Midwife's Longed-for Baby & the Prince's Cinderella Bride & Bride for the Single Dad (9781488022142)

by Anderson, Caroline; Berlin, Amalie; Taylor, Jennifer

  She tried to shake it, and thought better of it. ‘No. No more than it was, and maybe less, but I know you’ll be getting up and down all night because you’ll be worried about me. If you’re here you can just prod me and ask if I’m all right and go straight back to sleep.’

  * * *

  Fat chance.

  He hovered over her while she washed, then did a quick neuro check before he settled her in bed and lay down beside her, but he was reluctant to move in case he hurt her or disturbed her, and his head was too full of the endless re-run of the accident to let him sleep.

  Beside him Liv was restless and he wasn’t sure she was asleep, either, despite the fact that she must be exhausted. Too sore? Or too cold?

  The heating must have gone off and the room was growing steadily colder. It hadn’t been over-warm in the first place—to save money? He propped himself up on one elbow and peered at her in the dim light spilling in from the landing, and realised she’d kicked the covers off, and she was going to be stiff and sore enough when she woke in the morning.

  He checked his phone for the time. Nearly one o’clock. Time for another check. He turned towards her, pulling the covers back over her as he woke her.

  ‘Liv?’

  ‘Mmm?’

  ‘Talk to me, sweetheart. It’s time for another check. Are you OK?’

  ‘I’m fine,’ she said. She sounded tired rather than sleepy, and he wondered if she’d been awake, too.

  ‘Do you hurt?’

  ‘No, not so much now. I’m a bit cold.’

  ‘You’d kicked the covers off, but I’ve put them back now, you’ll soon warm up.’

  He’d propped himself up on one elbow to flash the pen light in her eyes, and it gave him a chance to study her face. The bruise around her eye had invaded the lower lid now, and he could see further bruising along her cheekbone.

  Without thinking, he leant over and touched his lips lightly to the bruise. ‘You’ve got a real shiner now,’ he said softly. ‘The neighbours are going to think I’ve come back for revenge and beaten you up.’

  ‘You’d never hurt me,’ she said quietly. ‘Not physically, at least.’

  No. She was right, he wouldn’t. Couldn’t. But it hadn’t stopped him walking out on their broken marriage and he knew how badly that had hurt her. Hurt both of them. He sighed softly, lifting his hand and trailing it lightly over her cheekbone and down her jaw. ‘Do you need painkillers again?’

  ‘No, not really.’ She hesitated, her gaze holding his, then said quietly, as if she was afraid of his reaction, ‘Do you know what I really want more than anything? A hug. I’ve really missed your hugs.’

  A tear slid out of the corner of her eye and ran down into her hair, and his eyes blurred.

  ‘Oh, Liv—’

  His voice hitched, and he put the pen light back and lay down, reaching out his arms and folding them gently round her, and as she wriggled closer he pressed his lips to her forehead and squeezed his eyes tight shut to try and hold back the tears.

  She wasn’t the only one who’d missed this, and the feel of her body against his made something deep within him, something that had been out of kilter for one or maybe even two years, fall back into place.

  He felt her hand slide up his chest and settle against his jaw, her fingertips resting against his neck, right over the pulse.

  ‘What happened to us, Nick?’ she asked sadly, her fingertips stroking soothingly over the beating artery. ‘How did we end up in this mess?’

  He swallowed hard. ‘I have no idea. I just know I miss you every single day.’

  ‘I miss you, too. You were my best friend.’

  ‘Don’t—’

  His arms tightened round her, cradling her against his heart, and he blinked away the stinging tears and pressed another kiss to her hair.

  It was stiff and smelt of blood and antiseptic, and he thought of how close she’d come to death, lying there almost under the wheels of that big, heavy car, and the tears squeezed past his lids and trickled across his temple and onto the pillow by her head.

  ‘I nearly lost you today, Liv,’ he whispered into the darkness. ‘That car was so close—’

  Her arms tightened round him, her lips finding his cheek and feathering soft kisses over the damp skin. ‘Oh, Nick. I’m sorry I scared you. I was scared, too. I thought I was going to die—’

  Her voice cracked, and he cradled her head tenderly against his shoulder. ‘Don’t be scared any more. You’re not going to die, sweetheart, you’re going to be fine,’ he murmured gently, ‘but you need to rest, my love. Just go to sleep. You’re safe now. I’ve got you.’

  She made a sleepy, contented noise and settled against him, and he felt the tension going out of her limbs, her breathing growing slow and deep and regular as she drifted off to sleep, but he didn’t sleep for a long, long time.

  He just held her, feeling the slow rise and fall of her chest with every breath, the warmth of her body against his, and wondered where on earth they went from here.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  HE WOKE TO the soft, yielding warmth of Liv’s body draped over his.

  He’d checked her a couple more times in the night and the last time she’d rolled away, but at some point she must have rolled back. He hadn’t woken, but his arm was round her and her head was on his shoulder and it felt so familiar, so right…

  Her arm lay loosely over his chest, her knee wedged down between his thighs, and her body was so close to his he could feel her heart beat.

  Which would have been fine, except his body was apparently very happy to have her pressed up tight against it and he wasn’t sure they were quite ready for that yet. At least he’d kept his underwear on. It gave him a little privacy, but not nearly enough, and it wasn’t going to get any better unless he could somehow ease his leg out from under hers and move away.

  He could always wait, he thought. She’d wake up at some point and then he could get his arm out from under her head and unravel the potentially embarrassing tangle of limbs.

  But she didn’t wake, and she was overdue for another check. He touched her cheek.

  ‘Liv, wake up.’

  She made a funny little noise and snuggled closer, her right arm curving down over his ribs, her fingers tucking under his side.

  He closed his eyes, swore softly and took her wrist in his hand and eased it back again. ‘Liv! Liv, wake up. I have to check you again.’

  But she didn’t move, just moaned slightly, and his heart went into overdrive. Why couldn’t he wake her? Did she have a brain injury after all, and he’d slept through it and missed the signs?

  ‘Liv! Come on. Wake up. Now!’

  He shook her arm roughly and her eyes flickered open, blinking in the daylight that seeped in around the curtained windows. She made a soft noise and shifted her head back so she could get him into focus. ‘Don’t shout at me. What’s the matter?’

  Relief flooded him and he closed his eyes and sucked in a breath. ‘Sorry. I’m sorry. I couldn’t wake you, and I thought…’ He couldn’t say it, couldn’t voice his fears out loud, but he didn’t need to.

  She blinked again, as if she’d just worked out where she was and what had happened, and she let out her breath on a little sigh and settled back against him. ‘Oh, Nick, I’m fine,’ she said softly, her hand coming to rest over his heart. ‘A bit sore, but my head’s much better now. I was just really heavily asleep.’

  He felt himself relax, but not much, because their legs were still wrapped together and he really, really needed to get away before she realised quite how much his body was lapping it up.

  ‘Good. I’m glad you’re feeling better, but I need to get up. My arm’s gone dead and I need to phone the hospital about Judy Richards.’

  ‘Oh. Sorry, you should have
said.’

  He gave a soft, frustrated laugh. ‘I just did. That’s why I was trying to wake you.’

  ‘Oh. Right. OK.’

  She put her hand on his chest and shifted her leg, and as she moved it she brushed against him and her eyes widened and she froze.

  ‘Nick?’ His name was a soft out-breath, teasing against his skin, and her hand curved against his cheek, the delicate touch unbearably erotic.

  Damn. He closed his eyes. ‘Sorry. Ignore it, it’s just a normal, physiological response,’ he muttered, his voice gruff. ‘It doesn’t mean anything—’

  Her lips brushed his. ‘Oh. And there I thought you were pleased to see me,’ she murmured, a hint of mischief in her voice, but it was a touch husky and he knew if he didn’t get out of there soon he was going to lose the plot.

  ‘Very funny,’ he said, but she just laughed softly and curled her hand around the back of his head, easing him closer. Her lips met his again, the touch so sweet, so familiar, so agonisingly dear that he let out a soft groan and kissed her back.

  Not for long. Just long enough that he knew if he didn’t get out of there fast this was going to get well out of control and it was every kind of a bad idea.

  He dragged his mouth away from temptation. ‘Liv, no,’ he said, his voice as firm as he could make it. ‘I have to get up.’

  ‘I thought you were,’ she said mischievously, but before he could react she laughed again and rolled away.

  ‘Better?’

  ‘Yes, thank you.’

  Liar. It was much worse, because he wanted her right back where she’d been, and it wasn’t going to happen. He retrieved his arm and groaned.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Just my arm dropping off.’

  ‘So long as that’s all…’

  He gave a despairing chuckle, swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up with his back firmly towards her. He hadn’t seen Liv in this teasing, mischievous mood for years, and the urge to get back into bed and haul her into his arms was killing him.

  ‘I’ll go and phone the hospital and I’ll get you some tea while I’m at it.’ He grabbed his shirt and headed for the door, shaking his right arm to get the circulation going. ‘Ah, dammit,’ he muttered again as the blood started to flow back into it.

  ‘Wimp,’ she called after him, and he paused on the top step, shoving his arms into the shirt.

  ‘Me, a wimp? You should listen to yourself. The fuss you’ve been making, anybody would think you’d been hit by a car.’

  The sound of her laughter followed him down the stairs to the kitchen, and he couldn’t help but smile. She sounded so much better and the relief he felt was profound. For a moment there, when he hadn’t been able to wake her—

  He cut that thought off before it dragged him back in, phoned the hospital about Judy while the kettle boiled and took her tea up to her, his body now back under control.

  She was in the bathroom when he got there and he put the mug down on the bedside table as she opened the door and came out.

  ‘Are you OK?’

  ‘I’m fine, considering I was hit by a car. Much less sore than I deserve to be,’ she said with a wry grin.

  ‘Good. And you don’t deser—’

  She reached out and pressed a finger to his lips, stopping the words. The grin softened to a smile, and he felt his heart thud against his ribs as she dropped her arm and took another step towards him. She was close enough now that he could smell the toothpaste on her breath and feel the warmth radiating off her skin, and she put her arms around him and rested her head on his chest and hugged him.

  ‘Thank you for looking after me last night,’ she murmured, and he wrapped his arms around her and dropped a gentle kiss on her matted, bloodstained hair, every cell in his body aware of the soft press of her breasts against his chest, the warmth of her body luring him, reeling him in. Such a bad idea, but his body thought it was great. He dropped his arms.

  ‘You’re welcome,’ he said gruffly. ‘I’ve put the tea on your bedside table. I’m going to get my stuff out of the car. I could do with a shower and shave.’

  She lifted her hand and rubbed the palm over his jaw against the lie of the hair; he heard the stubble rasp against her skin, saw her pupils darken, felt his body react. ‘Shame. I rather like you with the morning-after look,’ she said with that slightly wicked smile he’d missed so much for so long now.

  Her hand was just there, her thumb against his lips. He could turn his head and press his lips to her palm, ease her back into his arms—or he could just step back out of reach and keep what was left of his sanity.

  ‘Liv, don’t do this, please. It’s hard enough as it is.’

  ‘Mmm. I noticed.’

  He groaned and took a step back out of reach, his control at breaking point. ‘It’s not funny, Liv,’ he said gruffly. ‘It’s so not a good idea. You’re hurt, and it’s not what I’m here for.’

  Her eyes widened and she blinked, her hand falling slowly to her side.

  ‘No. No, I’m sorry. I wasn’t—I didn’t mean—’

  She couldn’t finish the sentence, maybe because like him she didn’t know quite what to say, what the protocol was in this really rather awkward situation.

  ‘It’s OK. It’s just—I don’t really think…’

  Now it was him who couldn’t finish, so he gave up on the conversation, pulled on his trousers, ran downstairs and let himself out of the front door, kicking himself every step of the way.

  * * *

  She watched him go, beating what could only be called a hasty retreat, and bit her lip.

  He’d seemed so uncomfortable with her touch, as if she’d crossed an invisible line that had somehow appeared between them since they’d got out of bed. Or maybe it had been there all night, and she’d crossed it then too without realising.

  She’d certainly been close enough to him when he’d woken her, close enough to feel his reaction. It wasn’t unusual, just a spontaneous physiological response, as he’d said, and in the good old days, before the bad ones, they would have taken advantage of it. But today he couldn’t get away fast enough, and he’d seemed embarrassed.

  And all she’d done was tease him, when actually she’d wanted him to wrap her in his arms again and make love to her like he used to.

  She hadn’t even thought about it when she’d suggested he share the bed, and although he’d protested, he hadn’t refused, and he’d willingly held her most of the night. He’d obviously only done it out of concern because of her head injury, though, and then she’d gone and wrapped herself all round him, and then hugged him and touched him in a way she no longer had any right to touch him.

  And maybe he’d moved on. Maybe there was another woman in his life now, a woman who had those rights?

  She felt a wave of humiliation, then a hollow ache inside, and without permission her eyes filled with tears. She hadn’t even thought about it, but maybe he’d found someone to love, someone who could give him babies, or just someone to have fun with, as they’d had fun in the early days, before it all became about ovulation tests and body temperature fluctuation and counting days on the calendar?

  Not that it was any of her business now, since she’d kicked him out without giving him a second chance.

  ‘Oh, Nick…’

  She shifted the pillows into a pile and crawled back onto the bed, leaning back against the pillows and kicking herself for reading too much into his kindness last night. Because that was all it had been, of course. Just kindness.

  But he said he’d missed her every single day. Was that kindness talking? It hadn’t felt like it, and she was sure there had been tears on his cheeks at one point. That didn’t seem like simple kindness, and the way he’d held her, as if she was the most precious thing in the world…

&n
bsp; She could hear his voice outside through the bathroom window, and wondered who he was talking to at this time of the morning. Bert, probably. Oh, lord. That would open a whole new can of worms.

  It was her own fault. She should have stayed in hospital like Sam had wanted her to instead of making such a fuss—or better still, asked Ben not to contact Nick, and then none of this would have happened.

  But then she wouldn’t have seen him again, and somehow that felt immeasurably worse…

  * * *

  ‘Morning, Nick.’

  Damn. He looked up and saw their old neighbour clipping their rose hedge. Liv’s rose hedge, he corrected himself. He supposed he should be grateful Bert was looking after her, but instead he felt resentful and distinctly underdressed.

  ‘Morning,’ he grunted, unlocking the car and opening the door, wincing as he stepped back onto a sharp stone in his bare feet.

  Bert’s voice followed his head into the car. ‘I see you’re back, then. Hope you don’t mind, I’m just tidying up a few bits and pieces I missed. First clip of the season, so she gets the best flowers.’

  He ducked his head back out as Bert took a step towards him, shears in hand. ‘Back for good, are you?’

  He gave a mental sigh and put the old man straight.

  ‘No. Liv had an accident yesterday. I’m just looking after her for a day or two.’

  Bert lowered the shears, settling in no doubt for a nice long chat and a few juicy details. ‘Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. I hope she’ll be all right. Car, was it?’

  ‘No.’ Well, it wasn’t. Not hers. ‘She fell,’ he said, which was being massively frugal with the truth, but it was none of Bert’s business. ‘She’s just got a few bruises and scrapes.’

  ‘Oh, dear. Poor Liv. I’ll tell Gwen, she’ll pop round—’

  ‘No, Bert, really, it’s fine. She just needs to rest.’

  ‘Oh, well. Give her our best, then. And you’d better get back inside before you catch your death with those bare feet.’

  ‘Yes, indeed.’

  He lifted his overnight bag out of the car, locked it and headed back inside, hearing the irritating click-click-click of the shears as Bert went back to work on the immaculate hedge. He ran upstairs, pausing at the bedroom door.