Читать книгу The Accidental Daddy - Meredith Webber - Страница 11

THE WAITING ROOM was suddenly empty.

He still had time to leave, but when the door opened, and the tired, very pregnant but still beautiful woman walked out, he couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything but stare at her.

‘Joanne McMillan,’ she said, holding out her hand,

Suddenly aware of his own manners—bad ones that he’d stayed sitting—he surged to his feet and stepped towards her, tripping on a toy he hadn’t noticed on the floor, and all but crash-tackling the woman to the floor.

Great start!

She was far more with it than him—stepping to one side but putting out a hand to steady him as he regained his balance.

‘Sorry! Max Winthrop,’ he muttered, grasping her free hand—the other still holding his arm.

And for the second time in the morning he was dumbstruck.

Her eyes were blue—not pale and wishy-washy blue but a clear, almost violet blue.

Mesmerising.

‘You made an appointment?’

She’d dropped her hand from his arm, and it was probably just politeness that she hadn’t let go of the one he was clasping.

He had the weirdest sensation that something was passing between them, bearing a warmth he didn’t understand.

Of course, there was a good chance he’d completely lost his marbles. Shock could do that.

‘Meryl tells me you’re from the clinic. Is it just a polite visit to check if I’m okay?’

He looked into the blue eyes, drowned in the blueness, stepped back a little but somehow kept hold of her hand.

He couldn’t tell her, couldn’t destroy this woman’s happiness because that’s what still shone through the tiredness—happiness and a little excitement.

Was she really standing in her waiting room, holding the hand of a complete stranger?

Studying the complete stranger as if it was important to take in every detail of his features?

Now he was closer and she could see the fine lines fanning out from his eyes, the smile grooves bracketing his lips.

She probably should keep her eyes off the lips, and reclaim her hand …

She managed both, though how she wasn’t sure for the man seemed to have cast some kind of spell over her, so they’d stood in a time-proof bubble for who knew how long.

‘You’re from the clinic? Is this just a courtesy call?’

Somehow she’d managed the repeat the question she’d asked earlier, pretending to a normality she was far from feeling. But she’d no sooner spoken than the man turned pale, pain of some kind straining the features she’d found so mesmeric.

‘Yes! No!’

He’d stepped back a little, which was just as well because his close proximity had certainly added to the strange mix of sensations she’d been experiencing.

Although his confusion was now transmitting itself to her in definite twinges of anxiety.

‘Yes, or no, which is it?’ she asked, producing a smile to cover the anxiety.

‘Oh, hell, I’ve no idea. I should walk right out the door, right now—out the door and out of your life.’

Out of my life? ‘But you’re not actually in my life,’ Joey pointed out. ‘In my rooms, yes, but hardly in my life!’

Max Winthrop—she was almost certain that was the name he’d given—groaned, turning even paler.

‘Perhaps you should sit down,’ Joey told him, and placing her hand very carefully on his arm she guided him back to where he’d been sitting earlier.

Touching him was probably a mistake as all the sensations she’d experienced earlier returned a thousandfold.

This was insanity. The man was a stranger. Okay, so he was an attractive stranger, but in truth she’d met many better-looking men, knew a dozen of them and had dated quite a few.

With absolutely no physical reaction whatsoever …

Not since David!

She patted her stomach and tried to think.

The clinic!

And for the first time since Meryl had mentioned the clinic, the man and the attraction were forgotten, and she felt a surge of panic.

‘There’s nothing wrong, is there?’

She’d been looking down at him, but now he stood up and put his hand on her arm again.

‘Perhaps we should both sit down,’ he said, so softly, so gently, the surge turned into a roaring tsunami of fear, invading every cell of her body.

Both hands now protectively cradling her belly, she stared at the man.

‘Tell me,’ she demanded.

Had she lost colour that he almost forced her into the chair? Sat her down then settled beside her, his hand still grasping her arm.

It was comforting, that hand, but why should she need comforting?

‘Talk!’ she ordered, trying to read his face—a strong face, unused, she was sure, to uncertainty or confusion, although both emotions seemed to be in evidence right now.

He opened his mouth as if to respond then closed it again, but not before it had attracted her attention to the extent that she had to confirm it was a very nice mouth—and little lines she’d noticed earlier were evidence that he smiled a lot.

But he was not smiling now.

Was he so uncomfortable sitting beside her that he needed to move to squat, awkwardly, in front of her, the way she did when speaking to a small patient?

Or did he need to see her face while he said whatever he had to say?

Fear was creeping into the panic now and her heart was thudding in her chest.

‘Please,’ she whispered.

He took her hands, both hands—and even in her panicky state she felt a shiver of reaction. He turned them in his, before looking into her eyes.

‘Look,’ he finally said, ‘I haven’t the faintest clue how to tell you this, but the clinic said they would contact you, and as far as I could see, that would be a disaster. Maybe it’s a disaster anyway but at least now you’ll see exactly what’s happened. You deserve to know and I need to tell you.’

He wasn’t making any sense but he did seem genuinely concerned, which, together with the talk of the clinic, had the nerves in Joey’s tummy heading straight for riot mode.

‘Perhaps you could just blurt it out,’ she suggested as the tension in the air between them reached seismic proportions.

Just blurt it out, that’s rich! Max muttered to himself. Here’s this stunning woman, ready to pop any minute, and a total stranger walks in …

Aware the silence had already taken too long, he took an extra minute to study Joanne—Joey, her small patients had called her—McMillan.

And was drawn again to her eyes, wide apart so she seemed, even in her bewildered state, to be constantly surprised.

But it was the pale, creamy skin that made her lovely to look at—he hoped the baby got that …

What was he thinking? As if it mattered what kind of skin the baby had? It wasn’t as if it really was his baby!

Was it?

‘The thing is …’ he said, as thoughts of the baby reminded him of his mission. And of the mess they were in.

‘The thing is …’

He stopped, stood up before his knees gave out and slumped back into the chair beside her. Sitting beside her was bad enough as far as the attraction thing was concerned, but looking up into those eyes—no wonder he couldn’t think!

‘The thing is …’ she prompted, reasonably gently considering his eruption into her life and the tension she must be feeling.

To make matters worse, she then turned towards him and reached out to rest one hand on his.

‘The thing is, you’re having my baby. There, it’s said. Now all we have to do is work out where we go from here.’

She didn’t reply—hardly surprising!—but the slim fingers that he’d wrapped in his hand seemed to lose all warmth and he turned anxiously towards her.

‘You’re okay? You’re not going to faint or anything?’

‘Of course I’m not okay,’ she snapped. ‘What are you? Some kind of a madman who goes around scaring pregnant woman? Does it give you a kick to see someone in shock?’

She leaned forward as best she could, given her shape, but she didn’t retrieve her hand. In fact, her fingers were now clinging to his, as if to a lifeline. Fortunately the receptionist reappeared at that moment, and Max turned to her for help.

‘She’s had a shock—a hot drink, tea if she drinks it, and lots of sugar.’

‘No sugar!’

The change to the order reassured Max that Joey McMillan was recovering fast.

Which was good in one way, but it meant explanations were in order.

Not only explanations but also some kind of discussion over the future, although what that future could be was hard to envision.

Impossible really.

Although …

The thought was so unexpected he stopped breathing for a moment, and turned it this way and that in his head before giving it consideration. It remained the same—a conviction that, having had his own father walk out when he was five, he should have some involvement in his child’s upbringing.

Shouldn’t he?

It was nuts but his thoughts were racing at a million miles an hour.

His mother would be a grandmother.

The thought held him riveted. He shuddered as he considered what his mother and sisters would say if he didn’t accept the baby as his own. In fact, they’d be delighted something had happened to curtail what they saw as his irresponsibly nomadic, and often dangerous, lifestyle.

Sisters!

And that made him wonder if Joey knew the sex of the child. A boy would be fun but, then, little girls—

Was he really considering being a father to this child?

Well, shouldn’t he be?

He stifled a groan. He’d been so intent on getting to this woman and telling her the unfortunate truth in person that he hadn’t given a thought to the implications for himself.

His stomach clenched, but it was the confusion in his mind that really worried him. Confusion over the baby but, worse, confusion over his reactions to this woman …

Joey waited until Meryl brought the tea. Meryl headed back behind her desk and turned her attention to her computer. Her presence made things feel … almost normal. She straightened up, retrieved the hand she’d carelessly left lying in the man’s warm paw, took several sips of hot liquid and turned to face the stranger.

Max something, he had said?

‘If you’re not mad, then presumably you have some explanation for your bizarre statement,’ she said, hoping she sounded stronger than she felt, which, right now, was extremely shaky.

And totally confused.

And upset? Yes, she thought, unbelievably upset, so upset she didn’t dare go there. That this wasn’t David’s baby …

And still, crazy as it might be, she was drawn to this man in some inexplicable fashion.

‘I do have an explanation,’ he said. ‘But it’s long and involved and you’ve obviously just finished a full day at work and probably need a rest and food, so we don’t have to do this now.’

She stared at him in disbelief.

‘You think I could rest?’ she demanded, and hoped the words hadn’t come out too shrill. She hated sounding shrill.

‘Well, food and somewhere comfortable to sit,’ he suggested, and Joey realised he was right.

‘I was intending to go straight home, it’s not far,’ she said, immediately regretting it as she realised she was inviting a total stranger into her house.

‘You can’t go inviting total strangers into your house,’ the man scolded, right on cue.

Joey sighed. She was tired and her back ached and her feet hurt and all she wanted to do was go home and sit in a nice warm bath.

Maybe snooze in it until the water got cold … Forget about dramas like a stranger claiming to be the father to her child.

But she couldn’t forget. She pulled herself together—or as together as she was likely to get at the moment.

‘Just give Meryl all your details and show her some identification so she can tell the police about who murdered me if I don’t get in touch with her in the morning.’

The man looked surprised, then worried, then unhappy, but in the end Meryl saved the day.

‘I’ve already done an internet search on him,’ she piped up. ‘I know, it’s not my business but I’m nosey and he’s cute.’ She grinned. ‘He has nothing to do with the IVF clinic.’ She frowned at Max. ‘That’s false pretences when you made the appointment. But he’s still a doctor, but mainly he works for overseas aid organisations. He’s in the front line of infectious disease research in underdeveloped countries. The organisation he works for has his picture on their website so I know it’s him. Take a look if you like.’ She swung the monitor to face Joey. ‘Apparently he teaches as well as works hands on. There’s a profile of him on the page; he climbs mountains in between plagues. He looks like an adrenaline junkie. Maybe a bit mad but harmless.’

‘A bit mad?’ Joey echoed, staring at her receptionist in shock. ‘Did you hear any of his conversation? Do you know what he came to tell me?’

Meryl looked embarrassed.

‘Well, he did kind of explain a little of it when he came in. He asked me to stay in case you needed someone with you. I know it’s a shock, Joey, but I think he’s okay.’

Joey glared at her receptionist.

‘Well, thanks a lot. I’m going home now, so you can go too.’

She knew she shouldn’t be snapping at Meryl, but it was as if the pair had formed a conspiracy of some kind. The worst of it was, she knew, very, very deep down inside, that the bombshell he’d just dropped on her could be possible. Accidents could happen in any medical process or procedure—

But not this time! No way!

Maybe back in the beginning of IVF and sperm freezing, but not these days. Surely not.

‘Well, come on,’ she grumped at the bearer of bad tidings, ‘let’s go to my place so you can explain yourself.’

Politeness dictated he help her up but as Max stood and held out his hand, he felt as if he was poking it into the cave of a very hungry grizzly bear. This particular pregnant woman was certainly angry enough to bite.

He eased her to her feet, grasping her elbow to steady her once she was upright, feeling her softness, seeing the deep cleft between her engorged breasts, feeling a stirring that was way beyond inappropriate.

Half of him was unable to stop considering her belly, feeling quite possessive about a child he’d been determined not to have, while the other half of him yelled that this was madness—getting involved was madness. Hadn’t he already figured out that long-term relationships weren’t for him? And what was a child if it wasn’t very, very, very long-term?

He pushed his brain past the warring voices in his head, seeking a little scrap of sanity.

‘Do you drive to your place?’ he asked, worried about her wellbeing after the shock, and wishing he had a car himself so he could take her wherever she wanted to go.

Madness! The angry voice in his head declared.

She turned her head and smiled—well, almost smiled.

‘No, I walk. It’s my daily exercise, walking to and from work, climbing the stairs rather than taking the elevator.’

‘This suite’s on the fourteenth floor.’

The protest was automatic and this time she did smile, stirring things inside him once again.

‘Not here, but at home. You’ll see.’

And he did. Following her up flight after flight of stairs in an old building near the top of the city terrace that provided consulting suites for most of the city’s specialists.

‘I didn’t know these old buildings still had flats in them,’ he said when she stopped at the top of the final flight and pulled out an old-fashioned-looking brass key to unlock a heavy wooden door.

‘Not many of them do,’ she replied, and he realised, as no hint of breathlessness sounded in the words, that she must be supremely fit for someone almost at term.

Inside he looked around with wonder at the high ceilings, the spacious living/dining room, the wide hall with doors that must open into bedrooms off to one side.

And the view!

Drawn to the wide windows, he gazed down at the city spread out beneath, the muddy green-brown river meandering through it, and out to the suburbs, tree-lined streets and red roofs.

‘It’s amazing,’ he said, and this time the smile lit up her face.

‘It’s my family home,’ she admitted rather shyly. ‘Everyone tells me I’m mad to consider living here with a baby, what with the stairs and all, but my mother managed and my father’s mother before her so I don’t see why I can’t. Especially these days when I can do all my grocery shopping online and there’s an ancient dumb waiter the delivery man can use with his loads of foodstuffs.’

She’d walked into the living room and sunk down onto a comfortable-looking lounge, kicking off her sandals and lifting her legs to rest them along the seat.

‘Sit,’ she said, but the word was more a plea than a command. She sounded exhausted and he cursed himself for hitting her with this shock after she’d had a long day at work.

But better him than the clinic, surely?

He stayed standing, studying her, not knowing where to go next in this impossible conversation—not wanting to hurt this woman any more than he already had but knowing the conversation had to continue.

‘Can I get you something? Go out and get us a meal? Or get you a meal? You’re probably far too tired to be worrying about this other business right now.’

She looked better smiling than frowning, he decided as she said, ‘I thought we’d established that there’s no way I can rest or relax until we’ve sorted out what you so glibly call this “other business”! You’re talking about wrecking my entire life here, do you realise that?’

It was Max’s turn to sink down into a chair, where he sighed, then held his head in his hands for a few minutes, then sighed again before looking up at her.

‘I know, and I did consider not telling you at all. I know people have this obsession about truth, but a lot of truth just hurts.’

His face was shadowed but Joey read sorrow in it and wondered just how badly he’d been hurt by some truth in the past. And for some reason beyond her understanding, it hurt her that he’d been hurt.

She really was a mess!

‘I suppose, both morally and ethically, you need to know,’ he acknowledged. ‘But I thought I should come in person—explain in person.’

She couldn’t help the frown that must be causing permanent creases in her forehead.

‘I don’t understand any of this, but I’m assuming you somehow found out, or think you found out, that I was inseminated with your sperm instead of David’s. But the checks and balances at the IVF centre are so complex, it can’t happen.’

‘Exactly what I thought,’ Max told her gloomily, ‘and in case inside that calm exterior you’re raging about yelling and threatening to sue, I’ve already done enough of that for both of us. Problem is I can’t help feeling doctors get a bad enough press without patients suing them so I wouldn’t really like to go that far.’

He’d kind of run out of words, so he looked hopefully at Joey.

Nothing!

He ploughed on.

‘Can you tell me why you used frozen sperm? I know the name on the files when they were finally tracked down was McMillan. That was or is your husband?’

For a moment he didn’t think she’d answer. Her eyes were unfocussed and he guessed she was looking inwards—to a not very happy place if he read her expression correctly.

‘David had a headache. A bad headache.’ She spoke slowly, quietly, offering the words one by one as if each one still caused pain. ‘He was diagnosed with an aggressive, inoperable brain tumour and given six weeks to live. We’d been married a month. I didn’t want him to do the frozen sperm thing. If I couldn’t have him, I certainly didn’t want his baby. I was angry—at him for being sick, and at myself for handling it so badly. Angry at the whole world.’

She paused, looking around the room, probably remembering her beloved husband in it with her—probably regretting her anger …

‘Anyway he did it, saying that, in time, he fully expected me to find someone else to love and marry. That was what he really wanted for me, he said, but if that didn’t happen, then he’d like me to have the option of having his baby. I could have someone of his—some part of him—to give me the love I deserved. That was how he put it. And it’s been there, in the back of my mind, ever since. Then last year I thought I can’t keep the sperm forever. If I don’t do it now …’ She shrugged. ‘Anyway, I just did. I wanted to and I did. But now … what have I done? A baby that’s not David’s …’

She rested her head back on the arm of the couch and closed her eyes, as if telling this tragic story had stolen her last reserves of energy, leaving her too exhausted to wipe away the tears that leaked, slow and full, from beneath her eyelids.