Kate Hardy - Carrying The Single Dad's Baby

He needed to put that right. ‘And I’m sorry for letting you think I resent you for taking my job.’

‘OK. So we’re saying now that the problem between us isn’t a problem.’

Oh, there was a problem, all right. His libido was practically sitting up and begging. But he was just going to have to ignore it. ‘There isn’t a problem,’ he lied. ‘Welcome to Muswell Hill.’

‘Thank you.’

‘And you didn’t have to buy me lunch.’

‘Call it in lieu of the drink you didn’t have last night,’ she said.

He inclined his head. ‘Then thank you.’ Polite, he could do.

‘So how old is your son?’ she asked.

‘Four.’ Was it his imagination, or did she just flinch?

Imagination, maybe, because then she smiled. ‘It’s a lovely age. My youngest nephew is four.’

She had a killer smile. If Daniel hadn’t known it was anatomically impossible, he would’ve said that his heart had just done a backflip. But, for Iain’s sake, he couldn’t act on the attraction he felt towards Beatrice Lindford. It wouldn’t be fair to bring someone else into the little boy’s life—someone who might not stick around. Someone who was, to all intents and purposes, his boss. It would be too complicated. Inappropriate. ‘Uh-huh,’ he said, not sure quite what to say to her. How to stop this from tipping over into personal stuff he didn’t want to share. Such as why he was a single dad.

‘Stating the obvious, but from your accent it sounds as if you’re from Scotland.’

‘Glasgow,’ he confirmed.

‘With an Italian surname?’

‘My great-grandparents were Italian.’ He paused. ‘And you’re posh.’

‘Yes. But I’m a girl and I’m the youngest, so I got to choose what I wanted to do.’

Meaning that her brother—or brothers—had been expected to go into the family business? But asking her would be too personal; and it would also mean she could ask him personal stuff that he didn’t want to answer. He backed off. ‘So you trained as a doctor.’

‘Here in London. What about you? Glasgow or here?’

‘Here,’ he said. And please don’t let her ask about his son.

‘So what made you pick emergency medicine?’ she asked.

Relief flooded through him. He could talk about work and why he did what he did. It wasn’t quite so personal, so it was easier to deal with. ‘I like the fact that we make a real difference, that we can save people.’ He paused. ‘You?’

‘Pretty much the same. Though we can’t save everyone.’

Again, there was an odd look on her face—as if she was talking about something personal. But he wasn’t going to ask. It was none of his business. Instead, he said, ‘We do our best. That’s all any of us can do. Strive to do our best.’

‘True.’

He finished his coffee. ‘Thank you for lunch. And for the chat.’

‘So we’re good?’

‘It won’t be a problem working together, if that’s what you mean.’ He’d already heard Josh singing her praises, saying that Beatrice was good with patients and she listened to the rest of the team. That was good. He hated it when senior colleagues went all arrogant. It was never good for the patients.

‘I’m glad. We don’t have to be friends,’ she said. ‘As long as we agree that our patients come first.’

‘That works for me,’ he said. ‘We’d better get back to the ward.’

‘OK.’ She swallowed the last of her own coffee. ‘Let’s go.’

CHAPTER TWO

THE REST OF the week went smoothly; Beatrice still wasn’t rostered in the same part of the department as Daniel during their shifts, but at least he was civil to her if they happened to be in the staff kitchen at the same time.

On Saturday morning, she headed to the park for the team’s football day out. As Sam had requested, she made some brownies. Remembering that Daniel didn’t like chocolate, she also made flapjacks, as a kind of peace offering. Then again, Daniel might not be there.

She’d just added her offerings to the picnic table when Daniel turned up with a small boy in tow. Even if she hadn’t known that he had a four-year-old son, she would’ve known that the little boy was Daniel’s because they looked so alike. And she was faintly amused to discover that the little boy had a Glaswegian accent almost as strong as his father’s.

But what she hadn’t expected was that Daniel would look so gorgeous in a football kit. The tight-fitting T-shirt showed that he had good abs, and his legs were strong and muscular. He looked more like a model than a doctor, and she wasn’t surprised to see how many admiring glances were headed his way.

‘I didn’t think you’d be here today,’ Daniel said. ‘Or are you a football fan as well as a boxing fan?’

She pushed away the thought of getting hot and sweaty in a boxing ring with him. That really wasn’t appropriate. ‘Hayley and Sam said everyone turns up and has a huge picnic afterwards. I thought it might be a nice way to get to know the team outside work,’ she said.

Daniel shrugged. ‘Fair enough.’

‘Do you work with my daddy?’ the little boy asked.

‘I do,’ Beatrice confirmed.

He looked at her. ‘You’re really tall for a girl.’

‘Iain, don’t be rude,’ Daniel began.

‘It’s fine, and he’s right—I am tall.’ She smiled, and crouched down so she was nearer to the little boy’s height. ‘Is that better?’

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Hello. I’m Iain.’

‘I’m Beatrice.’ She held out her hand for him to shake.

He shook her hand, but frowned. ‘That’s a strange name.’

‘You can call me Bea, for short.’

He wrinkled his nose. ‘Like a buzzy bee?’

She couldn’t resist Iain’s charm and chutzpah. ‘Just like that,’ she said.

‘Hello, Bee. Are you going to play football?’

‘No, I’m just going to watch,’ she said.

‘I play football. Just like my dad,’ Iain told her proudly, puffing out his chest.

‘Then I’ll make sure I cheer really loudly when you score a goal,’ she said.

Although football really wasn’t her thing, she enjoyed chatting to Hayley on the sidelines, and dutifully clapped and cheered every time a goal was scored.

Iain was running past her, clearly intent on getting to the ball, when he tripped and fell over. Instinctively, she looked up to see where Daniel was: on the far side of the field.

Iain was on his knees, crying and shielding his arm.

What could she do but go over to him until his dad arrived and see if she could sort out the problem?

‘You’re lucky we’re all in the emergency department so we know just how to deal with things when people fall over,’ she said. ‘Where does it hurt, Iain?’

‘Here.’ He pointed to his elbow.

It was very obvious to her that he’d twisted his arm when he fell, so the ligament holding the radial bone in place had slipped, letting the bone dislocate. Given that he was so young, it would be easy to manipulate the bone back into place—but she also knew that it would hurt like mad, very briefly.

‘I need you to be super-brave for me, Iain,’ she said. ‘Do you like chocolate?’

‘Aye.’

‘OK. I can fix what’s wrong, but it means I have to touch your poorly arm and it’ll hurt for about three seconds. After that, it’ll stop hurting,’ she said. ‘I made some really special chocolate brownies you might like, so you can have one afterwards. I just need you to be brave for three seconds, that’s all. Can you do that for me?’

Iain sobbed, ‘I want my dad.’

‘And he’s running across the field towards you right now. He’ll be here really soon. But I really need to slip that bone back into place for you,’ she said. ‘Close your eyes and sing me a song, Iain.’