Читать книгу Come Fly With Me...: English Girl in New York / Moonlight in Paris - Фиона Бранд - Страница 10

CHAPTER THREE

DAN ENDED THE CALL on his phone. His captain had let out the loudest, heartiest laugh he’d ever heard when he’d told him about the baby. It hadn’t helped.

He could hear pandemonium in the background at the station. He should be there helping. Instead of doing a late-night recce for baby supplies.

Mr Meltzer, on the other hand, had been full of concern. Loading up supplies on the counter and waving his hand at Dan’s offer of payment.

‘If I help the little guy get a better start in life that’s all I need.’

The words tormented him. Ground into him in a way they shouldn’t. If only everyone felt like Mr Meltzer.

He pushed open the door to the apartment building and kicked the snow off his favourite baseball boots. They were really beyond repair.

Carrie was waiting and she pulled open the inside door. ‘Did you get some milk?’

He nodded and dumped the bags on the counter.

‘Wow, how much stuff did you get?’

He pulled his arms out of his jacket. ‘Who knew a baby needed so much? Mr Meltzer just kept pulling things off his shelves and saying, “You better take some of that”.’

Carrie tipped one of the bags upside down. ‘Please tell me you got some nappies and dummies. We need both—now.’

‘What? What are you talking about?’

She waved her hand in the air. ‘Oh, you Americans. Nappies—diapers. And dummies— what do you call them? Pacifiers? He’s starting to get restless and it will take a little time to sterilise the bottles.’ She rummaged through the bags. ‘You did get bottles, didn’t you?’

‘What’s that smell?’ He wrinkled his nose and caught sight of the expression on her face. ‘Oh, no. You’re joking. He can’t have. He hasn’t eaten yet.’ He pulled out a pack of baby wipes. ‘I take it we’ll need these?’

She nodded. ‘Do you have a towel we can lay him on? I’d say getting a nappy on the little guy is a priority.’

Dan walked over to the laundry cupboard and started throwing things about. ‘I know I’ve got a brand-new set of towels in here somewhere. My friend Dave just got married. He was drowning in the things. Ah, here we are!’ He pulled out some navy blue towels and laid one down on the rug, a little away from the fireplace. He glanced at his cast. It was more inconvenient than he first thought—to say nothing about the constant ache that was coming from his wrist. ‘Can you do this?’

He could see her taking a deep breath. ‘Fine,’ she muttered through gritted teeth. She grabbed the bag of diapers from the counter, along with the wipes and some diaper sacks. ‘Did you get some cream?’

‘Cream? What for?’

‘For putting on the baby’s bum, of course. Everyone knows you put cream on a baby to stop them from getting nappy rash.’

He shrugged his shoulders. ‘Mr Meltzer didn’t seem to know—and he knew everything else.’ He pulled something from a second plastic bag. ‘Look—ready-made formula in a carton. We’ve got the powdered stuff, too, but he said this was ready to use.’

She scowled at him as she laid the baby down on the fresh towel and peeled back the blanket.

‘Eww!’

‘Yuck!’

The smell was awful and filled the apartment instantly. The baby, on the other hand, seemed to quite like the freedom the open blanket gave and started to kick his legs.

‘How can all that stuff come from one tiny little thing?’ He really wanted to pinch his nose shut.

Carrie was shaking her head, too, as she made a dive for the baby wipes. ‘I have no idea, but the next one is yours.’

He looked at her in horror. ‘No way.’ He waved his pink cast again. ‘Can you imagine getting a bit of that caught on here? It would stink forever. I would smell like this for the next six weeks.’ He shook his head. ‘At least you can wash your hands.’

Carrie was deep in concentration, wiping and thrusting the dirty wipes into the supposedly scented diaper sack. She pulled out one of the diapers and held it up. ‘Well, at least you seemed to have got the right size.’

Dan bit his lip. ‘Actually, there was a whole shelf of the things. Mr Meltzer picked them out.’

She raised her eyebrow. ‘Can you ask him to come babysit, too, please? He seems to be the only person around here who knows anything about babies.’

‘I tried. He wasn’t buying it.’

Carrie positioned the diaper under the clean little bottom and snapped the tapes into place. ‘There, that’s better. Pity the smell hasn’t disappeared.’ She picked up the blanket by the corner. ‘This will need washing. Where’s your machine?’

‘In the basement.’

She let out a sigh. ‘I don’t get that about New York. Why does everyone have their washing machine in the basement?’ She waved her hands around. ‘You’ve plenty of room in here. Why isn’t your washing machine in the kitchen? Everyone in London has their washing machine in their flat. You don’t have to walk down miles of stairs to do the laundry.’

‘Worried about leaving your underwear unguarded?’

There it was again. That cheeky element coming out. He couldn’t help it. She seemed so uptight at times.

Just as he suspected, a pink colour flooded her cheeks. He could almost hear the ticking of her brain trying to find a way to change the subject quickly.

She nodded over to the counter. ‘We need to sterilise the bottles.’

‘I think he gave me some tablets for that.’ Dan started to root around in one of the bags.

‘He probably did, but according to the internet the bottles would need to be in the sterilising solution for thirty minutes. It only takes ten minutes if we boil them. That way you can use the ready-made formula and get it into him quicker.’

‘What about one of these? Can we give him a pacifier in the meantime?’

Carrie shook her head. ‘I think we need to sterilise them, too. And we need to use only cooled boiled water with the powdered milk. But I’ve no idea how long water takes to cool once you’ve boiled it. And I don’t know whether we should put the milk in the fridge or keep it at room temperature—everyone seems to have a different opinion on the internet.’ She was getting more harassed by the second, the words rattling out of her mouth and her face becoming more flushed. ‘I told you—I’m not an expert in all this. I have no idea what I’m doing!’

Something clenched in his stomach. He could sense the feelings overwhelming her, and he had a whole host of some himself.

Deep down, having a woman in his apartment—without an expiry date—was freaking him out. But these weren’t normal circumstances. He needed Carrie McKenzie’s help. He couldn’t do this on his own and right now he could sense she wanted to cut and run.

He was feeling a bit flustered himself. Flustered that some gorgeous Brit was in his space. But this wasn’t about him. This wasn’t about Daniel Cooper and the fact he liked his own space. This wasn’t about the fact his relationships only lasted a few months because he didn’t want anyone getting comfortable in his home—comfortable enough to start asking questions. This was about a baby. A baby who needed help from two people.

So, he did what his grandma had always taught him. Her voice echoed in his head. You get the best out of people when you compliment them—when you thank them for what they do.

He reached over and touched Carrie’s hand. She was getting flustered again, starting to get upset. ‘Carrie McKenzie?’ He kept his voice low.

‘What?’ she snapped at him.

Yep, he was right. Her eyes had a waterlogged sheen. She was just about to start crying.

He gave her hand a little squeeze. ‘I think you’re doing a great job.’

* * *

The world had just stopped because she wasn’t really in it.

This was one of those crazy dreams. The kind that had your worst type of nightmare and a knight in shining armour thrown in, too. The kind that made no sense whatsoever.

She wasn’t here. She wasn’t awake.

Her earlier thought had been true. She was actually fast asleep on the sofa upstairs. She would wake up in a few minutes and this would all be over. This would all be something she could shrug off and forget about.

Except those dark brown eyes were still looking at her.

Still looking as if he understood a whole lot more than he was letting on. As if he’d noticed the fact she was seconds away from cracking and bursting into floods of tears.

But he couldn’t, could he? Because he didn’t really know her at all.

Daniel Cooper was an all-action New York cop. The kind of guy from a romance movie who stole the heroine’s heart and rode off into the sunset with her. A good guy.

The kind of guy who looked after an abandoned baby.

She was trying to swallow. Her mouth was drier than a desert, and it felt as if a giant turtle had started nesting at the back of her throat.

She looked down to where his hand covered hers. It was nice. It felt nice.

And that was the thing that scared her most.

When was the last time someone had touched her like that? At the funeral? There had been a lot of hand squeezing then. Comfort. Reassurance. Pity.

Not the same as this.

He smiled at her. A crooked kind of smile, revealing straight white teeth.

A sexy kind of smile. The kind that could take her mind off the nightmare she was currently in.

There was a yelp from the towel. Dan moved his hand and looked down. ‘I guess baby’s getting hungry. I’ll stick the bottles in the pot.’

Carrie left the baby on the towel and started to look through the bags on the counter. Five prepacked cartons of formula, two different kinds of powder, more dummies and a whole mountain’s worth of baby wipes.

She folded her arms across her chest as she watched Dan dangle the bottles and teats from his fingertips into the boiling water. ‘Clothes, Dan. What are we going to put on him?’

His brow wrinkled and he shook his head. ‘Darn it, I knew I’d forgotten something. There weren’t any baby clothes in the general store, and there’s no place else around here that sells any. Can’t we just leave him in the diaper?’

Carrie shook her head. ‘Want me to do a search on that?’ She started to pace. ‘Don’t you know anyone around here with kids who might still have some baby clothes? How long have you stayed here?’

He blinked and his lips thinned. As if he was trying to decide how to answer the question. He averted his eyes and started busying himself with the coffee maker. ‘I’ve lived here on and off my whole life. This was my grandma’s place.’

‘Was it?’ She was surprised but it made perfect sense. After all, how did a young guy on a cop’s salary afford a gorgeous brownstone West Village apartment? She looked around, starting to take in the decor of the place. There were a few older items that didn’t look quite ‘him’. A rocker pushed in the corner near the window, a small antique-style table just at the front door, currently collecting mail and keys, a dresser in the more modern-style kitchen. It was kind of nice, to see the old mixed in with the new. ‘It’s a lovely place. Big, too. You’re a lucky guy.’

He made a noise. More like a snort. ‘Yeah, I guess. Just born lucky, me.’

Carrie froze, not really knowing how to respond. What did that mean?

But he must have realised his faux pas because he changed the subject quickly. ‘The ten minutes will be up soon. Once we’ve fed the little guy I’ll go on up to Mrs Van Dyke’s place. Her family used to stay here. She might have some things in storage we could use.’

‘Mrs Van Dyke? Which one is she? Is she the one on the second floor who looks as if she came over on the Mayflower and is about six hundred years old?’

He raised his eyebrows. ‘Watch it. According to her, her family were amongst the original Dutch settlers. And I don’t think she’s quite six hundred years old. She’s as sharp as a stick, and she hasn’t aged in the past twenty-five years.’ He gave her a wink as he switched off the burner. ‘Maybe you should ask her what cream she uses.’

Carrie picked up an unopened packet of pacifiers and tossed them at his head. They bounced off the wall behind him.

‘Careful, careful, we’ve got a baby in the apartment. We don’t want anything to hit him.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘On second thought, it’s getting kind of late. Maybe it’s too late to go knocking on Mrs Van Dyke’s door.’ His gaze was still fixed on the baby, lying on the floor, grizzling impatiently for his milk.

Carrie folded her arms as she stood next to him. ‘You’ve got to be kidding. Mrs Van Dyke is up watching TV until four a.m. most nights. And I take it she’s getting a little deaf, because I can’t get to sleep in my apartment because of the Diagnosis Murder or Murder, She Wrote reruns that I hear booming across the hall. Seriously, the woman needs a hearing aid.’

‘And seriously? She’ll be far too proud to get one.’

There was something nice about that. The fact that he knew his elderly neighbour so well that he could tell exactly why she didn’t have a hearing aid. ‘So what was wrong with me, then?’ She couldn’t help it. The words just spilled out.

‘What do you mean?’

‘You obviously know your other neighbours well, but it was too much trouble to even say hello to me in the foyer.’

The colour flooded into his cheeks. Unflappable Dan was finally flapping. He could deal with a tonne of snow falling from a roof, he could deal with a baby dumped on his doorstep, but this? This was making him avert his eyes and struggle to find some words.

‘Yeah, I’m sorry about that. I just assumed you were staying for only a few days. Most of the others seemed like ships that pass in the night.’

‘I’ve been here two months, Dan. Eight long weeks—’ she let out a little sigh ‘—and to be honest, this isn’t the friendliest place I’ve ever stayed.’

He cringed. ‘I can hear my grandmother shouting in my ear right now. Shaming me on my bad manners. I did see you—but you always looked like you had a hundred and one things on your mind. You never really looked in the mood to talk.’

This time Carrie felt like cringing. There was a reason Dan was a cop. He was good at reading people. Good at getting to the heart of the matter. And she had only herself to blame for this, because it was she who’d called him on his behaviour.

She gave a little shrug, trying to brush it off. ‘Maybe a cheery good morning would have been enough.’

She walked over and lifted the pot, tipping the boiling water into the sink.

He appeared at her back, his chin practically resting on her shoulder, as he lifted the plastic bottles and teats out onto the worktop with a clean dish towel. ‘You’re right, Carrie. You’re absolutely right. I should have said hello. I should have said good morning.’

She turned her head slightly. He wasn’t quite touching her, but she could feel the heat emanating from his body. She wanted to step away, to jerk backwards, but her body wasn’t letting her.

Her lips were curving into a smile—even though she was telling them not to—as she stared into those brown eyes again. It was nice. Being up close to someone again. His lips were only inches from hers. She wondered if he was having the same kind of thoughts she was. The kind of thoughts that made her forget there was a baby in the room...until he let out an angry wail from the floor.

They jumped back, both at the same time. She reached for one of the cartons. ‘Do you have a pair of scissors?’

He opened a drawer, pulled out the scissors, snipped the edge of the carton and upended the contents into one of the cooled bottles. Carrie picked up one of the teats by the edge of its rim and placed it on the bottle, screwing it in place with the retaining ring.

The bottle sat on the middle of the counter and they stared at each other for a few seconds.

‘Don’t we need to heat the milk up now?’

She shook her head. ‘According to the internet, room temperature is fine.’

‘Oh, okay.’

Silence. And some deep breathing, followed by a whole host of screams from the floor. It was like a Mexican stand-off.

‘So, who is going to do this?’

‘You. Definitely you.’

‘But what if I do it wrong?’

‘What if I do it wrong? Don’t you dare suggest that I can do it better because I’m a girl.’

He raised his eyebrows. ‘Oh, I’d never refer to you as a girl.’

‘Stop it. He’s mad. Just feed him.’ She opened one of the kitchen drawers and handed him a dish towel. ‘Here, put this over you.’

‘What do I need that for?’

‘In case he pukes on you.’

‘Ewww...’

Dan picked up the bottle, holding it between his hands as if it were a medical specimen. He squinted at the markings on the side of the bottle. ‘How much do I give him?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Well, look it up on the internet while I start.’

Relief. Instant relief. She wasn’t going to be left to feed the baby. She could sit on the other side of the room and do a search on the computer.

Dan picked up the baby from the floor and settled him on his lap, resting him in the crook of his arm that had his cast in place. He held the bottle with his other hand and brushed the teat against the baby’s cheek.

There were some angry noises, and some whimpering, before finally the baby managed to latch on to the teat and suck—furiously.

Carrie was holding her breath on the other side of the room, watching with a fist clenched around her heart. A baby’s first feed.

One of those little moments. The little moments that a parent should share with a child.

Daniel seemed equally transfixed. He glanced over at her. ‘Wow. Just wow. Look at him go. He’s starving.’

And he was. His little cheeks showed he was sucking furiously. But it was Dan who had her attention. The rapt look on his face, and the way the little body seemed to fit so easily, so snugly against his frame.

Her mouth was dry and the hairs were standing up on the back of her neck. Worse than that, she could feel the tears pooling around her eyes again.

What was wrong with her? This had nothing to do with her. Nothing to do with her situation. She shouldn’t be feeling like this. She shouldn’t be feeling as if she couldn’t breathe and the walls were closing in around her.

But Dan looked so natural, even though he kept shifting in the chair. He looked as if he was born to do this. Born to be a father. Born to be a parent.

The thing that she’d been denied.

She glanced at the screen and stood up quickly.

She had to leave now, while he was trapped in his chair and before the tears started to fall. She needed some breathing space.

‘You should stop after every ounce of milk, Dan. Take the bottle out and wind the baby. I’m sorry. I have to go.’

‘What? Carrie? Wait a minute, what does wind mean? How do I know how much an ounce is?’

But she couldn’t stop. She couldn’t listen.

‘Carrie? Come back.’

But her feet were already on the stairs, pounding their way back up to the sanctuary of her solitude.