Their Double Baby Gift

by Louisa Heaton

  Instantly her heart began to pound. He was wearing only a tee shirt and boxers, and she couldn’t help but notice his fine arms and long, muscled legs.

  ‘I hope I didn’t scare you—I needed a drink. I usually have one beside my bed, but being in a strange place I forgot all about it,’ he explained.

  ‘Same. About needing the drink, that is.’ She gestured with her glass and smiled, noticing his hair looked a little ruffled, as if he’d been tossing and turning. ‘Lily still asleep?’

  ‘Out like a light.’

  ‘Good.’

  It was as if she couldn’t take her eyes off him. He filled her vision.

  ‘I’d best be getting back, then.’ She went to move past him, through the doorway, and he did step to one side so that she could pass. But she made the mistake of looking up at him and smiling her thanks as she did so. Pausing. Ever so briefly.

  His gaze locked with hers and she could read desire in his eyes—apprehension, fear, but most of all yearning.

  She wanted to kiss him so badly, but she didn’t want to overstep the mark in case he—

  Matt stepped forward, his gaze going to her lips, then to her eyes, then her lips again.

  Brooke’s breathing changed and she stared back, taking in all the features of this beautiful man up close.

  They weren’t touching. Neither of them was overstepping their boundary, but both were fighting the urge to reach out and take what they wanted.

  ‘Brooke, I...’

  She looked directly into his soul. He’d said her name. ‘You called me Brooke.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Not Dr Bailey.’

  ‘No.’

  And he came ever closer, watching her intently, as if he expected her to place her hand on his chest at any moment to stop him. But she didn’t stop him. She wanted him close to her—wanted to see what it would feel like. She wanted him to kiss her.

  Brooke closed her eyes as his head dipped and his lips touched hers—feather-light, brief. She stood there, her entire nervous system lit up like the national grid, waiting, anticipating more.

  And he gave her what she wanted.

  His hands came up to cradle each side of her face as he drew her to him and deepened the kiss.

  Her whole body ached, desiring more of him as she kissed him back. He was all she could think of, and his lips, his kiss, fuelled a fire inside her that had long lain dormant.

  All thoughts of caution, of whether this was right or wrong, went straight out of her head. All that seemed to matter to her at that moment was that he continued to kiss her.

  Hesitantly, her arms embraced him, feeling the raw, hard muscles beneath his skin.

  This man desired her. Wanted her. She had not expected this. She’d known—felt—that she was developing feelings of attraction for him, but she had told herself it was one-sided. That he would not feel the same. And yet here they were...

  What did this mean? Was it just one kiss, or would it be more? She wanted more. Wanted to give in to what she was feeling right now and take all of him. Have everything he could offer right now and the future be damned!

  But...they had to work together. They had their children to consider. They had to be responsible.

  ‘Matt.’ She broke the kiss and, breathing heavily, stared deeply into his eyes. ‘We need to think about this.’

  He stared back, then nodded, releasing her. And as he did so disappointment entered every cell in her body. She’d felt on fire, and instead of allowing herself to blaze she had doused the flames. She hated herself for doing so.

  ‘You’re right.’ He stepped back, leaning his body against the doorframe.

  She mirrored his movements opposite. ‘We’re work colleagues...we...’ She couldn’t think of what else to say. Her body, her mind was screaming at her to forget the doubts, just kiss him again!

  ‘Have to be sensible?’ He finished for her.

  ‘Yes.’

  No!

  They stared at each other for a moment more, and then suddenly they were back in each other’s arms, their lips pressed against each other’s, the long lengths of their bodies pressed tight as his tongue found hers and she groaned.

  She needed him. More than she had ever allowed herself to need a man. She didn’t care about the consequences now. Need trumped everything else, and she cast her hesitations aside as quickly as he cast aside her robe.

  She could feel him against her, his desire pressing into her, and then she was reaching for his tee shirt to pull it free over his head.

  They staggered into the lounge and Matt reached under her long tee. She felt the wondrous heat of his hands upon her bare flesh, her breasts, and it was everything. His touch, his taste, his heat. It fed her. It was life.

  How was it possible that he could make her feel this way? It had never felt this urgent with Eric and he was the father of her child. It hadn’t felt this way ever. With any man. Not this intensity. Not this much.

  Was it because there was already so much history between them? Even before they’d met they’d shared a history. A love for the same person. And that bond, that strength they shared, had pulled them together.

  They were the same, Matt and her. Both traumatised, both alone, both single parents facing the same struggles in the same work environment. Both of them hurt by previous encounters. There was a saying that misery liked company... Did hurt people naturally seek each other out?

  No. It had to be more than that for them. They shared the same wound. They were two halves of the same scar. Perhaps that was why it felt so right to be in his arms. Because only together could they heal.

  Brooke breathed his name as he moved into her. Felt the force of his need within her and sighed delightfully. This felt right. That was what counted. Even though she had tried to fight it, tried to keep her distance. Perhaps the reason they had failed at that was because they were meant to be?

  No. She wouldn’t allow herself to think that far ahead. Experience had taught her that people generally let her down. People she had thought she could rely on.

  What mattered was the here and now. She would deal with today and not worry about tomorrow.

  Not yet.

  And it helped that the today—the now—felt so damned good!

  * * *

  He woke in Brooke’s bed. It was still dark and the sun had not yet risen. He was used to waking early. A habit from his early army days, when he’d tried to cheat the agony of the drill sergeant crashing into his dorm, shouting and yelling.

  He still liked to wake early. To lie there for a moment and mentally prepare himself for the day. It was a habit that had come in handy after Jen had died. He’d lie there for a few minutes, thinking of all he had to do to get through the day. Things that Lily would need. Things he would need to get done in the house. Whether they would need to go food shopping. The five-mile walk he would try to fit in, with Lily in her buggy, because it was important to get out of the house and not pine away in grief.

  Grief, guilt, sorrow—they were all time-stealers and he could never allow them a place in his life. Not until he had control back. Not until the intensity of that grief had been absorbed and wasn’t as sharp as it had been.

  It took a moment or two for him to remind himself of where he was. Not his own home...not his own bed.

  Brooke’s bed. And she was in his arms as he spooned her. He inhaled her scent, her perfume, as she lay there and felt a pang in his heart.

  She looked so beautiful. Her long dark hair over the pillow. Her naked shoulders so smooth and feminine. The feel of the length of her against his body.

  His own body stirred in response and he closed his eyes to regain control of himself.

  Last night had been...amazing. A gift that he hadn’t expected at all. He’d been lying t
here, staring at the ceiling, unable to get his pillows right, tossing and turning, berating himself for his forbidden feelings for this woman who wasn’t his wife.

  His attraction for her had been growing steadily. He’d known that for a long time. But he’d told himself over and over that he would control it and do nothing about it—because it wasn’t right.

  But at the fireworks display he’d lost the present, had been thrown right back into the horror of Khost Province in Afghanistan. And as he’d heard the cracks and whistles of the fireworks he’d seen in his head the two trucks ahead of him being blown off their axles and thrown to one side. Felt the rush of adrenaline as he’d taken cover, aware that a bullet might rip through his heart at any second, but still going back for a fallen comrade.

  He had no longer been standing in a field, watching fireworks with delight, he’d been back there, cowering under a hail of bullets, and she—Brooke—had brought him out of that.

  He would not have thought it possible. But her touch, her voice, her insistence that he listen to her, had cut through the hell in his mind and pulled him out of his terror.

  Her eyes... That look in her eyes had held him in the present and made him breathe, made him take root in reality again, and he’d been so thankful for that. When she’d said that she didn’t want him to be alone he’d been grateful. The idea of returning home with Lily to put her to bed and be alone again with his torturous thoughts had been enough to make him accept.

  He’d not said yes to get her into bed. He’d not said yes to see what would happen. He’d said yes because he’d genuinely wanted to be with her. To be wrapped in her protection and soothed by her presence, knowing she was just in the next room. Not to be alone again. Not again. Just for one night.

  He’d got up for a drink not knowing that she was already up, and when he’d walked out of his room and seen that the kitchen light was on he’d almost faltered. Had almost gone back to his room. Only he hadn’t. He’d wanted to see her. To say goodnight properly.

  And then he’d kissed her.

  Again, she had been the strong one—had tried to make them pause for a moment. Take a breather. Think things through. And he’d tried... But he’d still had the taste of her on his lips and he’d stamped down on all the doubt, on all the voices in his head telling him it was a bad idea, because his body, his being, had been screaming that it needed her. That she was the other half of himself. The one who could save him.

  And like a drowning man grabbing at a buoy, he’d reached out and pulled her towards him, felt his soul drowning in the pleasure of her touch, her kiss, her heat—so much so that all logical thought had gone out of his head.

  But now the cold light of day was approaching. He could feel it. Inching closer over the horizon accompanied by his old friends guilt and doubt.

  I buried my wife just months ago and already I’m in another woman’s bed.

  Brooke thought he was strong. But he wasn’t. He was weak. And he’d proved that. Sleeping with Brooke, staying the night with her, had been everything he might have dreamed of—but now he felt as if he was in a nightmare. Racked by the intrusive thoughts in his head that told him he’d taken things a step too far.

  She’d asked him to stay over. To spend Sunday with her too. And though he could imagine it would be delightful, and the babies would have fun, he knew he had to think practically. Right now they were in a bubble. A lovely bubble. One he would struggle to leave. But it was the right thing to do.

  He couldn’t live in a bubble. He had to return to reality. Strong people, the people to admire, were the ones who survived in harsh reality.

  He couldn’t stay here, warm and cosy, pressed up against her body. Because already he was wanting more of her, could feel his body awakened by its need to have her again, But it would be wrong. He’d be taking advantage. Brooke had tried to put the brakes on last night and she’d been right to do so. He ought to be the strong man she kept telling him he was and do something about it.

  Gently he rolled away from her and slipped out of bed. He stood there for a moment to see if she would wake, and already he could feel his reluctance to leave. But, no.

  I have to do this.

  He padded softly away, wincing slightly as the door creaked, and crept into the lounge, where their clothes had been discarded the night before. He got dressed and hung her robe and long tee shirt over the back of the couch, neatly folded. Then he went into the other bedroom and grabbed the rest of his clothes and checked on Lily. She was starting to stir. Snuffling and rubbing at her face with her hands.

  Matt checked the time. Six-thirty a.m. Lily was right on cue. He had no idea what time Brooke and Morgan would wake, but if he had the nerve to wait and let Lily wake on her own then he would be able to get her out of here without her crying.

  Back in the lounge, he found a notepad and pen by the phone and scribbled Brooke a note. He tried to make it sound friendly, and not as if he were rejecting her. Saying that he just needed to pop home, and as he’d woken early he’d decided to leave her to rest and sleep in on her day off before work tomorrow.

  He read the note over and over, wondering if he’d pitched it right. It seemed okay to him, but he was very aware of the fact that Brooke felt men always rejected her, and he didn’t want her to think the same of him.

  They would be sensible. Sort this out. Work through it. Like adults.

  They’d be able to do that, right?

  He had to believe that they would.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  HE’D SPENT SUNDAY trying to put the night he and Brooke had spent together out of his mind—but it had been impossible. All he’d been able to think of was the way she had felt, the way she had tasted, those little sounds she had made in the back of her throat as he had made love to her and how good it had made him feel to be wrapped in her arms.

  It had been one hot night, and he knew it was a night that he would never forget.

  He’d left his mobile phone at home and taken Lily out for their usual five-mile walk. He’d gone all touristy and caught the bus to Trafalgar Square. He and Lily had fed the pigeons, walked through Covent Garden and along the Embankment. They’d eaten out at a small family-friendly cafeteria, and then he’d taken her to a small park where there were baby swings and small slides for her to play on.

  And all the time he had been looking at Lily, talking to her, laughing with her, he’d seen his wife looking at him out of her eyes and he’d felt terrible for moving on. Felt as if he was horribly leaving his wife behind.

  They’d had so many dreams, he and Jen, for their future. And what had he done? Taken her old job, in her old department, in some kind of sad effort to be in the place where his wife had lived and worked so that somehow he could still stay connected to her. So that he could touch the things that she had touched, chat with the people who had become her work family, and so that he could meet the famous Dr Brooke Bailey, whom he’d heard so much about and who was owed a promise.

  I think I might have taken that promise too far.

  And now he was at work early, waiting for his shift to start and fanning through the pages of the most recent medical journal.

  There were some cutting edge developments happening in the world of medicine. On every page was evidence of people moving forward. Doctors and professors looking to see how they could improve things for the future. They weren’t sitting still, being static. They knew that to improve you had to change with the times. Take risks.

  And when he came to the back of the journal, where all the job vacancies were, his eyes were drawn to one in particular.

  Auckland City Hospital.

  Auckland, New Zealand. The place where he and Jen had planned to go in the future. The city that had been their ultimate goal—a place to raise their daughter. A place where Jen had spent time during her gap year and had loved.


  But would considering something like that now be a move forward or a move backwards? It was an old dream. A dream that he’d shared with his wife.

  She wasn’t here any more and he was. And although they’d spent many a time talking about how wonderful it would be for their daughter, would doing it now, applying for the post, be the best thing for Lily? Jen had promised Brooke that she would be there to help her raise Morgan, but she’d also wanted to emigrate. To do what was best for their little family. Shouldn’t that be his priority?

  He’d taken this job to put down roots. He wanted the future to be stable for Lily. She’d already lost her mother—did she need to be moved from pillar to post? Never quite sure where her home was? It wasn’t a simple case of packing up your things and jumping on a plane. It meant leaving people behind. Leaving behind a life he’d already started to create and never planning for the future.

  He’d had that sort of childhood, following his father in his postings abroad. Sometimes he’d liked it—other times he’d hated it. But he had grown to love it. Had matured and chosen the same life for himself. Had enrolled as a doctor in the army and flitted around the globe whilst Jen had stayed rooted in one spot.

  Was it the right thing to do?

  ‘Looking for another job?’ asked Kelly as she glanced over his shoulder, walking to her locker and removing her coat and scarf. ‘Have we driven you crazy so soon?’

  He stared at the advertisement and grimaced. ‘Not sure...’

  Kelly hung up her things and then grabbed her stethoscope, draping it around her neck, then her ID card to pin to the waistband of her skirt. She came over and sat beside him, glancing at the advert. ‘New Zealand? Beautiful place.’

  ‘You’ve been there?’

  ‘No. But I’ve always wanted to.’ She took the magazine from him and smiled. ‘Perhaps I ought to apply? Give you some competition.’

  He laughed. ‘I don’t know what to do. Jen and I always said that that’s where we’d end up working. We wanted to give Lily an amazing life in a brand-new beautiful country.’