‘Wasabi and ginger.’
Her mouth dropped open. ‘You’re kidding,’ she said, and his eyes crinkled.
‘I’m not, they do make it, but it’s salted caramel.’
She couldn’t help the laugh. ‘I knew you wouldn’t eat anything that weird. Give me five seconds to change and I’ll be back. I’ll have tea, please—and don’t finish the popcorn!’
She ran upstairs, grinning and ignoring the muttering she left behind, and by the time she was back in her PJs there were two mugs of tea steaming on the coffee table, Titanic paused on the television and Jake with his hand back in the bag of popcorn.
‘Hey, get out of that, we’re sharing, remember?’ she said, dropping down on the sofa beside him and reaching for the bag.
‘Say please.’ He held it out of reach, laughing, and she lunged across him, trying to make a grab for it and digging her elbow into his ribs by accident.
‘Ouch! Get off me!’ He laughed, holding the bag further out of reach, but she made another lunge for it and grabbed it victoriously, and their eyes met and something weird happened.
They froze, eyes locked, and for a paralysing second she thought he was going to kiss her, but then he removed his hand from the bag and looked away, and she retreated hastily into the corner with the popcorn, wondering if her cheeks were as red as they felt, and he picked up the remote without a word and restarted the movie.
* * *
‘Popcorn?’
What, and risk another highly charged wrestling match? He’d only just got his body back under control. But the bag was just there, so he dug into it and took a handful.
‘I hate this bit,’ she said, when the ship started to list and fill with water, and she wriggled up against his side, her hand tucked through his arm as if nothing had happened.
Another layer of torment? He could still feel the warm softness of her body under his hands, feel the silk of her skin, smell the scent of her as she’d squirmed giggling against him.
How was he supposed to feel? To act? She might be just a friend, but she was a beautiful woman. Of course he’d noticed, but apart from that embarrassing blip fifteen years ago he’d spent twenty years ignoring it, keeping the lid firmly on the box.
And she’d either done the same, which he doubted because she frankly wasn’t that good at hiding her feelings, or she’d genuinely felt nothing more for him than friendship. Well, not in that way, anyhow, and even if she did there was no way he was ripping the lid off the box at this point in their relationship, not with so much riding on it.
He felt her head settle on his shoulder, then after a few minutes, as the story came to its inescapable and heartrending end, her grip on his arm tightened reflexively and he heard a tiny, stifled sniff.
‘You’re a softie, do you know that?’ he said, resting his head against hers, and she pulled away and sniffed harder, grabbing the remote from the table and turning the television off.
‘You’re such a hypocrite. You snivelled just as much as me in the cinema.’
‘I was nineteen, and anyway, it’s sad!’
‘You were a softie,’ she told him, swivelling round to look at him. ‘And you still are!’
‘I am not!’
‘So what’s this?’ she asked victoriously, lifting her hand and touching a finger to the outer corner of his eye. She lifted it to her lips, flicking her tongue out to taste it, and he stifled a groan. ‘Tears, Stratton! Actual, real tears! So don’t you go giving me grief!’
She was just there, mere inches away, hands on her hips and laughing at him while her eyes still sparkled with her own tears, and the urge to lean in and kiss that sassy smile off her face nearly finished him.
But not quite.
He took her by the shoulders, eased her away from him and stood up, sending a shower of popcorn crumbs onto the carpet. ‘Right, enough nonsense, it’s time for bed,’ he said briskly. ‘I’ve got a long day tomorrow, and we need to rehearse our interview technique in the evening.’
‘Really?’
‘Yeah, really. Come on. Bedtime.’
He reached out a hand and hauled her to her feet, then just because he couldn’t help himself he reeled her in and hugged her.
Just briefly, just enough to mess with his dreams, but they were probably going to be X-rated anyway after that wrestling match over the popcorn. Dammit. He let her go, screwed up the empty bag and picked up the mugs as she headed for the stairs.
‘I’ll see you in the morning,’ he said, and flicked off the light and went into the kitchen for a quiet moment alone to gather his ragged composure and have a stern word with his heart, because the tears she’d seen in his eyes had had nothing to do with the film and everything to do with his feelings for a woman he couldn’t allow himself to love.
Not if this job share was going to stand the slightest chance of working.
CHAPTER FOUR
THEY SPENT WEDNESDAY evening interviewing each other, thinking up all the horrible questions they could be asked and trying to answer them coherently.
How would they divide their time? What if it didn’t work? How about sick leave, holidays—would they cover for each other on an overtime basis? Did they have an agreement to share the tasks equally and equitably? What if one of them wanted out? Medical questions, too, because Nick Jarvis, the husband of Liv who’d delivered Zach, had been grilled by Ben when he’d come back to work here the year before and he’d warned them not to expect Ben to play nice.
‘Enough!’ she said, jumping to her feet and clutching her hair when midnight was looming and her head was ready to explode. ‘If we don’t stop talking about this, I’m going to be awake all night and I won’t be able to string two words together. It’s bad enough that I’m going to look like a bag lady.’
He started to laugh. ‘Don’t be ridiculous! Why will you look like a bag lady?’
‘Why? Because none of my decent clothes fit me properly now—and I can’t even remember when I last wore a skirt.’
‘So wear trousers.’
‘I can’t get into them either, they won’t do up because I’ve changed shape and put on weight. The only thing I can get into is a stretchy pencil skirt I had when I was first pregnant, and a jacket that won’t quite meet. And frankly, Jake, that’s not adequate!’
He laughed again, but his eyes were tender and made her feel strange. ‘Em, you’re gorgeous. You couldn’t look like a bag lady if you tried—’
‘Don’t patronise me! I don’t look gorgeous, and I certainly don’t look professional. At the outside I’ll get by.’
‘Hey, you’ll be fine,’ he assured her, serious now. ‘They want to talk to you about the job, not check out your dress sense.’
She growled under her breath. ‘It’s not about them, it’s about me. I need to feel professional and well presented to give me confidence, and I’ve worn nothing but stretchy skinny jeans and baggy tops covered in baby goo for the last nine months!’
‘Oh, Em.’ He laughed softly, and getting to his feet, he pulled her into his arms and hugged her hard. His chest was broad and solid, and the scent of his skin drifted over her, warm and familiar and oddly disturbing.
‘You’ll be great,’ he murmured, his low voice rumbling in his chest beneath her ear and adding to the disturbing sensations. ‘Don’t worry. It’ll be fine, you’ll wow them. Now go to bed. I’ll wake you in the morning so you’ve got time to get showered before I have to leave, OK?’
‘OK.’
He let her go, the warm, safe embrace broken, and she kissed his cheek and went up to bed, too tired to worry any more. What would be would be, and worrying wasn’t going to make a blind bit of difference.
* * *
Jake watched her go, then stared sightlessly out of the window into the night.
He hoped he’d managed to reassure her, but there was nobody
to reassure him, and so much—so much—was hanging on these interviews.
Tomorrow had the potential to change the entire course of his life. He just hoped it would be for the better—for all of them.
His mind churning, he tidied up the kitchen, turned out the lights and went upstairs. Her bedroom door was open, the light on, and as he walked past it to check on Matilda he saw her sitting up in bed in those cute pyjamas that made him think of things he had no business thinking about.
And it didn’t help that she was feeding Zach.
She patted the mattress beside her, and he went in and perched on the edge of the bed.
‘What’s up?’
‘I’m just nervous. It will be all right, won’t it?’ she asked, a worried frown puckering her forehead. ‘It has to be.’
He shrugged. ‘I hope so. We’re well prepared. We can’t do any more than we have.’
‘No, I guess not.’
She eased the sleepy baby off her nipple, and he looked away hastily, his eyes falling instead on a small double picture frame on her bedside table.
‘Could you hold him for me, please? I need the bathroom and then I need to change his nappy.’
‘Sure.’ He stood up and took Zach from her, his eyes drawn again to the photos under the bedside light as she left the room.
They were both pictures of Em and Pete, but they were very different. The first had been taken on their wedding day, laughter shining in their eyes; the second looked like a selfie, with her propped up beside him on a bed, Pete holding something on his chest. He peered closer, and the little blur became clear.
‘Oh, Em,’ he breathed, emotion clogging his throat. The only image Pete would ever see of his son, his twelve-week scan photo, was resting on his heart. Em must have been taken the selfie on the day of the scan, less than a week before Pete died.
He stared at it silently, the image blurring. It was so cruel, so unfair. He’d promised Pete on his deathbed that he’d look after Emily and the baby and keep them safe, and he said it again now, his mouth moving silently as Emily came back into the room.
‘Thanks,’ she said, taking the now sleeping baby from his arms. She put him down on the bed, then turned back to Jake as he stood up and slipped her arms round him and rested her head on his chest with a sigh.
‘We will be OK, won’t we, Jake? We can do this, can’t we?’
He dragged his eyes off the photo and tried to stop thinking about the feel of her body against his. ‘Of course we can, and it’ll all be fine, one way or another. Go on, go to bed, get some sleep.’
Her arms tightened briefly and then, as if the hug wasn’t enough to finish him off, she tilted her head and touched her lips to his cheek. Her scent curled around him, the soft touch of her skin, the warmth of her lips, the fullness of her body pressed against him not helping at all.
He dropped his arms and stepped back, blew the sleeping baby a kiss and walked to the door. As he turned to shut it, the photo caught his gaze again.
He closed the door, checked Matilda and went into his own room, shutting the door firmly between him and temptation.
What on earth had he let himself in for? And he’d told Emily to be sure she was doing the right thing? If it hadn’t been for his promise to Pete, he’d tell Emily he couldn’t do this and he’d find another way, but he couldn’t, because he’d promised to look after her and her baby, and she needed this job share every bit as much as he did. He’d just have to grit his teeth and get on with it.
Assuming they got the job share, which they wouldn’t if he didn’t get some sleep so he could think straight tomorrow.
But sleep was a long time coming, because every time he closed his eyes he saw the haunting image of a dying man, chiding him for his hypocrisy.
* * *
Nick had been right.
The interviews were thorough, rigorous and didn’t cut either of them any slack, but somehow they got through them, and after the joint interview they were sent out so the board could discuss the results.
There was a small waiting area with chairs grouped around a low table with a pile of magazines on it, and as they sat there Emily rested her head on his shoulder and sighed.
‘I hope I didn’t let you down,’ she mumbled. ‘I didn’t know what they wanted from me half the time. I probably talked rubbish.’
He slid his arm round her shoulders and hugged her. ‘It can’t have been any worse than mine, and I thought we did all right in the joint interview.’
‘By a miracle.’
‘Well, maybe we’re due one,’ he said, the photo of Pete on her bedside table all too clear in his mind.
‘Hope so. A lot depends on it. I spoke to Pete’s parents while you were in there, they said if the children didn’t get on at nursery they’d have them on Wednesdays for us.’
‘Wow. That’s a big commitment.’ Not one his own parents would be able or willing to make, he knew that. They’d made their feelings perfectly clear and had very little time for him or their granddaughter.
She shrugged. ‘They’re lovely people, and I think they’d like it, but they live on the other side of Bury St Edmunds and it’s a long way. Further now than it was, so it isn’t really feasible.’
‘Let’s wait and see. It may not even be necessary—oh, here we go. Chin up.’
He retrieved his arm as the boardroom door opened, his legs suddenly like jelly as he got to his feet, but Ben was smiling as he beckoned them in and the CEO told them that their application had been successful and the job share was theirs.
‘We were very impressed with the amount of thought you’d both put into it, and the meticulous planning of your schedule, and also your willingness to be flexible and add extra time. So if you want to go ahead, I’ll inform HR and they can start working on the contracts, and we look forward to welcoming Mrs Cardew to the hospital.’
‘Thank you—that’s amazing,’ he said, not knowing whether to laugh or cry, and beside him he heard Emily sniff and let out what might have been a sob of laughter.
‘Wow. Thank you—thank you so much,’ she said, her voice wobbling a little. ‘I won’t let you down. We won’t let you down.’
* * *
She waited until they were out of the room and walking along the corridor before she let out a tiny whoop and hugged him. ‘Yessss! We did it!’
‘We did,’ Jake said with a laugh, hugging her back, ‘and I’ll make sure you don’t regret it.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Shall we grab a really quick lunch? I’m in Theatre this afternoon and I ought to go and see my patients first, but I’ve got half an hour. Are you OK to pick up the children without me afterwards and talk to the nursery about having them every Wednesday?’
‘Yes, of course I am—and definitely yes to lunch,’ she added, suddenly aware that she was shaking all over. ‘I think my blood sugar’s a bit low. I couldn’t eat breakfast and I’m starving.’
‘Me, too. We’ll go to the Park Café and get a sandwich and a coffee. We can celebrate properly later.’
They walked into the café and he headed for the grab-and-go chiller. ‘Are you sure a sandwich and coffee’s OK?’
‘Of course it is,’ she said, and took a sandwich out of the chiller, just as one of the café staff hailed Jake from behind the counter.
‘Hello, Mr Stratton. How’s your little girl? I felt so sorry for her. Is she all right?’ the woman asked, and Emily realised that this must be where Jo had left Matilda, in the middle of this busy café right off the main hospital thoroughfare where anyone could walk in.
‘She’s fine, Sue, thank you,’ Jake was saying. ‘She’s doing well and we’re all sorted.’
‘Oh, good, I am glad. Cappuccino with an extra shot?’
‘Please, and a decaf cappuccino, as well.’
He added a bar of chocolate and paid the bill, and they headed out
through a set of doors that led to an outside seating area.
There was an open barrier around the outside, just a few low screens to indicate the café area, but beyond it was the park, which was open to the public and without any security, and Jo had left Matilda here? She was even more appalled. Compared to the security of the nursery, this was terrifying—
‘I can’t believe it she left her here,’ she said, shocked. ‘What if Ben hadn’t been there? Anybody could have wandered in off the park and just wheeled her away, and who would have stopped them? No wonder you were so angry!’
He nodded. ‘I know. Don’t worry, I know. She could have just brought her up to Maternity, where she would have been safe. Maybe she would have done if Ben hadn’t been there, but she should have spoken to me, handed her over, done it properly, not just dumped her like she dumps everything when she realises it’s not what she thought it was going to be.
‘That was exactly what she did with me when she changed her mind and decided she didn’t like Yoxburgh after all and didn’t want to live here. Too cold, too windy, too far from her friends. And apparently I was too obsessed with my job, which I can understand, and you’re probably right about her holding out for happy ever after, but—to leave your own daughter like that? I could never do that, and for the life of me I can’t imagine what I saw in her.’
She smiled wryly at him. ‘It’s not rocket science, Jake. You were lonely, and she was there. And I’ve seen photos, she’s lovely.’
‘No. No, you’re lovely,’ he said emphatically—so emphatically that she felt her eyes widen. ‘Honest and straightforward, decent, kind, thoughtful, considerate, and you’ll put yourself out for a friend.’
‘Well, of course I would—’
‘No, not of course. Not like you have. For God’s sake, Emily, you’ve just given up everything to help me. That wouldn’t have occurred to Jo. Sure, she’s pretty, but she can’t commit to anything, not even her own daughter, and as soon as the going gets tough, she’s off. I don’t suppose she even stopped to work out how I was going to juggle caring for Matilda with earning a living so I could put a roof over her head. She just—went.’
Bound by Their Babies Page 7