One Night She Would Never Forget

by Amy Andrews

  Miranda nodded, taking the stool beside his and rolling it a little closer, dropping her ear close to his masked mouth.

  ‘Helen has something on today. Could you pick up Ruby for me and I’ll swing by your place after I’m done here? I’m hoping it won’t be too much longer.’

  ‘Sure,’ she said quietly in return.

  It made sense to pick Ruby up and Miranda was pleased to be able to help. She, better than anyone, understood how difficult things could be when the unexpected happened. It didn’t matter sometimes how ordered you thought you had your life, when things like this cropped up, the best-laid plans were cast asunder.

  ‘In fact, why doesn’t she just stay the night?’ she suggested, keeping her voice low. ‘Lols has been on at me for the last month about them having a sleepover and it’s Friday so no school tomorrow.’

  Patrick hesitated. It would certainly help out but Ruby had never been on a sleepover before and he’d be lying if he didn’t admit to a level of anxiety over that. Ruby wasn’t as gregarious as Lola and with everything that had happened he’d been a little over-protective of her. But, then, she had been nagging him about it too so she was obviously ready.

  Even if he wasn’t.

  Not to mention that it was on the tip of his tongue to ask if the invitation extended to him. A sleepover with Miranda sounded like bliss to him.

  ‘That would be great, thanks,’ he said, ignoring the little fantasy and focusing intently on the monitor. ‘I’ll drop in to say goodnight to her on my way home if that’s okay. Actually, I could stop off at home and bring some clothes, too.’

  Miranda felt her heart rate pick up a notch. Patrick. Back in her home. She hadn’t been able to wash the dishes for a month without reliving that kiss. ‘You can but she can always wear something of Lola’s.’

  Keeping his eye on the screen and the blood pressure, which was starting to fall again, Patrick nodded. ‘Okay, I’ll wait and see what time I get away from here.’

  ‘No worries. Catch you later,’ she said.

  ‘Can you get Denise to get another bag of O-neg?’ he asked, louder this time, as Miranda stood.

  ‘Sure thing,’ she agreed, also louder, before turning and walking away.

  * * *

  Patrick knocked on the door at quarter to eight. ‘You just missed her,’ Miranda announced. ‘They’re both fast asleep after their exciting afternoon.’

  Patrick sagged against the doorway. ‘Sorry. The case went from bad to worse.’

  He’d been keeping her updated via text so she hadn’t been concerned. ‘It’s okay. I told Ruby that you would get here and that you were coming especially to give her a goodnight kiss even if she was asleep.’

  Patrick shot her a grateful smile for covering for him. ‘Thanks.’

  Miranda gripped the door handle tight as his chin cleft winked at her. The top buttons on his business shirt were undone, his sleeves were rolled up, his hair a mixture of theatre-hat flat and finger-combed messy. Black stubble peppered his olive jaw.

  He looked tired, harried, harassed.

  And so damn sexy her toes were curling. It was the lift all over again.

  ‘You owe me,’ she said.

  It was futile to be so provocative when they’d agreed to not go there but he seemed to bring out her inner vixen. The one she’d never realised was lurking inside her before she’d met him.

  The husky edge to Miranda’s loaded comment put Patrick’s libido on high alert. She looked so cute in her jeans and T, her feet bare, her toenails painted fairy-floss pink. Her pixie cut framed her face and exposed her neck and a hundred ways of how he could pay his debt to her buzzed through his bloodstream.

  He swallowed. ‘You know it.’

  They didn’t say or do anything for a moment and Miranda balanced on a precipice of anticipation, swaying on the edge for long seconds. And then she came to her senses.

  Step away from the tired, sexy man.

  ‘Anyway,’ she said, falling back from the doorway as she cleared her throat, ‘come in. The room’s through there if you want to do the honours.’

  Patrick, his gaze not leaving hers, took a moment to pull himself together. Reaching for her would be bad so he stuck his hands in his pockets and strode inside, only breaking eye contact as he passed her. By the time he got to the bedroom he was reasonably under control again. And then, of course, his heart melted at the sight of a sleeping Ruby.

  The girls were in a double bed that looked suspiciously like it might be Miranda’s, given the rather grown-up decor. He shuffled around to Ruby’s side and sat down gently. She looked so peaceful and his heart contracted at how anxious she could get from time to time. He wanted her to be happy and well adjusted, which was the main reason for their fresh beginning.

  And with Lola’s easy friendship she seemed to have taken to it like a duck to water.

  He leaned in and kissed her forehead gently. ‘I love you Ruby-loo,’ he whispered.

  Ruby, never the heaviest of sleepers, stirred, her eyelashes fluttering open. ‘Daddy...’ She smiled sleepily. ‘You came.’

  Patrick smiled down at her. ‘Of course,’ he murmured, not wanting to wake Lola. ‘I said I would and I always will, Ruby-loo. Promise.’

  Although Ruby wasn’t yet aware of the events that had shaped all their lives since her birth, she’d obviously picked up on the stress and tension over the years and he knew that manifested itself in her penchant for clinginess.

  She was a sensitive child. Like her mother.

  Miranda stood in the doorway, listening, her heart beating a firm, steady tattoo in her chest. She knew she probably shouldn’t be intruding but she’d been drawn to the room like the proverbial moth to flame. And seeing Patrick with his daughter, she knew why. Why would she want to miss this? He was sweet and tender and loving.

  And, God help her, that was sexy too.

  Must everything the man did be sexy?

  ‘I like staying with Miwwy, Daddy, sheth fun.’

  Patrick, oblivious to Miranda’s presence, smiled. He couldn’t agree more. Although the fun he had in mind was slightly more adult. ‘Yes, she is.’ He pushed Ruby’s hair off her forehead and dropped another kiss there. ‘Now back to sleep. I’ll come and pick you up in the morning.’

  ‘You won’t be lonely, will you, Daddy?’

  Patrick looked into her earnest little face, saw the shine of worry in her eyes. ‘Nope. I’m going straight to sleep. No time to get lonely.’

  Ruby’s face brightened. ‘You could thay here. Lola won’t mind if you thleep with uth.’

  Patrick chuckled quietly. He knew the harm one set of kiddy feet could do to a grown man—he didn’t want to experience two sets. And, frankly, if he was staying here, he knew who he’d rather share a bed with. ‘It wouldn’t be a sleepover if I was here,’ he pointed out.

  Ruby thought about it for a moment. ‘Hmm. Okay, Daddy. You can go home.’

  He grinned. ‘Okay, then.’ He kissed her cheek. ‘Night-night, Ruby-loo.’

  ‘Night-night, Daddyoo.’

  Patrick eased off the bed as Ruby turned on her side. He stilled as Lola muttered something in her sleep and turned too. He held his breath, hoping she would settle and that he and Ruby hadn’t woken her. When she slumbered on he let out his breath and headed towards the door.

  Two smoky green eyes and a wistful smile met him and he faltered a little as awareness arced between them. He returned her smile and willed his legs to keep working. ‘Sorry,’ he whispered, as he drew level with her. ‘I hope I didn’t disturb Lola.’

  Miranda liked how he whispered, all low and husky. It reminded her of the things he’d whispered in her ear that night at the hotel and her skin broke out in goose-bumps, her nipples tightening.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ she said as she
rubbed her arms and led them out of her bedroom. He’d looked too at home in her room, sitting on her mattress, oozing all that weary sexiness over her bed. ‘She has her father’s ability to sleep like a log. Trying to get her out of bed in the morning is always a challenge.’

  Patrick was surprised by the urge to slide his hand onto her shoulder as she walked slightly in front of him. Just to touch her. To stay connected. The level of comfort he already felt in her company was startling.

  ‘Is she very like him?’ he asked, to divert such a ridiculous urge.

  Miranda turned to face him. ‘Physically, yes. She has blonde curls and his eyes and his confident little strut. Not to mention his chilled personality and his coma-like sleeping ability. But...’ she shrugged ‘...I only knew him for three weeks.’

  He nodded. ‘Was Ruby...okay? She can be a little...anxious sometimes.’

  ‘She seemed fine.’

  He rubbed a hand over his jaw. ‘It’s my fault, I fear. There’s been a lot of drama in her young life and I’ve tried to shield her from it but I’ve probably gone a little overboard.’

  The scrape of his stubble was loud in the silence that lay between them. It was erotic, seductive, evocative. Filling her head with flashbacks. That, combined with his concern for Ruby, was pretty irresistible and she found herself reaching out, placing her hand on his forearm in a gesture of comfort.

  Their gazes locked. ‘Being a single parent isn’t easy. You do the best you can with what you have.’

  Patrick’s head pounded with the beat of his pulse. Her touch wasn’t meant to be sexual but her gaze was smoky with desire and he could feel the pull between them that only sheer willpower was keeping leashed.

  ‘Ain’t that the truth,’ he murmured.

  Miranda could barely breathe as the incendiary atmosphere sucked away all the oxygen. This had to stop or they were going to end up having sex right here and now on the carpet.

  She dropped her hand—much more difficult than she’d thought. ‘I have some spaghetti Bolognese left over if you’re hungry.’

  Patrick breathed again as the screeching anticipation receded. ‘That might not be such a good idea,’ he said, acknowledging their simmering chemistry.

  ‘Probably not.’

  ‘But I am hungry,’ he said. His gaze dropped to her mouth. ‘Starving, actually.’ His eyes returned to capture hers again. ‘And something smells good.’

  Miranda swallowed. It was difficult enough to ignore the heat between them without him stoking it further. ‘Take a seat. I’ll dish some up.’

  Her five-minute break from him didn’t feel like much of a reprieve. In a flat where the living and kitchen area was essentially all in the one open-plan room, she couldn’t really hide and she was conscious of him watching her.

  But it did give her a chance to collect herself a little and by the time she handed him his plate she was feeling on a more even keel.

  ‘Thanks,’ Patrick said as aromas of garlic and basil embraced him, and he dug his fork straight in. He shut his eyes as the flavours mixed on his palate and his tastebuds went into rapture. At least something tonight was going to leave here satisfied.

  ‘This is good,’ he said, opening his eyes to find her sitting in the chair opposite.

  Miranda laughed. ‘Thank you. It’s my nan’s recipe.’

  ‘Didn’t you say she’s English?’

  ‘She is. But her specialty is Italian cooking. I think there may have been a fling with an Italian boy back in the days before my grandfather.’

  Miranda had always figured that was why her grandmother had been so supportive of her—she understood brash teenage impulsiveness.

  ‘Ah.’ He smiled as he took another mouthful. ‘Bravo to that.’ He ate some more and helped himself to the fresh crusty bread on the side of his plate.

  He finished off his serving and smiled at Miranda, who had watched him eat. ‘There’s this little Italian restaurant near where we lived in Sydney,’ he said. ‘Run by three generations of Antonios. This meal is as good as any I’ve had there.’

  Miranda blushed at the compliment. ‘I’ll tell my grandmother you approve.’

  Her blush was distracting and he smiled at her. ‘And I’ll let Antonio know he has competition.’ As soon as he said it he realised his mistake. He was hardly likely to bump into any of the Antonios nearly a thousand kilometres from their home. He sobered a little. ‘Or maybe not.’

  Miranda sobered as well. ‘You miss home? Sydney?’

  ‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘I don’t. I really don’t.’

  Miranda cocked an eyebrow. ‘You could have fooled me.’

  Patrick gave a grudging chuckle. ‘Well, I miss Antonio’s cooking but...there’s a lot of memories there, good and bad. I felt like they were holding me back and it was time to move forward. To start afresh.’

  ‘A change can be good,’ she said.

  He nodded. ‘It felt like my life was in a holding pattern in Sydney. Always wondering at the back of my mind if Katie was just going to waltz back into our lives again. And somehow giving her permission to do so by staying there. Conscious of everyone watching my every step. Of the rumours and the gossip and the judgment.’

  ‘That’s no way to live your life,’ she murmured.

  ‘No.’ He smiled at her. ‘I wanted to be free of that kind of speculation. I want Ruby to be free of it. I wanted to start living my life again instead of living it in waiting, like everyone around me seemed to expect.’

  ‘Well, that’s reasonable.’

  He laughed at her understatement. ‘Yes, I like to think so.’

  Miranda laughed too and their gazes locked. Instead of heat she felt light and giddy and she wanted his laughter in her life so badly it was scary.

  Dear God, he really should go. She was either going to ravish him or propose to him, and both were just plain crazy.

  Still, part of her wanted to prolong his visit.

  ‘Coffee?’ she asked as she stood and collected his plate. ‘Or I have tea. Green or peppermint. I think I may even have some chai. Or juice.’

  Good Lord, she was prattling. Just as she had that night in the lift. She willed herself to shut up but there seemed to be a weird disconnect between her brain and her tongue tonight as his gaze slowly crawled up her body and the flow of words continued at embarrassing velocity. ‘I could probably even run to hot chocolate. I don’t think I have marshmallows, though...’

  Patrick’s ‘Coffee is fine’ put an end to her babbling and she grabbed the chance and ran.

  Thankfully, by the time she returned with two steaming mugs a couple of minutes later the verbal diarrhoea had settled. He had moved to the couch and she placed his mug in front of him. ‘Black, no sugar, right?’

  ‘Thanks,’ he said.

  Miranda was about to sit in her chair again when she remembered the photos she’d taken of the girls in the back yard that afternoon. ‘Oh, here,’ she said, slipping her phone out of her back pocket. ‘I took some pics of the kids playing this afternoon.’

  She scrolled to the album on her phone, sitting down next to him as she located the ones from that day. The first one she opened was of Ruby and Lola, their arms slung around each other’s necks, laughing hysterically at the lens, their eyes scrunched up, their mouths open. She handed him the phone and they spent a few minutes laughing at the antics of their daughters.

  The last picture was of Miranda lying on the ground with a laughing little girl lying either side of her, all three of them looking up at the camera, which she’d held at arm’s length to snap the shot of them all. ‘Oh, sorry,’ she said, reaching for the phone. ‘They wanted one with me.’

  Patrick evaded her grasp as he stared at the image. It looked like any of a million snaps that made up family albums all around the country. He looked at
it for a long while. This was what his daughter had missed out on—the love of a mother.

  He was aware, very aware of the woman next to him, so close their thighs and arms were brushing.

  The woman in the photo with his daughter.

  ‘Ruby looks happy,’ he said eventually.

  Miranda nodded. ‘She had fun.’

  Patrick looked at her looking at the photo. ‘You’re a great mother.’

  Miranda glanced up at the serious note in his voice. His golden-brown gaze seemed troubled. ‘You’re a great dad.’

  ‘I sometimes wonder if it’s enough.’

  She touched his arm as she had earlier and a slow burn of heat flickered to life deep and low. ‘It is.’

  Patrick let his gaze roam over her face, so open and honest and sexy it took his breath away. He wished he didn’t want her so much.

  But he did.

  His gaze dropped to her mouth, remembering how good it felt to kiss her. ‘You’re beautiful,’ he whispered. He hadn’t meant to say it—they were living in an impossible situation where acting on their attraction wasn’t an option.

  But it came out anyway.

  Miranda swallowed. The flicker became a roar. ‘You’re kind of beautiful yourself.’

  Then his head was descending, blocking out the light, and then his lips were on hers and her head was filled with the thickness of his breath and the hammer of her pulse as she opened to him and let the roar become an inferno.

  It raged out of control.

  Somehow she was on her back and her hands were pulling at his shirt, plucking at the buttons, and his were under her shirt, pushing it up, running up her ribs and pulling aside her bra, and all she could do was cling to him and cry out as his hot mouth sought first one nipple and then the other.

  Then his mouth was back on hers, plundering with his tongue, and she gave up on his shirt buttons and went straight for his belt and his fly because she just had to have him inside her. She needed the pound and the thrust and the rock. It had been seven long months and she needed it. Now.