Chapter 3
Anita manoeuvred Daisy into her car seat and tucked her up with her favourite blanket and toy, praying she went back to sleep quickly. If she didn’t, they had no chance of getting home without major grizzles.
Lord, if she must have a tantrum, please could it wait till after I’ve dropped the doctor off?
The sooner they made it to Cambridge, the sooner she’d be able to get away from Dr Matthew Coalbrooke.
His smug smile as he moved to the passenger side made her feel he’d somehow scored a point over her. He’d already judged her, too, for more than her weight. She’d seen his gaze hover on her ringless left hand. He thought she was a single mother and looked down on her for it.
No need to correct him. The way things were with Jen’s health, even talk of surrendering Daisy for adoption, maybe she’d need to be mother, not aunt. She’d gladly adopt Daisy, no matter what people like the doctor thought.
Despite his disapproval, something inexplicable drew her to the man. Having him there made her fumble fingered. She struggled to fasten Daisy’s safety harness, a simple task she’d done plenty of times before.
Finally, it clicked shut. A quick tug showed it was secure.
“There we go, sweetie. The naughty man has you up way past your nap time.” She dropped a kiss on her niece’s apple-scented silky hair.
Daisy surprised her with a smile and gurgle. But not for her. For Dr Coalbrooke, across the other side of the car.
Anita couldn’t bring herself to think of him as Matthew. He seemed too stiff and distant. Surely he’d consider it an impertinence if she called him by his first name.
So why did the thought instantly make her want to do it?
“Man.” Daisy reached out a hand to him as he stowed his canvas kitbag and backpack on the remainder of the tiny back seat. The child safety restraint took up most of it. Good thing he travelled light.
“Matthew,” he corrected. His face softened as he directed a smile of almost astonishing sweetness toward the child.
Anita stared at him, open-mouthed. Why did the man hide something so special behind such a grim exterior? His smile warmed her all over and glowed in her heart.
For a moment, she reconsidered her dislike for him. He’d stretched her sunny disposition to the limit with his judgmental attitude and his arrogant assumption he could march in and interfere with the wedding plans.
As if he considered it his right to tell everyone what to do.
But once again, she glimpsed the hero she’d seen in the video. She snuck a second glance at him. Undeniably handsome, and oh, that smile. Plus, she hadn’t missed how gentle he’d been when he’d cleaned Daisy’s face and hands.
Suddenly she realised, anyone who saw them together would think they were a family. Longing for it to be true rocked her, aching in her chest.
Crazy idea. They’d only just met. She didn’t even like the man.
As if he sensed her gaze, he lifted his head. And as if he guessed what she was thinking, he straightened, folding his arms and tightening his jaw. That sweet smile vanished.
Time for her to stop imagining ridiculous things and get moving. With one last check on Daisy, she shut the back door.
Patting the roof of her beloved car, she pinned on a bright smile. “All ready to go? It will take Edwin two hours to get us to Cambridge.”
“Edwin?”
“It’s his number plate. EDW891N.”
His roll of the eyes and twist of his lips suggested he thought she was brainless, frivolous, or both.
She didn’t much care. Any concern for making a good impression on the doctor had long vanished. If he wanted to judge her, it was his problem, not hers.
Help me to get on with him, Lord. I don’t need to like him, just tolerate him until the wedding is over and he goes back to Africa. And please help me forget those stupid romantic ideas I got about him, too.
“Is it possible to put this seat back?” His impatient voice interrupted her prayer. “I’m not sure I can fold my legs enough to fit in there otherwise.”
She hurried around to the passenger side and reached past him, fumbling for the handle under the seat. Of course, Edwin chose that moment to be uncooperative. The handle jammed.
“I can’t shift it. The joys of driving a forty-year-old car. Would you please try? The handle’s right here.”
She stepped back as he bent over the seat but couldn’t move far enough not to brush against him. There simply wasn’t room between the cars, and there was so much of him, well over six feet, with broad shoulders to match.
Being near him left her oddly breathless. She tried not to take in too much of his warm aroma, wholesome as fresh-baked bread despite his long journey. Pulling her arms tight to her sides, she made herself as small as she could, minimising the risk of them accidentally touching.
“Got it.” The seat slid back with a clunk.
“Phew! It will still be a tight squeeze for you, I’m afraid.”
“After years in Africa, I’ve had worse trips.” Again that beautiful, heart-flipping smile.
Her emotions bounced like a yo-yo. Seemed like she’d spend the next two hours sitting next to him madly hyperventilating, while he alternated between glowering at her for daring to have a crush on him and smiling the smile that made her crush on him in the first place.
She needed to get her emotions under better control. And fast.
After rushing to the driver’s side, she jumped in and fastened her seatbelt. Her heart pounded so loudly the entire car park must be able to hear it.
With the doors closed and him inside with her, the car felt even smaller than usual. She started the engine. Once she was driving, she’d have something to focus on instead of the man taking up so much space beside her.
But just when she most wanted her car to behave, Edwin played up again. They couldn’t go anywhere until the doctor’s seatbelt was secure, and it wouldn’t stay done up. She didn’t want to offer to do it for him. The gesture felt far too intimate.
Unfortunately, Edwin threatened to give her no choice.
“Sorry. These old cars,” she muttered. “There’s a knack to it. You need to jiggle it a bit until it clicks. If you can’t get it to work, I’ll come around your side to do it.”
Doing so would mean leaning right over him to reach the latch. The confined space would push her against him as close as a hug.
Please make it click right now, Lord! If I have this reaction just sitting next to him, who knows what might happen if I have to touch him?
Spontaneous combustion presented more than a possibility, judging by how hot her cheeks already burned.
The latch clicked shut.
An overheated breath escaped her lungs with a whoosh. Part of her longed to glance at him to check for any hint he’d noticed how he affected her, but she dared not chance it. Better not to know.
If he had noticed, it would be too humiliating and awkward for words.
She didn’t do humiliated well.
“Is this safe?” He pinched the seatbelt between two fingers, eyeing it with more distaste than she imagined he’d pick up a snake.
Good reason to pretend her hot cheeks were due to indignation, not embarrassment. “Of course it’s safe! I wouldn’t allow anyone else in the car if it wasn’t, let alone drive Miss Daisy. Once it clicks, it will stay done up until you release it.”
She darted a glance at him. One dark eyebrow lifted, and his lips quirked to one side. He may as well as said a disbelieving “Really?” out loud.
A giggle escaped her, instantly destroying her outraged act. “Oh ye of little faith.” She patted Edwin’s steering wheel. “He just passed his MOT, and a seatbelt fault would be an instant safety fail. If you don’t believe me, you know where the taxi rank or the Underground station is.” She jerked a thumb over her shoulder.
His lips curved. “I’m here now. I’ll take your word for it.”
“Wise choice.” Slipping off her high heels, she put the car into gear
and her foot on the accelerator. Better to drive barefoot than scuff her precious Louboutins.
As they left the airport, the traffic wasn’t too heavy. Thankfully Daisy dozed off again, lulled by the car’s movement. Matthew made an obvious effort to be pleasant, discussing his journey, his clinic, and London, as well as Beth and James.
She sensed him assessing her driving as he did, deciding if he could trust her.
Just before they reached Watford, he announced he needed to nap. Looked like she passed his test. Satisfaction at the small mark of approval surprised her. She truly didn’t want to care what he thought.
Of course, Dr Perfect didn’t drool or snore the way she almost certainly would if she napped in a car. His slow, even breathing and relaxed expression suggested he really was sleeping.
She dragged her gaze off him and focussed on the road. Better not chance him waking to catch her looking, or risk her inattention causing an accident. Keeping safe in the traffic required her full concentration.
Edwin made good progress on the motorway, despite his top speed of fifty-five miles an hour. At this rate, she could drop the doctor off ahead of schedule.
She wasn’t sure whether to be grateful or sorry for that. Or that he was napping, rather than awake and chatting. His silence gave her too much time to think things she really didn’t want to think, like worrying about Jen and Lady Tetherton-Hart.
On the A1, south of the turnoff for Cambridge, the traffic slowed, became bumper-to-bumper, then finally stopped.
“Is there a problem?” Matthew’s deep voice startled her out of a silent prayer for anyone hurt if an accident caused the delay.
She kept her gaze firmly fixed on the back of the car in front, rather than chancing the thump her heart might give if she turned to him. “I’m not sure. All I can see is a line of traffic ahead. It could be a breakdown or an accident. Possibly just congestion.”
“I’d offer to take over so you can rest. But I don’t own a car here, so I’m not covered by insurance.”
“It’s okay.” Unsure whether to ask the question that niggled at her, she drew in a deep breath and tightened her hands on the wheel. Holding back wasn’t her style. “Back at the airport, you suggested James and Beth should move their wedding forward. I’ve realised, you implied it was for Lady Tetherton-Hart’s sake. Why?”
When he’d first said it, only praying for patience stopped her unruly temper flaring. But while he napped, she’d wondered. Did the doctor somehow know something about James’s mother that even James didn’t know yet?
She peeked at him to check his reaction.
His dark brows pulled together. “I can’t tell you why I think they should change the date, but I have my reasons. Good reasons. You’ll need to trust me.”
“I never trust anyone on first meeting. Usually not on second meeting, either.” She waved a hand in the air and spoke lightly as if it was a joke, though it also happened to be true. “You can’t tell me anything at all? Not even a whisper?”
He shook his head.
Time to ask directly, stop hinting. “I’m worried you know something about Portia.”
“You’re on first-name terms with Lady Tetherton-Hart?”
“Yes. I’ve seen a lot of her, between her illness and the wedding preparations.” Her chin lifted. His surprise was hardly flattering to her. Or to Portia, either. Though Portia had changed a lot in the last eight months.
Something, possibly regret, tinged his eyes. “I’m sorry. I can’t tell you anything. All I can do is ask you to believe me. Moving the wedding forward is wise.”
An elephant of grief and concern sat on Anita’s chest. First Jen, and now this. He knew something. He knew something for sure.
Holding back tears, she stared at the car in front. “That’s not a reassuring reply.”
His lips compressed, and he said nothing.
Anita clenched her hands on the wheel. She’d seen how much Portia wanted to live, to have the chance to make up for her past. Not to mention all the arrangements and rearrangements she’d helped Beth juggle. “The church and the reception are booked and paid for. The invitations have gone out. They can’t change everything again now. They just can’t.”
She shut her eyes, not wanting to accept that perhaps they might have to, if Portia was to be there for the celebration.
The doctor still refused to answer. She longed to pressure him for information, but it would get her nowhere. If he did know something, the man had too much integrity to admit it.
Shaking her head, she wished she could shake off her anxiety as easily. Maybe, of course, it was simply his own selfish reasons he meant, nothing to do with Portia.
Much less worrying to stick with that idea.
“The wedding can’t be rushed. Beth spends her work days helping other women get the weddings of their dreams. I want her to get the special day she’s dreamed of, too.” Passion shook her voice. He had to understand how important this was. “The big white dress. The old country church. Everyone who loves her and James there to help celebrate. She deserves to be princess for a day, tiara and all. As maid of honour, it’s my job to make sure she gets it.”
Was that the hint of a snort?
She tilted her head as she looked up at him, eyes narrowed. “I know compared to the work you do it seems nothing, but it’s still important. I guess guys don’t spend their teens dreaming of their wedding the way most girls do?”
“I can’t say planning for my hypothetical wedding day has ever ranked in my priorities, no.” His wry, mildly amused twist of the lips suggested the lack of a plan didn’t bother him in the least. “I have no intention of marrying until I have to, unless I happen across a suitable wife. Someone with the right practical skills, willing to use them in mission work with me.”
Completely unnecessary disappointment weighted her shoulders. There was no reason at all she should care who he planned to marry. No reason she should regret knowing she’d be the last woman he’d consider suitable. Besides, even if she was the mission-to-Africa type, she had to stay home to help Mum look after Jen and Daisy.
The very idea of it mattering to her was ridiculous.
Still, it took an effort to make herself smile and shrug. “For most women, their wedding day is a big thing. It’s symbolic. The start of a whole new life.”
Matthew raised his eyebrows and quirked his lips. As the grim lines of his face relaxed, she glimpsed the man who looked far from an ogre. Almost too attractive.
Oh no. She clamped down hard on the thought.
“I’ll take your word for it,” he said. “So is your wedding day all worked out, too? Will Beth defend your plans with the same determination you’re defending hers?”
Ducking her head, she fiddled with an earring, trying to ignore the twinge in her chest. She was fine with being single.
Really she was.
Some people just weren’t cut out for lasting relationships, and it seemed she was one of them.
Straightening her back, she achieved a convincing imitation of a light-hearted chuckle. “I’m sure Beth would, if I had any plans.” She hooked her toes into one beautiful shoe and lifted it so he could see it. “So far, I’ve never met a man I loved more than my shoe collection.”
That probably sounded every bit as silly and superficial as she’d intended it to. Good thing she wasn’t trying to impress him anymore.
He laughed, a genuine laugh that warmed his face and transformed it. She couldn’t resist the urge to smile back. Maybe they could get through the wedding preparations without arguing, after all.
Though an alarm bell ringing in her heart warned her—maybe the way she felt for him now was more dangerous than any amount of arguing could ever be.
Chapter 4
Matthew couldn’t believe he’d laughed at her frivolous statement.
In Mapateresi, one pair of shoes was all most people had. Cheap canvas or rubber, with as much hole as shoe. Not preposterously tall, purple, and completely im
practical.
He had no idea how much such shoes cost, but her manner suggested serious expense. And yet the self-deprecating humour in her voice, the glow in her eyes, the lift of her chin appealed to him.
Laughter didn’t change the facts. Anita was superficial and worldly. Sure, she prayed, but her concept of God was sure to be lightweight, pink and fluffy and safe.
Yet he still smiled at her infectious glee.
“If you have no plans for your own wedding, why are you so dedicated to your friend’s plans?”
She glanced at him, and then away as soon as their eyes connected. “I care for Beth. She’s already given up her wedding plans once, to support her future mother-in-law through surgery and radiotherapy. She and Portia won’t welcome you suggesting more changes.”
“I’ll still advise James on what I think is right, though I know I have no say in the matter.”
“You don’t.” More than a hint of satisfaction curved Anita’s sunny smile. Almost as if she imagined she’d bested him.
When had he started seeing this like a contest, two fencers taking their stance with foils at the Ready? Or a chess game? Something in him enjoyed the idea, even wondered if she’d be a worthy opponent.
Surely not.
Anita squinted at the line of traffic and sighed. “We’re going nowhere. It will be Miss Daisy’s dinner time before we get to Cambridge at this rate.” She turned to peer at the sleeping child. “I hope she’ll keep napping. You won’t want to be around when she wakes up grumpy and hungry.”
An accurate assessment, though he wouldn’t admit it. He gauged their position. They’d moved no more than a few car lengths since he last checked.
“I don’t want my flight delay to interfere with the child’s schedule. Drop me off at the next exit, and I’ll hitch to the train station.”
Her look of surprise was comical, though somewhat insulting.
He laughed, even as he shook his head at her. “You think the great Dr Matthew Coalbrooke wouldn’t stoop to thumbing a ride? It’s not my preferred mode of transport, but one thing Africa taught me is the need to keep my plans flexible.”
Her blush coloured her entire face, not only her cheeks. She ducked her head, strands of coppery hair falling around her face like a curtain.
Teapots & Tiaras: A sweet and clean Christian romance in London and Cambridge (Love In Store Book 5) Page 3