Bride For The Single Dad

She settled back in the seat as the driver set off, feeling weariness wash over her. The lack of sleep plus all the emotional turmoil she’d been through had left her feeling drained. Opening her bag, she took out the letter that Martin had left for her, forcing herself to re-read the few brief lines it contained. It was still hard to believe it was true but there it was, in black and white. He had met someone else and, although he was very sorry, he had realised that he wanted to be with her and not Polly. In the meantime, he was going away and would leave it to Polly to tell everyone that the wedding was cancelled. If she preferred to say that it had been a mutual decision then that was fine with him. He only hoped that in time she would understand that he had made the right decision for both of them.

Polly took a deep breath as she folded up the letter and put it back in her bag. She hoped so too, hoped that a time would come when she didn’t feel so completely and utterly at sea. She glanced at her watch, feeling the ready tears scalding her eyes. In a couple of hours’ time everyone in Beesdale would know that she wasn’t getting married today.

CHAPTER TWO

ELLIOT REACHED FOR his wallet as the taxi drew up. He still wasn’t sure why he had offered the woman a lift. Normally, it wouldn’t have crossed his mind and yet the moment he had seen her standing outside A&E he had felt compelled to help her. Why? Because she had looked so lost, so forlorn? Why should he care how she felt? He had no idea but he could have no more left her standing there than he could have...have flown to the moon!

‘Here we are then,’ he said, dismissing that ridiculous thought as they climbed out of the cab. He drummed up a smile, making an effort to appear a shade more cordial than he had been earlier. Just for a moment he was tempted to explain about the frustrating week he’d had before he thought better of it. Explanations were for the weak, for those people who were prepared to give others an advantage over them. And he had decided many years ago that he would never let anyone take advantage of him again. ‘Right back where we started.’

‘Oh...erm...yes.’

The woman jumped as though she had been lost in a world of her own and once again Elliot’s interest was piqued. Was she worrying about Lauren and her baby, he wondered, or was there something else troubling her? The question hovered on his lips but he forced it back. He wouldn’t ask, wouldn’t invite any confidences, wouldn’t get involved in any way at all. His life was fine the way it was. He had Joseph and his work to fill it and he didn’t need anything else. If and when he needed sex then he organised it with the same attention to detail that he arranged everything else. He always chose a woman who felt the same as he did, who didn’t want commitment but merely wanted to satisfy a need. He knew without even having to think about it that this woman didn’t fall into that category. No, she would expect the lot—marriage, commitment, a lifetime of togetherness—all the things he had sworn he would avoid after he and Marianna had divorced.

The thought of his ex-wife made his mouth tighten and he saw the woman beside him colour. Reaching into her bag, she took out her car keys. ‘I won’t detain you any longer. Thank you for the lift. I appreciated it.’

With that, she walked over to her car. Elliot watched her go, wondering why he felt as though he should have said something, but what exactly? Should he have thanked her for stopping earlier, perhaps? After all, if the accident had happened in the city then few people would have stopped—they would have been too busy with their own affairs to help a stranger. He would have had to deal with it himself, deal with the other driver as well. Although it wouldn’t have been a problem as such; after all, he was medically qualified. But would Lauren have told him that she was pregnant or would she have been put off by his attitude? The thought that she might not have disclosed the information settled like a heavy weight inside him. He couldn’t help wondering what other information he had missed over the years because people had been deterred by his less than encouraging approach. What had the redhead said before—that he needed to work on his people skills? It seemed she was right.

Elliot could feel all sorts of emotions swirling around inside him as he headed to his car. It was years since he had felt so unsure about his actions and it shook him. Every aspect of his life, from the tiniest detail to the most major decision, was always planned in advance. To find himself awash with doubts all of a sudden was scary. It made him feel vulnerable, defenceless.

‘Is everything all right?’

Elliot jumped, his heart racing, when he discovered that the woman was bending down beside the open window. Before he could stop himself, he found himself taking rapid stock of large hazel eyes, a straight little nose, a perfectly curved Cupid’s bow, and his racing heart raced a bit faster. He hadn’t noticed it before but all of a sudden he realised how attractive she was...

‘Are you sure you’re OK?’

A slim hand reached in and closed around his arm and Elliot flinched. It wasn’t her touch per se but the effect it had on him. Heat poured through his veins so that all of a sudden it felt as though he was on fire. What the hell was going on? Why was he burning up because this woman had touched him? It certainly fell beyond the range of rational explanation. All he could do was pray it would stop—and stop soon. Stop before the damage became permanent.

Panic rose inside him, adding to the conflagration. He didn’t want to respond to her this way, didn’t want to start yearning for things he had sworn he didn’t need. He wanted his life to remain exactly the same as it had been for the past eight years, and yet he had a feeling that it was already too late, that what had happened today had changed things, changed him. He took a deep breath as his vision swam. Today was going to affect his whole future and there wasn’t a thing he could do about it either!

* * *

Polly could feel the heat of the man’s skin flowing through her fingertips and frowned. Although it was a warm day for April, it wasn’t so warm that it should have caused such a rise in his temperature. Sliding her hand down to his wrist, she checked his pulse, her frown deepening when she discovered how rapid it was. He’d told her that he had strained a muscle but that didn’t explain why his pulse was racing like this, did it?

‘Do you feel sick or dizzy?’ she said, bending closer so that she could look into his eyes. Maybe he had hit his head when he had run into the back of the van, she thought anxiously. It was a known fact that a head injury could take some time to present itself and if it was left untreated it could have disastrous consequences. The thought sent a rush of fear scudding through her.

‘Are you sure you didn’t hit your head?’ Polly said urgently, checking his pupils for any irregularities, a sure sign of a head injury.

‘No. I just wrenched my neck.’

His voice was deep, husky, and Polly felt a frisson run through her. All of a sudden she was aware of him in a way she had never expected to be. She let her gaze travel over his face in the hope that she would find some clue there to explain what was happening. His eyes were green, a deep sea-green, framed by thick black lashes. His eyebrows were black too, making his skin appear paler than she would have expected, apart from along his jaw where the shadow of stubble had darkened it. His features were, frankly, uncompromising, the chiselled lines of his nose and jaw adding to the impression of a man who gave few concessions in life. Only his mouth hinted at a gentler side, the full lower lip looking disturbingly sensual. What would it be like to kiss him? Polly wondered. To feel his mouth on hers, hard and demanding at first, before his lips softened...

Heat flashed through her veins and she drew back abruptly, scared by the feelings that thought had aroused. She couldn’t recall feeling this kind of raw desire before, not even when she and Martin had made love. If she was honest, their lovemaking had been a disappointment. Although she’d had a couple of affairs during her time at college, she didn’t have a huge amount of experience and she had wondered if that was why their lovemaking hadn’t lived up to her expectations. Now she realised that it hadn’t been solely her fault and that Martin had been equally to blame. Oh, he might have gone through the motions of making love to her but had his heart been in it when he had met someone else? Someone he had wanted more than her? Polly sighed sadly. A lot of heartache could have been avoided if only Martin had found the courage to tell her the truth. It was a relief when the sound of a mobile phone ringing cut through her unhappy thoughts.

‘Elliot Grey.’ The man pressed a button on the dashboard and answered the call.

‘It’s Sister Thomas, sir. I’m afraid little Alfie Nolan’s condition has deteriorated. Dr Walters wants to take him to Theatre. He feels the faulty heart valve needs to be replaced immediately.’

Polly bit back a gasp as she listened to the conversation. So this was Elliot Grey! Oh, she’d heard about him, of course: who hadn’t? That one of the country’s leading paediatric surgeons had chosen to head up the team at their local hospital had set everyone talking. Polly had been as surprised as everyone else that he had opted to leave London and relocate to Yorkshire, and now that she had met him her amazement knew no bounds. Maybe it was naïve to make such an assumption but surely a man who spent his life caring for the most vulnerable patients should be more, well...approachable?

‘Tell Dr Walters that I shall be there as soon as I can. In the meantime, he’s to do nothing.’ Elliot Grey cut the connection without further ado. Polly suspected that he considered such niceties as saying goodbye a waste of his time. Scrolling down the list of telephone numbers, he selected one, speaking as soon as the call was answered. ‘It’s Elliot Grey. I have to go back to the hospital so I shall need you to stay with my son until I get back, Mrs Danton.’

‘I’m sorry, Dr Grey, but that isn’t possible. I’m looking after my grandchildren this morning while my daughter’s at work and I’m already late as it is,’ Iris Danton replied firmly.

‘Surely your daughter can find someone else to mind them,’ Elliot snapped back. ‘This is an emergency, after all.’

‘Maybe it is, but there’ll be another emergency if my daughter loses her job. No, I stepped in last night to help you but I can’t do it again today.’

With that the woman hung up. Polly sympathised with her because it was a bit rich to expect her to let down her daughter to fit in with Elliot Grey’s plans. However, she also knew how urgent it was that he returned to the hospital and it was that which made her speak up, that and nothing else. It definitely had nothing to do with all those crazy feelings that had swept through her a few minutes earlier.

‘I can mind your son if you’re stuck.’

‘You?’ Elliot Grey turned icy green eyes on her and Polly almost took a step back. She forced herself to stand her ground, wondering why he was so hostile when she was offering to do him a favour.

‘Yes, me. As I told you, I’m the community midwife for this area, so I think you can trust me to take good care of him.’ She shrugged when he just kept on staring at her. ‘My name’s Polly Davies. You can call the maternity unit if you want to check I’m who I say I am. They’ll vouch for me.’

‘I don’t doubt you are who you claim to be, Miss Davies. However, I do wonder why you would offer to look after Joseph. Out of the goodness of your heart, perhaps, or because you have an ulterior motive?’

‘An ulterior motive?’ Polly repeated blankly.

‘Yes. Now that you know who I am, I can’t help but wonder if you’re looking to earn yourself some Brownie points.’ His tone was clipped and Polly felt that shiver run through her again, the one she’d felt earlier when they had first met. It took her all her time not to let him see how much it disturbed her.

‘I’ve no idea what you mean.’

‘No? I thought my views on community midwives were widely known but apparently not. So, to reiterate, I am totally opposed to women having their babies at home, which is the approach you favour. In my opinion every baby should be born in the safety of a fully equipped maternity unit so that any problems can be dealt with promptly. To be blunt, Miss Davies, I would ban you and the rest of your cohorts from delivering any more babies if I could!’

Elliot knew that it had been tactless in the extreme to have said that but he couldn’t stop himself. He had seen far too many damaged children to change his views. Every child should be born in hospital and allowing home births to take place in this day and age was a disgrace, in his opinion. He would have dearly loved to expound his views but a glance at the dashboard clock put paid to that. He needed to get back to the hospital, but how could he when there was nobody to look after Joseph...? Unless he took Polly Davies up on her offer, always assuming she was still willing after him shooting her down like that.

‘I had no idea you held such stringent views, Dr Grey. Obviously, they haven’t filtered through to me. However, much as I would love to debate the points you raised, I doubt if this is the right time. My offer still stands and, no, I don’t expect any Brownie points for looking after your son. I’m not that naïve.’

‘Thank you.’ Elliot gritted his teeth, desperately trying to hold back the apology that hovered on the tip of his tongue. That he should feel the need to apologise when he knew he was right was shock enough; however, the fact that he was so desperate to make amends was an even bigger one. What was it about this woman that made him feel so out of control? he wondered as he started the car. She had the ability to make him doubt himself and he didn’t enjoy the experience. He liked to be fully in control of himself—no, not liked, needed. It made him feel safe.

Elliot drove that disturbing thought from his head, not wanting her to suspect how on edge he felt. ‘I suggest you follow me home so I can introduce you to Joseph. I’ve bought the old blacksmith’s cottage in Trefoil Lane—do you know it?’

‘Yes,’ she replied succinctly then turned away. Going over to her car, she started the engine, not waiting for him as she set off.

Elliot slid the powerful car into gear, curbing the urge to put his foot down and overtake her when they reached the open road. So she didn’t need him to lead the way—so what? If she was trying to prove her independence then he didn’t care. He didn’t care about anyone except Joseph. The strange thing was that, no matter how hard he tried to convince himself, it didn’t ring true. Deep down inside, in some long-abandoned place, he did care. He cared a lot, cared about her opinion of him. Foolish though he knew it was, he didn’t want Polly Davies to think badly of him.

* * *

It was almost nine a.m. when Polly drew up outside The Old Smithy, as the cottage was known locally. She could hear the clock on Beesdale Church chiming the hour as she got out of the car and sighed. By rights she should have been on the train by now, but what else could she have done in the circumstances? Elliot Grey needed her help even if he had been less than gracious about accepting it. Did he honestly think that she had been trying to worm her way into his good books by offering to mind his son? she thought as she walked up the path. Well, if that were the case, he was in for a shock. He might think he was next to God in the pecking order but he was a long way from being that, in her opinion!

‘Come along. I need to get back to the hospital as soon as possible.’

The subject of her thoughts swept past her and opened the front door. Polly’s mouth thinned as she followed him inside. Would it hurt him to employ a few basic good manners? she thought sourly. Behave like any normal person would do in the circumstances? She didn’t expect him to go over the top—just to appear grateful would be enough. However, it seemed that gratitude and Elliot Grey weren’t acquainted with one another.

She followed him along the hall, taking stock as she went. She knew that the cottage had been converted by its previous owners, a couple from London who had used it as a weekend retreat until travelling back and forth had become too much of a hassle. They had spent a fortune on it, if rumour was to be believed, and the original cottage now encompassed what had once been the blacksmith’s forge.

However, it wasn’t until she stepped into the kitchen that she realised just how much it had changed. The room was enormous and wonderfully spacious despite the impressive range of top-end fitments. Polly sighed as she drank it all in, from the marble-topped island in the centre to the cosy family corner complete with squashy leather sofa. It was the kitchen she and Martin had dreamed about, not that they could have hoped to own a place as spectacular as this even if they had got married...

‘Who are you?’

The question brought her back to earth with a bump. Polly turned to find a small boy of about eight years of age watching her with an all too familiar expression in his green eyes. Talk about a chip off the old block, she thought ruefully as she took in the dark brown hair, the clean-cut features, not to mention the air of reserve the child projected. He had to be Elliot’s son; the resemblance was too marked for him not to be. The only thing that set him apart from his father was the fact that he was in a wheelchair.

Polly’s gaze flew to Elliot and her heart seemed to scrunch up inside her when she saw the expression on his face, all the love mingled with a fear that she might say something to hurt the child. In that moment everything she felt about him was turned on its head, turned upside down and inside out as well. Now he was no longer a pain in the proverbial, some insufferable, self-opinionated man who needed putting in his place. Now he was simply a loving father who wanted to protect his child, and Polly realised that she could forgive him anything because of that.

CHAPTER THREE

‘MY NAME’S POLLY DAVIES. And you must be Joseph. How do you do?’

Elliot let out the breath he hadn’t even known he was holding as Polly reached out and shook Joseph’s hand. She didn’t do what so many folk did, what they thought they should do, and bend down so she was on his son’s level. She simply held out her hand and that was it, and it was a form of acceptance of Joseph’s condition that touched him in ways Elliot could barely understand. Polly wasn’t pretending that Joseph was the same as every other child his age, but she wasn’t making an issue of it either by overcompensating. He cleared his throat, trying to dislodge the unfamiliar lump that had found its way there.

‘Polly is going to look after you while I go back to the hospital, Joseph.’

‘Is the baby still not well?’ Joseph spun his wheelchair around, his face alight with interest. Elliot had no idea if it was right or wrong but he always discussed his cases with him. Joseph had become his sounding board, in a way; he ran through what he had done, checking in his own mind that he couldn’t have done more, and Joseph listened even if he didn’t always understand the complexities of what he was hearing.

‘No. Sadly one of his heart valves isn’t working properly. It needs replacing so I’ll have to go back and see to it. Mrs Danton has to mind her grandchildren this morning so Polly has offered to stay with you.’ It was the first time that Elliot had said Polly’s name and he felt the tiniest frisson run down his spine, like fairy footsteps tiptoeing over his skin. He wasn’t sure why it was happening and certainly wasn’t going to make the mistake of searching for an explanation so he hurried on. ‘Is that all right with you?’

‘Uh-huh.’ Joseph shot an assessing glance at Polly. ‘Are you a nanny?’

‘No. I’m a midwife,’ she replied evenly, not at all put out, it appeared, about being cross-questioned.

‘So you work at the hospital?’ Joseph continued, weighing up what she had said.

‘No. I’m a community midwife. I deliver babies at home and also take care of the mums before and after their babies are born.’

‘Dad thinks you lot should be banned,’ Joseph told her, ignoring Mrs Danton’s tut of disapproval. ‘He says you do more harm than good.’

‘So I believe.’ Polly glanced at him and Elliot stiffened in readiness for what would come next. ‘Sadly, even the cleverest people can be wrong sometimes, Joseph.’

Joseph laughed, his small face lighting up with amusement. ‘Dad won’t like you saying that—do you, Dad?’

‘Ahem. It’s a discussion best left till another time,’ Elliot murmured, feeling as though he had been caught flat-footed. He had expected a far more acerbic response and he wasn’t sure what to make of it. Surely Polly wasn’t softening towards him...was she?

Those wretched fairies were at it again, running fairy-sized races up and down his spine, and he had to force himself not to get side-tracked by that strangely appealing thought. Mrs Danton was putting on her coat and he thanked her for minding Joseph then turned to Polly as soon as she had left. ‘I don’t know how long I’ll be so you may need to sort out something for lunch. Joseph can show you where everything is.’

‘Fine. It’s not a problem.’ She shrugged off her coat and tossed it over a chair then went to the kettle and switched it on. ‘How about a drink, Joseph? Juice? Milk? Hot chocolate? What do you fancy?’

‘Cola,’ Joseph replied immediately.

‘Oh, no,’ Elliot began but he got no further.

‘Nice try, sunshine, but I doubt if your dad lets you have fizzy drinks at this time of the day, so choose something else,’ Polly said firmly.

‘Milk then,’ Joseph muttered, rolling his eyes.

‘Coming right up.’

She went to the huge American-style refrigerator, took out the milk then opened a cupboard and took out a glass. Elliot watched in amazement, marvelling at how at home she seemed to be. He was still finding his way around, opening cupboard after cupboard before he found what he wanted, and it was galling to admit it, galling too that she had dealt with Joseph so efficiently. People had a tendency to let him get away with things because of his disability, but not Polly. She had treated him the same as she would have treated any other child and, for the first time since Joseph was born, Elliot felt redundant. He wasn’t sure if he liked the idea either.

‘I’d better get going,’ he said gruffly, realising how ridiculous he was being. He should be glad that Joseph seemed happy to let Polly look after him. ‘Can you walk me out?’

‘Of course.’ Polly grinned at the little boy. ‘Your dad’s probably going to give me a list of dos and don’ts so be warned: I shall be completely up to speed when it comes to any more dodgy requests, young man!’

Joseph laughed again and Elliot hid his amazement because it wasn’t like him to take to a stranger so readily. Joseph could be difficult at times yet he seemed to have responded instantly to Polly the same as he, himself, had done. It was another thought that Elliot didn’t intend to give any room to. He strode along the hall, only halting when he reached the front door. Polly had stopped as well, so close that once again he could smell the scent of her shampoo, a fragrance that made his senses tingle... Clang! The barriers came down, shutting off that idea before it could go any further. He never entertained such fanciful thoughts about any woman and he refused to start now.

‘Joseph has medication he needs to take,’ he said, enunciating every word as he strove to clear his mind. ‘The details of time and dosage is in the top drawer of my desk in the study, along with the tablets he takes.’ He pointed out the room. ‘Any problems then phone me. My number’s on speed dial, along with the number of Joseph’s consultant in London. You can phone him if there’s a problem and I’m unavailable for any reason.’

‘Isn’t Joseph registered at The Larches surgery?’ Polly asked, frowning.