Tempted by Dr. Daisy (6 page)

But here he was for no good reason, sneaking a cuddle with little Thomas, his big, strong hands cradling a tiny infant with such exquisite gentleness that she felt her eyes fill.

Was he like this with Florence? Yes, of course he was. He'd be a fantastic father, devoted, patient, gentle— Florence was a lucky little girl.

‘He's beautiful, Clare,' she told her softly. She was aching to hold him, but he didn't need over-handling, and besides, they had work to do, so they left her feeding him and headed back to the ward.

‘You know she thinks you walk on water,' she said to him as they went, and he chuckled.

‘We aim to please,' he said. ‘She's looking good, isn't she?'

‘Very. And the baby's gorgeous.'

‘Utterly. Why do you think I went up there? Although having said that, I think they're all gorgeous. I was talking to Debbie's baby's nurse a minute or so before you came in. He's doing well, too, and she seems to be getting there, thanks to you. He's much stronger than Clare's baby, but even so, that was too close for comfort.'

‘So where are you going now?'

‘Paperwork—unless there are any deliveries that need me? Any more babies I can legitimately cuddle?'

‘You're just a softie under that big tough Yorkshire front, aren't you?' she said to cover her own emotions, and he laughed.

‘Absolutely. Why do you think I do the job? Right, I've got a huge pile of paperwork needing my attention, then I'm off to pick up Florence, talking of babies.' He lowered his voice. ‘What are you doing later?'

‘Nothing. Well, that's a slight exaggeration. I'm on call to the labour ward from nine tomorrow, so I'll probably have an early night. If it's anything like last time, it'll be hellish.'

‘I hope not.'

‘Don't rely on it. I probably won't get away till late.'

He nodded acknowledgement, then with a rueful grin he headed for the mountain of paperwork in the office, and she went home. Amy was back, and she had so much to tell her. She couldn't believe so much had happened since Laura's hen weekend, and she needed Amy's take on it.

And at some point in the future, she was sure, she'd need Amy's support.

Not that she was going to let herself think about that now. For now, she was happy just to be happy, and when it was over—well, she'd worry about that when the time came.

 

‘Are you home? I've got lots to tell you.'

‘Sounds exciting. Bring some food.'

She raided her fridge and freezer, drove round to Amy's house and let herself in, hugging her friend and standing back to look at her.

‘Wow, you're brown! So how was Crete? Was it gorgeous?'

‘Utterly fabulous. What's in the bag? I'm famished.'

‘Pizza and salad.'

‘Great. Stick it in the oven and tell me whatever it is you have to tell me. And you can tell me all about the new consultant, as well. Forewarned is forearmed and all that!'

‘Ah. Yes, well, it's one and the same thing, really,' she admitted, and Amy's eyes narrowed. ‘I'm—um—seeing him?'

‘What!'

‘Off the record.'

Amy plopped down on a stool at her breakfast bar and gaped. ‘So—come on, tell me more! What's he like? And how on earth did this happen?'

‘His ceiling fell down?' she offered, and Amy's eyes widened. ‘He's also my new neighbour. Did I mention that?'

‘No, you damn well didn't! Come on, you can't stop there!'

So she told her—all of it, only keeping back the intimate details because they belonged solely to her and Ben, but leaving Amy in no doubt. And then she delivered the punch line.

‘He's got a
daughter
?'

‘Yup. That's the catch. She comes first, last and everything in between. No relationships that involve her, he says he's never getting married again, at least not while she's so vulnerable, and to be honest he sounds so adamant about
it I don't think he'll ever go there again. So there we have it—the perfect man, utterly ruined by a disastrous marriage and an even worse divorce, reading between the lines.'

‘And you love him.'

She rolled her eyes. ‘Oh, God, is it so obvious?'

‘Well, to me it is, but you
are
spilling your guts so it's not hard to work out. How does he feel?'

She swallowed. ‘He says I'm the best thing to happen to him for years.'

‘Except his daughter.'

‘Except his daughter. How did you guess? But that's fine. I have no issues with him being a good father. How could I? And anyway, that's not what it's about.'

‘No. Well, be careful,' Amy said, and peered past her at the oven. ‘So how's the pizza?'

‘Doing better than the washing. You might want to stop bullying me for the gory details and press the start button.'

 

She didn't get her early night in the end.

She and Amy ended up watching a movie until midnight, and by the time she got home Ben's lights were out and she slipped quietly into the house and went straight to bed.

And of course she overslept, woken only by Ben phoning her to say he'd knocked on her door to use the bathroom but couldn't get an answer and was she at home?

She ran down, tripping over the cat, and limped to the door to let him in. ‘Sorry, a friend of mine got back from her holiday yesterday and we ended up watching a movie and I didn't get home till late, and then the cat hijacked the bed so I overslept.'

‘So why are you limping?'

‘I just fell over her. She has this knack on the stairs.'

‘The friend?'

‘No, the cat,' she snapped, and he started to laugh, then thought better of it.

‘Oh, dear,' he chuckled, and pulled her into his arms. ‘You're really not a morning person, are you, sweetheart?' he said, and it was on the tip of her tongue to suggest that if he stayed the night he'd have a better chance of judging that, but she thought better of it. No bickering. That was probably in the rules, too.

‘I'll make tea. You shower first,' she told him, letting him go reluctantly, and headed for the kettle, feeding the cat on the way. She could hear him in the shower overhead, and the need to be near him was just too great.

She walked into the bathroom, dropped her pyjamas on the floor and stepped into the cubicle behind him, sliding her arms around his waist and resting her cheek against his back.

Heat shot through him, and he turned, tilting her head up to his and taking her mouth hungrily. How could he want her so fast? One touch, one kiss and he was ready—

‘We can't,' he said, dragging his mouth away.

‘No time?'

‘No condoms.'

She gave an impish smile. ‘So we improvise,' she said, and he felt her hand curl round him. The breath whooshed out of him, and he nudged her knees apart, slid his hand up her thigh and found the crucial spot with unerring accuracy. Her eyes widened, her mouth dropped open and he cursed his lack of foresight as she climaxed for him.

‘That's just for now,' he promised, and then gritted his teeth and bit down on the groan as she took him over the edge.

 

The labour ward, as she'd predicted, was hectic.

Amy was working there, and she never called for help
unless it was essential, but midway through the morning she paged for assistance.

Daisy found her in a delivery room, with a labouring woman lying on the bed and her partner rubbing her back with a worried expression on his face.

‘What's up?' she asked softly.

‘The baby's back-to-back, and I can't shift it. Mum's knackered, the baby's big, she's been in labour for hours and I think we might need a more experienced hand. Talk about easing back gently into the job!'

Daisy nodded. She'd used the Ventouse before, but never forceps, and if the baby was very stuck or very high, it might need more than suction to help to shift the head.

‘You just want to meet Ben,' she murmured out of ear-shot, and Amy chuckled.

‘Oh, yes. But seriously, we might need him.'

‘I'll page him.'

He couldn't have been far away, because he walked in a moment later and winked at her. ‘Morning, ladies. What can I do for you?' he asked, and Amy spun round, gave a horrified gasp, stripped off her gloves and fled, leaving Daisy standing there staring after her in astonishment.

‘Amy?'

‘Amy?'

She turned at the sound of Ben's voice, seeing a much milder version of Amy's shock on his face, and her heart sank. No. This couldn't be the guy who'd broken Amy's heart. Could it?

‘Back in a minute,' Ben said to the patient, and they went out into the corridor and stared after her.

‘Do you know her?' she asked, dreading the answer, but it wasn't in any way the one she'd expected.

‘Yes. She had a relationship with my brother.'

‘Your
brother
? So—why did she look at you like that?'

‘Because we're identical twins,' he said softly. ‘I need to talk to her. Where will she have gone?'

‘The emergency stairwell, I'd guess. It's our usual retreat for a crisis.'

‘Right. Lead the way—and come with me, if you know her well enough.'

‘I do. She's my best friend. And for what it's worth, she's never got over him.'

He said something very quiet and very rude. She'd heard it before, when his ceiling came down—which would indicate the seriousness of this situation and the extent to which he was ruffled.

Not as ruffled as Amy. She was crouched on the bottom step of the stairs, waiting for Daisy, and she sucked in her breath as Ben followed her into the quiet space.

‘Amy, it's me, not Matt,' he said softly, and crouching down, he took her hands. ‘I'm sorry. I didn't mean to shock you like that. I had no idea you were here or I would have warned you.'

She studied him for a second, and the tension drained out of her, leaving her limp and shaken. ‘It's OK, Ben, it's not your fault. It just—I didn't—at first glance I…' She broke off, shook her head. ‘It took me by surprise, that's all. I'm OK, really.'

‘Are you?' he murmured, and then to Daisy's horror Amy started to cry. Ben swore again and sat down beside her, slinging a solid arm round her and hugging her hard against his side. She burrowed into his chest, and Daisy, helpless, unable to do anything, sat down on the other side of her and waited until Amy's tears stumbled to a halt.

‘Sorry,' she mumbled, groping for a tissue in her pocket. Daisy handed her one.

‘OK, my love?' she asked softly when Amy had blown her nose and shaken her head as if she was trying to clear it.

She nodded. ‘He's—'

‘I know. He said.'

She sucked in a shaky breath. ‘We ought to get back,' she said. ‘My delivery…'

‘Don't worry, take your time,' Ben soothed. ‘Go and have a cup of tea. We'll find another midwife to help us.'

‘No. It's OK, I'll do it. I'd rather. I can't bail on her.'

She got shakily to her feet, and with another hug from Ben, she pulled herself together, swiped the tears from her cheeks and followed them out of the stairwell.

‘I
S SHE
all right?'

‘I think so. I caught up with her later and we talked for a bit. She didn't say a lot—she never does.'

He grunted. ‘Nor does Matt. Do you think it's going to be a problem, her working with me?'

‘She says not, and I'm inclined to believe her.'

He came up behind her and put his arms round her, resting his chin on her shoulder.

‘I think she was just a bit shaken up to see me.' He nuzzled her cheek. ‘Do you really want coffee?'

‘Not really. I thought you would.' She turned in his arms, fully expecting to see a glint in his eye, but instead there was a curious sadness.

‘Do you mind if we just go to bed? It's been a long day.' He'd only just got in, and he'd grabbed something to eat in the hospital, he said, but it was more than that, she sensed.

‘Of course I don't mind,' she said softly, going up on tiptoe and kissing him with infinite tenderness.

He stayed that night, making love to her with exquisite care and then holding her in his arms all night, and she wondered if it was something to do with Matt and Amy, or if it was something that had happened with Florence yesterday. They hadn't really had time to talk, and in any case, he never talked about Florence to her.

Sticking to the rules?

Whatever, it was lovely to have him hold her all night, and to wake up in the morning with a crick in her neck from sleeping on his shoulder with his arm round her and her leg wedged between his powerful thighs.

‘I need to move,' she whispered, and he opened his eyes and smiled.

‘Thank God for that. I think my arm's going to drop off.'

She laughed softly and shifted out of his way, and he rubbed his arm and winced while she stretched her neck out and sighed with relief, then rolled back to him and propped herself up on her elbows.

‘Good grief, what a fuss! Are you all done whingeing on about a few pins and needles?' she teased.

He moved faster than a striking cobra. One second she was laughing down at him, the next she was flat on her back with his lean, muscled body sprawled over her and her arms pinned to the bed above her head.

‘No! No, I'm sorry, I'm sorry,' she laughed, but he just raised an eyebrow, clamped both her wrists together with one large and inescapable hand and trailed his other hand slowly and tormentingly over her body.

‘Too late,' he growled. Last night's thoughtful mood was clearly gone, replaced with a playful lust that was much more in keeping with their rule book, and taking his time, he finished what they'd started.

It was all going like clockwork until the following weekend, when she heard his front door open and close during the course of Saturday morning, and then the sound of little running feet.

It stopped her in her tracks, and she stared at the wall in horror. No. He'd said she wouldn't be here until the house was finished, but it was nothing like ready for Florence to stay, and nor was she! She wasn't prepared, her defences
were down, her emotions far too close to the surface. Why hadn't he
warned
her?

And then her phone rang.

‘Daisy, hi, it's me. Look, I'm really sorry, I've had to bring Florence back here. Jane's got a migraine and she needs some peace, so I've come to get my walking boots so we can go out for a bit of a yomp in the woods, then we might come back here. I hope we don't disturb you.'

Disturb? ‘She's not a virus,' she said sharply, even though she'd been mentally chastising him for not warning her, and then felt evil for bitching at him. ‘Sorry. Thanks for the heads up. I'll keep out of your way.'

‘OK. We might see you later.'

‘No!' she said, but he'd hung up. So what now? Should she go out? Leave the house and come back after dark? ‘Oh, don't be ridiculous, she's just a child, she's not poisonous! Get a grip,' she told herself, and finished the pile of ironing, then made some lunch and went out into the garden and started weeding.

She'd been there half an hour when there was the sound of the back door opening, and Ben's voice saying, ‘This is my new garden—or it will be. It's a bit of a jungle.'

‘It's very messy,' a childish voice piped, and Daisy's heart turned over. She sounded so like Freya…

‘Yes, it is messy, isn't it? Shall we make it tidy?'

‘Yes! Me do it, Daddy! Me do it!'

She stayed there, frozen, trowel in hand, listening to the soft rumble of his voice as he talked to Florence. Should she go inside? Say something? Tell him she was there? Or carry on and say nothing? No. He'd hear her then. Would he talk to her?

She stuck the trowel in the ground and brushed off her hands. Maybe she'd just creep inside and pretend—

‘Hi.'

She lifted her head and saw Ben leaning over the fence, a tentative half-smile on his face as he searched her eyes. He must be standing on something, she thought, and got stiffly to her feet.

‘Hi. How was your walk?'

‘Great. We saw lots of bluebells, and a squirrel, and then we had some lunch, and now we're going to clear up the garden. I don't suppose you've got a broom, have you?'

‘Sure.'

She found it in the shed and passed it over, waiting for the invitation to meet Florence, hoping it wouldn't come yet longing to see the little girl who was so excitedly helping her daddy clear up the messy garden.

No invitation was forthcoming. Instead he smiled and disappeared behind the fence, and left her standing there staring into space.

‘Basket case,' she muttered, heading for the conservatory, and she went inside and put the kettle on. Ten seconds later she got a text from him.

Tea would be nice if you're making one.

She rolled her eyes. Tea, indeed. And no doubt biscuits, and something healthy for Florence. Apple juice? She opened the fridge and found an unopened carton of apple juice, and poured some into a little mug, then made two mugs of tea and put the chocolate biscuits on the tray and took them out.

‘Tea's up,' she yelled, and he appeared at the fence, his little mini-me on his shoulders, both of them grinning happily.

‘Daisy, this is Florence. Florence, meet Daisy. She's my neighbour. She has good biscuits.'

Florence giggled and squirmed on his shoulders, and he clamped her legs firmly in his hands and disappeared
while Daisy tried to get her breath back and unclamp the hand that was pressed over her mouth.

Why on earth had she done this? She should have refused to make the tea, told him to sling his hook and gone out—or just gone out earlier and let him sort his own broom and refreshments.

He was at her gate, letting himself in and holding Florence by the hand. She had one arm round his leg, which was obviously making walking difficult, but he just went slowly and accommodated her as she giggled and hung on, and Daisy's heart squeezed. She was
so
like him!

‘We've decided the garden's a bit much for us,' he said with a wry grin. ‘We think it needs a gardener.'

‘I think it needs a chainsaw and a gang of landscapers,' she said drily, unfairly angry that he'd had to catch her outside and trap her like this.

‘Sounds like a plan, and then we'll have a lovely garden for you, won't we, Florence?'

‘I like
this
garden,' Florence said shyly, looking around her with eyes like saucers. ‘It's pretty. Look, Daddy, a froggy! Daisy's got a froggy!'

Oh, lord, she was so sweet. Her eyes were like huge blue saucers, and Daisy wanted to scoop her up and hug her. She found her voice.

‘Yes, I have, but he's not real.'

He was a hideous little concrete frog she'd found in the flowerbed and been meaning to throw out, but now she was glad she hadn't, because Florence sat down on the path and had an earnest conversation with him that had Daisy desperate to laugh out loud. Either that or cry.

‘She's delicious,' she mouthed to Ben, and he nodded, watching her with pride and love in his eyes.

‘Froggy wants a biscuit,' she said, and Ben crouched down beside her.

‘Does he? He has to say please.'

‘Please.'

So ‘froggy' had a biscuit, and Ben had a handful, and Daisy watched Florence puggling about in the flowerbed and chatting to the frog and feeding him bits of her biscuit, and she watched Ben watching his little daughter, and all the time she could feel the thin, fragile defences around her heart cracking and crumbling in the gentle onslaught.

‘I have to get on, I've got things to do in the house,' she said abruptly. ‘Feel free to stay in the garden as long as you like.'

And without another word, she got up and went back inside before the wall around her heart came down in a million pieces…

They disappeared later in the day, and he rang her that night, something he didn't usually do at the weekend.

‘Thank you for this afternoon,' he said softly. ‘I'm sorry we imposed. I just didn't know what to do with her. I thought the garden would be all right, and it was only when we went out into it I realised how many dangerous things there were out there.'

Namely Florence, as far as she was concerned, with him running a very close second! ‘It's fine, don't worry,' she said firmly. ‘She was no trouble.'

‘But I promised I'd keep her out of your way, and then we didn't have any milk or any juice for her because I wasn't expecting to be there, and that was really pushing it. I'm sorry. I should have just taken her to the playground or to a café but she was tired after our walk.'

She swallowed. ‘Ben, it's all right, it was only the once. She's just a child. It's fine.'

Except she wasn't just a child. She was the flesh and blood of the man she loved with all her heart, and seeing his little daughter made her all the more real. Seeing them
together. Seeing the love between them, the way his eyes never left her.

He was a good father. A brilliant father. Loving, caring, thoughtful, aware of the dangers but happy to let her get well and truly grubby and be a real child. When she'd got bored with the frog she'd climbed all over him and sat on his shoulders, peering down into his eyes and laughing, and she wished she'd had a camera to capture the moment.

Silly. It was nothing to do with her.
Florence
was nothing to do with her. And she needed to remember that. She went to the drawer where she kept her sentimental things, and pulled out the photo of Millie and Freya. She stared at it for a long time, wondering how they were, if they were happy, who they were living with. Mike and his wife, still? Or had she thrown him out again so they had a different mummy for the weekends? She stroked her finger lovingly over the image. They'd be older now, three years older, so they'd be nine and seven.

Gosh. How time passed.

She stuck the photo on the front of the fridge under a magnet, so she'd see it every time she made a cup of tea and got the milk out, and it would remind her of all the reasons why she was keeping Florence firmly off limits.

There. Now she'd remember. All she had to do was make sure Ben did.

 

The house being in chaos was doing his head in. Not just because it was messy, but because it meant he couldn't have Florence there.

And then finally, almost four weeks after the ceiling fell down, the kitchen was plastered, the house rewired and the kitchen could go in.

He couldn't wait. Staying at Jane's every weekend had driven him crazy, and the prospect of doing it for week
end after weekend was intolerable, he thought as he packed and set off there yet again. But he had no choice, not if he wanted to see Florence, and their time together was so short, so fleeting, and she was growing like a weed. Her childhood would be gone in the wink of an eye, and the fact that he was missing so much of it gutted him.

But he missed his home, too, while he was at Jane's. He missed having his own things around him—and he missed spending time with Daisy. And the first thing he did after he had a shower when he got home on Sunday night was to go round and see her.

‘God, it's so good to be home and get back to normal,' he said, burying his head in her hair and holding her tight. ‘I love her to bits, but Florence can be so demanding, and we had to spend the day out because Jane had a headache again today.'

‘Is she ill?'

He laughed and let her go, following her into the sitting room and settling down on the sofa with her in his arms. ‘Not really. I'm sure she wasn't feeling great, but I took Florence out for hours so she could rest, and when I got back she was on the phone and looked fine. The moment she saw me she had a relapse, curiously.'

‘Looking for sympathy?'

‘I don't know what she was looking for, but she won't get it. Not from me, anyway. Not in my job description.'

‘So you left.'

‘After I'd fed and bathed Florence and put her to bed and read her a story. It was the princess and the frog tonight—again. She's got frogs on the brain now, thanks to you,' he told her, tapping her on the nose.

She smiled. ‘Sorry,' she said, although she wasn't sorry for him at all for having such a delicious little daughter, and then she reminded herself that she wasn't going to
think about Florence. Hard, when Ben was talking about his precious little mite, but if she wasn't careful she'd end up hurt again.

And more to the point, because she was the most vulnerable one, so might Florence.

‘Have you eaten?' she asked him, changing the subject.

He gave a hollow laugh. ‘If you count fish fingers and peas.'

‘Doesn't sound as if you do.'

‘Don't worry, I'm fine. I had lunch.'

‘What?'

He shrugged. ‘A sandwich?'

‘I know you and your sandwiches. You had half a cheese sandwich and a banana on Friday, and I don't think you finished the banana,' she reminded him. ‘Fancy scrambled eggs on toast?'