The Best Man for the Job (10 page)

He stretched his legs out in front of him and crossed them at the ankles, staring straight ahead. ‘And where would I have figured in all this?’

‘You wouldn’t have figured at all. Unless you’d wanted to. Which you wouldn’t have because you don’t even want a baby.’

‘Don’t I?’

Her heart squeezed but she ignored it. ‘No.’

‘Assume I do. For the hypothesis.’

Why was he doing this? she wondered, feeling uncharacteristically flustered. Was he making sure she’d thought through everything before going ahead? Or was it something else?

‘OK, fine,’ she said, her brain too frazzled to be able to work it through, ‘but I don’t see it would make any difference, because how could you help?’

‘I could look after the baby when you go back to work.’

She stared at him in surprise. ‘You?’

‘Why not? My time is my own at the moment so it would make perfect sense.’

‘What about your projects?’

‘I can work on them from home.’

‘You’d do that?’

‘Yes.’

She didn’t quite know what to make of that. ‘Have you ever changed a nappy?’

He arched an eyebrow. ‘Have you?’

‘Well, no,’ she conceded. ‘But what about when the baby’s six weeks old or something and has been crying non-stop all night and you realise just what you’ve taken on? Would you still want to stick around then?’ And if he didn’t, what would that mean for her career?

‘Of course. Once I start something I don’t give up.’

Except when it came to relationships, she thought, but before she could say anything, he added, ‘And there’s no way I’d give up on my child.’

‘But wouldn’t you mind?’

‘What about?’

‘About what other people might think if you stayed at home looking after a baby while I went back to work, for a start.’

‘I don’t give a crap what other people think.’

Which was admirable, but now it struck her that somewhere along the line this conversation had become less theoretical and more real so she steeled herself and said, ‘But what does any of this matter? It’s all totally irrelevant. Hypothetical.’

‘Right.’ He drew his legs back, sat bolt upright and swivelled so he was facing her, his jaw tight and his eyes practically burning into hers. ‘But what if it wasn’t?’

Her heart skipped a beat and her breath caught. ‘I don’t understand.’

‘What if I said I’d changed my mind too?’

‘I haven’t changed—’ She stopped. Stared at him. ‘What?’

‘You heard.’

‘
Have
you changed your mind?’

He nodded. ‘I have.’

‘You want this baby?’

‘I do.’

She reeled. ‘But how? Why? You said you weren’t fatherhood material and never would be.’

‘I know I did.’

‘So what happened?’

‘Nothing happened. I just wasn’t being entirely honest when I agreed with you that we should go for option number three.’

‘Why on earth not?’

‘Guilt, mainly.’

She stared at him. ‘Guilt?’

‘It’s my fault you’re pregnant.’

Her heart stumbled for a second. ‘That’s very noble of you, Marcus,’ she said with small smile, ‘but it does take two to tango. And we were careful. No one’s to blame. It’s just one of those things life likes to throw at you to really screw up your plans.’

‘No, it really is. I opened the condom packet with my teeth. I think I might have ripped it.’

It was a possibility, she supposed, but, ‘You don’t know that you did.’

‘Do you have a better explanation?’

‘It could have been anything.’

‘Doesn’t matter,’ he said resolutely. ‘My condom, my application, my fault.’

For a moment she didn’t know what to say. ‘That’s mad,’ she managed eventually. ‘None of this is anyone’s fault.’

He shrugged. ‘I should have been more careful. It’s no excuse, but I wasn’t thinking all that straight at the time.’

‘No. Well, who was?’ said Celia, going warm at the memory.

‘Anyway, because of the guilt I decided that I’d go along with whatever you decided.’

With some difficulty she dragged herself back from the memory of that afternoon. ‘So you lied?’ she asked, frowning.

‘Not exactly,’ he said with a shrug. ‘I simply didn’t allow myself to think about what I wanted in case you wanted something different.’

Nothing simple about that, she thought, as she waded through it all. ‘So given that,’ she said, only about eighty per cent certain she got what he meant because the realisation that had she not said anything he’d have let her go through with it despite wanting the opposite was too much to handle right now, ‘how do I know that your change of heart now doesn’t simply reflect mine?’

Not much point in denying that she had had a change of heart any more, was there? Not when just the thought of holding her child made her heart practically burst from her chest.

‘Because I’ve been having doubts for days.’

‘So you think we should have this baby.’

‘Yes.’

‘But we don’t like each other,’ she said, knowing she was grasping at straws but trying to buy some time to absorb the enormity of where the conversation was heading.

His eyes glittered. Darkened. ‘Don’t we?’

Celia shivered at the heat that flared in his eyes but ignored it because the situation was complicated enough without adding chemistry into the mix.

‘We live miles apart.’

‘So move in with me.’

She gaped at him. On what level would that be a good idea? ‘No.’

‘Then how about into the house next door to me?’

‘What?’

‘I own it. I rent it out, but I can give the tenants notice and you can move in. Rent-free.’

‘No way.’

‘All right. Pay the rent. I don’t mind. But it would be convenient, don’t you think?’

‘You’ve given this some thought.’

‘None at all,’ he said with a wry smile. ‘I’m doing this very much on the hoof. But we have resources. Lots of them. The obstacles aren’t insurmountable.’

He was formidable, she thought with a shiver. Determined and assertive and just a little bit overwhelming. Which was odd because a couple of months ago these weren’t words she’d have used to describe him, although presumably he wouldn’t have created a business worth millions if he hadn’t been.

The combination was also very attractive, and she wished she could go back to thinking him laid-back, shallow and debauched because somehow those characteristics seemed a whole lot safer than the ones she’d seen in recent days.

With not a small amount of formidable determination of her own she pushed aside the realisation that she found him way more attractive now than she ever had before and concentrated on the conversation.

‘I have a place of my own,’ she pointed out, telling herself that just because what he suggested made frighteningly good sense it didn’t mean she was ready to abandon her highly valued independence just yet.

‘You have a pristine flat up four flights of stairs and there isn’t a lift. Think about it.’

She did, and at the vision of herself struggling up them with a pushchair could see his point, not that she was going to admit it because the speed with which things were going if she did she could well find herself moved in to his house next door by the end of the week. ‘How did you get to be so practical?’

‘I always have been. You just haven’t noticed.’

Seemed she hadn’t noticed quite a bit. ‘You’re not going to suggest we get married or anything, are you?’ she said, with the arch of an eyebrow and the hint of a grin.

He froze, a look of horror flashing across his face. ‘Do you want me to?’

‘
God,
no,’ said Celia with a shudder, although part of her wondered what he’d have done if she’d said yes. ‘My parents only married because my mother was pregnant with Dan and look what happened there. And despite the mess they made of things, and the effect it could have had on us, Dan and I have turned out pretty much OK, I think.’

The tension eased from his body and he shot her a quick smile. ‘You turned out more than OK.’

‘Nevertheless,’ she said, going warm and knowing that annoyingly it had little to do with the heat of the midday sun, ‘if we have this child you do know it would tie us together for ever, don’t you?’

‘Only in one respect. We’d still be free to pursue our own interests.’

No need to ask what those interests would be, she thought a bit waspishly as those photos of scantily clad Sardinians flashed into her head and the heat inside her faded. ‘It would seriously cramp your style.’ Not to mention hers, because, even though she didn’t have much of one at the moment, at some point in the future she’d like to meet someone who didn’t think of marriage as a fate worse than death.

‘That’s my problem to worry about.’ He shifted on the bench, and as she caught a trace of his scent she tried not to inhale deeply.

‘With the issue my parents have family parties would be a nightmare.’

‘But manageable.’

‘Do you have an answer for everything?’

‘Not everything.’

‘But most things.’

He gave her the glimmer of a smile. ‘Do you have any other arguments to put forward?’

‘No,’ she said a little dazedly as she thought about it. ‘I appear to have run out.’

‘And?’

She tilted her head and stared at him, noting the dark intensity of his eyes, the set of his jaw, and wondering about both. ‘You really want this, don’t you?’

‘Yes.’

‘Why?’

‘For the same reasons you do.’

Hmm. She doubted that, but she was hardly going to probe further. If she did then she’d have to go into
her
reasons, which she suspected went a lot deeper than the effect of a wall of paintings and an ultrasound.

But whatever his reasons, and however surreal today had been, however they were going to figure it all out, she knew what she wanted beyond the shadow of a doubt. And so, with her heart hammering, she took a deep breath and said, ‘Then I guess we’re going to be parents.’

TEN

‘You’re pregnant?’

At the volume of her brother’s voice and the sudden hush that fell over the tapas bar where she, her brother and her sister-in-law were having supper and a catch-up for the first time since the happy couple had been back in London Celia winced. ‘Not sure they heard you in the kitchen, Dan,’ she muttered. ‘Would you mind keeping it down a bit?’

‘Yes, I bloody well would,’ he said hotly. ‘We’ve been here for over an hour, and you didn’t think to mention it?’

She put down her fork, arched an eyebrow and shot him a look. ‘And interrupt the fascinating and lengthy tales of your adventures on honeymoon?’

‘You did go on a bit, Dan,’ murmured Zoe, picking up her glass of wine and taking a sip.

Celia grinned. ‘To tell you the truth, I loved hearing about what you got up to,’ she said. ‘Especially the bit where you got chased by a herd of angry alpacas. That’s definitely one to bring out at your diamond wedding anniversary. And anyway, I’m mentioning it now.’

Dan frowned. ‘How pregnant are you?’

‘Twelve weeks, give or take a day or two.’ She’d had the scan yesterday and when she’d seen those tiny little hands and feet and then been told that everything was progressing as it should had felt a mixture of relief, excitement and terror.

Marcus had been there too, the first time she’d seen him since they’d reversed their decision about the abortion. He’d sat next to her, asking questions and squeezing her hand and for a split second she’d felt this deep,
deep
longing that they were together. For each other, not just the baby. Which didn’t make any sense whatsoever because they hadn’t seen each other for four weeks and for all she knew he’d bedded half of London in that time. And while she knew that it was undoubtedly down to hormones, all in all it had been a rather peculiar, faintly unsettling quarter of an hour.

‘Congratulations,’ said Zoe, beaming.

‘Thank you.’

Dan shot his wife a look. ‘Why don’t you sound as surprised as I am by this?’ he asked suspiciously. ‘Did you know? Two months in and do we already have secrets?’

Zoe shook her head and patted him on the arm. ‘Calm down, Dan. Of course I didn’t know. But when a woman declines alcohol and avoids the prawns it doesn’t take a genius to work it out.’ Then she shot him a wicked smile. ‘And you might as well get used to the secrets thing because I have loads. You might even like some of them.’

His gaze locked onto his wife’s and something flickered in his eyes that Celia didn’t even want to try and analyse. ‘Right,’ he murmured, softening for a second before snapping his gaze back to her and glaring.

‘You can stop looking and sounding all outraged,’ said Celia, refusing to rise. ‘This is the twenty-first century, you know. Women do get pregnant by accident and out of wedlock.’

‘I know,’ said her brother, shoving his hands through his hair and frowning. ‘I’m just a bit stunned, that’s all. I’d never have thought you...’ He tailed off. Looked a bit bemused. Then rubbed a hand over his face as acceptance settled in. ‘Do Mum and Dad know?’

‘Not yet. I’ll tell them soon.’

‘Who’s the father?’

Celia didn’t see the point of not telling them. If Marcus was intending to be as hands-on as he claimed they’d find out soon enough anyway. ‘Marcus.’

Dan nearly fell off his chair. ‘
My
Marcus?’

‘If you want to put it like that.’ Although to be honest she didn’t think he was anyone’s. Nor, in all likelihood, would he ever be, given his track record, his comments on the subject and the look of horror that had filled his face when she’d jokingly asked if he was going to suggest they got married.

‘I thought you couldn’t stand each other,’ said Dan, while Zoe merely smiled knowingly and helped herself to the last of the prawns.

Celia lowered her gaze and studied her non-alcoholic cocktail. ‘Yes, well, things change,’ she said, ignoring the sudden and unexpected urge to ask her brother if Marcus’ aversion to commitment was simply down to an enjoyment of variety, because why would she need to know that?

And actually, things had changed quite a bit, she thought, turning it over in her mind as she twiddled her straw. Primarily her opinion of him. How she could ever have thought him shallow and pointless and irresponsible she had no idea. He might go out with—and probably sleep with—a lot of women but he was none of those things, and she’d been stupid and arrogant in her presumption that she had the measure of him all these years.

There was clearly a lot to learn about the father of her child. A lot of assumptions she had to ditch. So maybe she could do a lot worse than spend the next six months trying to figure out who Marcus really was, because if she was being honest he was turning out to be more fascinating than she’d ever have imagined.

‘Since when?’ asked Dan, slicing through her thoughts and making her head snap up.

‘Since your wedding,’ she said, and to her irritation she felt a blush storm into her cheeks.

Zoe flashed Dan a smug grin. ‘Told you,’ she said.

‘So much for not ending the drought,’ Dan muttered.

Celia snapped her gaze to him. ‘What?’

‘Before you, Marcus hadn’t slept with anyone for six months.’

Blush forgotten, her jaw dropped as yet another assumption exploded into bits. ‘Six months?’

‘Exactly. We talked about it at the wedding. He had an ex who turned into a bit of a stalker. I told him that as you were the only single woman there and you weren’t exactly each other’s flavour of the month I didn’t think that’d be changing. Seems I was wrong.’

‘You were,’ she murmured, intrigued and a bit distracted by the stalkery ex.

‘I take it you’re keeping it?’ said Zoe.

‘I am,’ said Celia, dragging her thoughts back on track and deciding that there was no need to go into detail about the roundabout way they’d made that particular decision. Dan had only just got over his shock at finding out she was pregnant.

‘And how the hell’s that going to work out?’ he asked.

She took a sip of water and thought about all the very practical—if faintly overwhelming—suggestions Marcus had made sitting on that bench in the square outside the clinic. ‘I’m not entirely sure at the moment. We’ve tossed around a few ideas, but I guess we have six or so months to figure it out.’

And to figure out other things. Such as the truth behind his wicked reputation. Such as why he wanted to keep the baby. Such as whether she and Marcus had anything in common other than chemistry.

Her brother frowned. ‘Have you considered the fact that Marcus has about as much stickability as an old Post-it note?’

‘I have,’ she said with a brief nod. Mainly in the moments of doubt she had when she wondered what the hell they were doing, if maybe a couple of years down the line she wasn’t going to be left literally holding the baby. But then she’d recall what he’d said about never giving up once he’d started something, the steadfast determination etched into every inch of his face and the burn of his eyes, and her doubts eased somewhat.

‘And he might be my best friend,’ said Dan darkly, ‘but
Marcus
and
responsibility
aren’t words I’d put in the same sentence.’

‘Oh, I don’t know,’ said Celia, unexpectedly finding herself bristling a bit on his behalf. ‘I think you’d be surprised.’

Dan looked at her, his eyebrows shooting up. ‘Would I?’

‘I think he actually has quite a strong sense of responsibility,’ she said, a bit taken aback by the strength of her desire to set the record straight. ‘I mean, look at the way he made sure all his staff were taken care of when he sold his business,’ she said, remembering something she’d read in the press weeks ago. ‘Look at the plans he has now. Business mentoring? And that apprenticeship scheme thing for kids who’ve slipped through the system? He said it was his way of giving something back, and if that isn’t a sign of recognising one’s responsibilities I don’t know what is.’

And then look at the way he’d taken care of her when she hadn’t been well. The way he was stepping up to the plate now. All in all, she thought he was a remarkably responsible individual, even if Dan and Zoe couldn’t see it.

Realising her heart was beating rather too fast and that she was feeling a bit fired up, she took a couple of deep calming breaths and gradually became aware that Dan and Zoe were staring at her.

‘What?’ she said, swinging her gaze between them as her pulse slowed and her indignation faded.

‘Interesting,’ said Zoe, regarding her thoughtfully.

‘It is interesting,’ she said firmly. ‘Very. And I’m sure he’ll make a success of it all.’

‘I don’t mean his plans,’ said Zoe. ‘Although those do sound good. I was referring to your defence of him.’

‘I’m not defending him,’ said Celia. ‘I’m simply being honest.’

Zoe picked up a menu and smiled knowingly. ‘If that’s what you want to call it,’ she said in an annoyingly conciliatory fashion. ‘Now, who’s having pudding?’

* * *

Two hours later, lying in the bath, enveloped in orange-blossom-scented bubbles and surrounded by a dozen flickering bergamot-scented candles, Celia dropped her head back and closed her eyes and pondered that disconcertingly knowing smile of her sister-in-law’s.

What Zoe thought she knew Celia had no idea. She
was
being honest when she’d said all that stuff about Marcus being more responsible than everyone gave him credit for. And yes, maybe a teensy bit defensive, but so what? It didn’t mean anything. She was just setting the record straight, and anyway, she was sure that if he ever learned that she’d leapt to his defence like that he’d split his sides laughing at her.

Zoe was too smug by half, thinking that she had the measure of their relationship. She didn’t have a clue, apart, possibly, from identifying the chemistry, which now didn’t matter all that much when there were so many other far more important life-changing decisions to be made.

Marcus might have alluded to the fact that they were still attracted to each other when they’d been sitting on the bench in that park, and, heaven only knew, he was in her thoughts a lot, sometimes all laid-back and smiling that lethal, lazy smile, sometimes all dark and intense, either way refusing to budge and making her pulse throb and her body tingle, but that didn’t mean they were going to act on it, did it?

She, for one, had absolutely no intention of doing so. She had her child to think of and a relationship to build with its father, and sex complicating that and messing with her head was the last thing she needed.

How hard could it be to keep the attraction in hand anyway? It wasn’t as if she were completely at the mercy of her hormones or anything. She was far too mature and sensible for that. It was simply a question of willpower, and that she had in abundance. So she’d easily be able to handle her attraction to him. She probably wouldn’t even see that much of him over the next few months, apart from the occasions she intended they got together to work on that relationship. They were both busy, after all, and he had ‘interests’...

Actually, she thought, not particularly wanting to contemplate Marcus and his ‘interests’, bearing that in mind, maybe she’d better get in touch with him to suggest fixing up the first ‘getting to know you’ session, because who knew how long it might be before they found a date they were both free?

* * *

Figuring out how he was going to adapt his lifestyle to incorporate looking after a child wasn’t giving Marcus nearly as much trouble as figuring out what he was going to do about Celia.

The former wasn’t a problem at all. Ever since the afternoon of Dan and Zoe’s wedding, despite the concerted effort he’d made to move on, the thought of sex with anyone other than her was so off-putting he hadn’t even bothered trying.

At first he’d found his lack of interest in anyone else infuriating, not to mention frustrating. Then he’d made himself relax because what could he do about it? He could hardly force himself to take things further, could he? Anyway, it was bound to be nothing more than a hiccup.

But if it was, then he was still hiccuping. And weirdly, not minding all that much. To his surprise he wasn’t missing the thrill of the chase, the dating or even the sex. He’d been getting more than enough kicks from the work he’d been throwing himself into. The apprentice scheme he was setting up was an idea he’d been toying with for a year or two now, and it was great to be able to finally get it started. And while unprofitable—at least in financial terms—it meant so much that it felt good to be getting stuck in. Very good.

With a puritanism the Victorians would have been proud of he was working hard and sleeping alone, and he’d never felt more virtuous.

His thoughts about Celia, however, weren’t virtuous at all. They were wicked and filthy and sometimes came to him at the most inappropriate of times. Such as during the scan she’d had a couple of days ago. She’d hopped onto the bed, and, with a wriggle that was sexier than it ought to be, had lifted her top. It had been the least erotic of occasions, yet at the expanse of taut, tanned stomach she’d revealed he’d found himself tuning out the voice of the obstetrician and wondering whether anyone would mind if he leaned over and ran his hands and mouth across her skin.

She was in his head all the time. And not just with the smiles she occasionally shot him. He found her fascinating. The contradictions that characterised her were intriguing. She was an intoxicating combination of strength and vulnerability, pride and self-deprecation, confidence and bewilderment.

Not that anyone got to see the softer side of her. He was willing to bet everything he had that he was the only person who knew about her craving for her father’s approval, the only person ever to see her in the state she’d been in the night they’d dashed to A and E. The only person to hold her as she cried her heart out.

But even though he was now sufficiently not in denial to know that he still wanted her—and quite desperately—that didn’t mean he was going to do anything about it. He couldn’t, could he? His relationships, however long they lasted, always ended, and he’d never seen the point in keeping in touch.