The Secret Father

by Kim Lawrence

  ‘You do realise how tight the security is going to be in the hospital?’ Fred Bohman asked.

  She hadn’t, until Adam had pointed it out. When he’d casually mentioned he knew a medical administrator at the hospital Sam’s son had been transferred to, she hadn’t been able to believe her luck.

  ‘I can get you in, Dr Lacey,’ Fred Bohman told her as he led the way across the car park. ‘But after that you’re on your own.’

  She nodded. Adam had said as much. ‘What’ll you do if he has you thrown out on your ear, Lindy?’ he’d asked.

  ‘I don’t know.’

  Adam hadn’t appeared to find anything to criticise in this fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants policy, or, if he had, he’d kept quiet about it.

  There was an obvious media presence on the steps in front of the building, but once inside the building the security measures were less noticeable. Nobody stopped her as she walked beside the authoritative bulk of Fred Bohman.

  ‘You’d be amazed how many crazy people will do almost anything to see Sam Rourke,’ Fred observed, with a shake of his head. ‘The guy’s sitting at a deathbed and someone actually asked him for an autograph. And a reporter who got in nearly left through the window.’

  Lindy saw the sign for ITU and her palpitations got worse. She swallowed convulsively, but there was nothing to lubricate her throat and her mouth was bone-dry.

  ‘ITU’s straight ahead.’

  ‘Thanks; I’m very grateful.’

  ‘Give my best to Adam. The family will be in the relatives’ lounge, or with the boy.’

  What the hell are you doing, Lindy? she asked herself as she walked forward. She pulled out the stethoscope she’d shoved into her pocket and looped it around her neck to add a little authenticity. They can’t really arrest me for impersonating a doctor when I am one—can they? she thought. The window-dressing might distract attention from the sign she felt sure was plastered across her forehead, saying ‘INTRUDER’.

  The door was ajar and with a nudge of her hip it swung inwards. What am I going to say? What am I going to do? she wondered. In the grip of a gut instinct that was stronger than anything she’d ever encountered in her life, Lindy hadn’t permitted herself to think beyond this point.

  I’m probably the last person he wants to see, she thought as she stepped forward into the room. Deep-pile carpet and easy chairs set in informal groups around the room gave no indication of the tears that had been shed within these four walls. She’d had to break bad news to relatives often enough to know that there was no easy way to do it, no setting that made it easier.

  He wasn’t there. She blinked and inhaled deeply. There were two people sitting at the other end of the room. They sat in chairs placed opposite one another, their knees touching. The man held the woman’s hands between his. Lindy could see the tension and weariness from where she stood.

  ‘I…I’m sorry, I’m intruding.’

  ‘You’re a doctor?’ The woman got to her feet. Her pretty face was white and strained; dark shadows filled the hollows beneath her eyes. ‘Is it Ben?’

  This was the mother of Sam’s child. ‘I don’t work here,’ Lindy admitted. She had been willing to do almost anything in her desire to see Sam, but she couldn’t lie to these people. ‘You must be Marilyn. I’m a…I’m a friend of Sam’s. I hoped I might be able to help.’

  ‘He’s sitting with Ben.’

  ‘I’m sorry…I shouldn’t be here,’ she faltered. It was a mistake—this woman’s grief made her reasons for being here seem petty. It put her own suffering into perspective. She turned to go, but the other woman caught her arm.

  ‘No, don’t go. Sam needs someone here. I’ve got Murray. I think I’d be insane by now if he wasn’t here. We didn’t think Sam had anyone.’

  ‘It’s not like that. We’re not…’

  Ben’s mother had a lovely smile; when it wasn’t tinged with sadness it must have made her quite beautiful. ‘You came; that must mean something.’

  The quiet words stilled Lindy’s panic, but not the doom-laden certainty that she’d made a big mistake coming here. It means I’m a fool, a lovesick clown, she silently replied. Sam doesn’t want to see me. He can’t stand the sight of me!

  ‘Perhaps I could leave a message for Sam?’ she suggested. Yes, a message would be much more sensible— safer. ‘I don’t actually know where I’m staying yet.’ She reached in her pocket for the address of the hotel Adam had suggested.

  ‘He’s conscious.’

  Lindy started at the sound of Sam’s voice. She was pushed to one side as Marilyn surged forward. The woman flung her arms around Sam’s neck.

  ‘Thank God, thank God!’ she kept saying, over and over.

  Her husband, a tall, slim man with a shock of auburn hair and a thin, intense face, touched her arm. She released Sam and buried her face in her husband’s shoulder.

  ‘You go in; I’ll wait here,’ Sam said.

  The couple didn’t need a second bidding. Sam watched them go with an expression of yearning on his face. His throat worked hard, and as he turned she could see the unhealthy grey tinge of his skin. He didn’t appear to see her as he lowered himself stiffly into a chair. He closed his eyes and his head drooped forward.

  Lindy’s professional eyes could see he was close to collapse, but his incredible will was driving him on. He was keeping everything inside and it was destroying him.

  ‘Hello, Sam.’ She came to sit beside him.

  His head came up and he looked at her without any sign of recognition. There was neither rejection nor pleasure in his eyes. ‘Rosalind? Ben’s awake.’

  ‘That’s marvellous.’ There was a lump of emotion in her throat. She wanted to hold him, but she knew he was deliberately holding onto his rigid control. ‘I spoke to Marilyn; she’s lovely.’

  ‘Yes,’ he replied vaguely. He brushed a weary hand across his forehead. The line between his brows deepened. ‘What are you doing here, Rosalind?’

  ‘I wanted to help.’ She was frightened for him; he looked so close to the edge.

  He just nodded, and she wasn’t even sure he’d heard her. ‘Where are you going, Sam?’ She got to her feet, too.

  ‘It’s time for me to go.’

  ‘Aren’t you going back in to see Ben?’ she asked gently.

  ‘He wants his mom and dad,’ he told her, without any inflection in his voice. ‘He didn’t know who I was, Rosalind.’ His voice was harsh.

  The pain behind that simple statement made her heart ache. Feeling helpless, she instinctively reached for his hand. Her own was instantly enfolded in a fierce grip.

  ‘Where are you staying, Sam?’

  ‘I came straight here.’

  ‘When was that?’

  ‘Tuesday…no, Monday. Straight from Hong Kong. We were spying the lie of the land for our next project.’

  She did some mental arithmetic—four days, the flight from Hong Kong…God knew when he’d last slept. ‘And have you slept at all?’

  Sam looked impatient and shook his head.

  ‘Have you eaten?’

  ‘I’ve had coffee.’

  No wonder he looked like death. It was surprising he was still on his feet. ‘Wait here, Sam; there’s something I have to do. Don’t go anywhere until I come back.’ To her relief he didn’t query her instructions. Exhausted, he slumped back into a chair.

  Lindy found the nurses’ station. ‘Could you page Dr Bohman for me?’

  The administrator didn’t keep her waiting long.

  ‘I’ll have a cab waiting at the exit for you.’ He handed over the security card that unlocked the staff entrance. ‘There shouldn’t be any press hanging around that side of the building.’ He glanced at the gold watch on his wrist. ‘Is that all now? Because…’

  Lindy planted a kiss on his cheek. He looked startled and pleased. ‘That’s it, I promise,’ she told him. ‘And bless you.’

  Sam didn’t evince much interest as Lindy led him out of the building, after first leav
ing the contact number of the hotel Adam had given her at the nurses’ station.

  She gave the name of the hotel to the cab driver. She sighed with relief as they were whisked through the hospital gates without incident.

  Lindy sat and watched whilst Sam ate the food she’d ordered from Room Service. Before he’d finished eating his head fell back and he was instantly asleep, as only the very young or the completely exhausted could. I love him so much it hurts, she thought as she watched him. In sleep he had a touchingly defenceless look. She couldn’t fool herself that that would last.

  She’d appeared when Sam had pushed himself beyond the boundaries of physical and mental endurance. When he woke up he’d be the Sam of old and nobody, least of all her, was going to lead him anywhere! She wasn’t complaining—she’d wanted to help and, in a small way, she had by being in the right place at the right time.

  No, her lack of trust had ruined anything they might have had together. Knowing she’d let the past ruin what could have been a golden future left a bitter taste in her mouth. If she’d ever needed proof that Sam was a loving father, she certainly had it now. If only she’d been capable of faith…

  The sound of his regular breathing didn’t alter as she removed his shoes and placed the quilt from the bed over him. She didn’t bother unpacking her small overnight bag. There wasn’t much point. It didn’t contain anything much beyond the barest essentials. With one last look at his sleeping face she lowered the lights and climbed into the double bed alone.

  A muffled curse and a clatter woke her in the early hours of the morning. ‘Sam?’ Still half asleep, she switched on the bedside lamp.

  Sam was standing at the far side of the room. He’d knocked over a small table. He blinked in the sudden light. ‘What the hell? Rosalind?’ Incredulously, he turned towards her. Seeing the wariness slip into his eyes, she could have wept. ‘Where am I?’

  ‘Don’t you remember?’

  ‘Ben did wake up? That wasn’t a dream?’

  ‘No, that wasn’t a dream.’ She levered herself up on her elbow and adjusted the neckline of her baggy nightshirt back over her shoulder.

  A deep sigh of relief lifted his big chest and she could see the ripple of muscles through the thin wool of his knitted shirt.

  ‘What time is it?’ He looked at the face of his wristwatch. ‘Why did you let me sleep this long?’ He scowled as he reached for the phone.

  ‘I left the number by the phone.’ The hospital was his first thought, as she’d known it would be.

  Sam picked up the piece of paper and flicked her a quick glance before he addressed himself to the task in hand.

  ‘He’s asleep,’ he said a few minutes later. The tension was still in him, but it was under control now. ‘They don’t give much away.’

  ‘Was he badly injured?’

  Sam shot her a surprised look. ‘You don’t know?’

  What could she say? That she’d just jumped on a plane without even being aware of the full facts?

  ‘Not really.’

  His eyes were narrowed speculatively, but he replied readily enough. ‘He got hit by a drunk driver.’ The viciousness in his eyes made Lindy shiver. He looked capable of wringing the life out of the criminal fool. The empathic link between them made her ache.

  ‘Multiple injuries, internal bleeding and a fractured skull. They say they’ll let me know if there’s any change overnight. Now, do you mind filling me in on a few facts? Just how the hell do I happen to be in a hotel bedroom with you?’

  That was the one question she’d been dreading. ‘They only had one room left.’ She tried to quell the blind spurt of panic as he came over and sat on the side of the bed.

  ‘We’ll get to the sleeping arrangements in a minute,’ he promised. ‘I mean, how did I get here?’

  ‘In a taxi.’ It was a compromise. ‘I led you by the hand’ might provoke an explosive reaction.

  ‘God, yes, I remember now.’ He shook his head, as if to clear a fog. ‘How did you happen to be in the States, Rosalind?’

  ‘I had a meeting…with Dr Bohman, the medical administrator,’ she improvised wildly. Well, I can’t tell him the truth, can I? she thought, justifying this detour from fact. ‘I wanted to widen my horizons—professionally speaking, that is.’

  ‘How providential.’ She couldn’t tell from his expression if he believed her or not.

  ‘I thought I’d look you up.’

  ‘It would seem you’ve done a bit more than that.’

  ‘I’d have done the same for anyone.’

  ‘Is that a fact?’

  His scepticism made her pluck fretfully at the sheet. ‘You were nearly dead on your feet.’

  ‘That was your professional diagnosis, was it?’

  ‘The fact is, Sam, you may like to think you’re superhuman, but you’re just like the rest of us—you need food and sleep. You won’t be much good to your son unless you take care of yourself.’

  ‘You took care of me,’ he said softly. His glance moved to the chair with the crumpled quilt and to the half-eaten food on the tray.

  ‘As I said, I’d do the same for anyone.’

  ‘Doesn’t your boyfriend object to your missions of mercy?’

  ‘Boyfriend? What? Oh, yes…no. That is… What are you doing?’ she asked in alarm as he peeled off his shirt.

  ‘I don’t usually sleep fully clothed.’ His jeans slid to the floor and he lifted the corner of the quilt. ‘How far are you prepared to go with this comfort thing?’

  ‘Sam, don’t be an idiot.’ She tried to sound as if this was all some silly joke. The hard, hair-roughened thigh that came to rest against her own was no joke. The combination of desire and fear that swirled through her veins was a heady cocktail.

  ‘If I slept in that chair tonight I would be an idiot.’ He calmly lay back on the pillow that still bore the impression of her head. Chancing a look into his vivid eyes, she saw he wasn’t calm—anything but!

  ‘You’d be a gentleman.’ She gave a startled cry as he reached out and yanked her down beside him.

  ‘Something nobody has ever accused me of.’ Several days’ growth of beard on his jaw gave him a look of dangerous dissipation.

  ‘That’s nothing to be proud of.’ It was desperately hard to speak when he was stroking the side of her face.

  ‘You smell so good.’ He inhaled deeply. ‘Hell, I don’t suppose I do. I can’t recall when I last had a shower. I must be pretty ripe.’

  Now was the time to agree with him and tip him out of her bed. It was a heaven-sent opportunity and she neatly side-stepped it. ‘No, you smell marvellous,’ she told him honestly. He did—spicy, masculine and musky.

  Sam’s smile was filled with satisfaction. He rolled onto one hip and reached out for her. His fingers curved possessively around the slim curve of her upper thigh. ‘I need to forget.’ His eyes met hers and there was a plea for understanding there.

  ‘I know,’ she murmured. Forget about protecting yourself, Lindy, she thought, silently giving herself permission to do what instinct told her was the right thing. She took his face between her hands and kissed him. His lips parted on a sigh and they strained against one another as they each drank deeply—hungrily.

  He didn’t have to be afraid she’d think tonight was the start of something. She knew this was a unique situation and she just happened to be there. Sam was reaching out. He needed an outlet, a release from the unbearable pressures of the past days. For a man used to making things happen, the awful feeling of impotence must have been hard to bear.

  She wouldn’t refuse him anything he needed. This was her chance—probably the only chance she’d ever have—to physically express her love for him.

  ‘Tell me what you need, Sam.’ She pressed herself sensuously closer to the warmth of his body. ‘Let me make you feel good.’ Her arms slipped around his neck and her fingers stroked the tight, bunched muscles of his shoulders.

  He took a deep, sharp breath. ‘Are you for real?’ he
grated hoarsely. His eyes smouldered as he nuzzled the corner of her mouth.

  ‘Don’t I feel real?’

  ‘Let’s just check on that one.’ His hands moved under the light nightshirt she wore, travelling over the smooth, rounded contours of her buttocks. ‘That butt feels authentic to me. I’d be willing to stake my reputation that you’re no dream.’

  ‘I had a dream,’ she whispered softly. She dropped her head to run her tongue over the flesh of his chest. It tasted salty. ‘Only I hadn’t fallen asleep at the time,’ she reflected out loud. ‘I dreamt I woke up and you were in bed with me. You didn’t have any clothes on; neither did I.’

  ‘That’s called a fantasy, not a dream, Rosalind.’ He lifted the nightshirt over her head and she pressed the pointed tips of her breasts against his chest. A deep, voluptuous sigh of pleasure shuddered through her. Her knees locked at either side of his muscular waist and she slowly ground her hips against him. His arousal dug into the softness of her belly.

  ‘Have you any idea what you’re doing to me?’ he demanded hoarsely.

  She lifted her head and smiled slowly at him. Her hand slid lower down his body, and paused. ‘I’ve got a fairly good idea.’

  His body shuddered with tension and he pulsed against her hand. ‘Witch,’ he gasped throatily.

  ‘I just want to make you feel good, Sam,’ she purred. Legs straddling his body, she ran her fingers over his torso in slow, rhythmic strokes. She couldn’t tear her eyes from the receptive quiver of muscles under her fingers. She tangled her fingers in the short, dark hair on his chest.

  ‘You make me feel crazy!’ he growled.

  She gave a grunt of surprise as she found herself flat on her back with his heavy body pressing her into the mattress. His glance was hot and taut as it skimmed over her flushed, aroused features. Panting hard, he took her hands in his and, interlacing his fingers with hers, placed them at either side of her flushed face.

  There was no subtlety in his kiss. It was rough and needy, and it ripped a series of soft moans from her throat. ‘You can’t escape me!’ he whispered.

  ‘Did I give you the impression I wanted to?’ She looked at him through half-closed eyes. Her breasts, flushed rosy, rose in time to her short, shallow inhalations.