Книга - The Consultant’s Christmas Proposal

The Consultant's Christmas Proposal
Kate Hardy


Consultant Toby Barker has a secret…He has been in love with his best friend Dr. Saskia Haywood for years.Dr. Saskia Haywood also has a secret…She's struggling to come to terms with an illness that could ruin not only her ability to work in the maternity ward, but also her chances of having children.Now both secrets are out…Saskia knows of Toby's desire for a family – something she'll never be able to give him – but what she doesn't realize is that Toby will do anything for her. Starting with a Christmas proposal she'll never forget!







‘My hero. The perfect gentleman.’ There was a ghost of sadness in her smile.

And it was that sadness that wiped out his common sense. He wanted to make her smile properly again. ‘There’s one thing you could do,’ he said.

‘What?’

‘Marry me.’

‘Marry you?’ she whispered eventually. ‘But you want a family. What would you get out of marrying me?’

Did she really not know? Though he couldn’t find the right words to explain. All he could do was cup her face between his hands, tip her chin, then bend down to touch his lips to hers. A light, gentle kiss. The kiss of a friend.

Except it wasn’t enough for him. He ran his tongue along her lower lip. When her mouth parted, he took more. And more.

And then he broke the kiss.

‘Just think about it,’ he said softly, and walked away.


KATE HARDY lives on the outskirts of Norwich with her husband, two small children, two lazy spaniels—and too many books to count! She wrote her first book at age six when her parents gave her a typewriter for her birthday. She had the first of a series of sexy romances published at age 25, and swapped a job in marketing communications for freelance health journalism when her son was born so she could spend more time with him. She’s wanted to write for Mills & Boon® since she was twelve—and when she was pregnant with her daughter, her husband pointed out that writing Medical Romances™ would be the perfect way to combine her interest in health issues with her love of good stories. It really is the best of both worlds—especially as she gets to meet a new gorgeous hero every time…

Kate is always delighted to hear from readers—do drop in to her website at www.katehardy.com (http://www.katehardy.com)


The Consultant’s Christmas Proposal

Kate Hardy






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


For my big sister, Jackie, with love.




CONTENTS


Cover (#uc0ca7423-4b4e-516e-b63d-1bd824af3500)

About the Author (#u2d6c4f74-9d83-5371-ad12-e1c4acff00c0)

Title Page (#u770c49a8-d47d-50ef-92f6-a8e506d1a0e9)

Dedication (#u1f2a3e58-a381-58a9-81d9-16cdeb35b9e2)

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

EPILOGUE

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)




CHAPTER ONE (#ub389257c-dae2-51cb-b84c-ebf688eab92f)


SASKIA groaned. ‘Oh, no. Why does my mobile phone have to ring the very second that my fajitas are about to turn up?’

‘You’re not on call, are you?’ Toby asked, pausing before he poured her a glass of wine.

‘Of course not. I wouldn’t have let you order the wine if I was.’ She scowled and fished her phone out of her handbag, then frowned as she looked at the display. ‘Lydia?’ She hadn’t expected her best friend to call tonight. Anticipation prickled down the back of her neck. Paul was in Canada on business. Was there something wrong with the children? She answered swiftly. ‘Hi, Lyd. Everything OK?’ She tried to ignore the sizzling dish placed before her by the waitress.

‘Saskia, thank God you answered. It’s Paul.’

Saskia’s smile vanished as she heard the panic in Lydia’s voice. ‘What’s happened?’

‘The hospital called from Vancouver. He’s got appendicitis. Saskia, supposing it bursts before they remove it?’

‘Of course it won’t. They’ll keep him under obs before the operation.’

‘He could end up with peritonitis. Or an abscess.’

‘True, but unlikely.’

‘The incision wound might get infected.’

Saskia’s eyes crinkled at the corners. ‘Lydia, will you stop panicking? That’s the worst thing about being a qualified doctor. You know all about the worst-case scenarios.’ Lydia was a GP, currently on maternity leave.

‘Why did it have to happen while he was away on business? I can’t get there. He’s ill and he needs me, and I’m thousands of miles away.’

‘Lyd, stop panicking. If they’ve already called you, that means he’s probably in the operating theatre right now—so you wouldn’t be able to be with him right now anyway. It also means they’ve got to him in time, the appendix is probably in a kidney dish somewhere, and they’re probably sewing him up even as we speak.’

Lydia dragged in a breath. ‘Yeah. Sorry. I’m…’ Her voice tailed off.

‘Worried sick. Of course you are, Lyd. Anyone would be. But they’ll ring you as soon as he’s in Recovery and he’s come round from the anaesthetic,’ Saskia soothed. ‘Look, do you want Toby and me to come over and sit with you while you’re waiting to hear?’

‘I’m just being wet,’ Lydia said, sounding embarrassed.

‘No. You’re missing Paul, you never sleep well when he’s away—and I bet the second you dropped off, last night, Madam woke you up because she’s teething. So you’re sleep-deprived and husband-deprived, not to mention probably hormonal.’ Helena, Lydia’s youngest child, was only five months old. ‘And we’re your best mates, so we’ll forgive you.’ She put her hand over the phone and looked at Toby. ‘Did you follow all that?’ she asked.

He nodded. ‘I’ll get the fajitas “to go”. We’ll warm them up again when we get to Lyd’s.’

She nodded. ‘I’ll fill you in on the rest of it in the car.’ She took her hand off the phone again. ‘Lyd? We’re on our way.’

Five minutes later, they were on their way from Sheffield to the little Derbyshire village where Lydia lived. Toby stole a glance at the woman sitting in the passenger seat, who was making a list on her electronic organiser. Typical Saskia. Practical, organised everything and everyone, moved at the speed of light…He hadn’t been able to resist buying her a T-shirt for her birthday with ‘Superwoman’ emblazoned across it. In Latin. She’d loved it.

The problem was, he couldn’t get a certain picture out of his mind. Dr Saskia Hayward, wearing nothing but that T-shirt. And peeling it off…for him.

He fought to control himself. That was the other problem. Saskia made his knees weak: curvy, dark-haired, with grey eyes that could skewer you or soothe you, depending on her mood, and a mouth that would give any red-blooded man palpitations. But she didn’t feel the same way about him. As far as she was concerned, Toby Barker was the medical student she’d met thirteen years ago—a shy, nerdy, bespectacled boy who’d become one of her two best friends. And ‘best friend’ meant no touching. Well, not touching in the way he wanted to touch her. A casual arm around her shoulder, a hug or a kiss on the cheek was fine. Saskia was the tactile sort, so it was a kind of sweet torture. Enough to make him want more, yet not enough to satisfy.

As troubles always came in threes, that was the third thing. Saskia went through men at speed, too. They almost never lasted longer than two dates. And two dates wouldn’t be enough for Toby. Particularly as they’d mean he would be out of her life for good afterwards. At least being her best friend meant that he got to spend time with her.

All the same, he kept wondering what it would be like to kiss her. Well, actually, he knew what it was like to kiss her. He’d done it at a Christmas party two years ago, under the mistletoe. It had blown his mind. But then he’d seen the shock and horror in her face, so he’d started slurring his words and pretending he was drunk.

On sparkling mineral water.

But she’d accepted it, particularly as the next day he’d claimed he had a mammoth hangover and asked her to promise him that he hadn’t done anything really embarrassing or stupid at the party the previous night. To his relief, she hadn’t mentioned the kiss. So he’d got away with it. Just.

Though the kiss still haunted him. The softness of her skin. The way she tasted. And, oh, the way her mouth had opened under his. It wasn’t long until Christmas. The party season would start in a couple of weeks. All he had to do was make sure they went to one together, then manoeuvre her over to some mistletoe and—

‘Tobe, are you listening?’

‘No,’ he admitted. Not that he was going to tell her what he’d been thinking about. That was definitely something he needed to keep under wraps.

‘I said, Lyd’s fretting because she wants to see Paul. Until she can see for herself that he’s fine, she’ll be impossible. But no way can she take the kids with her. Apart from the fact that it’s a long-haul flight, you can’t expect a baby and a three-year-old to hang around a hospital all day and give Daddy lots of peace and quiet while he recovers from abdominal surgery.’

‘They probably haven’t arranged a passport for Helena yet, anyway,’ Toby said.

‘You’re right. I hadn’t thought of that. She’s going to be caught right in the middle—wanting to be with Paul, but not wanting to leave the kids.’ Saskia sighed. ‘If she does go, she’ll need someone to hold the fort. Her parents are in New Zealand, visiting her sister—and Paul’s parents won’t be able to do it.’ Paul’s mother was in the early stages of Alzheimer’s and they both knew it wasn’t fair to expect Paul’s father to look after his grandchildren and his wife. She drummed her fingers on her knees. ‘Which leaves me.’

‘Saskia, can I just remind you that you have a full-time job? You’re a senior registrar—you’ve been acting consultant since Jim’s been on sick leave, getting his hernia sorted. No way are you going to get a couple of weeks’ leave at this kind of short notice.’

‘I don’t need to. I’ll cope,’ she said airily.

That was stating the obvious. Saskia never saw problems, only solutions. She was a born coper. Give her ten seconds, and she’d have the whole thing planned out.

Toby began counting in his head. He got to three before she announced, ‘It’s easy. I’ll move into the cottage while Lyd’s away. I can drop the kids off at nursery before work, and pick them up at the end of the day.’

‘And when you’re on a late shift? Nurseries are open until six p.m. at the latest,’ he pointed out. ‘Actually, they don’t open until eight, so it doesn’t fit with early shift either. And even if you did manage by some miracle to get the kids into the hospital crèche until Lyd’s home again, it’s not fair to add another layer of disruption to their lives.’

‘I suppose so,’ she admitted, clearly unwillingly.

‘Look, Saskia, we all know you’re Superwoman, but you really can’t do your job, run Lyd’s house, as well as your own, and take over as a mum of two, all on your own.’ He waved her protest away. ‘It’s more than just being flung in at the deep end. If Lyd wants to go over to Paul and you take over the reins from her, you’re going to need help—preferably from someone who doesn’t work shifts, or at least someone who’s on an early when you’re on a late, so one of you can do the nursery run while the other’s at work.’

‘And your solution is?’

Typical Saskia. She expected people to follow her lead and come up with answers, not questions. Well, he was a match for her on that front. ‘I’ll help you.’

She frowned. ‘What do you know about kids?’

He tapped his index finger thoughtfully on the steering-wheel. ‘Hmm, let me see. I’m a paediatrician.’ Not to mention that he’d been a qualified doctor for three years longer than Saskia had. ‘Does that count?’

She snorted. ‘Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit. And working in Paeds isn’t the same as living with kids, is it?’

‘Says the woman who works with foetuses and babies under a week old. I’ve got as much childcare experience as you have. I’ve babysat for Lyd.’ He was the first choice if Paul was away and Saskia and Lydia wanted a girly night out. In fact, now he thought about it, he’d babysat the children more often than Saskia had.

She sighed. ‘You’re probably right.’

‘No “probably” about it. I couldn’t cope all on my own either. This needs teamwork.’

She chuckled, obviously picking up on the fact that he was deliberately imitating her management style. ‘All right, all right. Thank you. I accept. But don’t tell anyone we’re living together, will you?’

Why? Had she met someone?

‘Or it’ll ruin my reputation,’ she added.

It was only then that Toby realised he was holding his breath. He grinned—more from relief that she wasn’t about to embark on another romantic disaster than in reaction to her teasing. ‘Ha, more like it’ll ruin mine. You’re the one who has strings of men and never gives any of them a third date!’

‘Yeah, and you’re the one who doesn’t date at all.’

‘Too busy with me job, luv,’ he fenced, in his best fake Yorkshire accent. Yet another lie. But how could he tell her the truth? There was only one woman he wanted. And he was waiting patiently until she realised that he was the one she’d been looking for all her life.

It was just taking a bit longer than he’d hoped.

‘Thanks for coming.’ Lydia’s eyes were puffy and red. ‘I know he’s in the best place but…’

‘But you want to be there with him,’ Saskia said, hugging her. ‘Of course you do.’

‘And I can’t go.’ Lydia’s face was anguished. ‘I can’t drag Helena and Billy halfway across the world in the middle of the night—or even tomorrow morning. It wouldn’t be fair on them. And I can’t leave them. Not my babies.’

‘Superwoman here said you’d say that,’ Toby said dryly. ‘And she’s got a plan.’

‘Yep. You go to Paul: we’ll look after the kids,’ Saskia said.

‘But…Saskia, I can’t expect you to do that! You’re both working full time. Even if the nursery can have the kids for the extra hours, it’s—I can’t ask you to do that.’

‘We’re offering,’ Toby said.

Lydia explained what they’d discussed in the car. ‘They’ll be perfectly safe with us.’

‘But I’ve never been away from Helena before. Not for a whole night, let alone however long I’ll be in Vancouver! And I’ve only been away from Billy for a couple of nights.’

‘On your anniversary, when Paul swept you away for a romantic weekend and I babysat,’ Saskia reminded her. ‘Lyd, you can’t be in two places at once. If you stay here, you’ll get yourself in a state about Paul. If you go to Vancouver, at least you know you don’t have to worry about the kids because they’ll be with us. Toby gets to play with a train set all evening, I get to sing nursery rhymes…’ She spread her hands. ‘So everyone’s happy. Helena’s too young to know what’s going on, and Billy’s going to get spoiled rotten. You can ring him every day so he gets to talk to you, I’ll get him to draw pictures to send to you, and Toby and I will text you several times a day.’

Lydia bit her lip. ‘Thanks. And I love you for offering. But I can’t.’ She raked a hand through her hair. ‘It’s six weeks till Christmas. I haven’t even started my shopping or thought about writing cards or—’

‘Easy. Write a list on the plane, then fax it to me when you get to Vancouver,’ Saskia said. ‘And, no, it’s not going to be a hassle. I can get most of it through the Internet.’ She grinned. ‘And I love spending other people’s money.’

‘There’s no point in arguing with her, Lyd. You know she’s got an answer for everything,’ Toby said, smiling to take the sting from his words.

‘Are you sure?’ Lydia asked.

‘Sure,’ Toby said. ‘And you’ll be back home in time to do the tree with Billy. Now, go and pack. Saskia’ll book your ticket. Where’s your passport?’

‘Uh—I dunno, somewhere in the filing cabinet.’

‘GPs. They’re so hopeless with paperwork,’ Saskia teased. To her relief, it made Lydia give her the glimmer of a smile.

‘I don’t know how to thank you both,’ Lydia said.

‘Chocolate,’ Toby said in a stage whisper. ‘Now go and pack.’

‘I’m sorry I ruined your dinner out,’ Lydia said when Saskia came up to tell her everything was booked.

‘Hey, no worries. It’s not as if it was a hot date. Only Toby.’

‘Only? Saskia, this is our best friend you’re dismissing.’

‘I’m not dismissing him.’ Saskia shook her head impatiently. ‘You know I adore Tobe. But he’s not my man.’

‘Pity. You two would be good together.’

Saskia scoffed. ‘Forget it, Lyd. I value him too much to ruin our friendship like that.’

‘Maybe it wouldn’t be ruining it,’ Lydia suggested quietly.

‘Yes, it would. Stop matchmaking. I’m not cut out for marriage, and you know it. Anyway, I’m busy with my career.’ Just as her parents had been. Saskia knew she’d been an accident, and not a happy one at that. Yes, she’d had enough freedom as a teenager to make all her friends envious—but she’d also grown up realising that her parents should never have got married, let alone had children. She’d learned from their mistakes, and marriage was definitely not for her.

As for the children part…Two months ago, she’d discovered that was going to be out of the question, too. Not that she’d bothered Lydia or Toby with that choice piece of information yet. She was still thinking about it, mulling over her options. Besides, Lyd was busy with her family, and Toby—well, she needed to sort his life out before she sorted hers. Find him a woman who’d give him the love and cherishing he deserved, because he sure as hell wasn’t going to find one for himself. Toby never dated. And considering he’d told her on her twenty-first birthday—when they’d both drunk far too much champagne—that he wanted to get married and have six kids, the big noisy family he hadn’t had as a child…

Ah. She’d sort her friends’ lives out. And then maybe her own might miraculously fall into place while she wasn’t looking.

‘Right. I’m taking notes.’ She waved her electronic organiser at Lydia. ‘Helena’s routine I pretty much know anyway.’ Saskia was a frequent enough visitor to the Osbourne household to know when the baby was fed and had naps. ‘You’ve got baby food in the freezer?’

‘Frozen in ice cubes. She’s on two cubes of savoury followed by two sweet or fromage frais. They’re all labelled, and she’s had them all before so you don’t have to worry about her having a bad reaction to new food. There are pots of fromage frais in the fridge.’ Lydia grimaced as she shut her case. ‘One thing, Billy’s decided he’s eating nothing but chicken nuggets.’

‘Ha. Aunty Saskia will have him on fajitas with extra jalapeños by the time you get back.’ Then Saskia saw her friend’s expression. ‘Joke, Lyd. Of course I wouldn’t give him jalapeños! Fajitas might be a good idea, though. If he gets to choose his own veggies, shredded chicken and a tortilla wrap, and he makes it all himself, he’s more likely to try it.’ Then she frowned. ‘What?’

‘Listen to you. Talk about child psychology. You’d make a brilliant mother.’

‘Godmother,’ Saskia corrected firmly. ‘I’m not cut out for motherhood.’ Especially now. Though she’d find a better time to tell Lydia about that. ‘Now, I’ve phoned the nursery manager and explained it’s a crisis. They’re fine about having Helena and Billy from eight until four, or whenever Toby or I can get there. Toby and I will synchronise shifts tomorrow, so one of us is on an early while the other’s on a late and we can work around nursery times. You can ring your folks on the way to Manchester airport and let them know what’s happening. I’ve got the hospital’s number in Vancouver, so I can leave messages there. Have you spoken to Paul’s parents?’

‘I’ll ring from Vancouver, when I’ve seen him and can reassure them.’

‘Good idea.’ Saskia hugged her. ‘Right, you’re all set. Give Paul my love. And don’t worry about rushing back. I know he’ll be able to leave hospital in a couple of days, but no way can he tackle a long-haul flight for at least two weeks after the operation.’ Preferably six, to make sure there were no complications. Though she wasn’t going to remind Lydia about that in case she panicked again. Lydia had a cool head where work was concerned, but tended to act like a headless chicken at home. And the idea of Paul having to miss their daughter’s first Christmas because he was thousands of miles away would make her cry all the way to Vancouver. ‘Toby and I will be fine.’

‘Yeah. You’re the best.’ Lydia hugged her back. ‘Thanks, Saskia.’

‘That’s what friends are for,’ Saskia said lightly.

Lydia paused by Helena’s cot. The baby was lying on her back with her hands up by her head. Lydia leaned over to kiss her. ‘My baby. Saskia, I can’t bear this.’

‘I’ll take a picture of her every day and send it to your phone,’ Saskia promised.

Lydia breathed in the baby’s scent. ‘My baby,’ she whispered again.

‘Your baby will be absolutely fine, I promise you,’ Saskia said. ‘I hate to rush you, but you’ve got a plane to catch.’

‘I know.’ Lydia kissed Helena one more time. ‘I have to kiss Billy goodbye.’

‘Quickly. And I’m not being horrible—the more drawn-out it is, the worse you’re going to feel,’ Saskia advised.

Lydia stroked Billy’s forehead. ‘Sleep well, honey. And Mummy’s going to be home very, very soon,’ she whispered. ‘I love you.’

‘And he loves you, too, and he’ll drive you mad with questions about the plane when you talk to him on the phone tomorrow,’ Saskia said, and shepherded her friend downstairs. ‘Now. Handbag?’

Lydia grabbed it from the coatstand. ‘Check.’

‘Money?’

‘Check. I’ll change some at the airport.’

‘Passport, Toby’s sorting. Book to read on the plane?’

‘I’ll get something at the airport.’

‘Passport.’ Toby came into the hall and handed it to her. ‘Saskia, you need to have a word with our Lyd about filing things efficiently.’

Lydia hugged him. ‘Thanks, Tobe. I owe you one.’

‘Any time.’ He ruffled her hair. ‘Come on, let’s go—or I’ll end up having to break the speed limit to get you to the airport on time, and I want to keep my licence clean.’

‘Yes.’ Lydia’s voice wobbled, and it was obvious that she was only just holding the tears back. ‘I can’t bear leaving them.’

‘It’s going to be fine.’ Toby kissed Saskia’s cheek. ‘I’ll pick up some clean clothes from your place on the way back,’ he said.

Saskia had given him a spare key years ago, just as she had the spare key to his house on her keyring. It meant if one of them was on holiday the other could water the plants and generally keep an eye on things. ‘Try to pick something that matches,’ she said.

He snorted. ‘You always wear a black or navy suit and a cream shirt at work. What’s to match?’

‘Shoes. I can’t wear a black suit with navy shoes, can I?’

He rolled his eyes. ‘Women,’ he said, then winked at her and escorted Lydia to his car.

Saskia checked on both children—who were sleeping soundly—then rejected the idea of reheating her fajitas. She ought to wait for Toby, even though she knew it’d be at least four hours before he came back from the airport and their respective houses. She made herself a cup of coffee, raided Lydia’s biscuit tin, took a novel at random from the shelves on one side of the fireplace and curled up on the sofa.

What an evening.

She’d gone out for dinner with her best friend, expecting a chance to chatter and have a glass of wine and put her problems out of her mind. And now she was facing possibly a few weeks of being a stand-in mum.

Wife and mum, seeing that Toby had put himself in the role of stand-in dad.

She shook herself. No. Her relationships were a disaster area, and she wasn’t going to mix up Toby in that. She sighed, wishing Lydia hadn’t even suggested it. She didn’t want to think about Toby in that sense. He was her best friend. Sure, he was good-looking—the blueprint of tall, dark and handsome, with slate-blue eyes and that vulnerable mouth. He was funny, he was clever—he’d made consultant last year at the age of thirty-three—and he was genuinely nice.

In fact, she couldn’t work out why someone hadn’t snapped him up years ago.

But he wasn’t the one for her. Was he?




CHAPTER TWO (#ub389257c-dae2-51cb-b84c-ebf688eab92f)


IT WAS nearly midnight before Toby came back. ‘I stayed to see Lyd onto the plane,’ he explained.

Only Toby would be that thoughtful. ‘You must be shattered. And starving,’ Saskia said.

‘I’m past it now—I couldn’t face the fajitas. I hope you didn’t wait for me.’

She shrugged it off. ‘I wasn’t that hungry anyway. Hey, I’ll make you a hot drink. If you have coffee now, you won’t sleep—so would you rather have camomile tea or hot milk?’

‘They’re both vile,’ Toby grumbled. ‘Nah, I’ll be fine, but thanks for the offer. What shift are you on tomorrow?’

‘Early. You?’

‘Early. But I’ll fix it so I can go in an hour later than you. I’ll drop the kids off, you pick them up.’

‘Sure. I’ll book a taxi to drop me at work, and I’ll pick my car up later.’ She smiled. ‘I made up your bed in the spare room.’

‘Cheers. I’m ready to drop.’ He handed her a small, bright pink case. ‘I’m glad nobody saw me with this. Pink luggage. Now, that’s embarrassing.’

She grinned. ‘Don’t be such a baby.’

‘I sorted out a couple of shirts, two suits and two pairs of shoes.’

And underwear, she hoped. The idea of Toby picking out her underwear…She shook herself. No, this was her best friend. Not her lover. Not the man she wanted to surprise her with a confection in silk and lace. Not the man she’d dress up for.

Though she was aware it sounded as if she was trying to protest a little too much.

‘Thanks. See you in the morning, then. Um, do you want the shower first?’

‘Ladies first,’ he said gravely.

She laughed. ‘You’ll regret that when I’ve hogged the bathroom for an hour.’

Mmm, and he could think of exactly how she could spend that hour. In the shower. With him. He shook himself. Hell, he must be more tired than he’d thought. He usually managed to suppress his fantasies about his best friend.

Usually.

Then again, he didn’t usually live with her. OK, so they weren’t sharing a room. Weren’t sharing a bed. Other than that, they were living together as stand-in parents. Arranging things around the kids, like any other couple with a family. They’d even be making Christmas decorations together with Billy this year…

He reined in his thoughts. If he didn’t watch it, he’d do something stupid. Like kiss her. Or sweep her off her feet. And then he’d lose her for good. No, he’d stay with the softly-softly approach. It would work, in the end. He just knew it.

‘See you in the morning,’ he said, and headed for his room before he gave in to temptation.

By the time Toby had showered and changed next morning, Saskia had already fed the children, strapped the car seat into Toby’s car, made a pot of coffee and found out from Vancouver that Paul’s operation had been a success.

‘You’re seriously scary,’ he said, accepting a cup of coffee gratefully. ‘And I love you for it.’

‘Good.’ A horn beeped outside and she looked out of the living-room window. ‘Yes, that’s my taxi. I’d better go.’ She kissed the children goodbye. ‘Be good for Uncle Toby,’ she told Billy. ‘I’ll see you both this afternoon. And I’ll see you…’ she waved at Toby ‘…some time at work, so we can synchronise our duty rosters. Lunch?’

‘I’ll ring you,’ he promised.

‘Ciao.’ And she was gone.

Toby tried to stifle his disappointment. As if she’d been going to kiss him goodbye, as well as the children.

But it would have been nice.

Odd, odd, odd. Saskia was used to not sharing her breakfast table. No crumbs or cereal on the floor, no spilled milk all over the table, and she could do the crossword and listen to the news on the radio in peace without having to make conversation with anyone else.

But it had been…well, nice. Helping Billy to smear butter and Marmite on his toast, having Helena blowing raspberries at her, seeing the children’s faces light up as soon as Toby had walked in. It had never been like that when she’d grown up. Just a succession of nannies and then her parents, who’d insisted on complete silence at the breakfast table while they’d read the newspaper or a case brief.

She shook herself as she realised that they were at the hospital and the cabbie was waiting for the fare. Now was not the time to start fantasising about having a family. She had a job to do.

She paid the cabbie, gave him an extra tip to make up for her dozy behaviour, took the stairs to the maternity unit and started her ward round. No complications on the ward, so she did a quick round of the delivery floor.

‘Saskia, I’m glad you’re here. I could do with a second opinion.’

Saskia went straight onto red alert. Georgina Wilson was their senior midwife, and her instincts were always spot on. ‘What’s up?’

‘Clare Fellowes. First baby, due eleven days ago. We induced her yesterday morning with prostaglandins—two lots—and she was only just three centimetres dilated at a quarter to one this morning.’

Usually induction meant a fast labour—this one was unusually slow.

‘Larissa broke Clare’s waters at six this morning. It doesn’t seem to have speeded up her labour at all.’

‘OP?’ The best position in labour was when the baby faced the mother’s back. In OP, or occipitoposterior presentation, the baby faced the mother’s front, so the head didn’t press down as efficiently on the cervix, the baby’s head needed to rotate further and labour tended to take longer.

‘Yes. No sign of meconium.’ Meconium was the baby’s first bowel movement, a thick, greenish-black substance made up of bile, mucus and intestinal cells. If the baby passed it into the amniotic fluid, it generally indicated that the foetus was in distress—and sometimes the baby could inhale it when he started to breathe, when it would block his airways.

‘That’s good. What’s the baby’s heart trace doing?’

‘Slightly tachycardic, with late deceleration.’

This told Saskia that the baby’s heart rate was faster than normal, then dropping after the peak of Clare’s contractions—a sign that the baby wasn’t getting enough oxygen. ‘Have you taken a blood sample from the baby’s scalp?’

‘Just about to. I’ve put the mum on her left side and given her some oxygen.’

‘Well done. Let’s stop the oxytocin and do a blood sample.’ Saskia frowned. ‘If it’s not good, we’re looking at a section. Does it say anything in her birth plan?’

‘The usual. She wants a normal birth with minimal pain relief, hubby to cut the umbilical cord, and she’d rather not have an episiotomy if she can help it.’

Saskia winced. ‘Please, don’t tell me she’s been going through a labour this long on just gas and air or a TENS machine.’

Georgina shook her head. ‘When it was obvious she was in for the long haul, we talked over the idea of an epidural.’

‘I hope she went for it. Giving birth is a tough enough job—why add to it by struggling with pain when we can help?’

Georgina smiled. ‘You’re preaching to the converted.’

‘Yeah, I know.’ Saskia smiled back.

Saskia introduced herself to Clare and her partner, explained what she was about to do and that it wouldn’t hurt the baby at all, and took the blood sample. To her dismay, the pH value was 7.21, lower than it should be. Saskia examined Clare and realised immediately that the labour simply wasn’t progressing as it should have done.

‘Clare, you’ve done really well to get this far,’ she said gently. ‘You’ve had a tough first labour and you’ve been really heroic about it. But your baby’s starting to show signs of distress, and his blood’s slightly acidic. I’d recommend that you have a Caesarean section.’

‘But…we wanted a natural birth.’ A tear trickled down Clare’s face. ‘A normal one.’

‘Sometimes you need a bit of extra help. It’s your choice, but your labour’s very, very slow and you’re tired. The longer it goes on, the more the baby’s at risk of having problems. At the moment, I’m concerned he’s not getting enough oxygen.’

Clare swallowed. ‘Does it mean I’ll have to have a general anaesthetic?’

‘Not if you don’t want to. You’ve already got an epidural, so we’ll just top it up a bit for the operation. Your partner can still come in with you to hold your hand all the way.’ She smiled at Clare’s partner. ‘And you can still cut the cord, if that’s what you want to do.’

‘And the baby’s going to be all right?’ he asked.

‘If we deliver soon.’

Clare nodded. ‘All right.’

‘Thank you. I just need you to sign a consent form. And in about thirty minutes, you’ll be holding your baby.’ She smiled again, and signalled to Georgina that she wanted a word outside. ‘I’ll find an anaesthetist to top up the epidural for the section. Can you ring Paeds and ask them to send someone up, please?’

‘Sure.’

Once the anaesthetist was arranged, Saskia had another chat with Clare, explained what would happen in Theatre and answered Clare’s questions.

Just after she’d made the incision, a masked doctor in scrubs walked into Theatre. She recognised his outline immediately, and smiled to herself. The baby was going to be in good hands, then. Toby’s hands.

She worked swiftly but, as she’d dreaded, the baby had passed meconium. Inhaled some, too, by the green staining around his nose.

‘You have a lovely little boy,’ she told Clare. ‘The paediatrician’s just going to check him over, and then you’ll be able to have a cuddle.’

She concentrated on sewing up the wound she’d made, though every so often she glanced over towards Toby. He was good at his job—very good—but the more time passed, the more likely it was that the baby was in trouble.

Finally, to her relief, she heard what she’d been waiting for. A baby’s cry.

‘One perfect little boy.’ Toby brought the wrapped baby over to Clare. ‘He’s lovely. Well done.’

‘Is he all right?’

‘He’s going to be fine,’ Toby reassured her. ‘He did in hale a bit of meconium, but we’ve got rid of it and there won’t be any long-term damage. Congratulations.’

‘My little boy,’ Clare said, and burst into tears.

‘I love happy endings,’ Toby said a couple of hours later, as he unwrapped his sandwich. ‘I think we should have cases like that every day.’

‘Meconium inhalation isn’t my definition of a good day,’ Saskia said dryly. ‘How were the kids?’

‘Fine. They had the play-dough out at nursery, so Billy couldn’t wait to go and make something. You’re still OK to pick them up?’

‘Yep. Did you bring your diary?’

‘You’re such a slave-driver.’ He pulled a face at her. ‘How does your ward put up with you?’

‘They’ve learned how to be efficient,’ Saskia said sweetly.

He pulled his diary from his jacket pocket. ‘OK. I’ve got two days I can’t switch—meetings that can’t be moved—but otherwise I can be flexible.’

Saskia took a quick look at his schedule and compared it with hers on her organiser. ‘Actually, we won’t have to do that much switching. Say it’ll be two weeks until Lyd comes home. If you can change your late to an early on Friday, and I swap my Monday late for an early, we’re about there.’

‘Done. Now can I eat my sandwich in peace?’

‘We haven’t done the cooking rota yet. And, before you say it, no, we are not living on take-aways, Toby Barker.’

‘How about whoever’s home first cooks dinner, and whoever’s on a late has it heated up when they get in?’ he suggested.

‘Fine. I’ll be home first tonight, so I’ll cook.’ She handed him a key. ‘Here.’

‘What’s this?’

‘My spare car key. We’ll need to swap Billy’s seat between our cars, depending on who’s doing the nursery run.’ Helena was still in an infant carrier, which made it easier to transport her.

‘My spare car key’s at home.’ He sighed. ‘And you don’t have to nag me. I’ll make a detour and pick it up after work. And I’ll drop his car seat up to you before you go.’

‘Attaboy.’ Saskia took a sip of her coffee. ‘Ah, bliss.’

Toby had other definitions of bliss that definitely didn’t involve coffee. But he would have liked to put that expression on Saskia’s face.

Maybe one day.

The rest of the day passed without incident. Toby remembered to collect his spare car key and some more clothes. But when he let himself into the house, he stopped dead. Saskia was sitting on the floor in the living room with Helena asleep on her lap, and Saskia and Billy were both waving chiffon scarves around. In the background, a CD of rippling piano music was playing. Billy’s face was bright with excitement and he was chattering away, and Saskia was answering the little boy’s questions, looking relaxed and happy. They looked like any mother and child, clearly adoring each other and enjoying some special time together until Daddy came home.

This was what his life could be like if…

Stop. Don’t rush her, he warned himself. You know her background. She’s pathologically scared of the marriage-and-family bit. Let her get used to this, then maybe, just maybe, she’ll consider trying something like this permanently.

‘Having fun?’ he asked lightly as he walked into the living room.

‘We’re doing seaside music,’ Billy told him. ‘Look, Uncle Toby, we’re making waves.’ The little boy was waving the scarf up and down, in perfect time to the music.

‘Very creative,’ he said to Saskia. ‘Maybe you should switch specialty—we could do with someone like you in Paeds.’

An odd expression—one he couldn’t read—flitted across her face. Then he wondered if he’d imagined it, because she smiled. ‘I can’t take the credit for this. Billy learned it at preschool music class—I’ve taken him a couple of times when I’ve been off duty.’

He hadn’t known that. This really wasn’t what he’d expected from Saskia, but he liked this side of her. The side she kept hidden. It made him wonder what else he had to discover about her after all these years.

‘You can do music with us, Uncle Toby.’ Billy rummaged in a bag and presented Toby with a white scarf.

‘Sure.’ He sat down and joined them. ‘I like this music.’ It wasn’t Saskia’s normal style. She normally listened to rock. Loud and fast. Just like Saskia herself.

‘It’s Ludovico Einaudi—Le Onde. “The Waves”,’ she explained. ‘Think yourself lucky we’re not doing Saint-Saëns’ “The Aquarium” from the Carnival of Animals.’

‘Aunty Saskia made us some special seaweed for music class, out of a dustbin bag. And shiny fishes,’ Billy said. ‘You have to hold the fish and dance to the music.’

Toby raised an eyebrow. ‘You kept that quiet. What else are you hiding, Saskia?’

To his surprise, she blushed. ‘Nothing. Hey, Billy, do you want to sing your new Christmas song to Uncle Toby?’

‘Yeah!’ Billy stood up and started to sing ‘Christmas Shamrock’ to the tune of ‘Frère Jacques’.

‘Shamrock?’ Toby whispered in Saskia’s ear. ‘Since when has shamrock been Christmassy?’

‘They’re doing world cultures at nursery,’ Saskia muttered back.

Billy finished up with a rendition of what he called the ‘Sneezy Song’—‘When Santa Got Stuck Up the Chimney’—with a little bit of prompting from Saskia when he forgot the words.

They both clapped him when the song ended, and he beamed. ‘I can sing it to Mummy tonight.’

‘You certainly can.’ Saskia smiled at him, and turned briefly to Toby. ‘It’s my turn to cook tonight.’ She hugged her godson. ‘Billy, do you want to draw a picture for Mummy with Uncle Toby while I cook tea?’

‘I’ll get the felt pens!’ the little boy said gleefully, and raced off to fetch them.

‘I’m doing pasta,’ she whispered to Toby, ‘so I can disguise vegetables in the sauce. Tomorrow, it’s your turn to come up with a clever strategy to get him to eat something other than chicken nuggets. I told Lyd we’d do the impossible.’

‘You would,’ Toby said, resigned. ‘Right. I’m going to draw Billy a super rocket. And we’re going to call it after you.’

‘Oh, ha.’ She grinned, and headed for the kitchen.

As soon as Saskia was out of Toby’s view, she massaged her fingers and took some painkillers. Was this a flare-up? And would the flare-ups become more frequent as time went on? she wondered.

‘Not going to happen. It’s not.’ If she could stop the disease in its course by sheer will-power, her hands would stop hurting right now.

She flexed her fingers. Unfortunately, will-power wasn’t going to cure rheumatoid arthritis. And there wasn’t much chance of getting a cure in her Christmas stocking either. Damn, damn, damn. She’d managed in Theatre earlier today without any problems. But, right at this moment, no way could she have held a scalpel. She couldn’t have supervised a junior surgeon either—because if the younger doctor got into a mess, she wouldn’t be able to step in and take over.

She was going to have to resign. And soon. For her patients’ sake.

But medicine was her whole life. If she gave it up completely, what would she do? How would she fill the empty hours?

It took her ages to chop the vegetables for the pasta sauce. But she persisted—no way was she giving in. She wasn’t ready to give in.

Just as the sauce started to bubble, Billy bounded into the kitchen and shoved a piece of cardboard into her hand. ‘We made you a card,’ he announced.

‘“To the best aunty in the world. Love Billy,”’ she read. There was a picture of a flower on the front, coloured in bright pink and purple, and Toby had drawn Billy’s name in dots for the little boy to join up. Shocked by the tears that rose to her eyes, she blinked them back, hard. ‘Thank you,’ she said, crouching down to give Billy a hug.

The sauce was a success, too. She’d put it in a blender so there were no tell-tale lumps of vegetables. Billy ate his meal without a hint of protest, and scoffed more garlic bread than anyone else. He also managed to get garlic butter in his hair and spaghetti sauce over his face—even behind his ears.

‘Bathtime?’ Toby suggested.

‘Yep. You’re in charge tonight. I’m doing the washing-up.’ She didn’t want to share the chores with him in case he noticed just how long it was taking her to do things—and then asked awkward questions that she didn’t want to answer.

‘Both of them together?’ he asked, looking nervous.

‘C’mon, you’re the paediatrician. And you must have bathed your godchildren at some point.’

‘Nope. You and Lyd always do it.’

True. Saskia adored bathtime with the children, playing splashing games, then wrapping them in a towel ‘like a sausage roll’, as Billy called it. She loved Helena’s gummy smiles of delight as she splashed, the clean, baby-soft scent of the children’s skin after a bath, the way Billy’s hair stuck up in tufts. She loved giving them their milk, a cuddle, a story, tucking them into bed and then reading another story, because she couldn’t resist Billy’s huge eyes and cute smile when he asked so nicely for just one more.

But tonight she physically couldn’t do it.

‘You’ll enjoy it,’ she said, forcing herself to sound happy and bubbly, the Saskia Hayward that everyone at the hospital knew. The super-focused doctor, who partied at night and burned the candle at both ends.

As Toby took the children upstairs, Saskia’s smile faded. It wasn’t going to be that way for much longer. In fact, it’d get to the point where she wasn’t going to be burning candles at all.

Laboriously, she washed up. By the end, she knew that drying up would push her just that one step too far. The dishes could just air-dry tonight.

She couldn’t resist going to see how Toby was getting on. To her amusement, he was on his knees next to the bathtub, holding Billy’s plastic frog and joining in with Billy’s version of ‘Five little speckled frogs’. She couldn’t help grinning at the gusto with which Toby sang ‘Yum, yum’ about the delicious flies the frogs were eating, and ‘Glub, glub’ as the frogs jumped into the pool.

Toby looked just like any other father enjoying bathtime with his kids while giving his wife a break from childcare.

This was what her life could have been like, if…

No ifs, no buts. She’d made her choice a long time ago. It was the right one, the sensible one: she knew that. So she suppressed the surge of loneliness. This was ridiculous. She wasn’t lonely. She had a good life. Good friends, a job she enjoyed and two godchildren that were as close as she was going to get to children of her own. She had nothing to complain about.

As for that little flare of longing, she damped that down, too. Toby wasn’t for her. He’d make the perfect dad: how could she ask him to give up the idea of ever having children? She didn’t want to wreck his life, tie him down to someone who was going to end up hardly able to do a thing for herself. He deserved someone better and, as his best friend, she really ought to be helping him to find Miss Right, not selfishly holding onto him.

Without disturbing them, she walked quietly downstairs again. The minute Lydia and Paul were back from Canada, she’d do something about Toby. Find someone who could make him far happier than she could. Maybe fix him up with someone at one of the departmental Christmas parties. It was the time when people traditionally got together after all. And it would be her own very special present to Toby. She’d find him the love of his life.




CHAPTER THREE (#ub389257c-dae2-51cb-b84c-ebf688eab92f)


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.




CHAPTER FOUR (#ub389257c-dae2-51cb-b84c-ebf688eab92f)


TWO choices. Saskia had two choices. One: she could get up and pretend this had never happened. Two: she could stay exactly where she was and wait for Toby to come back. Finish what they’d started.

Whichever way she jumped, it was going to be a problem.

If she got up, checked how Helena was and was showered and dressed before Toby came back, she’d spend the whole day on a slow burn. Aroused. Wanting. Wanting Toby, to be exact. The way he’d touched her had felt so good, so right. One finger hadn’t been enough. She needed to feel him inside her. Needed him to take her right to the edge.

But if she stayed put…what then? Billy had broken the spell. Toby was out of the room, had had time to think about what they’d been doing. Time to realise it was all a huge mistake, just a physical reaction to a member of the opposite sex being nearly naked, in close proximity, when he’d woken from a deep sleep. Hadn’t he said last night that he could go to bed with her without having sex with her? Hell. She couldn’t face rejection. Or, if he didn’t reject her, maybe he’d expect their relationship to change after they’d made love, and she couldn’t handle that right now.

With shocking clarity, she realised that it would be making love. Not just having sex. With Toby, deeper feelings would be involved. And then, when it all went wrong, the mess would be spectacular. Hell. She didn’t want to lose her best friend.

Slow burn it would be, then. She swiftly got out of bed and checked on the sleeping baby. Helena’s breathing was regular and not too fast, and her temperature was normal again. Good. So it had just been a virus last night.

Saskia’s own temperature felt very far from normal so she made her shower tepid. Turned the water to cold, even. But it couldn’t quite take away the warmth of Toby’s touch. The way his hands had felt on her breasts, the way his fingers had teased her nipples. The way his mouth had felt on her body.

‘Stop it,’ she told herself through clenched teeth. ‘You’re not going to complicate things with sex and mess up the best friendship you’ve ever had. Got it?’

When Toby returned to the bedroom and found Saskia halfway through getting dressed, his expression was un-readable. And Saskia didn’t dare ask him what he was thinking. Right at that moment, she wasn’t sure she could handle knowing. Deliberately not looking at him and focusing instead on putting her clothes on, she said brightly, ‘Helena’s temperature is normal this morning.’

‘Mmm-hmm.’

‘I, um, wondered if one of us should, um, stay with her today. Just in case.’

‘It’s easier for me to get cover at short notice. I’ll call in.’

‘Thanks. I’ll, um…’ Hell. She was never hesitant. Never. But it was hard to talk sensibly when your brain felt as if it had been turned to mush and your mouth definitely wasn’t working in synch with your thoughts.

How easy it would be to leap on him. Push him back to the bed. Strip off his pyjama bottoms and…

No. It wasn’t fair to Toby. She couldn’t use her best friend to satisfy an urge—even though he’d been the one who’d started it. The relationship would go wrong and she’d lose him. In a few months’ time, she’d need all the friends she could get. When she had to leave the job that was her whole life and find something else to do.

Her mouth tightened. ‘I’ll get breakfast ready while you’re in the shower. D’you want scrambled eggs or cereals?’

‘I’m not hungry.’

Funny how his tone didn’t match the words. Because Toby sounded hungry all right. Maybe not for food. But hungry. Wanting. Needing. Just the same way she felt.

She hardened her heart. It wasn’t going to happen. And, yes, he might feel sore about it right now, but their godson had done them both a huge favour. Billy’s untimely interruption had stopped them making the worst mistake of their lives. ‘I might or might not see you downstairs, then.’

‘Mmm.’

Which told her precisely nothing. Don’t do this to us, Toby, she pleaded silently. Don’t try to change things. It can’t happen, for reasons even you don’t know about yet. I’d tell you if I could. But I can’t.

Silently, she finished dressing and left the room.

A few minutes ago, it had been like all his Christmases and birthdays and red-letter days all rolled into one. Saskia in his arms, naked and aroused. Her words echoed in his mind: Touch me, Toby. Love me.

Heaven help him, he did. Always had. But when he’d first met her, he’d known there was no way the sexiest girl in the entire faculty of medicine would ever consider going out with a shy, speccy nerd. His options had been friendship or nothing. He’d chosen friendship, hoping that one day she might look at him properly, see who he really was and feel the same way about him that he felt about her.

Just as she’d seemed to do this morning.

If Billy hadn’t walked in at that precise moment…

Well, it could have been worse. Three seconds later, Toby wouldn’t have even heard the door bang open. He’d have been drowning in Saskia’s honey-sweet depths, oblivious to everything except her and completely unable to stop.

But they’d been interrupted. For long enough to let Saskia think about it and change her mind. How the hell was he going to cope with being just her friend after this? How was he going to cope, living with her until Lydia came back? But he had to. No way could he let Lyd down and leave Saskia to cope with everything on her own.

‘Looks like it’s going to have to be business as usual,’ he told the still-sleeping baby. ‘Pretending I don’t feel the way I do. Pretending I love her just as a friend, as a sister.’ And all the time he’d ache with wanting her, needing her.

Toby didn’t come downstairs for breakfast. Well, if he was going to sulk, fine, Saskia thought crossly. He’d just have to get over it. He wasn’t the only one who was feeling frustrated, not by a long way. But she managed to chatter normally to Billy, drop him off at nursery and do her shift at the hospital without anyone asking her what was wrong. She also managed to sort out the ward’s ‘secret Santa’ present exchange—where everyone who wanted to take part took someone’s name out of an envelope and bought them a present, given anonymously on the shift before Christmas Eve and usually unwrapped on the ward.

But she still couldn’t help thinking about what had happened that morning, and she was distracted enough to have a near-miss on the way home. Her emergency stop left her bumper mere millimetres from the car in front, earning her a rude gesture from the driver and a blast from his horn. Hell. She really had to concentrate on what she was doing, not think about Toby.

Or was it because of Toby? A nastier explanation suddenly occurred to her, Was lack of concentration a symptom of rheumatoid arthritis?

‘Stop it. Don’t be silly. It’s your joints that are affected, not the synapses in your brain,’ she told herself sharply. But the doubt was still there. The panic. Maybe she’d missed something in her research into the condition. Maybe. Maybe.

She was in a thoroughly bad mood by the time she parked her car outside the cottage, only for her temper to collapse again when she walked into the kitchen and smelt baking.

Baking? Since when did Toby make cakes? He was more likely to buy them from the patisserie at the end of his road.

‘We made Christmas cookies, Aunty Saskia,’ Billy told her shyly, and pointed out the plate of star-shaped biscuits covered in blobs of icing, silver balls and sprinkles. ‘Me and Uncle Tobe. We’re chefs.’

‘They’re lovely, darling,’ she said, giving him a hug.

‘And we made you a special cake. A nana cake.’

A cake, for her? She didn’t think anyone had ever made her a cake. Maybe one of the nannies had. But certainly neither of her parents had. She blinked hard to dispel the threatening tears. She hadn’t cried over her childhood for a long, long time, and she wasn’t going to start again now.

‘Want some?’ Toby asked.

Cake, or you? She pushed the thought aside. ‘Thanks,’ she said, not meeting his eyes. ‘I didn’t know you could make cakes.’

‘We were doing a scientific experiment,’ he said. ‘How was your day?’

‘Average. How was yours?’

‘Fun.’ He grinned. ‘I spent this morning playing with Helena while Billy was at nursery and realising how many nursery rhymes I’d forgotten, and this afternoon chucking flour all over the kitchen with Billy.’

She looked at him, this time about to smile at the picture he’d painted for her.

Then he delivered the killer blow. ‘I think I could get used to being a house-husband.’

The smile died on her lips almost before it was born. House-husband. Well, he’d never be able to take that role with her. She couldn’t have children. And it’d get to the point where she wouldn’t be able to work, wouldn’t be able to contribute to the household budget. She’d be completely dependent on him, so he wouldn’t be able to give up work. ‘Best find yourself a career-woman, then,’ she said, hoping that it sounded light but knowing how bitter it felt.

The cake was delicious, but it nearly choked her—she had to force down every mouthful. ‘I’ll tell Mummy what a good chef you are,’ she informed her godson. She glanced up at Toby. His face was unreadable again. She knew him better than she knew anyone else. He was the last person she wanted to become a remote stranger. How was she going to fix this mess?

Somehow they got through the evening. When Billy was in bed, and Helena was tucked up in her cot, Saskia made some coffee. ‘Tobe. We need to talk,’ she said, handing him a mug.

‘Mmm-hmm.’ His tone was guarded.

‘This morning shouldn’t have happened.’ Why couldn’t she look him in the eye? ‘I think we’re both embarrassed about it. We got a bit carried away, that’s all. So let’s pretend it didn’t happen.’

‘It didn’t happen,’ he said tonelessly.

He agreed with her, then? Good. She smiled in relief. ‘I love you dearly, Tobe. You’re my best friend. You’re important to me and I don’t want to complicate things. Let’s just stay how we’ve always been.’

‘Sure.’

She risked a peep at his face. Inscrutable. Was he relieved, disappointed, angry? She couldn’t tell. Or maybe he felt the way she did: confused.

Whatever he thought about it—and that remained a complete mystery to her—life seemed to go back to normal again over the next few days. She didn’t see Toby as much as usual at the hospital, but she reassured herself that it was because they’d changed their shifts to make sure the children were covered. He didn’t spend much time with her once the children were in bed, but again she knew he was busy, writing a paper. He had to do the work some time. Didn’t he?

A couple of days later, the emergency department paged Saskia. She rang them immediately. ‘Saskia Hayward, Maternity Unit—you called me?’

‘Dr Hayward, we’ve had an RTA in—pregnant driver, suspected placental abruption.’

Placental abruption was when the placenta separated from the wall of the womb. Blood accumulated between the placenta and the womb, forcing the placenta to tear away even more. In severe cases, the baby wouldn’t get enough blood and oxygen and could die. For the baby to survive, at least half the placenta needed to stay in place.

‘Patient history?’

‘Thirty-two weeks gestation.’ So, if she needed to do an emergency Caesarean section, the baby had a decent chance of survival. That was good. ‘The mum’s having contractions, says she feels sick and faint, and she’s very thirsty. She’s complaining of abdominal pain, and her abdomen’s tense.’

Not so good: it sounded like a severe abruption.

‘What have you done so far?’

‘She’s on oxygen, we’ve got an IV line in and we’ve checked the baby’s heart rate. It’s low.’

‘OK. I’m on my way down. I need a portable ultrasound, six units of blood cross-matched, and can you get her bloods checked and let me know the platelet count, please?’

‘Will do.’

‘Great. And can you bleep the anaesthetist, please, in case we have to go straight to Theatre?’

‘That’s my next call.’

‘We’ll need Paeds as well—I want Mr Barker, if he’s available.’ Things between them might be a little cooler than usual right now, but he was the best doctor for the job, the doctor she’d most want to work with in this situation. They’d always worked well together, been a real team. That wasn’t going to change.

‘Will do.’

In the emergency department, she introduced herself to Pippa Fletcher. ‘What we think has happened is that when you had the accident and your tummy banged into the steering-wheel, it caused your placenta to tear away from the wall of your womb,’ she explained. ‘This means you’re losing blood, which is what’s making you feel sick and dizzy.’

‘Is my baby going to be all right?’ Pippa asked, her voice shaky.

‘We’ll do our best,’ Saskia reassured her. ‘We may have to give you a Caesarean section and deliver the baby.’





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