Книга - Her Motherhood Wish

Her Motherhood Wish
Anne Fraser






Praise for Anne Fraser:

‘Anne Fraser has crafted a superb page-turner. This is a

heart-warming romance with lots of tension and great

dialogue that will keep readers glued to the pages.’

—RT Book Reviews, 4.5 Stars on SPANISH DOCTOR, PREGNANT MIDWIFE

‘Anne Fraser writes an appealing romance

set amidst all the medical drama. The story is a constant

whirlwind of emotion as Ellen tries to face an

uncertain future full of everything she’s ever wanted.’

—RT Book Reviews, 4 Stars on MISTLETOE, MIDWIFE … MIRACLE BABY




The Most Precious Bundle of All


Tears, triumphs and a tiny miracle

An IVF mix-up turns two couples’s dreams

of parenthood into a nightmare.

But through the tests, tears and triumphs they

find unexpected love … and realise that happy endings

come in all shapes and sizes!

Fighting to keep the baby she’s always wanted, Olivia

turns to dashing doctor David for love and support in

HER MOTHERHOOD WISH by Anne Fraser

Meet John and Lily. Discovering they’ve made a baby

turns these strangers’ worlds upside down—but not

nearly as much as when they start falling in love!

A BOND BETWEEN STRANGERS by Scarlet Wilson




Her Motherhood

Wish




Anne Fraser


















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


For Kim, one of life’s special people. Thanks for listening and thanks for making me laugh. You’ll be sorely missed.


Dear Reader

When my editor asked me if I wanted to write one of two linked books with fellow Scottish author Scarlet Wilson about an IVF mix-up I was both thrilled and dismayed. Thrilled because I believe Scarlet to be a fabulous new talent in Mills & Boon


Medical Romance™, and dismayed because I thought IVF mixups couldn’t happen.

They are rare, of course, rigorous safeguards are in place to prevent this—and our scenario is entirely fictional.

Many women and their partners owe their only chance of having children to egg and sperm donors. In the UK, at the time of writing, egg and sperm donors cannot donate for money and their details are kept highly confidential. The recipient can choose a donor, but only on the basis of anonymous details.

It is different in the US. That is why we chose to set the books in America.

I hope you enjoy Olivia and David’s story as much as I know you’ll love Lily and John’s.

I’d be delighted to hear what you think.

I can be contacted via my Facebook page: www.facebook.com/AnneFraserAuthor

Warm wishes

Anne Fraser


CHAPTER ONE

My darling Josh,

I am writing this to you, knowing it may be years before you read it. If you are reading this, it means I have lost you.

And if I lost you you’re probably not even called Josh now. But whatever name your father has chosen to give you, I hope you have had a wonderful life so far. I know your father loves you, otherwise he wouldn’t have fought so hard to keep you.

I love you too. More than I can say. I loved you before you were even growing inside me and as you grew I loved you more. I still love you—I hope you have never doubted that.

I wonder what kind of man you turned out to be. I wonder what your childhood was like. It tears me apart thinking of you growing up without me. I almost can’t bear to imagine it and I want you to know that I tried to do everything in my power to keep you.

I enclose the newspaper cuttings from the time I was pregnant with you. It may help you understand what happened and why I had to give you up.

You will always be in my prayers. If you ever want to find me, I’ll be waiting. If you don’t, I’ll understand that too. All I want, my darling child, is for you to be happy.

Your birth mother,

Olivia Simpson

Four months earlier

DAVID leaned against the pillar, nursing his coffee and making the most of the last few minutes he had before he was due in Theatre. The early morning sun warmed his skin, promising another glorious day in San Francisco.

Shortly he’d be putting in a shunt for a patient with hydrocephalus. He’d done several like it before and all the patients had recovered well. He hoped, however, that the theatre staff here would be as good as the ones in his last hospital in New York. Theatre staff became teams, knowing instinctively after a while what the surgeon needed and when. No doubt it would take time before he and his new team meshed, and in the meantime he—and they—would have to be patient.

He watched idly as a Volkswagen Beetle pulled into the car park with its roof down.

The woman at the wheel immediately caught his attention. In a city of beautiful women she was still stunning. She had thick blonde hair that was held back from her face with a scarf. Her eyes were hidden by oversized sunglasses, but her full, wide mouth was turned up at the corners as if she were enjoying some private joke.

The car came to a stop a few yards away from where he was standing and as he swallowed the last of his coffee, the driver’s door opened and he caught a glimpse of slim, tanned legs peeking out from a yellow sundress. As the woman reached over to pick something up from the passenger seat, her dress inched tantalisingly up her thigh.

She pushed her car door open further with her foot and eased her way out of the car, clutching a heavy armload of files to her chest as she did so.

The yellow dress and her blonde hair made him think bizarrely of a sunbeam. He should really go and help her, but he was enjoying himself too much.

She kicked the car door closed, and as she did so, the files slid to the ground, where they fanned out in an untidy heap. As she swore under her breath, David threw his paper coffee cup in the bin and pushed himself away from the wall.

She was crouching by the files, her canary-yellow dress once more riding up to reveal the best legs David had seen in a while.

‘Need some help, ma’am?’ he drawled, and without waiting for a reply hunkered down beside her and reached for the papers.

‘Thank you. If you wouldn’t mind,’ she said in an English accent. She lifted her sunglasses and pushed them on top of her head. Bright green eyes caught his for a second and something shifted behind his ribs. She might have the best pair of pins he’d seen in a while, but those eyes. Man, a guy could lose himself there for a while. The rest of her wasn’t too bad either. Her nose was pert, a little too turned up for some tastes perhaps, but he thought it made her look cute. Without that nose her face would have been too perfect, too severe almost. He’d dated enough perfect-looking women and after a while they began to merge into one. The way this woman looked … well, she wasn’t so easily forgettable.

He reached for a book that had slithered under her car. He read the title as he passed it to her. Mmm … interesting reading. Not just beautiful, but bright. Unless of course the book was for someone else. That was okay too. Brains were a plus, but not essential.

Instinctively he glanced at her hands. No ring. That was good. He had a date for tonight, but he could easily cancel. Plead pressure of work or something. Now he needed a name and a number to add to his growing collection.

‘I’m Dr Stuart,’ he said easily. ‘One of the neurosurgeons.’ That, he found, never failed to impress.

Didn’t seem to be working with this one, however. She raised an eyebrow, looking amused.

‘Indeed?’ She smiled showing even white teeth. ‘I would offer to shake your hand but …’ she indicated the files in her arms ‘… I don’t fancy having to pick them all up again.’

He, on the other hand, would be quite happy to spend another few minutes looking into those green eyes. Later. There would definitely be later. Would she be a dinner-and-a-show girl, or an outdoorsy one? He was looking forward to finding out.

He placed a hand under her elbow to help her up to her feet.

He was checking out the rest of her and just about to move on to stage two when he noticed something that sent a wave of regret from his libido to his brain. She was pregnant. No doubt about it. The way her yellow dress clung to her slim frame emphasised the swell of her belly. Around sixteen weeks, he guessed. And just when it was going so well.

Her eyes held his and the corners creased with amusement as she seemed to notice his reaction.

‘Thank you, Dr Stuart.’ Her smile was wide and mischievous.

‘You’re welcome.’ Damn. His timing was off on this one. His mind shifted away. There was no reason to cancel Melissa after all, and if her dark hair and liquid eyes seemed less appealing now, it was only because this buttercup-yellow woman had made him think of sunshine rather than a cool winter evening.

His pager bleeped insistently. That would be the theatre nurse letting him know that his patient was on his way. His thoughts moved away from the buttercup woman and towards the theatre. Images of the structures of the brain were forming in his head, as they always did just before he operated. He had approximately ten minutes to get changed and into Theatre.

He smiled in the direction of buttercup woman.

‘Got to go and save a life. See you around,’ he said, and spun on his heel. Two seconds later he’d forgotten all about her.

Olivia pushed her way through the double doors and into the emergency room, still grinning. What an idiot Dr Stuart was. Did he honestly use that line? I’m a neurosurgeon and I save lives! Good grief. And did women actually fall for it? Admittedly, he was gorgeous, with his wide, sexy smile and platinum eyes. His physique wasn’t too bad either. Even under his scrubs she could discern the lines of his muscular legs and broad shoulders. Clearly he was a man who worked out.

As usual, ER was already going like a fair. Most of the chairs in the waiting room were occupied. Two gurneys were lined up in the corridor, with patients waiting to be taken to the wards, and in one of the exam rooms she saw several shadowed figures through the semi-opaque glass as her colleagues from the night shift worked over a patient.

Kelly, the chief ER nurse, barely glanced at her as Olivia placed the folders down on the reception desk.

Olivia knew Kelly didn’t mean it. The ER nurse had worked in the department for years, and despite her claims that she would sail off into the sunset in a heartbeat if only she would win the lottery, everyone knew she was lying through her teeth. The department without Kelly was as unthinkable as Kelly without the department. The staff often joked that Kelly must live in the hospital as she always seemed to be there when they arrived, and was there again when they came back the next morning.

This time Kelly did raise her head. ‘The usual mix—three suspected fractures, one MI, half a dozen with vague symptoms that have to be investigated, and an elderly lady they’re working on in exam room one.’ She pushed a carton of sugary doughnuts towards Olivia. ‘Help yourself. You’re going to need at least five to get through the day.’

Olivia glanced longingly at the carton. Doughnuts were her favourite. At one time she had survived on them, washing them down with strong black coffee. But these days she feasted on fruit and oats and refused to let anything without a vitamin past her lips.

She shook her head and regretfully pushed the box back across the counter well away from temptation. ‘No, thanks. Proper food is all I’m eating these days.’

‘And how is that working out for you?’ Kelly said, with a sarcastic lift of her eyebrow. ‘You disappoint me, Dr Simpson. I thought I had found an ally in this city where no one eats real food, and now I find you have gone over to the other side!’ She smiled. ‘I have to say, for someone who eats nothing but rabbit food, you are looking good, girl. And how is that baby doing?’

Kelly was one of the few people who knew the whole story behind Olivia’s pregnancy. The others speculated, Olivia knew, and that was hardly surprising. Since Richard had died, she hadn’t dated anyone, to their knowledge. Yet here she was, pregnant. Their curiosity was natural, but that didn’t mean she was prepared to go into long, elaborate explanations. Her pregnancy was her business.

She patted her stomach protectively. She had waited a long time for this baby. All she wanted to do was enjoy every moment of being pregnant. She only wished Richard was still alive to enjoy it with her.

Her heart still ached when she thought of Richard, but somewhere over the last couple of years the intense, breath-robbing pain had eased. It had been three years since he’d died and slowly she’d come to accept that it was time to start a new chapter in her life. She’d promised Richard, after all.

Unexpectedly, an image of the man she’d met in the car park flashed into her head. Despite his bad taste in chat-up lines, he really was a hunk—if you liked that sort of casual look. He’d been unshaven—not totally professional for a surgeon—but she only had to think of his grin and her heart turned over.

She pushed the image away. Men were still off the agenda. Typical, though. The first time she had found a man that had made her pulse bounce, he was an idiot. Not that what she thought made the slightest difference, given her condition. Nevertheless, she was curious.

‘I met someone in the car park,’ she said casually as Kelly shoved a herbal tea in her direction. ‘Dr Stuart, I think he said his name was. I haven’t seen him about. Is he new?’

Kelly eyed her with amused exasperation. ‘Not you too! What planet have you been on? The nurses and female doctors have been talking about nothing else lately. Dr Stuart has joined us from New York. Started last week.’ Kelly always knew everything about the hospital. She made it her business to know. ‘He was in this morning when we admitted a patient with a head injury. I’d almost swear the nurses arranged it so they could get him down here for a consult!’ Kelly’s eyes were twinkling as she lifted an eyebrow. ‘Don’t tell me he’s managed to capture the cool Dr Simpson’s attention? That would be a first.’

Olivia moved across to the board keeping her back towards Kelly so she wouldn’t see that her face was hot. ‘Don’t be silly, Kelly. I’m hardly in the market for a man.’

‘Just as well,’ Kelly replied. ‘In the short time he’s been at the hospital he’s taken two of the staff out on dates. The man is a mass of walking pheromones. Let’s hope he’s as good a surgeon as he is at making pulses rise.’

Olivia felt curiously disappointed. So the way he’d looked at her, as if she were the only woman in the world, was all an act. But why should it matter? As she’d told Kelly, she wasn’t looking for a relationship. She had more than enough to be getting on with.

The phone that linked them to the emergency services rang and Olivia’s attention focussed on Kelly.

‘We’ll expect you,’ Kelly said, replacing the phone after listening for a few moments. She stood and immediately was all business. ‘Male. Forty. Suspected stroke. ETA ten minutes. Let’s get to work.’

Although Brad Schwimmer was displaying the signs of someone who had some sort of cerebral event, Olivia wasn’t sure what it was. His speech was unintelligible and he was disoriented, but Olivia didn’t believe he’d had a stroke.

His wife, a distraught woman in her early thirties called Sally, watched anxiously as the nurses cut away her husband’s clothes and attached him to the monitors.

‘I did the school run. I was away longer than usual—for over an hour. I met a friend I hadn’t seen for a while and we chatted. When I got back I thought he’d gone to work, but then I went into the kitchen and he was just lying there.’

‘BP one hundred and two over fifty-six, pulse rapid and weak,’ one of the nurses called out.

‘How was he this morning?’ Olivia asked. ‘Was he complaining of anything? A headache? Feeling dizzy? Sick?’

‘No, he’d just come back from his run before I left. He goes every morning before work—when he’s at home, that is.’

‘Does he travel much?’ ‘He’s a sales executive. He travels out of the country for a few days most weeks. Is he going to be all right? Please! You have to help him!’

‘We’ll do everything we can, I promise. But first we’re going to have to do a few tests to find out what exactly we’re dealing with. Would you like to wait in the family room?’

‘I want to stay with him. Please let me. I promise I won’t get in your way.’

‘Okay, Sally. He’ll probably find it reassuring to have you here. Talk to him. It’s possible that he can still hear what we’re saying even though he’s not responding. When was he last away?’

‘He just came back from Thailand yesterday.’

Thailand. Recent foreign travel added a long list of possible diagnoses they had to rule out. Although rare, Japanese encephalitis was one possibility.

‘Was he vaccinated for encephalitis? And did he take prophylaxis for malaria before he left?’ she asked. Cerebral malaria was something else she should exclude.

‘He always takes the meds he’s supposed to. He knows the risks if he doesn’t. He’s very particular about his health.’

‘Could we get a consult from Infectious Diseases?’ Olivia asked. Something wasn’t adding up. ‘In the meantime, let’s get a CT scan of his head and draw blood for a full infection screen, including malaria. Keep him on twenty-eight per cent oxygen.’

‘Dr Simpson?’ One of the interns popped her head through the door. ‘Dr Scutari is asking for help in room two if you’re free?’

Olivia peeled off her gloves and apron and chucked them in the bin. ‘I’m on my way.’ She turned to the nurses. ‘I’ll be next door. Call me if there is any change, or when the attending from Infectious Diseases gets here.’

This was typical of the ER on a weekday morning. Often it was busy and there was no predicting what they’d get in. It was what she loved about working here. Not everyone enjoyed the high-octane atmosphere, but most of them who worked in the department loved the buzz.

She helped the intern deal with his patient, a straightforward MI, then returned to Resus and was surprised to find Dr Stuart bending over her patient. However, if she was surprised to see him, he looked floored to see her.

‘You’re a doctor! Why didn’t you say?’ he said, glancing up at her.

Because you didn’t give me the chance. Because once you saw I was pregnant, I might as well have been invisible. Of course none of that could be said out loud but it didn’t mean she wasn’t enjoying his discomfort. That would teach him to go around introducing himself as a neurosurgeon to strange women.

‘I’m Dr Olivia Simpson. ER resident.’ She smiled briefly in his direction. In the time she’d been away, dealing with the other patient, Brad had lost some of his pallor. However, there was no improvement in his conscious level. ‘I didn’t ask for a neuro consult.’ She raised her voice. ‘Do we have Brad’s CT scan?’

‘I have it here.’ Candice, one of the ER nurses, flicked on a screen.

‘Besides, aren’t you supposed to be in Theatre—saving lives?’ Olivia couldn’t resist adding, sotto voce, as he stepped alongside her to study the scan.

He didn’t even look mildly embarrassed. ‘I was. Job done. I was at a loose end so I thought I’d come down to the ER to see if you had anything for me. Failing that, I hoped to scrounge a cup of coffee.’

Job done? She couldn’t have been in the department more than twenty minutes before her patient had arrived. Take another twenty-five when she’d been examining Brad and helping Dr Scutari—he was still done pretty quickly. What sort of neurological procedure took so little time? She hoped to hell Dr Stuart knew what he was doing.

‘Now you’re here, what do you think?’ She gestured to the screen.

‘I’m pretty sure he has an infarct of the right cerebellum,’ he said after only a few moments. He pointed to the area of the brain he was talking about. ‘But we need to find out what caused it. I’m guessing a clot. We should let the radiologists do an angiogram. If there is a clot they can be pretty good at aspirating it.’

Dr Stuart turned to Sally, who had been listening to the exchange with frightened, uncomprehending eyes.

‘We think that your husband might have a blood clot blocking an artery inside his brain. That’s what is making him so unresponsive. There is a procedure that can help. The radiologists put a catheter, a fine tube, into the artery in his groin and locate the blockage. If there is a clot present, they’ll try to suck it out.’

‘But …’ Olivia shot Dr Stuart a warning look ‘… you should be aware that the procedure carries some risks.’

‘What kind of risks?’ Sally’s voice rose to a squeak.

‘It’s possible that the procedure could well make whatever is wrong with your husband worse.’

‘On the other hand, if he doesn’t have it, he may not improve from where he is.’ Dr Stuart interrupted.

Typical of a surgeon, Olivia seethed. Any chance to intervene and they always took it over the more conservative approaches. She kept her voice level and matter-of-fact. ‘If Brad has had a stroke then he might well improve over the coming months.’

‘That’s true,’ David said easily. ‘But until we do the angiogram we won’t know for certain. Here’s what I suggest we do. We get him up to the MRI suite, ask the radiologists to take a look, and make a decision from there. How does that sound, Dr Simpson?’

It was, Olivia had to admit, a sensible approach. There was no point at this stage in giving the wife options and possibly scaring her further until they knew what the radiologists had to say.

‘Why don’t you come up and, if my diagnosis proves correct, watch the procedure?’ Dr Stuart said to Olivia. ‘You’ll find it interesting. The radiologists can do some pretty amazing stuff.’

‘Let me check what Kelly has waiting first, but if they can spare me, yes, I’d like to watch.’

Olivia took Sally by the hand and spoke soothingly to her. ‘Try not to worry too much until we hear what the radiologists have to say. Then we can decide how to proceed from there.’

Candice looked across at them. She was positively preening under the neurosurgeon’s gaze. ‘I’ll check that they’re free upstairs, shall I?’

David flashed her a grin and Candice blushed to the roots of her hair. ‘That would be helpful,’ he said.

Sally looked relieved that she didn’t have to make a decision just yet. Olivia gave her shoulder one final squeeze and went in search of Kelly. She had only got a few steps when she heard Dr Stuart’s voice coming from behind her.

‘Good thing I was in the department.’

She whirled around. ‘I’d have seen it eventually, Dr Stuart.’

‘It’s David.’ He cocked his head to the side and regarded her from his silvery eyes. ‘But you might have wasted time getting the Infectious Disease consult. You can cancel them.’

‘Shouldn’t we wait?’

‘Absolutely not. I’m almost certain. Brad needs the blockage cleared—either an angioplasty or clot aspiration—and the sooner the better. I’m the attending, so the decision is mine.’

Olivia’s pulse was racing and she wasn’t sure why. Perhaps it had something to do with the way his grey-blue eyes locked onto hers. She shook her head slightly in an attempt to regain her focus. He was right. This was his area of expertise. She was letting her peculiar reaction to him make her flustered, behave out of character and question his judgement.

‘I’m happy to wait to see what the radiologists have to say,’ David continued mildly, ‘but I’m convinced they’ll confirm my diagnosis. We can discuss it before speaking to his wife about his treatment options. Okay?’

Olivia forced a smile. ‘Fine by me.’

She turned to the head ER nurse, who had been watching the exchange with obvious amusement. ‘Kelly, is there anything you need me for in the next hour or so?’

‘If there is, I’ll page you. There are other doctors on duty, you know.’ It was a barbed reference to the fact that Olivia liked to be involved in as many cases as she could. Apart from Kelly, Olivia was often first in and last out. As chief resident, the work of the interns was her overall responsibility—a responsibility she took very seriously indeed. Just because she was going on maternity leave in a few months was no reason to let her standards slip.

David reached across Olivia and swooped down on the box of doughnuts. ‘Worth coming down here just for this,’ he said as he took a bite out of one.

Olivia glanced at her watch. ‘We don’t have time.’ She reached across and removed the remains of the doughnut from his hand and chucked it in the bin. David stared. He lifted an eyebrow and grinned.

Kelly looked at Olivia and then at David. ‘You’re causing a bit of a ruckus in my department, young man. I just hope you’re as good a surgeon as everyone says you are.’

Upstairs in Radiology, Olivia watched as they injected dye through the arterial catheter in Brad’s groin. David murmured something to the radiologist when almost immediately a blocked vessel showed up on the screen. ‘There’s our culprit. The vessel wall looks quite normal so it must be blocked by a fresh blood clot,’ David said. He turned to Olivia. ‘There’s no time to talk to his wife—we have to remove it.’

The radiologist inserted a suction adapter onto the groin catheter and Olivia held her breath as he carefully sucked out the clot. Within minutes Brad’s eyes opened briefly to the call of his name and he appeared to look at them purposefully.

David lifted his head and grinned at her. ‘Pretty impressive, huh?’

Olivia nodded. It was a procedure she hadn’t witnessed before. And as David had said, it was pretty dramatic.

‘I’ll let his wife know he’s regained consciousness,’ she said.

She left the X-ray suite and hurried back downstairs, Kelly’s words echoing in her mind. David might be as good a surgeon as everyone said he was. Pity about the rest.

Olivia tossed her car keys onto the table by the door before going into the kitchen and pouring herself a glass of water. The remainder of her shift in the ER had been hectic. Not long after she’d come back down from Radiology a multiple RTA had come in. It had been an hour after her shift was due to finish when they’d finally sorted everyone out and either sent them home or to the OR. Thankfully all the casualties had survived.

She tipped some dog food into Bouncer’s bowl, which he devoured in three quick mouthfuls. When he looked up at her hopefully she shook her head.

‘No, you know you’ll get fat, Bouncer. I’m doing this for your own good. I’ll take you for a walk in a moment.’ Bouncer, her three-year-old Labrador, attended doggy day care whenever Olivia was on duty. It meant a detour on the way to and from the hospital, but he was worth it. She shouldn’t really have a dog at all, she knew that, not with the hours she worked, but he was company for her and taking him for long walks kept her fit.

Taking her water through to the sitting room, she eased off her shoes and rubbed her aching feet. Bouncer plonked himself next to her and laid his head on her knee, nudging her arm with his wet nose.

‘Okay, bossy boots, I get the message. You want your head scratched.’ Rubbing Bouncer’s golden fur, she clicked on the TV remote. Not that she really wanted to watch the news or follow some trashy reality show, it was more to fill the house with noise. When she and Richard had first viewed the house in Sea Cliff, they’d both known instantly it was the perfect forever home for them. It had spectacular views of the Golden Gate Bridge and the Pacific, and with its six bedrooms and three reception rooms had been more than large enough to entertain Richard’s business colleagues and clients. Most importantly, though, it was spacious enough to be filled with the children they had both longed to have together.

Now, without him in it, it just felt big and cold and empty. She’d considered selling it several times since Richard had died, but at first she hadn’t wanted to leave the house that still smelled of him, still held his memory in every room—especially the uncompleted nursery. Then, when the shadow of grief had lifted and she’d returned to work, she’d simply been too busy. Perhaps now was the right time to find a new home for her and the baby? Somewhere cosy with a smaller, more manageable garden and a playroom? Of course she would always miss Richard, and she would have his baby to remember him by, but the life they had shared was in the past. Hadn’t she promised herself a new start? Wasn’t having this baby the beginning of that? But with work and her pregnancy it was unlikely she’d get around to finding somewhere else to live now.

It wasn’t as if money was a problem. Richard had left her so well off that she’d never have to work again if she didn’t want to. But she did want to work. It was what kept her sane. She’d have to stop, of course, for a while at least, when this baby came along, but eventually she’d go back. Being single, she’d have to employ a nanny but, assuming she found the right person, that would be okay. She’d already asked an agency to start looking.

She placed a hand over her swelling stomach. ‘Not too long now, baby,’ she whispered. She should be relishing this brief interlude of peace and quiet, because when the baby came there wouldn’t be much of it. Not that she didn’t yearn to hold her child. Even another twenty-two weeks seemed an eternity.

She rested her head on the back of the couch and unexpectedly an image of David filled her mind. What was it about him that made her react the way she did? She’d never been attracted to his type before. The type that thought all he had to do was smile and a woman would melt.

She grimaced. To be honest, she had melted. Just a little bit. She’d liked the frank and blatant approval in his eyes. It had made her tingle, and that had made her feel good. More than good—it had made her feel alive. What woman wouldn’t feel flattered being admired by such a devastatingly attractive man? Until he’d seen her bump, of course. Then she had disappeared so far off his radar she might as well have been in outer space. Olivia tutted. Dr David Stuart might be gorgeous but he wasn’t for her. Especially now. All her love, affection and attention were going to be devoted to the child growing inside her—Richard’s child and hers. All things considered, David would have to remain where he belonged. In the realms of fantasy.

Bouncer was snoring contentedly so Olivia eased herself off the couch, careful not to disturb him. She crossed over to the French doors and stepped out onto the balcony. The lights of the Golden Gate Bridge twinkled in the night sky and a gentle breeze carried the sounds of distant traffic. Strange how this view always seemed to soothe her and fill her with renewed energy and hope. Perhaps it was the reminder that life went on, no matter how much you wanted time to stand still. And, oh, my God, Richard, I wanted time to stop before you died. But it hadn’t and she’d had to come to terms with life without him. She wrapped her arms around herself. In a few months she would have their baby and at least a part of Richard would live on.


CHAPTER TWO

OLIVIA bent over her patient in Resus as the nurses cut away his shirt and trousers. The accompanying paramedic recited the known facts about the casualty.

According to witnesses, a truck had made a right turn and his wing mirror had knocked the cyclist from his bike. The lorry driver was shocked but unharmed. When it came to a battle between a ten-ton truck and a push bike there was only ever one winner.

The cyclist was already wired to the monitors. His pulse was slow and his breathing shallow. She opened an eyelid and shone her torch. The pupil of the left eye did as it was supposed to, but the other was blown.

Very gently she removed his helmet, noting the blood stains on the back. Quickly she palpated along the skull until she found what she was looking for—a depression a couple of inches above the neck. Unconscious, skull fracture, unequal pupils—it all added up. He must have a haematoma causing compression of the brain stem.

‘I need a consult from Neuro,’ she said briskly. But, as always, the nurse had anticipated her order and was already on the phone.

‘They’re just finishing in Theatre. Someone will be here as soon as they can.’

‘Tell them I need them here, stat,’ Olivia said. Her patient had to have the pressure in his head relieved, and as soon as possible. With every second that passed his brain was swelling, pushing against the rigid bones of the skull.

‘I’ve found some ID,’ one of the nurses called out. ‘Your patient’s name is Mark Lightbody. He’s thirty-three. There’s also a number for his wife. I’ll give her a call and tell her to come.’

Olivia nodded. Poor Mrs Lightbody was about to have her day—possibly her life—ruined.

Mark was unconscious, and although he was still breathing unaided, she had to intubate him to secure his airway and maintain his oxygen levels. The measures she’d taken would keep him stable for a while, but surgery was the only way to relieve the growing pressure on his brain. She glanced at the clock on the wall. Five minutes had passed since Kelly had phoned. Where the hell was the neurosurgeon?

Just when she was about to insist that Kelly phone again, the swing doors burst open and Dr Stuart strode in. She’d only seen him in passing since that first day and she was dismayed to note that her already escalated pulse upped another notch.

‘What do you have for me?’ he asked her as Candice stepped forward with a disposable gown.

‘Mark Lightbody. Cyclist with an occipital skull fracture. GCS six. Right pupil fixed and dilated. Left pupil responding normally. Apart from the injury to his head, he has only minor cuts and lacerations. He needs emergency surgery to relieve the pressure on his brain.’

David grinned. ‘Doesn’t the attending—as in me—usually make that decision?’

As he was talking he was examining Mark. ‘But I have to agree. Unfortunately the theatre is still being scrubbed after our last case. It will take at least ten minutes to get another ready. He needs a craniotomy, so we’ll have to do it here.’

‘Here?’ Olivia echoed.

‘No reason why not. I assume you have a tray set up for that purpose?’

‘Yes, but shouldn’t we wait to get him to the OR?’

‘It will take time to get him to the OR. Time he doesn’t have—not unless we want to risk him dying or ending up severely brain damaged. In my opinion, doing a craniotomy here and now is his best chance. Now, we can waste more time by arguing, in which case I suggest you step out and attend to other patients, or we can get on with the procedure.’

Olivia felt the blood rush to her cheeks. She hadn’t been objecting to carrying out the procedure, just querying whether it would be better to wait until they’d taken him to Theatre. However, every minute they wasted arguing was time Mark didn’t have. She bit back the sharp retort that had risen to her lips and nodded. ‘I’ll stay and assist.’

The insufferable arrogance of the man. However, she wasn’t about to rise to the bait.

‘In fact,’ he said, ‘why don’t you do it while I assist?’

Olivia felt a frisson of excitement. She always grabbed any opportunity to acquire additional skills. His confidence in her was flattering and his aura of self-confidence immensely reassuring. Not all the attendings were prepared to teach the ER residents. ‘Thanks. I’d like to,’ she replied.

She scrubbed while Kelly set up the tray and one of the other nurses shaved Mark’s blood-matted hair and prepped the surgical field.

‘Good. I’ll show you how to get started then you can take over.’

David made a wide incision in the scalp below the dent in Mark’s head and peeled back the skin to expose an obvious depressed fracture of the skull. ‘This is the interesting bit. Take these elevators …’ he handed her two ‘… and lift the bone fragments up out of the way.’

Everyone seemed to hold their breath as Olivia did as David asked.

As soon as she’d lifted the shattered bone out of the way, a fat red blood clot bulged out towards her. Slowly and very carefully she removed the clotted blood and a satisfied glow spread through her as Mark’s vitals immediately improved.

She grinned at David. When he smiled back something seemed to tilt inside her chest, making her catch her breath. She dipped her head and concentrated on replacing the bone.

‘Good job, Dr Simpson. I’ll get him into the OR, patch up the skull fracture properly and repair the scalp incision.’

David peeled off his plastic apron and dropped it in the bin. The two ER nurses who were standing by exchanged smiles.

‘Could we get him up to the OR pronto?’ David asked. He removed his protective goggles and winked—winked!—at one of the nurses, who blushed furiously.

‘Thank you, Doctor,’ Olivia said stiffly. ‘We’ll get that organised.’

David indicated with a nod of his head that she accompany him outside. Olivia went with him, knowing if she didn’t he was likely to have his say in front of the staff.

But to her amazement he didn’t launch into an attack. ‘I meant what I said back there. Good work,’ he said. ‘You have the steady, delicate touch of a surgeon.’

Instinctively Olivia looked down at her hands. Did he guess that at one time she’d thought of being a surgeon? But that had been before Richard had become ill. Then the long hours and years the training would have required had been out of the question. She’d never regretted the decision, and when Richard had gone into remission and they’d decided to grab the chance to have a family, her dream of becoming a surgeon had faded into second place. The hours she’d worked in the ER had been long and hard enough as it was.

‘I wasn’t trying to argue with you earlier,’ she said quietly. ‘I was only wondering whether it would be better for our patient to wait until we got him to ER.’

His grin grew wider. ‘Hey, think nothing of it.’ He winked again, then his smile vanished and he lowered his voice. ‘Despite anything you might have heard about me, or will hear, I’m a bloody good surgeon. It is the one thing I take seriously. I expect we will brush up against each other in ER pretty often, so it is as well that you know.’

Brush up against each other! To her mortification an image of them brushing up against each other flashed into her mind. And it didn’t have anything to do with being in the emergency room. The blood rushed to her cheeks. Good God, did every pregnant woman’s brain turn to mush like this? Or was there something wrong with her?

‘I don’t intend to tussle with you every time we disagree about how to treat a patient,’ David continued. ‘Just as I won’t argue with you when you make an ER decision.’ He shot her a quizzical look but his eyes were glinting. ‘Hey, is it warm in here or what?’

‘They always keep the ER too warm,’ she said as nonchalantly as she could.

Candice came out of Resus and hurried towards them.

‘They say they’ll be ready for you in the OR in ten minutes, Dr Stuart.’

Without warning, an image of Mark’s exposed brain flashed back into Olivia’s mind, but instead of Mark she saw Richard on the operating table. To her mortification, her eyes filled. This damn pregnancy was playing hell with her emotions.

David seemed to do a double take and the smile left his eyes. ‘Damn. You’re crying. Is it something I said?’

Even more mortified, Olivia tried a smile. She blinked the tears away and pointed to her face. ‘Pregnancy hormones. Sorry. They’ve turned me into the oddest person—someone I don’t recognise.’

A strange expression crossed David’s face. Had she not known better she would have said it was regret, but just at that moment a white-faced woman carrying a toddler rushed through the doors and up to the reception desk. ‘I’m Mrs Lightbody. I understand my husband, Mark, is here. Where is he? Is he all right?’

‘Shall we have a word?’ David asked, tilting his head in the woman’s direction. ‘Or I can do it alone, if you need a moment.’

Olivia grabbed a tissue from the box on the counter and blew her nose. Then she looked him in the eye. ‘See! Back to a normal person. Told you it wouldn’t last. Let’s go and put Mark’s wife out of her misery.’

That evening Olivia left the ER later than usual. She was tired, and the thought of going home to her empty home held little appeal. She groaned as she remembered that she hadn’t been shopping for a while and ran a mental inventory of her fridge contents in her head. A couple of eggs, some stale bread and orange juice. That was it. Damn.

Although she wasn’t hungry, she had to think about the baby. Not for the first time, she sent a silent prayer heavenwards when she thought of the deli a few streets away from where she lived. It had a few tables and served delicious home-cooked meals. She ate there at least once a week.

As she stepped out into the car park, she saw a familiar figure bent over a bicycle. David was studying a flat tyre and looking around as if he expected a replacement wheel to appear out of nowhere. She’d passed him once or twice on her way into work and he had always been on his bike. It had surprised her. If anything, she would have expected him to ride a Harley-Davidson or a sports car. Maybe he did it for effect? He probably knew that he looked pretty damn sexy in his sleeveless T-shirt and cycling shorts. God! Now she was getting all hot under the collar again.

For a moment she was tempted to walk past as if she hadn’t seen him. She really was too tired to deal with someone as exhausting as David, but then good manners got the better of her. He’d helped her the other day, so she could hardly leave him to his own devices.

‘Problem?’ she asked. When he looked up her breath caught in her throat. He really was the most astonishingly good-looking man, despite the five-o’clock shadow that looked as if it were about to become a beard. Was he trying to grow one? That would be a pity. It would cover his face and she really didn’t like the feel of a beard against her skin.

Dismayed, she gave herself a mental shake. Where were these thoughts coming from? Hadn’t she told herself that she was not interested in David—beard or no beard—or any man, for that matter?

David smiled ruefully. ‘Thought it was a puncture and was about to fix it when I saw that the tyre has been shredded.’ He pointed to the tyre and Olivia saw what he meant. It looked as if it had been slashed. Perhaps the boyfriend of one of David’s conquests had decided on revenge?

‘I don’t suppose you happen to have a spare in that trunk of yours?’ Although he grinned, fatigue dampened the sparkle in his eyes. It was seven in the evening and, like most of the doctors in the hospital, he’d probably been in well before rounds at eight. So he had likely done at least a twelve-hour day, most of which would have been on his feet in Theatre.

‘No. I have everything in there—kitchen sink included—except a spare. But I can give you a lift if you like.’

He stood up and stretched. She’d forgotten how tall he was. He topped her five feet seven inches by at least half a foot.

‘Would you? That would be great.’

‘Jump in,’ she said.

She hid a smile as she watched him fold his long legs into the passenger seat. It would be an uncomfortable journey for him, but better than walking or waiting for a cab.

‘Where to?’ she asked as she pulled out of the car park.

He named a suburb that bordered the one where Olivia lived.

‘You’re not far from me. I live in Sea Cliff.’

He whistled through his teeth. ‘They must pay ER residents better than I thought.’

She decided to ignore his comment. ‘I have to make a short detour to pick up my dog, if that’s okay.’

‘Sure.’ He pulled his mobile out of his pocket and flicked through his contacts. ‘Will you excuse me for a moment?’ He threw a smile in her direction as he pressed the call button. ‘Have to cancel my date. She’s going to be as mad as hell, but by the time I get washed up we’ll have missed the first act.’ He grinned. ‘Opera’s not my style anyway. I would probably fall asleep before the first scene was over.’

She smiled briefly and concentrated on the traffic. His love life was no business of hers.

When he’d finished his call, which, judging by the one-sided version Olivia heard, didn’t go down very well until he promised to make it up to her—whoever she was—soon, he turned his attention to her again.

‘I suspect Melissa and I are heading for dumpsville. It doesn’t matter how often you tell people that your work comes first, they never quite believe it, do they? In that respect, it’s easier going out with another medic. At least they understand.’

His words made her think of Richard. He hadn’t been in the profession, quite the opposite. He’d been the CEO of a large multinational company, but he’d always understood how important her job was, just as she’d understood that he’d needed to work the hours he had. Perhaps, given their busy schedules, if they hadn’t met when they’d still been in college, they would never have ended up together. As it was, she could only regret the hours that they hadn’t spent with each other. If only they’d known their time together was going to be so short.

Preoccupied with her thoughts, it wasn’t until she pulled up outside the doggy day-care centre that she noticed at some point during the journey David had fallen asleep. God, she knew the need to nap wherever and whenever so well—most doctors learned the knack early on in their careers. In sleep he looked younger and, without the swagger, more vulnerable. He really did need a shave, she thought distractedly, trying not to notice that his lips were full, and even in sleep he looked as if he was on the verge of smiling.

Just as she was about to reach over and give him a small shake, his eyes snapped open and he was instantly alert.

‘God, I hope you weren’t in mid-sentence when I zoned out?’

‘How long were you on duty today?’ she asked.

He frowned. ‘Dunno. Last time I was home was yesterday morning. I stayed in the hospital last night. I slept in the on-call room for a couple of hours. Between two and four, I think it was.’

‘You were on overnight? And during the day too? That can’t be good—for you or your patients!’

He quirked an eyebrow. ‘Don’t you go all mumsy on me. I know my limits. As long as I get a couple of hours’ decent sleep, I’m usually fine.’

Mumsy? Had he just called her mumsy?

‘I won’t be a moment,’ she said, and hopped out of the car. When she returned with Bouncer, who looked dismayed to find someone in his seat, David was, once more, out for the count.

Bouncer barked at Olivia apologetically before jumping onto David’s lap.

‘What the hell …?’ David’s eyes snapped open again and he pushed at Bouncer, who was clearly not intending to move.

‘David, meet Bouncer. Bouncer, meet David.’ She grabbed Bouncer’s collar and tried to pull him off David’s lap, but the dog was having none of it. A bemused-looking David took hold of Bouncer, climbed out of his seat and deposited him in the back. ‘Stay there,’ he commanded.

To Olivia’s amazement, her dog, who would never do what she wanted unless bribed and coaxed, looked at David, blinked and lay down obediently.

‘How did you manage to do that?’

‘Dogs just need a firm hand, just like …’

Please, God, don’t let him say just like women and children.

‘Just like …’ He hesitated. ‘Just like horses,’ he finished, his eyes glinting. He yawned. ‘Think I might close my eyes again, if that’s okay?’

‘Sure.’ Olivia pointed the car in the direction of home and by the time she’d turned into her street David was asleep again.

When she pulled up outside her house, Bouncer leapt from the car. David opened his eyes and looked around sleepily.

‘Where would you like me to drop you?’ she asked.

‘Here’s just fine.’

‘Are you sure you don’t want me to take you all the way? You seem in urgent need of a good night’s sleep.’

David hid a yawn behind a fist. ‘I am. The truth is that the people I’m staying with—my friend and his wife—have a newborn baby. God! I never knew such a small thing could make so much noise. It’s just until I move into my own place. Trouble is that won’t be for another three weeks.’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘Do babies stop crying when they’re older? I sure hope so.’

‘Not actually having had a baby, or any nieces and nephews, I can’t tell you that.’ She was clearly in the mother category, as far as David was concerned. Why that should bother her as much as it did, she had no idea.

David stretched languorously. ‘Just as well I stayed in the hospital last night, though. Meant I was on the spot to deal with a brain injury from an RTA.’ He opened the door. ‘Thanks for the lift but I’ll run the rest of the way from here. At least being on the move will keep me awake and hopefully by the time I get home the little critter will have gone to sleep. But I sure could do with something to eat first. I don’t suppose you know of a place between here and my street?’

Olivia hesitated. She really didn’t want to spend any more time in this man’s company than she had to. But she recognised a starving, exhausted doctor when she saw one. Whatever and however he made her feel, he was a colleague. He needed food—just as she did—and then bed.

‘Look, I was planning to grab some dinner at a place I know just along the road a bit.’ She pointed towards the bay. ‘How about joining me? I’ll give you a lift home after we’ve eaten.’

‘No one waiting for you?’ David replied, looking puzzled.

Olivia faltered. She hated having to explain about Richard’s death and how she had come to be pregnant with his child, so she’d become adept at sidestepping people’s curiosity. ‘No, not any more.’

David looked at her searchingly and for a moment she thought he was going probe further. She returned his gaze steadily, willing him not to ask her any more questions. Almost imperceptibly, his intelligent eyes flickered, as if he’d read her mind. And then his by now familiar, lazy grin was back.

He turned his gaze in the direction she had pointed. ‘Does this place do steaks? I could murder a T-bone.’

Of course he was a steak man. Could he really be anything else?

‘No steaks, but they do a mean chicken pie.’


CHAPTER THREE

OVER dinner, chicken pie for him and a salad for her, and with Bouncer snoozing at their feet, they chatted about Mark. David was optimistic that he would make a full recovery.

Finally, he leaned back in his chair. ‘Coffee?’

‘Not for me. I’ll have a herbal tea.’

‘Herbal tea! Does no one in this state eat normal food? The Californians don’t know what they’re missing.’ However, he called over the waitress who had been smiling and dancing attendance since they’d walked in the door—the very same waitress, Olivia noted sourly, who normally had to be summoned at least three times before she deigned to attend to her. Unsurprisingly, their drinks arrived only moments after David had ordered them.

‘Anything else?’ the waitress asked, placing her hand on her hip and smiling directly into David’s eyes.

‘Thank you, but no.’

Olivia hid a smile at the waitress’s obvious disappointment. No doubt she’d been hoping to be asked for her number. The look she gave Olivia was less than friendly.

‘So,’ Olivia asked, ‘what made you move from New York, seeing as you like your steaks so much?’

‘The job here. I’d have to wait a year for an attending post to come up in New York.’

‘This is your first attending position?’ She was surprised. He seemed so self-assured when dealing with his patients.

‘Yep. Thought I may as well work in sunny Frisco for a year.’ As he took a satisfied gulp of his coffee, Olivia couldn’t help but notice his long, slim fingers. For a split second she imagined those same hands skilfully dancing along her skin and was instantly horrified. What in God’s name was she thinking? She forced herself to concentrate on what David was saying.

‘You’re not from these parts either, are you? English, I’m guessing. So what brought you to the US?’

She shifted in her seat, still feeling slightly unbalanced by her thoughts of a few moments ago. ‘I still have the accent, huh? Even though I’ve been here for years. My folks came over from London when I was a little girl and settled in Boston. That’s where I went to med school.’

‘Good choice.’ He tipped his head to the side. ‘They’ve got some of the best teaching hospitals. And then you moved out West?’

‘That’s about it.’ Olivia made a show of looking at her wristwatch. ‘It’s getting late. I’d better get home and Bouncer fed.’

David leaned forward. ‘I’m sure Bouncer won’t mind waiting another five minutes. What happened after med school?’ His eyes held hers, all signs of his earlier fatigue completely gone.

‘It’s a long story.’

‘I have time, and I’d like to hear it.’

Olivia raised her eyebrows. ‘Sure you’re not stalling just so that you don’t have to go back to your friend’s apartment with the crying baby?’

‘Well, that’s part of it, sure.’ His lips twitched when she pretended to look shocked. ‘Look, if you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine by me.’

Olivia studied the man sitting opposite to her. Could he really be interested?

Yet the need to talk about Richard and their life together was strong. Maybe it was the intense way David was looking at her, as if she was the most fascinating woman he’d ever come across. It was dark outside and they were the only people left in the deli. The waitress had dimmed the lights and was huffily tidying up, making it clear that she thought it was time for them to go.

‘My husband—Richard—and I got together when we were both at college. We dated and then got married. I was doing my residency and, as you will know from your own experience, working all hours. As was he. He joined a large company and was put on the fast track. It meant we spent little time together, but we were happy. Richard, as expected, shot up the corporate ladder. I got a job at the hospital and I guess we continued as before. We moved to San Francisco when Richard was promoted to CEO of his company.

‘Then it became time to think about having a family. We had just started trying when Richard started getting these headaches. At first we put it down to pressure of work—he was busier than ever—but the headaches kept getting worse.’

David’s eyes were fixed on hers, his head tipped slightly to one side. She could see that his neurosurgeon brain was way ahead of her, but he said nothing. It was almost uncanny how still he was. Up until now he had been a mass of restless energy despite his evident exhaustion. This was no doubt the kind of focus he brought to surgery.

‘Eventually I persuaded him to see someone. You can imagine the number of tests he had to go through. And then, finally, the results.’

Her breath hitched as the memory of the pair of them sitting in the surgeon’s consulting room—the pity in his eyes as he’d told them his diagnosis. Imprinted on her memory was the look on Richard’s face. First the confusion then the disbelief.

‘He was diagnosed with a brain tumour.’

David shook his head. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘It was the fastest-growing kind. I knew that Richard had a year, two at the most. I didn’t want to tell him the prognosis, but he made me. Richard was the kind of man who had to know exactly what he was dealing with.

‘I wanted to put having children on the back burner so we could concentrate all our energy on him—but Richard was determined to store sperm. He wanted to believe that he would be the person who survived the cancer but he knew that the chemo would make him infertile. So that’s what we did. We stored his sperm before he started treatment for his tumour.’ She shivered and smiled grimly. ‘As you can imagine, those were dark and difficult days. It didn’t help that Richard wasn’t the easiest of patients.’

She looked out of the window. Although over four years had passed since they’d learned of his tumour, it was almost as if she was back in that dark, dark time.

‘Against the odds, he went into remission. The chemo shrank the tumour and he was well enough to return to work, as I did. But he was still desperate for us to try for a baby. I guess he suspected it was our only chance of having a child together.

‘I went for IVF—not the most pleasant process, as you can imagine—but the first cycle didn’t work. Then Richard got sick again so naturally we put the IVF on hold.’ She sucked in a breath. ‘He died six months later. That was three years ago.’

Something shifted behind David’s eyes but Olivia was too caught up in her story to finish now.

‘A few months ago, I decided it was time to move on with my life.’ She smiled ruefully. ‘We had four frozen embryos left. I didn’t want to wait until I was in my forties to have a baby, so I went ahead with IVF, using one of the embryos we still had stored.’ She tried to keep her voice matter-of–fact, as if she was talking about someone else and not herself. She wasn’t going to share her loneliness since Richard had died, or the empty, crushing disappointment she’d felt when the first attempt at IVF had failed. Neither was she prepared to share her constant yearning to hold a baby in her arms and her fear that the second attempt would fail too—especially not with someone who was, after all, a stranger.

But, strangely, David didn’t feel like a stranger. Nevertheless, she’d already said too much.

‘So voilà! I’m pregnant,’ she finished. ‘Nineteen weeks and counting.’

‘And you’re doing this on your own?’

‘And why not? Thousands of women do.’

‘I don’t envy you. My friend’s baby might weigh only a few pounds, but there’s no mistaking who rules the roost in that house.’

Embarrassed that she’d been talking as if she were a leaky bucket, Olivia changed the subject.

‘What about you? I assume by the way you’re talking that you have no children of your own.’

‘Good God, no!’ He looked so shocked she almost laughed. ‘Children and I don’t quite … go together,’ he said. ‘And if I ever doubted it, after a couple of weeks at my friend’s place, I sure know it now.’

‘But you must have children as patients?’

‘That is entirely different. They’re not mine. I don’t have to deal with their crying and constant demands. Children and I are not for each other. Don’t get me wrong, little Alice is the cutest thing ever, but the best thing about her is that she is not my responsibility.’

‘Perhaps when you meet the right woman?’

He looked bemused. ‘What is it with women? You all seem to think a person can’t be normal if he or she doesn’t want children.’ He pulled out his wallet and when Olivia made to do the same he shook his head. ‘My treat. You were good enough to give me a lift. It is the least I can do.’ He yawned. ‘But you’ll have to forgive me, if I don’t get to bed soon, there’s every chance I’ll be spending the night with my head on this table.’

‘Come on, then, I’ll run you home. And since I have to go in to work for a couple of hours tomorrow morning I’m happy to give you a lift—if you like?’

He smiled. ‘I’d appreciate it. Don’t worry about picking me up, though. I’ll come to you.’


CHAPTER FOUR

DAVID crept into his friend’s flat, grateful to hear nothing but blessed silence. For once the baby seemed to be asleep. Kate had left a terse note about a woman having phoned several times and didn’t he know she wasn’t his secretary? David groaned. Melissa. She wasn’t aware of it yet, but their short dalliance had come to an end. Once a woman started making unreasonable demands, it made him run in the opposite direction as fast as he could.

He opened the fridge and helped himself to an ice-cold beer.

Somehow he couldn’t see Olivia hanging onto a man as if her life depended on it. There was something too proud, too self-assured about her, despite—or maybe because of—what she’d been through. She was resilient, no doubt about it.

He sighed as he undressed. In other circumstances she was exactly the type of woman he would have made it his business to pursue. Intelligent, beautiful and, most importantly, independent.

But, of course, any chance of an affair with Olivia was out of the question. The fact that she was a widow would have been off-putting enough—but a pregnant widow? No way. No matter how beautiful, she was untouchable. Which was a pity.

He climbed into bed and pulled the duvet over him. Sleep. He had to be up again in less than six hours, so he had to make the most of every minute.

But just as he was drifting off, a sound like a host of banshees let loose had him sitting bolt upright. Ye gods, what was it? But then as the shrieks settled down into the more recognisable cries of a disgruntled baby, he almost wished the house had been invaded by banshees. At least then he could have sent them on their way. He thumped his pillow in disgust and pulled it over his ears. He was so tired, surely not even that racket could keep him awake?

Only it wasn’t just baby Alice who invaded his thoughts and prevented sleep but the memory of a beautiful blonde-haired woman with an impish smile and determined eyes.

Olivia was dreaming, lovely dreams where she was lying on a beach with a book in her hand and nothing to do for the rest of the day, when a loud banging on the door woke her up. She glanced at her watch. Six am! Who the hell could it be? Calls at this time usually meant bad news. As she hurried to the door, Bouncer following at her heels, she mentally ran through all the possibilities in her head. Dad was in Boston, surely still asleep at this time, and her best friend was in the UK. Her heart hammering, she opened the door only to find an exhausted-looking David, leaning against the doorjamb, his eyes half-closed. He held out a paper cup to her.

‘Good. You’re up,’ he said, thrusting the cup into her hand before bending down and giving an ecstatic Bouncer a scratch behind the ears. ‘I guessed you would be.’

Olivia stared at him, speechless as he walked past her without so much as a by your leave. He sank into her leather sofa, removed his shoes, and propped his feet up on the table.

‘Do you have any idea what time it is?’ she spluttered.

‘I know exactly what time it is. Just after six. I’ve been counting virtually every blessed minute since four this morning. Baby Alice—cute as a button but as loud as a banshee—hardly slept a wink, so neither did I. Teething—or so her mother says.’

‘I know I said I would give you a lift to work, but I meant at a decent hour. In fact, I distinctly remember us agreeing on seven-thirty!’

Instead of looking embarrassed and penitent, he lay back on the sofa, placed his hands behind his head and eased his legs out in front of him. At least Bouncer had the grace to look guilty as he climbed onto the couch next to David and curled up against him. ‘Don’t mind me,’ David said.’ I’m happy to wait until you’re ready to go.’ He raised an eyebrow and grinned. ‘Nice look, by the way.’

She looked down, mortified to find that her breasts were as clear as day under her thin vest that she wore with her pyjama shorts. She’d been so disorientated and anxious to answer the door she hadn’t stopped to cover herself.

She was about to grab him by the arm and physically eject him when she noticed his breathing had already deepened. She went to stand over him. Sure enough, he was fast asleep. And so was her dog.

Why, oh, why had she stopped to give him a lift? For some reason he had taken that as carte blanche to invite himself into her life. Was he so used to women keeling over in admiration that it hadn’t crossed his mind that his behaviour was completely out of order?

Or maybe the man was mad? Perhaps he’d been removed from his job in New York for irrational behaviour? Perhaps the reputation of California for being more accepting of idiosyncratic personalities had brought him here?

And it was all very well for him to imply that she could go back to bed until later, but once she was up, she was up!

Still seething, she took a sip of whatever he’d brought in the carton. Raspberry tea. It was delicious—but if he thought he was going to get around her with a cup of herbal tea he had another think coming.

She stalked into the study and booted up her computer. A few moments later she typed in David’s name.

Immediately several entries came up, mostly articles in JAMA with his name attached. So he was definitely a well-regarded neurosurgeon. No evidence of him being struck off for flaky behaviour, then.

But then, a few lines below, another item appeared. One that made her suck in her breath. It was a photograph of David, standing with his arm around a beautiful brunette in front of a nightclub. But it wasn’t so much the photograph that surprised her, it was the caption. ‘Dr David Stuart, heir to the Stuart fortune, with partner, snapped outside the 40/40 club.’





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