would you call it?' he said, hanging on to his temper with difficulty. ‘If you really don't want to help us, then I'll see what I can set up for the New Year, but until then, I don't really see what else I can do. Kate's giving me grief as it is, and I don't want to annoy her any more than I have to. But I need to do this, and you need to help me, and accept that it won't be easy, that I'm a lone parent and there will be compromises. It can't be helped.'

‘James, I find it so hard,' she said, sounding even more distressed. ‘If only you hadn't let Beth die—if you'd made her have the treatment—'

He sighed shortly and rammed his hand through his hair. ‘I didn't let Beth die, Mum, you know that. You know how much I loved her. It just happened. I had no say in it.'

‘You could have made her get rid of Freya.'

‘No. No, I couldn't have made her get rid of Freya, and I wouldn't have done. Anyway, it was too late, you know that. If she'd wanted a termination, I would have supported her, but she didn't. And it wasn't easy for any of us, and it won't be, ever, but it's the way it is and we have to move on. And I'm moving on. We've got a new house, I'm getting back to work, I'm making a new life for us all. And we need your help. Please. I can't do this without you, and you promised. God knows, I haven't asked you for much.'

His mother was silent for a moment, then she sighed. ‘All right. I'll do it for now, but I'm really very uncomfortable about it, James. Freya's so unhappy.'

‘No. She's not unhappy. She's fine. She's just a bit clingy, and she's getting better every day. Just see it through, Mum, please. Don't make it any harder. I'll pick them up from the childminder tonight and come round to you, then take you back to the barn and show you where everything is. If you could be ready at six, that would be good. I'll see you later.'

He hung up, let his breath out on a growl of frustration and slouched back in the chair.

‘That sounded like a prelude to World War Three,' Kate said from behind him, and he spun the chair round and stared at her in horror, scrolling back through the conversation and groaning mentally.

‘How long have you been there?'

‘Long enough. She's giving you a hard time.'

‘Yeah. She is, and there's nothing I can do about it. She's got this bee in her bonnet about me not being able to look after them, and every time she gets like this, it makes it true. So you're right. My child care is precarious.'

‘Perhaps you need a nanny,' she suggested, settling on the edge of the desk, too close for his peace of mind. He made himself concentrate.

‘No. Too much power. It was a disaster before—and, anyway, our house isn't fit for a nanny to live in. I can see me interviewing them in it. They'd run a mile.'

She laughed. ‘It's not for long, and it's going to be lovely. Any idea when the plumber can do your boiler?'

‘And the rest,' he said morosely. ‘It should be finished some time in January, hopefully. Why? Is there a problem with the barn?'

‘No, not at all. I was going to suggest that you move into my side for Christmas, and the gang can have your side, unless you think the children would be very disrupted by that, in which case I can come to you and we'll all share, but it will be a bit of a squash.'