Читать книгу Once Upon a Christmas - Sarah Morgan - Страница 9

‘MUMMY you look pretty.’

‘Do you think so?’ Bryony surveyed her reflection in the mirror, wondering whether the dress was right for the evening that David had in mind. He’d said dinner in a smart restaurant, but she never went to smart restaurants so she wasn’t that sure what to wear.

In the end she’d settled for the little black dress that her mother had given her three Christmases ago and which she’d never worn.

She’d fastened her hair on top of her head, found a pair of pretty, dangly earrings and dabbed perfume over her body.

And she had to admit that she was looking forward to going out with a man.

So much so that when the doorbell rang she opened the door with a wide smile.

‘Hi, Jack.’ Her face glowed and she stood to one side to let him in. ‘There’s a casserole in the oven. I assumed you wouldn’t have eaten—’

‘I haven’t eaten.’ His eyes slid down her body and he frowned, his expression suddenly hostile.

Bryony felt the confidence ooze out of her. She’d thought that she looked good but, judging from the look on Jack’s face, she obviously didn’t.

‘Come through to the kitchen,’ she said quickly, suddenly wishing that she’d worn something different. Obviously the black dress didn’t suit her. ‘We’ve got time for a quick drink before David gets here. He was held up in clinic.’

Jack’s mouth tightened with disapproval. ‘So he’s going to be late, then.’

‘Well, only because a child with asthma was admitted at the last minute,’ Bryony said mildly, tugging open the fridge and reaching for a bottle of wine. ‘You know how it is.’

‘Do I?’

Instead of settling himself at her kitchen table as he usually did, he prowled round the room, his eyes constantly flickering back to her dress.

Trying to ignore his intense scrutiny, Bryony poured two glasses of wine and handed him one. ‘Here you are. Cheers.’

He took the wine and put it on the table, his eyes fixed on her legs.

Bryony felt her whole body warm with embarrassment. She hardly ever showed her legs. She usually wore trousers for work because they were more practical, and when she went to the pub with the rest of the mountain rescue team she wore trousers, too.

But tonight, for the first time in ages, she’d put on a pair of sheer, black stockings and she was beginning to wish she hadn’t.

‘You hate it, don’t you?’ she croaked, and his eyes lifted and welded to hers.

‘Hate what?’

She swallowed. ‘The way I look. My dress. Me. You’re staring and staring.’

Jack let out a breath. ‘That’s because I don’t think you should be going out with a man dressed like that,’ he said tightly. ‘It sends out all the wrong messages.’

She frowned at him, totally confused. ‘What messages?’

He tensed. ‘Well—that you’re available.’

‘Jack,’ she said patiently, ‘I am available. That is the message I want to send out.’

‘So you wear a skirt that’s up to your bottom?’ He glared at her and she stared back helplessly, totally confused by his attitude.

She’d met some of the girls that he’d dated and they were almost all blondes with skirts up round their bottoms.

‘Jack, my skirt is just above the knee,’ she pointed out, glancing down at herself to check that half her dress hadn’t fallen off without her knowledge. ‘It is nowhere near my bottom.’

‘Well, it’s definitely too low in the front,’ he said hoarsely, reaching across the kitchen table, yanking a flower out of a vase and snapping it halfway up the stem. ‘Try this.’

He walked up to her and slipped the flower down the neckline of her dress and stood back with a frown.

‘That’s a bit better.’

‘Jack—’

Before she could say anything, Lizzie came running into the room wearing a pink gauze fairy dress and wearing wings. ‘Jack, Jack!’ She flung herself into his arms and he picked her up and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

‘Hello, beautiful. Shouldn’t you be in bed?’

‘I was waiting for you.’ Lizzie curled her legs round his waist and waggled her finger at him. ‘Look. I’m wearing three rings. They’re sweets really, but aren’t they great?’

Jack dutifully studied her finger. ‘Really great. And if you get hungry in the night you can eat them.’

Lizzie beamed. ‘Can we play a game, Jack?’

‘Sure.’ Jack put her down gently and smiled indulgently. ‘Any game you like. Just name it.’

‘Weddings.’

Jack’s smile vanished. ‘Weddings?’

Lizzie nodded happily. ‘Yes, you know. You’re the boy and I’m the girl and we get married.’

Jack gave a shudder. ‘I don’t know the rules, sweetheart.’

Bryony covered her hand with her mouth to hide her smile. Jack was brilliant at playing with her daughter but ‘Weddings’ was the one game guaranteed to bring him out in a rash.

‘It’s easy,’ Lizzie assured him happily. ‘We hold hands and then we get married.’

Jack ran a hand over the back of his neck and looked at Bryony for help, but she simply smiled.

‘Weddings, Jack,’ she said softly, her eyes dancing as she looked at him. ‘That well-known game enjoyed by men and women the world over.’

His eyes shot daggers at her but he turned to Lizzie with a resigned sigh. ‘All right, peanut, tell me what I have to do.’

‘Well, first I have to go and dress up.’ Lizzie shot out of the room and Jack turned on Bryony.

‘She’s playing weddings?’

‘She’s a girl, Jack,’ Bryony said mildly. ‘Girls play weddings.’

‘I’m breaking out in a sweat here,’ he muttered dryly, and she grinned unsympathetically.

‘She’s seven years old. I think you can cope. Great practice for when you do the real thing.’

His gaze locked on hers, his blue eyes mocking. ‘You know I’m never doing the real thing.’

‘Well, don’t tell my daughter that. I don’t want her saddled with your prejudices about relationships.’

‘I should be teaching her about reality.’

Before Bryony could answer, Lizzie danced back into the room, this time wearing a full-length sparkly dress complete with glittering tiara.

Jack blinked. ‘Wow …’ He cleared his throat. ‘I didn’t know you had a tiara.’

‘I’ve got seven,’ Lizzie said proudly, and Bryony smiled cheerfully.

‘A girl can never have too many tiaras, can she, Lizzie?’

‘Come on, Jack.’ Lizzie grabbed his hand. ‘First we have to hold hands and walk across the carpet. Mummy can video us.’

Jack glanced at Bryony who could barely stand up she was laughing so much. ‘Great idea, Lizzie,’ she choked. ‘It would make great viewing at the MRT Christmas party. Jack finally getting married.’

Jack scowled, but his eyes were dancing. ‘Revenge is going to be sweet, Blondie,’ he warned softly, but he was laughing too and shaking his head as Lizzie dragged him into the sitting room and Bryony reached for the video camera.

To give him his due, Jack treated the whole occasion with the appropriate amount of solemnity, sweeping Lizzie’s hand to his lips as if she were a princess.

At first Bryony was laughing so much that she could hardly keep the camera steady, but as she watched Jack playing his role to perfection and saw the delight on her little girl’s face, her smile faded and she felt an ache growing inside her. Jack was so brilliant with Lizzie. And although he couldn’t see it himself, he’d make a wonderful father.

She was reminding herself firmly that she wasn’t going to think that way any more when the doorbell rang and she realised that her date had arrived.

She answered the door and David stood on the doorstep, flourishing a bunch of flowers.

‘Are they for me? They’re beautiful, thank you.’ She smiled at him and was wondering whether she ought to kiss him when she heard Jack clear his throat behind her.

‘You’ll need a coat, Blondie,’ he said coolly, the humour gone from his eyes as he held out the long woollen coat that she always wore to work and which covered her from her neck to her ankles.

‘I was going to take my pashmina,’ Bryony began, but Jack walked up behind her and draped the coat over her shoulders, pulling it closed at the front so that not one single inch of her was visible.

‘It’s too cold for a pashmina,’ he grated. ‘You don’t want to get hypothermia over dinner.’ He stood back and gave David a nod. ‘She needs to be home at eleven.’

‘What?’ Bryony gaped at him and then gave an embarrassed laugh. They hadn’t even discussed what time he wanted her home but she’d assumed that she could be as late as she liked. She knew Jack well enough to know that he didn’t go to bed early himself. And invariably he slept in her spare room. So why was he saying that she needed to be in by eleven?

David gave an awkward smile. ‘Eleven is fine.’

Bryony scowled, less than impressed that he hadn’t stood up to Jack. Surely he should have said that he’d bring her home when he was ready, or some such thing. She knew for sure that if someone had told Jack that he should bring a girl home by eleven he would have kept her out for the whole night just to prove a point.

But she’d promised herself that she wasn’t going to think about Jack, she reminded herself hastily, taking the flowers through to the kitchen and putting them in water.

When she arrived back at the door the two men were staring at each other. David looked mildly embarrassed and Jack was standing, feet planted firmly apart, very much the dominant male and not in the slightest bit embarrassed.

Deciding that Jack had definitely gone mad, Bryony held out a hand to David and smiled. ‘Shall we go?’

‘Jack.’ Lizzie tugged his arm and frowned at him. ‘You’re skipping bits.’

Jack shook himself and stared down at the book he was supposed to be reading. ‘Am I?’

‘Yes.’ Lizzie grabbed the book from him and went back two pages. ‘You didn’t read this page at all. And you’ve got a funny look on your face.’

‘Have I?’

Jack tried to concentrate on the pink fairy flying across the page of the book but all he could see was Bryony in that dress. He hadn’t seen her legs since she’d been in the netball team at school and he and her brothers had gone to matches to cheer her on, but he now realised that his best friend had sensational legs.

And if she was going to start showing them, how the hell was he going to protect her?

And it wasn’t just her legs, of course …

He closed his eyes, trying to forget the shadowy dip between her full breasts revealed by the cut of her dress.

Right now they were in the restaurant and David was probably sitting opposite her, staring into paradise.

With a soft curse he stood up and the book fell to the floor.

‘You said a rude word, Jack,’ Lizzie said mildly, leaning over and retrieving the book.

‘Sorry.’ Suddenly seized by inspiration, he gave Lizzie a smile. ‘How would you like to call your mother and say goodnight?’

‘Now?’

‘Sure, why not?’ Before Dr Armstrong had time to get too hot and over-eager. Suddenly driven by an urgency that he couldn’t explain, Jack grabbed Lizzie’s hand and dragged her into the kitchen. ‘We’ll ring her mobile.’

Lizzie looked at him uncertainly. ‘Grandma says we only ring if there’s an emergency.’

Jack was already pressing the keys. ‘Trust me, this is an emergency,’ he assured her, his mind still mentally on Bryony’s creamy breasts. His mouth tightened. ‘A big emergency. Her baby girl wants to say goodnight.’

Trying to ignore the fact that Lizzie was looking at him as though he was slightly mad, Jack held the receiver and waited for Bryony to answer.

As the phone rang and rang, his heart started to thud in his chest.

Why the hell wasn’t she answering?

Unless she wasn’t at dinner after all. What if the rat had taken one look at that dress and whisked Bryony back to his flat?

‘Uncle Jack, you’re breathing really fast,’ Lizzie said, climbing onto a kitchen stool, her fairy wings still attached to her back. ‘And you look weird.’

He felt weird.

Why wasn’t she answering?

David sat back in his chair. ‘Is that your phone?’

Bryony looked at him, startled, and then picked up her bag. ‘Oh, my goodness, yes.’ She fumbled in her handbag, her stomach turning over. ‘I hope nothing is wrong with Lizzie. I don’t usually get phoned …’

She delved amongst tissues, make-up, notebooks and various pink hairbands that belonged to her daughter and eventually found the phone.

Feeling distinctly nervous, she answered it. ‘Jack?’ She cast an apologetic look at David. ‘Is something wrong?’

She listened for a moment and then frowned. ‘I’m in the restaurant, Jack. Where did you think I was? Well, I couldn’t find my phone.’

At that moment the waiter delivered their starter and Bryony smiled her thanks, trying to ignore his look of disapproval. She knew that mobile phones were banned from lots of restaurants but she refused to turn hers off in case Lizzie needed her.

But it seemed that all Lizzie wanted was to say goodnight. Strange, Bryony thought as she spoke to her daughter and then ended the call. Lizzie was normally fine. Especially when she was with Jack. She loved being with Jack.

‘Everything OK?’ David looked at her quizzically and she smiled.

‘Fine. Sorry about that.’

She picked up her fork and tucked into her starter, determined to relax. Part of her mind was still dwelling on the fact that Jack had hated her dress, but she ignored it. David seemed to think she looked nice and that was all that mattered.

They chattered about work and the mountain rescue team and they were just tucking into their main course when her phone rang again.

This time Bryony heard it immediately and stopped the ringing before the waiter had time to glare at her.

It was Jack again, this time telling her that Lizzie was refusing to take her fairy wings off.

Bryony frowned. This was a guy who could save a life halfway up a mountain in a howling gale with nothing more than a penknife and a piece of string.

And he was calling her about fairy wings?

‘Just take them off when she’s asleep, Jack,’ she muttered, smiling apologetically at David as she slipped the phone back into her bag.

She tried valiantly to resume the conversation but when Jack called for the third time, David raised his hand and gestured to the waiter.

‘I think I’ll take you home,’ he said dryly. ‘Then you can answer Jack’s questions in person and he won’t have to keep calling you.’

‘Sorry.’ Bryony blushed slightly. As a first date it had been less than perfect. ‘I honestly don’t know what’s the matter with him. He and Lizzie are normally fine together.’

David drove her home and then walked her up the path to her cottage. At the front door he paused, his expression thoughtful as he looked down at her.

Bryony stared back, feeling slightly awkward. Was he going to kiss her?

Suddenly she felt a flash of panic. She wasn’t actually sure that she wanted him to kiss her.

His head was bending towards hers when the front door was jerked open and Jack stood there, broad-shouldered and imposing.

‘You’re home. Great.’

Bryony looked at David. ‘Would you like to come in for coffee?’

‘He needs to get going,’ Jack said coldly, his face unsmiling. ‘The roads are icy tonight and they’re forecasting snow.’

David was silent for a moment, his eyes on Jack. ‘Right. In that case I’d better make a move.’

‘OK, then.’ Secretly relieved by the decision, Bryony stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. ‘Thanks for tonight. I enjoyed it.’

‘Me, too.’ David was still looking at Jack and then he gave a funny smile and turned to Bryony. ‘I’ll see you at work.’

With that he turned the collar of his coat up and strolled back down her path towards his car.

Bryony followed Jack into the cottage and slipped her coat off.

‘I’m sorry Lizzie was such hard work tonight, Jack.’ She strolled into the kitchen and flipped the kettle on. ‘She never normally wants to call me. And she doesn’t normally care if she’s lost the book she was reading—she’ll just pick another one. It doesn’t sound as though you managed to relax at all.’

‘I managed.’ Jack sank onto one of the kitchen chairs and put his feet on the table in his usual pose. ‘I expect she was just a bit unsettled by the thought of you going out with a strange man.’

Bryony frowned slightly. It was Lizzie who had suggested this whole daddy business, so why would she be unsettled? On the other hand, perhaps she hadn’t really thought the whole thing through. It was certainly true that Lizzie wasn’t used to seeing strange men in her life. She saw Jack and her two uncles and that was about it.

‘She’ll get used to it.’

‘Maybe.’ Jack sounded noncommittal. ‘So—did you have a good evening?’

There was something in his tone that she couldn’t interpret and Bryony lifted two mugs out of the cupboard, not sure how to answer. Had she had a good evening? If she was honest, she didn’t really feel she’d had a chance to talk to David. Every time they’d begun a conversation the phone had rung.

Poor Lizzie.

She’d talk to her tomorrow and see how she felt about the whole thing. She certainly didn’t want to go on dates if it was going to upset her daughter.

‘I had a nice evening,’ she said finally, not wanting to admit to Jack that it had been anything less than perfect. ‘It’s a shame David wouldn’t come in for coffee.’

‘It’s not a shame. It was a lucky escape.’ Jack swung his legs off the table and glared at her. ‘Never invite a man in for coffee.’

Bryony looked at him in astonishment. ‘I was being polite.’

He lifted an eyebrow. ‘Offering to have sex with a man is being polite?’

Bryony gaped at him, stunned. ‘I did not offer to have sex with him, I offered him coffee.’

‘It’s the same thing.’ A muscle flickered in his jaw, rough with stubble so late in the evening. He looked dark and dangerous and Bryony felt her stomach flip.

Why couldn’t she find David even half as attractive? She’d been less than enthusiastic at the possibility of him kissing her, but if it had been Jack who’d been on the doorstep with her …

Reminding herself that she wasn’t supposed to be noticing Jack, Bryony picked up the coffee-jar.

‘Coffee is the same as sex?’ She twisted the jar in her hand, looking at it with a mocking expression. ‘Full of caffeine and sold in supermarkets. I don’t think so.’

Jack glared at her. ‘You can joke about it, but do you really think a man wants to sit around, drinking your coffee?’

‘You’re sitting around, drinking my coffee,’ Bryony pointed out logically, and his mouth hardened.

‘That’s different. I’m not trying to get you into my bed.’

More’s the pity, Bryony thought wistfully, putting the coffee down on the side. If Jack ever tried to get her into his bed she’d be there like a flash.

‘Jack, I’m sure David didn’t have anything immoral on his mind.’

‘Which just shows how little you know about men,’ Jack said tightly. ‘Do you know the average man thinks about sex every six seconds?’

‘So presumably that’s why they say men are like photocopiers,’ Bryony said dryly. ‘Good for reproduction but not much else.’

For once Jack didn’t laugh and she sighed inwardly. There was obviously something about the idea of her dating that short-circuited his sense of humour.

Suddenly she wanted the old Jack back. The Jack that called her Blondie and teased her unmercifully. The Jack with the wicked smile and the sexiest wink known to woman.

‘Jack.’ Her tone was patient. ‘I invited David in for coffee because I was being polite. I had no intention of having sex with him.’

‘And what if he’d decided to have sex with you?’

She looked at him in exasperation. ‘Well, despite the colour of my hair I do have a brain and a mouth,’ she said tartly. ‘I can think no and say no. At the same time. Amazing really. If I concentrate really hard I can add two and two. Jack, what is the matter with you?’

‘I just think you’re being naïve.’

‘Inviting a guy in for coffee?’ Bryony gritted her teeth and shook her head. ‘You’ve gone crazy, do you know that?’

There was a long silence and streaks of colour touched his hard cheekbones. ‘Maybe I have,’ he said shortly, putting his half-full mug on the table and rising to his feet in a fluid movement. ‘I’d better get home.’

‘Fine. Thank you for babysitting.’

‘You’re welcome.’

As a farewell it had none of its usual warmth and Bryony turned away and poured the rest of her coffee down the sink, boiling with frustration and feeling confused and upset.

She heard Jack stride to her front door, heard him pick up his jacket and car keys and then the front door slammed behind him.

Bryony winced and let out a long breath.

Just what was going on with Jack?

Bryony was nervous about working with Jack the next day but he seemed back to his usual self, relaxed and good-humoured as they sat in the staffroom and discussed the shifts for Bonfire Night.

‘It’s my turn.’ Sean Nicholson, one of the other consultants, looked at Jack with a resigned expression on his face. ‘You deserve a year off from Bonfire Night. You’ve had a bad few years.’

Jack rolled his eyes. ‘I won’t know what to do with myself,’ he drawled, and Bryony gave him a sympathetic smile.

‘You hate this time of year, don’t you?’

‘I’ve just seen too many kids with burns after handling fireworks,’ he said grimly, scribbling something on his pad. ‘OK, so Blondie and I are officially off that night, but if you need us you can call us.’ He looked at Bryony. ‘Would you be able to come in that night if we needed you?’

Bryony nodded. ‘After eight. I’m taking Lizzie to her bonfire party.’

Jack stared at her, his body suddenly unnaturally still. ‘What bonfire party?’

‘Her friend is having a few sparklers in the garden. Nothing dramatic,’ Bryony assured him, but he shook his head.

‘No way.’ His jaw was tense. ‘She shouldn’t be going.’

Bryony sighed. ‘She’s seven, Jack. She wants to be with her friends.’

‘So? Invite them all out for a hamburger.’

‘It’s just a few fireworks and drinks for the parents. It will be over by eight.’

He let out a breath. ‘All right. But I’m coming with you.’

‘Jack—’

‘I’m off and I’m bored.’ His blue eyes glittered dangerously. ‘It’s that or she doesn’t go.’

‘You’re not her father, Jack!’ Suddenly remembering that Sean was still in the room, Bryony coloured with embarrassment and shot them an apologetic look. ‘Sorry, you guys.’

‘No problem,’ Sean said easily, ‘and I’m sure we won’t need you here so just go and have a good time.’

‘Great. That’s what we’ll do, then.’

Jack ran through the rest of the rota and Sean left the room.

Bryony looked at him. ‘So what are you planning to do? Bring the fire brigade?’

‘When you’ve spent as long working in A and E as I have, you won’t let your daughter go to domestic firework parties,’ he said tightly. ‘It’s fine. I’ll come, too. And you can tell Lizzie’s friend’s mother that I want a bucket of sand and another bucket of water handy.’

‘Why don’t we just have an ambulance on standby, just in case?’ Bryony suggested tartly. ‘Anne’s mother will think I’ve gone barmy.’

‘Better barmy than burned.’ Jack strode to the door. ‘What time does it start?’

‘We’re getting there at five-thirty for tea and then fireworks,’ Bryony said wearily, and Jack nodded.

‘Right. I’ll pick you both up at five-fifteen. And I want Lizzie in gloves. She’s not touching a sparkler with her bare hands.’

Bryony stood up and followed him out of the staffroom, wanting to argue but knowing that he was only being cautious.

He had dealt with a huge number of burns on Bonfire Night, all of which could have been avoided.

And he did adore Lizzie.

Deciding that she should be grateful that he was so protective of her daughter, she picked up a set of notes and called the next patient from the waiting room.

And secretly part of her was excited at spending an evening with Jack. Even if it was in the company of half a dozen parents and their offspring.

It would be lovely to have him there, even though nothing was going to happen.

Reminding herself that Jack was not the man she was dating, she sat down in her chair and waited for the patient to arrive.