Playboy Doctor to Doting Dad (2 page)

‘That gave you the right to decide I shouldn’t know about this boy? My son?’ His words were like bullets, slamming into her with piercing sharpness. ‘You made this choice? For me?’

She would not apologise. She’d seen the trepidation clouding his eyes at the thought that he might have to raise Olivia. Trepidation that in truth she’d never fully understood. Had she done the guy an injustice? Probably. The guilt twisted her gut. But what hope was there that he’d have been willing to become a father to Seamus? In his own words, no father at all was better than a random one, and he’d told her they didn’t come more random than he’d be. ‘Kieran, rightly or wrongly, I had my reasons. But now that you’re coming here,
you need to know.’ Hopefully he’d have calmed down by the time she got to see him at work. ‘And I want Seamus to know his father.’

There was a sharp intake of breath at the other end of the line. Had she gone too far?

If so, he didn’t divulge his feelings. ‘I won’t have much spare time during my tenure at your hospital, so I hope you’re not expecting a lot from me.’

Only some time with your niece, who really needs to get to know her mother’s brother. Only an acknowledgement of your son, and maybe a softening of your heart towards him. Only your understanding and forgiveness. Too much to expect? Probably.

He continued, ‘Spare time or not, we have a lot to discuss. I’ll set up a meeting with you once I’ve settled in.’

Set up a meeting? Her shoulders slumped. That’s not the way to go about this. But she’d leave it for now. ‘I’m sorry you had to find out this way, Kieran.’

What happened to not apologising? The trouble with that notion was that she felt incredibly guilty. Not only had Kieran missed out on so much of his son’s life, if he’d wanted to be a part of it, but Seamus had also missed out on too much. And right at this moment she suspected Seamus would continue losing out for a very long time to come. Maybe, when he was an adult, he’d be able to approach his father and see if they could establish a bond.

Unless she could patch things up with Kieran. She didn’t like her chances.

Five days later

Abby blinked. Nelson Airport terminal already? It seemed only moments ago she’d pulled out of the hospital car park. Had she been speeding? Not when she didn’t want to be here,
surely? Not even running ten minutes late would’ve made her speed today. Meeting Kieran Flynn was right at the bottom of her ‘want-to-do’ list. Right there after going to the dentist.

But he’d emailed to ask, no, demand, that she meet his flight. Michael, the department head Kieran was temporarily replacing, had thought it an excellent idea. ‘A friendly gesture,’ he’d said. So why hadn’t Michael thought of meeting the man? And saved her the anguish of being squeezed inside her car with a hostile Irishman?

She stopped her old Nissan Bluebird in the two-minute pick-up zone and shoved out into the searing mid-afternoon heat that not even the offshore breeze helped to cool. Her skin instantly prickled with perspiration as she slung her handbag over her shoulder. Sucking in her churning stomach, she locked the car door, all the while fighting the urge to leap back in and race away.

Gritting her teeth, she headed for the main entrance. As her sandals slapped the hot, sticky pavement she practised a welcoming smile. And failed. Miserably.

Today she would have to face Kieran for the first since telling him he was a father. The ramifications of what she’d done, or not done, were about to start. She’d thought the hardest part had been phoning him the other day, but now she had to actually see him. No doubt he’d have spent the thirty-plus hours flying to New Zealand, thinking up truckloads of horrible things to say to her. Unfortunately, she knew she probably deserved them.

The yoghurt she’d eaten for lunch curdled in her stomach and her mouth soured. She hesitated. It would be so easy to turn around and head back to work, bury herself in broken bones and chest pains.

Merely delaying tactics. Kieran would still catch up with her.

Dragging her feet through the main doors, her eyes scanned the noisy crowd for the tall, dark-haired Irishman who’d
haunted her dreams for the past two years. No sign of him. A wave of relief engulfed her. Maybe he wasn’t coming? Maybe he’d changed his mind.

But common sense prevailed. Of course he hadn’t changed his mind. He’d made a commitment to the hospital and if she knew one thing about Kieran Flynn, it was that he didn’t break commitments. Especially when they involved his work. But a commitment to a child? He hadn’t broken one to Olivia because he’d never made one. Abby knew that Kieran’s strong belief that he’d be an inadequate father had been behind his decision not to be a part of Olivia’s upbringing. And behind her own decision not to tell him about Seamus. She rubbed a hand down her cheek as she remember the slap of his hand on the lawyer’s desk as he had stated categorically that she should never expect him to be there for Olivia in any role other than a distant uncle who’d finance the child’s education. Abby now realised that she needed to learn more about what was behind this, for both the children’s sakes.

There would be plenty of time. Again she wondered why Kieran’s stellar career as an emergency specialist had brought him to a small city way downunder in New Zealand. Could he have been thinking about Olivia when he’d applied? Was this his way of touching base with his niece without getting too involved? She doubted it. He hadn’t exactly inundated the child with his attention since her parents had died. His communication over that time made a mute person seem verbose.

Abby tugged her blouse down over her hips and crossed to read the arrivals screen. Just where was this guy who had her little household all in a twitter? And who made her head spin with worry?

Kieran peered through the window down onto the glittering sea of horseshoe-shaped Tasman Bay. What a damned long
way to come for two months’ work. But he’d have gone to Siberia if that’s what it took to please the chairman of the Board and further his own career. He sighed. He still didn’t understand why the old boy thought it necessary for him to take a secondment overseas before he put in his application for head of the emergency department of Mercy Hospital in Dublin.

He’d been heading to Adelaide, Australia, for his secondment until this one in New Zealand had suddenly appeared. Adelaide had been the obvious choice. A much larger facility with higher patient numbers, which would look good on his CV. But Nelson required someone urgently as the current head of department had a very ill child needing care in Australia. Something about a liver transplant.

Even then Kieran had resisted, but whenever he’d glanced at the travel brochure on Nelson an image of a woman and one heated night of passion, the likes of which he’d never known before or since, had kept flicking across his mind.

Abigail.
She lived in Nelson. Not that he intended picking up where they’d left off that night. No, thank you. That was a road to disaster. But the mental pictures of her and that one night had caused him to fill in the wrong set of papers.

Don’t forget Olivia.
It had broken his heart to watch her at the airport in Dublin, clinging to Abigail’s hand as she had disappeared from his life through the bland doors of Immigration. Even knowing he’d done the best thing for Olivia hadn’t made the pain any easier. He missed his sister, and Olivia was the only connection he had left to her. Two losses in one week had been horrendous. But no way would he change the arrangement. Olivia was far better off living with Abigail.

Kieran’s hands clenched against his thighs as the plane
shook and bucked. Why couldn’t the pilot fly it in a straight line? Sweat slithered down between his shoulder blades, plastering his shirt to his skin.

A gnarled hand tapped his forearm. ‘It’s a bit bumpy, isn’t it, dear?’

Kieran flicked a glance sideways at the elderly lady sitting beside him, her crotchet momentarily still in her lap. She didn’t seem at all fazed by the turbulence. A benevolent smile and sparkling, washed-out blue eyes focused on him.

‘Just a little,’ he concurred, dragging out a smile.

‘We won’t be long now.’

‘I certainly hope not.’ He peered out the window looking for a distraction. But his mind quickly turned back to Abigail.

Of course, if he’d known of the bombshell she had been about to drop on him he’d definitely have chosen Adelaide. His muscles tensed. Would he? Truly? He shrugged, trying to ignore the multitude of questions that had buzzed around his skull since that phone call from her. Now here he was, minutes away from landing in her town. He shivered. Nelson. Where a whole bundle of difficult issues and decisions awaited him. And none of them medical.

A son. Abigail said the lad looked like him. Some alien emotion stirred within his chest, a feeling he didn’t recognise. Surely not curiosity? Or pride?

Was it the familiar fear that he’d let Olivia down? And now Seamus? But how did a man who’d never experienced love from his parents love his own child? As his father had said often enough, he’d make a terrible parent. He didn’t have it in him to love and care for children. The sooner he explained so that Abigail understood, the sooner her expectations about his role in the children’s lives would disappear. For ever.

Just grand.
He’d been coming for work, and now that
had been pushed to the back of his mind with thoughts of Abigail and the children, making him feel rattled. Inadequate, even.

At least he’d be busy putting in long hours covering for staff on leave over Christmas and New Year. Apparently this was the time of year that Kiwis took their major holidays, spending weeks at the beaches, out in the mountains or following major sports events. At least there’d be time to get used to the idea of being a father and to decide how to deal with it.

‘Don’t bother. You’ll make a mess of parenting, like you make a mess of most things in your life.’ His father’s voice slammed into his brain. The words that had spurred him to become an exceptional emergency specialist.

Bitterness soured his mouth as the old litany made its umpteenth rerun in his skull. He wasn’t good at looking out for people he cared about. He’d known that since the day when Morag, his sister, had tripped and broken her ankle during a student party in his flat. She’d wrecked her chances at the European ski championships. In a blind fury their father had unfairly laid the blame firmly at Kieran’s feet, telling him he was incapable of thinking of anyone except himself.

A fact his father had taken great delight in rubbing in again when Kieran’s girlfriend at the time had miscarried. Kieran had been working late and hadn’t had his cellphone switched on. His girlfriend had accused him of not being there when she’d needed him most. His father had added his taunt, saying that surely Kieran had finally learned his lesson and accepted he shouldn’t get involved with anyone who would depend on him to look out for them.

Oh, he’d learned his lesson all right. He’d made a lifetime commitment to it. And nothing one little boy could do would change his mind.

Swallowing the bile rising in his throat, Kieran tried to focus on something brighter, less distressing. Abigail. Again.
Funny how she popped straight into his mind. It had never once occurred to him that she’d be working in the same department he was going to. What if she insisted on being overly friendly at work? Worse, what if everyone already knew he was the father of her child? He cringed. That would put him on the back foot straight away. He was the head of the department, albeit temporarily, and fraternising with the staff was not good for staff relations.

Too late, boyo. The fraternising has been done, can’t be undone. Abigail has a child, your child. A boy named Seamus.

He would do his damnedest to keep that information under wraps. If he wasn’t already too late.

‘I’d better not be,’ he muttered.

All his muscles tightened. As they had done a thousand times on this trip whenever he thought about the situation. He still couldn’t believe he was a father.

Was that because he didn’t want to believe it?

He’d always taken care to avoid an accident of this kind. That’s why he bought condoms by the ton. But he knew the boy was his. He knew Abigail wasn’t one of those women who went from one man’s bed to the next without a care. Neither would she use something like pregnancy to snag a man into marriage. If that had been her intention, she wouldn’t have kept Seamus’s arrival a secret from him. No, Abigail was honesty personified.

Discomfort made him squirm as he remembered that night in Dublin two years ago. Both of them had been totally smothered in grief after the joint funeral of his sister and Abigail’s brother. They’d turned to each other for comfort, and for a few hours had forgotten everything as they’d discovered each other. He knew her all right. Intimately.

The plane shuddered. So did Kieran. His tense fingers ached, bent like claws. He squeezed his eyes tight. God, he
hated flying. Think of something else, anything else. Abigail again. Wrong focus. But her image burned his eyeballs. As it had at unexpected moments ever since they’d made love.

‘Did I hear an Irish accent?’ Beside him the metal hook flicked in and out of the cotton. ‘What brings you out here?’

A hurricane of waist-length dark blonde hair, and long arms and legs. A quirky smile that challenged him, and piercing hazel eyes that devoured him. Abigail.

No. He hadn’t endured this agony to see her. ‘I’m working at the local hospital. I also have a three-year-old niece living here.’
And your son. What about him?
If he mentioned Seamus then he was acknowledging the boy was a part of him.
I’m not ready for that.

‘They’re a bundle of fun and tricks at that age. My grandson is into gardening at the moment, much to his mother’s consternation, digging being his favourite occupation.’

‘I can see how that could be a problem.’ What did Olivia enjoy doing? Damn it, who does Olivia look like? His sister? Or David? How tall was she? He didn’t know anything about her.

Appalled, he leaned his head back and stared at the moulded-plastic ceiling. He’d barely acknowledged any correspondence from Abigail about Olivia. He had behaved dreadfully, deliberately keeping out of touch. Arranging a regular money transfer from Dublin for Abigail to use for Olivia had been easy, and had salved his conscience whenever he’d thought there might be something he should be doing for his niece. No wonder Abigail hadn’t contacted him about Seamus. She must have a very low opinion of him. Would she be waiting at the airport with a bat to bludgeon him over the head so she could drag him home to see the children? He forced his fingers straight, loose. Expanded his lungs. He couldn’t blame her if she did.