Lucy Gordon - For His Little Girl

"They're our boarders, only they're friends, as well. They're all terribly fond of Mummy. I've done all the strawberries. What's next?"

"Lettuce. Give it a good wash."

While she washed he got out some china plates, then she arranged lettuce leaves while he pureed some of the strawberries.

"Now for the honey, mint and sour cream," he declared dramatically, just as he did on his show.

But it wasn't the camera fixing its gaze on him, or the audience crowding the benches, laughing at his well-rehearsed but so spontaneous-seeming flourishes. It was a cheeky little girl with laughing eyes, regarding him with her head on one side, exactly as another girl had done once before. It gave him a strange turn.

In fact, everything about today was strange. Only a few hours ago he'd awoken next to a beautiful model, the ultimate bachelor's dream. Suddenly he was a father. Okay, Okay, he'd been a father for years, but until this moment he hadn't felt like a father. Now he did. And it felt good. Every man should have a daughter, he reckoned, especially one with long, curly red hair, a cheeky grin and her mother's air of challenging everyone.

Once again Luke Danton had gotten lucky. The world's goodies had fallen into his lap, just the way they always did. And again, as always, he was grateful.

Luke's bathroom was modern luxury made to look like Victorian basic: white tiles on the walls, dark-red and brown decorative tiles on the floor, and glowing brass fixtures. The effect was sumptuous.

After splashing water on her face Pippa sat down while she dried herself, and took long breaths. She'd cleared the first hurdle. It had been tough, but she'd coped. She'd gotten over Luke long ago, but it was never going to be easy seeing him again, being physically close to him. Luke wasn't just a handsome face, or charm personified, although he was both those things. He was a body that she still remembered during her lonely nights and a vibrant presence and warm, laughing eyes.

He might have been dismayed to see her, and she'd braced herself for that. But nothing had prepared her for the welcome she'd received, even if she did know that Luke was being practical. Being hugged close to him was unnerving, but she would get over that. She had come here for Josie's sake, and that was all that mattered.

She took a few more deep breaths, and when she felt better she returned to the kitchen where Luke was dishing up. She was suitably impressed by the creation.

"One hundred and twenty calories, and four grams of fat," he explained. "I add that bit automatically now. People always seem to want to know."

"And it's delicious," Josie said blissfully. "Mummy, why don't we have strawberry salad?"

"Oh, sure," Pippa said wryly, "I can see Jake and Harry eating strawberry salad. If it doesn't have chips and fried bacon they doesn't want to know." She assumed an attitude. "'Hey, Pip, I've got a fourteen-hour shift. A man needs something to keep him going, know what I mean?'''

"Fourteen hours?" Luke echoed.

"Jake's just qualified as a doctor," Pippa explained. "Which means he lectures the rest of us about healthy eating and stuffs himself with stodge."

It was Josie who finished first, devouring Luke's helping as well as her own, then hopped up and down impatiently until they were ready to go to the hotel for the bags. For the short journey she sat in the back of Luke's Porsche, eyes popping at everything she saw. Luke and Pippa were together in the front.

"I still can't get my head around this," he said.

"You mean I shouldn't have come?" she asked quickly.

"No, I love surprises. And you were an answer to a prayer."

"Yes, I could see. What would you have done without me?"

"Lord knows," he said with a shudder. "But I didn't mean that. I meant you. You always did things without warning, like a firecracker. It's great to know you haven't changed."

"Well, perhaps I should have changed by now. I'm eleven years older, but I don't seem to be much wiser. You might have been living with that woman.''

He gave a reminiscent grin.

"No way. Know something? The only woman I ever lived with was you."

She'd moved into the guest house with Luke. "Ma'' Dawson, upon whom his charm had a powerful effect, had found them a room just big enough for two, just down the corridor from the kitchen. She was a kindly soul but a dreadful cook, something that she blamed vaguely on "me rheumatics," without ever explaining the connection. Pippa took over the cooking for three evenings, in addition to the two Luke had already been doing, and Ma gave them a heavy discount on the rent.

Pippa loved the happy-go-lucky atmosphere of the house. It stood a couple of blocks away from a big teaching hospital, and most of the residents were medical students. They lived on the edge of poverty, kept incredible hours without collapsing, studied a lot, ate and drank a lot and laughed a lot.

There were magic nights sitting up until the early hours discussing "Life" with a capital L with Angus and Michael and Liz and Sarah and George and anyone else who dropped in. She added her mite to the talk, snuggled in the curve of Luke's arm, relishing the warmth of his lean body, half hearing half sensing the beat of his heart.

He would sit there contentedly with her, but he said little. He was too busy living life to talk about it, and he hated analyzing abstractions. In fact, he hated abstractions.

Life reached Luke through his senses, through the taste of food, the smell of ingredients, what he felt against his skin and in his loins. To him the world was physical, tangible, and where it wasn't, he shrugged.

When he was bored with these talks he would nibble softly on her ear. Then they would slip away together, and the rest of the night would be even more magic.

She seemed to be floating through life in a blissful haze of newly discovered pleasure, so that everything that happened was sensual and lovely. This was true even of things that weren't directly connected with Luke, but a hundred times more true about things that were. She couldn't be in the same room with him without growing excited and impatient. When he was cooking she watched his hands. They were artist's hands, powerful and muscular, yet sensitive, too, and the mere sight of them could thrill her body, which carried the memories of their intimate touch.

At work she wore the sedate, respectable uniform of a chambermaid, but it told a lie. Beneath it she wasn't respectable at all. It made her laugh sometimes to think how shocked people would be if they knew her head was filled with thoughts of Luke, who wanted her as uncontrollably as she wanted him-Luke, in bed with her, naked and aroused. In thought she dwelt on every inch of him: how long and slim his flanks were; how firm his behind; how unexpectedly strong his hands; how big and hard he was inside her; how badly she wanted him there.

Once, at home, the urgency grew more than she could stand, and as soon as he closed the oven door, she fastened her lips on his in the fiercest kiss she'd ever given him-avid, devouring, voracious, gloriously shameless, both giving and demanding. With one hand she cupped his head, while with the other, began undressing him. After the first shock he'd responded avidly, drawing her swiftly out of the kitchen and along the corridor to their room. They barely had time to shut the door before they were pulling off each other's clothes, almost competing to see who could strip whom the fastest. She could never remember who'd won, but they were both naked before they hit the bed.

She pulled him over her with strong, determined movements. She wasn't fooling. She wanted Luke on the most basic, primitive level and no nonsense about it. Romance and candlelight were lovely in their place, but right now she would go crazy if she couldn't feel him inside her, completing her, filling her to satiation point.