Читать книгу The Consultant's Christmas Proposal - Kate Hardy - Страница 10

AFTER a week of looking after the children, Saskia was used to being in a family environment. She was beginning to enjoy it even. It was nice to come home from a late shift and not have to cook for herself or make do with a sandwich. Or to pick up Billy from nursery and be greeted with a big hug and hear all about his day on the way home. Or to see Toby walk in the door at the end of his shift, looking tired but giving her a genuine smile when she made him a coffee and sat down to eat with him.

She could almost—almost—see the point of getting married and sharing her life.

But one evening, when she was feeding Helena, the baby turned her face away and fussed.

‘Everything OK?’ Toby asked, clearly seeing the worry in her face.

‘I’m not sure. She’s not taken as much milk as she normally does.’ Saskia frowned, and lightly pressed her fingers to the baby’s forehead. ‘I think she’s getting a temperature.’

‘There are lots of viruses about. It’s that time of year,’ Toby reminded her. All the same, he came over and checked Helena, too. ‘You’re right, her temperature’s up. Do you know where Lyd keeps the infant paracetamol?’

‘Second drawer down next to the kitchen sink. There’s a child lock on the drawer, and the oral syringe is attached to the bottle with an elastic band.’

‘Right.’ He returned a few moments later with the oral syringe and a bottle of infant paracetamol. ‘Rightio, little one. We’ll get your temperature down.’ Gently, he measured out a dose and squirted it into the baby’s mouth. ‘Give it a few minutes and you’ll be feeling better,’ he said softly.

Except the paracetamol didn’t seem to work. When Saskia checked Helena’s temperature again a little later, it was still up. She stripped the baby down to her vest and nappy and gently gave her a tepid sponge bath. The warm water would evaporate from her skin, whereas cold water would simply make her veins constrict and drive her temperature up even more. ‘I think she’d better sleep in my room tonight,’ Saskia said, ‘so I can keep an eye on her.’

‘You’re planning to sit up with the baby all night and then do a full shift?’ Toby asked, sounding shocked.

It was a lot to ask of someone who was completely fit, let alone someone who had a problem like Saskia’s. She shrugged. ‘It’s a one-off. I’ll cope.’

‘Saskia, don’t be daft. You don’t have to take the whole burden. There are two of us. Let’s take it in shifts to look after her.’

‘And swap her from room to room all night? Hardly.’

‘Let’s share a room, then.’

She stared at him. ‘What?’

‘Come on. You slept on my bed often enough when we were students.’

‘Crashed out after an all-night study session.’

‘I’m perfectly capable of sharing your bed without having sex with you,’ he said quietly.

Saskia glowered at him. What was he saying—that she wasn’t capable of sleeping in the same bed as a man without demanding sex? Or that she wasn’t able to make him want her, because he found her unattractive? Either way, it wasn’t very pleasant, and she felt colour scorch into her cheeks. ‘Well, thanks a bunch, Tobe.’ Sarcasm dripped from every word. ‘How to make your friends feel really good about themselves.’

‘What have I said?’ He raked a hand through his hair. ‘I wasn’t getting at you. Just think about it logically. We’re not students any more. We’re both too old to stay up all night and then work all the next day.’

‘Speak for yourself,’ she said with a scowl. ‘You’re the one who’s thirty-four.’

‘And you’re not that much younger,’ he sniped back. ‘We’re professionals, so we’re capable of looking after a sick baby between us without ripping each other’s clothes off.’

‘Mmm.’ That sounded a bit better. Maybe that was what he’d meant in the first place and she’d just misinterpreted it. She’d already snapped at people today, angry and frustrated because her hands were stiff and achy and she couldn’t do anything about it.

‘So are we being sensible about this?’

‘Yeah.’ She sighed, knowing that she owed him an apology. Along with about half the hospital. ‘Sorry.’

‘Hey.’ His fingers brushed her cheek, very quickly. ‘It’s OK. I know you’re worried about our god-daughter.’

She blessed him silently for giving her such a great getout. ‘Yeah.’

And he was right about the bed. They’d shared a bed on countless occasions as students, when they’d fallen asleep over their books. After he’d qualified, he’d still let her study with him. Now she thought about it, she realised how tired he must have been—working long hours as a junior doctor and then studying with her. But he’d always made time for her.

Which was one of the reasons she loved him so much. He spent time with her. He was the first person in her life who had always, but always, had time for her.

And that was the real reason—the selfish reason—why she hadn’t done anything about his love life. If she found him the woman of his dreams, he wouldn’t want to spend time with her any more. Toby’s wife certainly wouldn’t want him spending time with his former best friend instead of with her.

What a bitch she was, putting her own needs before his. You’re going to have to give him up. For his sake, she told herself.

Just…not until Lydia came back.

An hour or so later, Saskia settled the baby in bed between two pillows, took a quick shower, cleaned her teeth and was in her pyjamas by the time Toby walked in. Wearing only pyjama bottoms, she noticed. Since when had his shoulders been that broad and his chest so well defined? With just a light dusting of hair over his pecs, enough to be sexy but not enough to be offputting.

In fact, Toby Barker looked positively edible.

Quelling her panic, she tried to turn it into a joke. ‘What’s with the stripper act?’

He grinned. ‘This is a lot more than I usually wear in bed, believe me.’

Toby slept in the nude? And he was telling her about it?

Then another thought hit her. Was he flirting with her?

No, of course not. Toby was like the big brother she’d never had. And she was like the kid sister he’d never had. Just the way it had always been between them. She pulled a face at him and climbed into bed.

He climbed in on the other side and checked Helena’s temperature. ‘I think it’s coming down a bit.’

‘Let’s put her light show on, and see if she drops off.’ Saskia switched on the little machine she’d brought in from Helena’s room and turned off the bedside lamp. The light show played a soft lullaby and projected a series of pictures onto the ceiling. Various coloured stars were followed by a teddy bear in an aeroplane, then soft clouds which turned into the steam from a train driven by another teddy bear.

‘This is great! I ought to get some of these for the littlies on my ward,’ Toby said.

‘I wouldn’t mind one of these myself,’ she admitted. ‘More fun than a lava lamp.’

‘It’d be good if you could get different pictures and different tunes—all you’d have to do would be to slot a different card in. A Christmas one with Father Christmas in a train, and stars and Christmas trees and holly. Nice soft lullaby versions of “We Wish You a Merry Christmas” or something. It’d be more fun than the piped carols they’ll insist on playing on our ward from the middle of next week,’ Toby mused.

‘You’ve missed your vocation. You could’ve been a toy designer,’ Saskia teased.

‘Secondary career.’ He grinned. ‘I’ll definitely get my own kids one. Then, when they’ve grown out of it, they can pass it on to me.’

His kids. And she couldn’t have children.

‘Saskia?’

Uh-oh. He’d noticed she’d gone silent. ‘What?’

‘That wasn’t a come-on.’

‘I didn’t think it was,’ she said stiffly.

‘Besides, you’re losing your touch.’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘You haven’t dated anyone for two months.’

Two months. Since the day she had been diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis and the bottom had fallen out of her world.

She made herself sound bored. ‘That’s because there’s nobody worth dating at the hospital.’

‘No?’ There was something odd about his voice, but she didn’t dare look at him. She didn’t want him to be able to read her face, guess what she’d been hiding from him for the last two months. It’d come out in the end, she knew that—and he’d be hurt that she hadn’t told him. But she didn’t know where to start, and the longer she left it the more afraid she was.

‘No,’ she said firmly, and concentrated her attention on the light show.

Mmm. Warm and soft and comforting. This was nice. Saskia snuggled back against the body wrapped round hers.

And then her mind jackknifed awake.

A body, wrapped round hers? Where was Helena? Was the baby all right? She struggled against the enfolding arms, desperate to get up and check the baby.

‘Go back to sleep,’ a deep voice mumbled against her shoulder.

A voice she recognised. Toby’s.

Then she remembered. They’d shared the care of Helena last night. Except she’d fallen asleep and he’d obviously been the one to stay awake and look after their god-daughter. Guilt flooded through her. ‘Where’s Helena?’

‘Asleep in her Moses basket. I checked her in the night—she was cooler and she was more likely to overheat between us, so I moved her.’

Short, to the point and exactly what she needed to know. Well, nearly what she needed to know. There was one question he hadn’t answered. Why hadn’t he gone back to his own bed?

And then she realised something else. His left hand was underneath her pyjama top, cupping her left breast. His thumb was resting against her nipple. Her erect nipple.

It sent her into a tailspin. This was her best friend. She’d never, but never, thought about having sex with him.

Well, OK, she’d thought about it. But she hadn’t actually done it. Apart from one kiss at a Christmas party, and he hadn’t even remembered it the next day. If he had…

There was no point in thinking that way. It hadn’t happened. And she wasn’t going to wreck their friendship after all these years over just a little sex.

A friendship that would be wrecked anyway when he found the woman of his dreams, a little voice said in her head. So why deny them both the pleasure?

Common sense fought a brief battle with the little voice. And lost. Particularly when she noticed that his thumb was moving. Very gently, very tentatively—but definitely moving. Teasing her.

‘Toby?’

‘Mmm?’ His voice was still sleepy. Yet he’d sounded very clear a couple of minutes before when he’d spoken about the baby. So was he putting on the sleepy bit, or was it the result of years of practice as a hospital doctor of being on call—waking up, dealing with a patient and then snatching some sleep whenever and wherever he could?

‘Are you asleep?’ she asked.

‘Yes.’

Actually, his mouth felt rather nice against her shoulder. Skin to skin. Just where the neck of her pyjama top had slipped in the night.

‘Is Helena asleep?’

‘Yes.’

Was that her imagination, or had he just nibbled her shoulder? Experimentally, she wriggled her bottom against him.

‘Saskia?’

‘Mmm-hmm?’

‘Stop fidgeting.’

‘You’re fidgeting,’ she pointed out. And wished she hadn’t, when his thumb stopped moving.

Though his hand stayed exactly where it was. So did his mouth.

Her call, then. Keep things as they were between them—the best of friends? Or make this their swansong before she gave everything up?

The tingling in her fingers decided her. The tiny little sign, together with the numbness, that had hacked the bottom out of her world. She was about to lose everything. So, what the hell? He clearly wanted this, too, or his body wouldn’t be plastered against hers, would it? She wriggled again.

‘Saskia. I’m only human.’ His voice sounded thick, tortured. ‘If you push me…’

So she pushed. Simply by twining her left hand in his and moving his thumb.

He was dreaming. Definitely dreaming. Saskia Hayward was in his arms, in his bed, and she was inciting him to make love to her.

Or maybe he’d died and gone to heaven.

Toby was past coherent thought. All he could do was touch. Feel. Slowly, he undid her pyjama top. Button by button. Lord, her skin was soft. He cupped one breast again, and a whoop of delight sang through his head. She was as aroused as he was, her breasts swollen and full.

He was almost afraid to look at her face—please, please, don’t let her be doing this out of pity, he begged silently—but when he turned her to face him, her eyes were dark and her pupils were huge with desire. For him.

And no way could he resist the fullness of her lower lip. He bent his head and kissed her. Lightly, at first, but then her mouth opened under his. Just as it had that time beneath the mistletoe.

He could have spent a year just kissing Saskia, but his body was urging him to explore further, deeper. He felt like a kid who’d just been let loose in a sweetshop, and he was planning to take his fill. And more.

The way she smelt. So sweet. Like roses after summer rain. He nuzzled her skin, inhaling her scent, loving the softness against his own skin. His mouth trailed down her neck, down to her collarbone. He dipped his tongue into the hollows, and he felt her body arch against him. So she liked that. Good. He did, too. Smiling, he traced a line between her breasts with the tip of his nose, and heard her murmur agreement.

This was without doubt the best dream he’d ever had. So real. Everything he’d always wanted: Saskia making love with him. Her hands in his hair, fisting there when he opened his mouth over her nipple and sucked.

She was so responsive. Pushing against him, demanding that he pay attention to her other breast. In a decent dream he’d have super-powers and would have been able to do everything he wanted at once. He’d be able to kiss her all over at the same time, a riot of taste and textures under his mouth.

Now she was lying beneath him, on her back. He needed to know what was going on in her head. Did she feel the same way, or was he deluding himself? Maybe it would be easier not to know. But in the end he opened his eyes and looked at her. She was smiling. Inviting. And in her eyes he could see passion. Need. Love. Everything he’d always wanted.

He kissed her again, murmured against her skin. ‘Saskia. You’re so beautiful.’ The most beautiful woman in the world.

And, since this was a dream, he could tell her he loved—

No. This wasn’t a dream. She was really there, in bed with him. Kissing him back, tilting her hips under his, her body inviting him to remove the rest of her pyjamas and sink into the ultimate closeness.

This was such a stupid idea. Once they had sex, it would be over between them. For good.

But he’d had thirteen years of waiting. He just couldn’t wait for her any more. He needed her. Right now. Slowly, he splayed one hand against her midriff. She shivered, so he let his fingers drift under the waistband of her pyjama bottoms. Peeled them off. Rocked back on his haunches and looked at her.

He sucked in a breath. She was beautiful. More beautiful than he’d dreamed even. And his hands were actually shaking as he stroked her inner thighs. He wanted to touch her, taste her. Lose himself inside her.

But he had to be sure. He wasn’t going to force her into anything. ‘Saskia. We can stop now, if you want to,’ he told her softly.

‘No, we damned well can’t.’ Her hands were shaking as she removed his pyjama bottoms, stroked his buttocks, and her voice was husky with need. ‘Touch me, Toby. Love me.’ She offered her mouth to him.

There was something in her expression he couldn’t read—was she crying? Or was it just that she needed him as much as he needed her, felt that same desperate craving that only one special person could satisfy? He bent his head to kiss her mouth, then slowly moved downwards. He took his time, rubbing his face against the softness of her skin, flicking his tongue around her nipples until she gasped and plunged her fingers back into his hair, pulling him closer.

Closer. He slid one hand between her legs and cupped her. Oh, God, he’d wanted this for so long. The heat, the soft silkiness. All he had to do was move. Nudge his thigh between hers. Let those long, long legs wrap around his waist and pull them both into paradise.

‘Oh, Saskia,’ he breathed, slipping one finger inside her. She was warm and wet and so very ready for him.

‘Yes. Yes, Toby, yes,’ she moaned, arching up against him.

He’d just shifted between her thighs, ready to enter her, when he heard a loud bang.

Half a second later, he realised what the sound was. The bedroom door slamming against the wall. Billy. Instantly, Toby dragged the covers over himself and Saskia.

‘Uncle Toby, is it time to get up?’ Billy asked chirpily.

‘Uh, nearly.’ He could barely string the words together, shocked by how close they’d been to getting caught.

‘What are you doing?’ Billy asked.

Uh-oh. This was definitely a question he didn’t want to answer. ‘Tickling each other.’ Please, please, let the little boy accept that. He definitely didn’t want to do a birds-and-bees explanation. Not now. ‘Can you be a really big boy and go and get dressed?’

‘OK,’ Billy agreed happily, and left the room.

Toby flopped back against his pillow and looked at Saskia. ‘Um. So this is what it feels like to be a parent.’

‘It probably—’

‘Shh.’ He put one finger over her lips. ‘We’ll discuss it later.’ Unable to resist, he rubbed his thumb over her lower lip. His vision almost blurred with desire. Hell, so near and yet… ‘Later,’ he croaked. If he stayed next to her for one second longer, he’d forget where he was and continue exactly where they’d left off.

Sometimes life was a bitch.

And sometimes it promised to fulfil all his dreams. He’d waited so long. What difference would a few more hours make? He leaned over to kiss her lightly. ‘Later,’ he said softly, pulled his pyjama bottoms on again and went to check on what Billy was doing.