The Baby That Changed Everything: A Baby to Heal Their Hearts / The Baby That Changed Her Life / The Surgeon's Baby Secret

This was beginning to feel like the most enormous mistake. They were supposed to be training together and then discussing her project over breakfast, and all he wanted to do right now was to scoop her up and carry her to his bed. Even though it was actually a Tube ride away.

It was obvious that, like Sasha, Bailey was aware of her effect on men. She was gorgeous. So was Bailey like his ex-wife in using her physical attributes to get her own way? The idea made him pull himself together. Just. ‘So what’s your normal workout routine?’ he asked.

‘Today is a weights day,’ she said, ‘so that means a quick cardio warm-up and then a resistance routine. You?’

He shrugged. ‘I’ll join you and adjust the weights to suit me. Just tell me what we’re doing and when.’

She nodded. ‘Any injuries I should know about?’

Jared had no idea whether Archie had told her anything about his past, but it was irrelevant now. ‘A very old knee problem,’ he said. ‘But I know my limits and I’m certainly not going to be stupid about it.’

‘Good. Then let’s do this. How about using the elliptical as a warm-up, then through into the back room with the free weights?’

‘Fine by me.’

Why on earth had she agreed to train with him? Bailey asked herself. Jared was wearing baggy tracksuit pants and a loose sleeveless vest, like all the other men in the gym. She barely took any notice of them other than to smile hello, acknowledging the fellow athletes in her time slot. But Jared Fraser was different. She was horribly aware of the hard musculature of his body. Particularly his biceps.

He was an ex-footballer. A sports team doctor. He shouldn’t have biceps that beautiful and that well defined.

Worst of all, she had a real thing about biceps. Bailey always dragged Joni off to the cinema whenever her favourite actor had a new movie out—and Joni still teased Bailey about the time she’d said, ‘Ohhh, just look at his biceps,’ really loudly, in the middle of the cinema. The actor was incredibly handsome, perfectly built, but so was Jared Fraser.

She sneaked a sideways look. He was concentrating on putting the time and intensity settings into the elliptical machine, and right at that moment he looked incredibly sexy. It made her wonder what it would be like to have that brooding concentration completely focused on her, and she went hot all over. This training thing was a very bad move. She wished now that she hadn’t challenged him. How on earth was she going to be able to concentrate on talking to him over breakfast? Even if he changed into something with long sleeves after his shower, she knew now that he had gorgeous biceps and that could seriously distract her. Right at that moment, she really wanted to reach over and touch him.

Well, she was going to have to make a lot more of an effort, because no way was she acting on that pull of attraction. She liked her life exactly as it was, with no complications—and Jared Fraser could be a real complication. If she let him. Which she really didn’t intend to do.

When they’d finished warming up, Bailey talked him through her planned routine, the large compound movements that worked several muscle groups at once. ‘I thought I’d do a full-body workout today, if that’s OK with you, rather than an upper or lower split.’

‘It’s a good balance,’ he said. ‘I notice you’re doing hams and then quads.’

‘You need to balance them out properly or you’ll end up with a back injury,’ she said, ‘and you wouldn’t believe how many patients I have to explain that to.’

Funny how easy it was to talk to him when they were both concentrating on doing the right number of reps and keeping their form correct.

‘What made you specialise in sports medicine?’ he asked.

‘I started off in emergency medicine,’ she said, ‘but then I found myself doing more of the sporting injuries, especially at the weekends or on Monday mornings. I did think about maybe working in orthopaedics, but then again I like the preventative stuff, too—it’s great being able to make a difference. Then I had the chance of a secondment in the new sports medicine department. I liked my colleagues and I liked the work, so I stayed.’

That was the brief version. She had no intention of telling Jared the rest of it—how that secondment had saved her sanity, just over two years ago, and given her something else to concentrate on when she’d desperately needed an escape. OK, so in sports medicine there wasn’t the speed and pressure that could take her mind off things as there was in the emergency department; but she also didn’t have to walk into her department again after first-hand experience of being treated there, knowing that everyone in the department knew exactly what had happened to her and trying to avoid the concern that shaded too far into pity.

‘What about you?’ she asked. ‘Why did you become the doctor of a football team?’

She wondered if he was going to tell her about his past as a footballer, but he merely said, ‘I enjoy working in sports medicine, and this job means I get to travel a bit.’

Surely he must’ve guessed that she’d looked him up and knew what had happened to his knee? Then again, it had been a life-changing accident, and he was on a completely different path now. She didn’t blame him for not wanting to talk about the injury that had wrecked his career—just as she didn’t want to talk about the ectopic pregnancy that had shattered her dreams and then cracked her marriage beyond repair. No doubt he, too, knew what it felt like to be sick and tired of pity. They didn’t have to discuss it.

‘How did you get involved in this research project, or have you always been a football fan?’ he asked.

‘I ought to admit that I’d much rather do sport than watch it, and football isn’t really top of my list,’ she said. ‘My boss was asked if someone on his team would work on the project, and he thought I’d enjoy it because …’ She felt her face heat. ‘Well, I like techie stuff,’ she confessed. ‘A lot.’

‘You mean gadgets?’ He zeroed in on exactly the thing she knew he’d pick up on. ‘And would I be right in guessing that you’ve got one of those expensive wristband things?’

‘Um, yes,’ she admitted. ‘I use it all the time in the gym. I didn’t wear it today simply because I knew you’d be really rude about it.’

He burst out laughing. It was the first time she’d actually heard him laugh and it was gorgeous, rich and deep. Sexy, even. Oh, help.

‘Oh, come off it—are you trying to tell me that you don’t like game consoles and whatever?’ she asked. ‘My brothers are total addicts and so are Joni’s—my best friend,’ she explained.

‘I’m not so much into game consoles,’ he said, ‘but I do like music—and that’s where my techie stuff comes in. I bought one of those systems where the sound follows you through the house.’ Then he looked surprised, as if he hadn’t meant to tell her something so personal.

‘What kind of music?’ she asked.

‘What do you think?’ he parried.

She looked at him as she put the barbell down. ‘I’d say either dinosaur rock or very highbrow classical.’

‘The first,’ he said.

She almost—almost—told him about Joni’s brother’s band and invited him along to their next gig. But that would be too much like asking him out on a date. She and Jared Fraser most definitely weren’t on dating terms.

‘I’m assuming you like the stuff you can sing along to,’ he said.

‘Musicals,’ she said. ‘I’m pretty much word perfect on the soundtracks to Grease, Cats and Evita.’

‘Uh-huh.’

But there was a tiny hint of superciliousness in his expression, so she added, ‘And Dean Martin. Nonno’s favourite. He taught me all the famous songs when I was tiny—“That’s Amore”, “Volare” and “Sway”.’ Just in case Jared had any intention of mocking that, she said, ‘And, actually, it’s great stuff to salsa to. It’s not old-fashioned at all.’

‘Nonno?’ he asked, looking confused.

‘My grandfather in Milan. My mum is Italian,’ she said.

‘That explains it.’

‘Explains what?’ She narrowed her eyes at him.

‘Why I thought you were a bit like a pampered Mediterranean princess when I first met you.’ Then he looked really horrified, as if he hadn’t meant to say that.

‘A pampered princess,’ she said, and glowered at him. ‘You think I’m spoiled?’

He stretched out a foot and prodded the floor next to the mats. ‘Ah. The floor’s obviously not going to open up and swallow me.’

It amused her, though at the same time she was a bit annoyed at what he was implying. ‘Princess,’ she said again in disgust.

‘Hey. You called me Herod,’ he pointed out.

‘That was an autocorrect thing on my phone, and it wasn’t meant for you in any case. You know what they say about eavesdroppers hearing no good of themselves,’ she said loftily.

‘You didn’t actually take it back, though,’ he reminded her.

‘No, I didn’t—I do think you have tyrant tendencies,’ she said, ‘given how you wouldn’t even listen to what Archie or I said about the project.’ She paused. ‘And the fact that you could dismiss me as princessy just now, when you barely even know me. That’s definitely Herod-like behaviour.’

‘I think,’ he said, ‘we just got back onto the wrong foot with each other—and this morning’s meant to be about listening to each other’s point of view and finding a bit of common ground.’

He had a point. Maybe she should cut him some slack. ‘So you’re actually going to listen to what I say? And you’ll admit that you were wrong about Travis?’

‘Possibly wrong,’ he corrected. ‘That injury might still have happened to one of the other players—one who was performing around his normal average on your charts.’

It was much less likely, she thought. But at least he was admitting the possibility that he was wrong. That was a start. ‘What about the yoga?’ she challenged.

‘No. I’m not convinced. At all,’ he said.

‘So you think yoga is easy?’

‘It’s simple stretching.’

Remembering the conversation she’d had with Joni, Bailey smiled. ‘Right. So we can finish this session with a bit of yoga, then.’

He rolled his eyes, but muttered, ‘If you must.’

When they’d finished the weights routine, she said, ‘Yoga will be the cool down and stretch. Have you ever done any before?’

He stared at her. ‘Do I look as if I do yoga?’

‘Actually, there are a couple of men in our class. They recognise the importance of flexibility training as part of a balanced exercise programme,’ she pointed out. ‘But OK. I’ll talk you through the poses.’ First, she talked him through the downward dog. She noticed that he seemed reasonably flexible, and she was impressed that he managed both the warrior pose and the tree without any difficulty. He had a strong core, then.

‘So far, so easy?’ she asked.

‘I can tell which muscle groups each one works,’ he said.

‘Good. Now for the plank,’ she said, and showed him the position. She moved so she could see the clock. ‘And we’ll start in five. Hold it for as long as you can.’ She counted them down, then they both assumed the position.

Jared managed to hold it for a minute before he flopped.

Bailey took it to three—even though that was pushing it, for her—just to make the point.

It looked effortless, though Jared could see Bailey’s arms just beginning to shake and he knew that her muscles were right on the verge of giving in. But, when she stopped the pose, he knew he was going to have to be gracious about it—especially given that her performance had been so much better than his.

‘OK,’ he said, ‘I admit that was hard. And clearly you’ve done that particular one a lot.’

She grinned. ‘I have. That one usually shuts people up when they say yoga’s an easy option. Though, actually, you did well. A lot of people cave after twenty seconds, or even before that.’

He appreciated the compliment, particularly as it sounded genuine and as if she was trying to meet him halfway.

‘So you do a lot of yoga?’ he asked.

‘Every Monday night with my best friend. Any decent training regime needs flexibility work as well as resistance and cardio.’

He agreed with that. ‘So what do you do for cardio?’

She actually blushed.

And he started to have all kinds of seriously impure thoughts about her. He really wished he hadn’t started this discussion. The fact that she’d blushed meant she must be thinking something similar. So the attraction was mutual, then? Heat zinged through him. If she felt the same pull, what did that mean?

Then again, he didn’t want to get involved with anyone. Sasha had hurt him badly—not just with the affair, but the bit she’d really lied to him about—and Jared wasn’t sure he was ready to trust again.

‘Cardio. I like dance-based classes,’ she said. ‘Also there’s a salsa night at a local club. I quite often go to that. I like the music, and the dancing’s fun. I’m a great believer in endorphins.’

For a moment Jared thought she was going to challenge him to go with her—and he wasn’t sure if he was more relieved or disappointed when she didn’t. He’d hated clubbing with Sasha in any case; a salsa club was probably just as much of a meat market as any other kind of dance club, and that didn’t really appeal to him. Though the idea of dancing with Bailey Randall, up close, hot and sweaty, with her body pressed against his …

Focus, he told himself. Work, not sex.

‘I assume you run?’ she asked.

‘Intervals,’ he said, ‘and rowing—it’s more effective than hamster-wheel cardio. No offence to your warm-up today, because that was fine—it’s just that it would bore me stupid if it lasted for more than ten minutes, even with a decent playlist to keep me going.’

‘Each to their own,’ she said. ‘I don’t mind doing a whole session on the elliptical if I have a good playlist. There are programmes on the machine that change the resistance and make it a bit more interesting.’

He just grimaced.

‘So, rowing, hmm? That would explain your biceps.’

And then she blushed again.

Now he was really intrigued. She liked his biceps?

Well, he liked the muscles in her back. They had beautiful definition. And he really, really wanted to touch them. No. More than that. He wanted to kiss his way down her spine.

‘Would that be proper rowing on a river, or machine?’ she asked.

‘Machine,’ he admitted.

‘And I assume you’re careful with your knee.’

‘I’m wearing a knee support under my tracksuit pants,’ he said. ‘I’m hardly going to nag my players about looking after themselves properly and then not take my own advice.’

‘I guess.’ She held out her hand to shake his, and his palm tingled where their skin touched. How long had it been since he’d been so aware of someone? ‘That was a good session. I enjoyed working with you, Jared.’

‘I enjoyed working with you,’ he said, meaning it; he was surprised to realise just how much he’d enjoyed it.

‘Let’s hit the shower and have breakfast.’

He went hot all over again at the thought of sharing a shower with her. He knew perfectly well that wasn’t what she’d meant, but now the idea was stuck in his head. And he was glad they had temperature settings on the showers in the male changing rooms, because he needed a blast of cold water to get his common sense back and the fantasies out of his mind.

When he met Bailey outside the changing rooms, he noticed that she was wearing a black tailored suit for work. This was yet another side of her; he’d seen the slightly scruffy scientist on the football pitch and the sculpted goddess in the gym, and now she was the calm, confident medical professional.

He wished that he was wearing something a bit more tailored, too—but then again he was off to work himself after this and that meant dressing appropriately. A sharp suit wasn’t what you needed when you were working on a football pitch.

Clearly the staff knew Bailey well here, because the waitress didn’t bat an eyelid when Bailey ordered Eggs Florentine without the hollandaise sauce. ‘And a rich roast latte?’ the waitress asked.

It was obviously Bailey’s usual, because she smiled. ‘That’d be lovely, thanks.’

He ordered porridge with blueberries and cinnamon, paired with a protein shake.

‘Not a coffee fiend?’ she asked.

‘I had mine before my workout. It gets the best use out of the caffeine,’ he said. ‘I’m balancing my protein and my carbs now, post-workout.’

She nodded. ‘Good point.’

‘So, are you going to take me through this system of yours while we wait for breakfast to arrive?’

‘Sure. The idea behind it is that you’re more likely to end up with a soft-tissue injury if you play while you’re under par. You’ll be slower and your reactions won’t be as fast. So if you look at your performance during training or a game and your VO2 is down, you’re doing fewer steps, your resting heart rate is up and your average speed is down, either you’ve had a slow game—and that’s where Archie comes in, to tell me if playing conditions on the field have been different and affected anyone’s performance—or you’re under par and you’re more likely to be injured in your next game.’

He asked her various questions about the measurements she used, and he was impressed that she didn’t have to look up a single answer. Bailey Randall wasn’t the glib salesman type, able to put a spin on her answers; she really knew her stuff. And she clearly believed in her research project. He liked her enthusiasm; it was one of the reasons why he’d chosen to look after the youth team, because he loved the enthusiasm that young players brought to the job, unjaded by internal politics.

And he also liked the way Bailey talked with her hands, completely animated when she was caught up in the subject. Now he knew she was half-Italian, he could really see it. Everything from her classic bone structure, to the slightly olive colour of her skin, to the rich depths of her eyes. Naturally stylish, she was like an Italian Audrey Hepburn, with that gamine haircut and those huge eyes.

‘OK,’ he said. ‘I still think those wristband things are ploys to extort money out of the gullible with too much disposable income and too little common sense, but the stuff you’re doing has a point.’

‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘So do you take it back about my system being a glorified pedometer?’

‘I’ll reserve judgement until I’ve seen a month of results,’ he said, ‘but I will agree that it’s better than the wristband things. Especially because you do at least use a proper heart-rate monitor strap with your system.’

‘And the yoga?’

He shook his head. ‘Even though the plank was hard, I’m not convinced that yoga’s going to do what you think it will. Not for a bunch of seventeen-year-old boys.’

‘It’s still worth a try.’

‘Do you make them do the plank?’

She laughed. ‘No. That was just to prove a point to you.’

He liked the fact that she’d admitted it.

And it worried him that he liked it. Now that he was getting to know her, he quite liked Bailey Randall. Which was a very dangerous position. He couldn’t afford to think of her in terms of anything other than a colleague, but she seriously tempted him. To the point where he could actually imagine asking her out on a date.

Bad, bad move.

He had a feeling that he was going to have to resort to a lot of cold showers to keep his common sense in place. Dating Bailey Ran dall was absolutely not on the cards. He’d only just finished gluing the pieces of his heart back together, and he had no intention of putting himself back in a position where it could shatter again.

CHAPTER FOUR

OVER THE NEXT couple of weeks, working at the football club was easier, Bailey thought. Jared was at least showing some interest in her research project rather than being an insurmountable bulwark, and he’d even come up with a couple of suggestions that she was trying to incorporate into her data.

Then she noticed that he was favouring his right knee when he went onto the pitch to treat one of the players. She waited until he’d come back to sit next to her on the bench, and then asked, ‘What did you do?’

‘For Mitch?’ He shrugged. ‘It was just a flesh wound—some studs scraped against his shin, so I cleaned it and dressed it. He shouldn’t have too much trouble with it.’

‘No, I meant what did you do to your knee?’

He looked away. ‘Nothing.’

‘Jared, I’m a doctor, so don’t try to flannel me. I could see you were favouring your right knee,’ she said.

He sighed. ‘It’s an old injury. I guess I might have overdone the running a tad at the weekend.’

‘Tsk. And you’re a sports medicine doctor,’ she said.

He gave her a crooked grin that made her libido sit up and beg. ‘It’ll be fine. It’s strapped up.’

‘So you didn’t actually see anyone about it?’

‘I didn’t need to.’

She tutted. ‘What a fine example to set the team—not. Let me have a look when they’ve gone, so they don’t know what an idiot you are.’

He shook his head. ‘It’s fine. You don’t have to do that.’

‘You’re my colleague. You’d do the same for me.’

Jared thought about it. Would he? Yes, probably. And he’d nag her if she was being stubborn about it, just as he’d nag Archie. Just as she was nagging him. ‘I guess,’ he admitted.

‘Are you icing it? Because obviously you’re not resting it or elevating it.’

‘No. I’m taking painkillers,’ he said. ‘And not strong ones, either. Just normal ibuprofen to deal with the inflammation.’

‘Hmm,’ she said.

After the training session, Jared said to Archie, ‘I’ll lock up if you need to go. I want to discuss a couple of things with Dr Randall.’

‘Cheers,’ Archie said. ‘It’ll give me a few extra minutes to make myself beautiful for my date.’

‘What, another one?’ Bailey teased. ‘I’m sure she’ll think you look beautiful.’ She blew him a kiss.

Archie grinned and sketched a bow.

‘Why didn’t you just tell him that your knee hurts?’ Bailey asked quietly when Archie and the players had gone, and she and Jared were alone in the dressing room.

‘Because it isn’t relevant.’

‘Of course it’s relevant. If you have to kneel on the pitch to treat one of the players, it’s going to hurt you.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Men.’

‘Women,’ he sniped back.

‘Just shut up and lose the tracksuit bottoms.’

Oh, help. The pictures that put into his head. To clear them, he drawled, ‘Fabulous bedside manner, Dr Randall.’

Except that made it worse. Bed. Bailey. Two words he really shouldn’t have put together inside his head, because now he could imagine her lying against his pillows and giving him a come-hither smile …

She just gave him a dry look. He shut up and removed his tracksuit bottoms. He knew she wasn’t thinking of him in terms of a man right now, but in terms of a patient. What she saw wasn’t six foot two of man; she saw a sore knee. An old injury playing up that needed to be looked at and soothed.

Gently she examined his knee. ‘Tell me where it hurts, and don’t be stubborn about it—because I can’t help you if you’re not honest with me.’

‘Do you talk to all your patients like this?’ he asked.

‘Just the awkward ones.’

He guessed he deserved that. ‘OK. It hurts there. And there.’ He gave a sharp intake of breath. ‘And there.’

‘All righty.’ She grabbed a towel and spread it across her lap. ‘Leg. Here. Now.’

His bare leg astride her body.

Uh-oh. How on earth was he meant to stop his thoughts doing a happy dance?

‘Yes, ma’am,’ he drawled, hoping she didn’t have a clue what was going through his head right now.

Her hands had been gentle when she’d examined his knee. Now they were firm. There wasn’t anything remotely sexual about the way she touched him, and he had to grit his teeth on more than one occasion.

But when she’d finished the deep-tissue massage, he could move an awful lot more easily.