The Accidental Daddy

Her dark hair was pulled ruthlessly back into a knot on the back of her head, but from the tendrils escaping to frame her face, or dangle enticingly down the back of her neck, he could tell it was curly.

He felt a pang of sympathy for her as she followed a little group through the door, for she’d put one hand behind her and was rubbing just above her left hip.

Thirty-eight weeks … Why was she still working?

Money worries?

A string of questions rattled in his head.

Surely he wouldn’t be expected to help out financially—it was all a mistake, and not his mistake.

But this was his child. If she needed financial help, how could he deny it?

His child?

What was he thinking?

But when she appeared again, he found himself staring, riveted by the bulging belly.

That was his baby in there.

The baby he’d decided he wasn’t ever going to have for a whole fleet of excellent reasons.

This woman was having his baby.

His gut churned, then she glanced his way, flashed a smile at him and other bits of him reacted as well.

From a smile?

He smiled back although it was probably such a poor effort she might not have recognised it. But here he was, the man who, not so many hours ago, had made the final, definite ‘no children in my future’ decision, getting twinges of attraction—well, more than twinges—towards a woman carrying his child.

She’d been doing okay until he’d smiled. Admittedly, she’d sneaked a glance at him every time she’d walked into the waiting room, but apart from registering that he was a very attractive man—and her body registering the same thing in a most inappropriate manner for someone eight-and-a half-months pregnant—she really hadn’t been taking that much notice.

The smile changed everything.

The smile made her think of things she’d long given up considering.

Like sex?

It had to be her hormones, all out of sync now she was getting so close to giving birth. The man was a total stranger—someone she’d never see again in her life. And so what if he was talking to Sam Wainwright, a hyperactive six-year-old, and actually calming him down …

But the smile had lightened the tension she’d read earlier on his face, and revealed strong white teeth, framed by those well-shaped lips—

Get out of here! Get your mind back on the job. Do not go out the door again—get Meryl to send the next patient in.

Disobeying the orders from the sensible part of her brain, Joey pushed herself to her feet and went to the door.

‘Your turn, Sam,’ she said, pretending to a professionalism she was far from feeling, her eyes drawn to the man who now was pulling coins from behind Sam’s ear.

‘Can Max come in with me and Mum?’ Sam asked, smiling up at the man, who, fortunately for Joey as she’d been struck dumb, smiled at the boy and explained it wasn’t his turn yet.

Of course his voice would be just that tad husky, just the kind of male voice that had always got her in.

Joey closed her eyes and prayed for sanity.

A little bit of sanity—surely not too much to ask for!

It came, in reaction to Sam seizing one of her legs and hugging hard, protesting that he didn’t want her to go away, even for a little while.

Sensing he was genuinely upset—and assuming she’d fall over if she tried to walk—Joey eased Sam off her leg and squatted, uncomfortably, so she could look into his freckled face.

‘But I have to go to hospital to have the baby, then stay home to look after it for a bit,’ she reminded him. ‘We talked about it, and you know Dr Austin, who’ll be seeing you while I’m away.’

She ran her hand over his hair, and in a moment of complete insanity added, ‘Maybe once I have the baby, you can come and visit me in hospital and meet it.’

She was about to struggle back to an upright position when a firm hand with long, strong fingers grasped her elbow and helped her up, the husky voice murmuring, ‘And think what havoc he could wreak in a maternity ward,’ in her ear, as he made sure she was balanced before releasing her arm.

But she wasn’t thinking of Sam, or the chaos he could cause. She was trying very hard to work out why the touch of a stranger had made the hair on the back of her neck stand up and a shiver travel down her spine.

The kind of shiver she hadn’t felt for seven years …

The kind of shiver David’s touch had given her …

Somehow she managed to get Sam and his long-suffering mother through the door and close it behind them, but the feel of the man’s fingers on her arm lingered, and something very like excitement skittered along her nerves.

He should leave right now, Max told himself. He’d seen the woman. Pete could contact her about the mistake. Even from the small interactions with her patients that he’d witnessed, he could tell she was competent and caring.

That was really all he needed to know. The baby was nothing to do with him.

So why were his eyes drawn to her belly whenever she entered the room?

Why did he feel the gut-wrench thing—the ‘that’s my baby in there’ reaction—whenever he looked at her?

Because she was attractive?

Because he was drawn to her in some in explicable way?

Because he was having an almost primeval reaction to the news that this was his baby?

All those reasons were dumb. He could go now, forget this had ever happened, and if Pete told her—when Pete told her—about the mix-up, he needn’t mention who the father was.

As for the woman—well, she was attractive, there was no denying that, but she wouldn’t want him interfering. A woman with a child deserved stability and certainty in her life. She was a widow. She was beautiful, desirable, ripe to meet someone who could make her happy again. And if he was on the scene …

He was way ahead of himself. Thinking, stupidly, of relationships? He didn’t need to go there. A man who’d already let down two women he’d loved, and who’d loved him, couldn’t be trusted not to hurt a third. And to hurt a woman with a child was unthinkable.

CHAPTER TWO

THE WAITING ROOM was suddenly empty.

He still had time to leave, but when the door opened, and the tired, very pregnant but still beautiful woman walked out, he couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything but stare at her.

‘Joanne McMillan,’ she said, holding out her hand,

Suddenly aware of his own manners—bad ones that he’d stayed sitting—he surged to his feet and stepped towards her, tripping on a toy he hadn’t noticed on the floor, and all but crash-tackling the woman to the floor.

Great start!

She was far more with it than him—stepping to one side but putting out a hand to steady him as he regained his balance.

‘Sorry! Max Winthrop,’ he muttered, grasping her free hand—the other still holding his arm.

And for the second time in the morning he was dumbstruck.

Her eyes were blue—not pale and wishy-washy blue but a clear, almost violet blue.

Mesmerising.

‘You made an appointment?’

She’d dropped her hand from his arm, and it was probably just politeness that she hadn’t let go of the one he was clasping.

He had the weirdest sensation that something was passing between them, bearing a warmth he didn’t understand.

Of course, there was a good chance he’d completely lost his marbles. Shock could do that.

‘Meryl tells me you’re from the clinic. Is it just a polite visit to check if I’m okay?’

He looked into the blue eyes, drowned in the blueness, stepped back a little but somehow kept hold of her hand.

He couldn’t tell her, couldn’t destroy this woman’s happiness because that’s what still shone through the tiredness—happiness and a little excitement.

Was she really standing in her waiting room, holding the hand of a complete stranger?

Studying the complete stranger as if it was important to take in every detail of his features?

Now he was closer and she could see the fine lines fanning out from his eyes, the smile grooves bracketing his lips.

She probably should keep her eyes off the lips, and reclaim her hand …

She managed both, though how she wasn’t sure for the man seemed to have cast some kind of spell over her, so they’d stood in a time-proof bubble for who knew how long.

‘You’re from the clinic? Is this just a courtesy call?’

Somehow she’d managed the repeat the question she’d asked earlier, pretending to a normality she was far from feeling. But she’d no sooner spoken than the man turned pale, pain of some kind straining the features she’d found so mesmeric.

‘Yes! No!’

He’d stepped back a little, which was just as well because his close proximity had certainly added to the strange mix of sensations she’d been experiencing.

Although his confusion was now transmitting itself to her in definite twinges of anxiety.

‘Yes, or no, which is it?’ she asked, producing a smile to cover the anxiety.

‘Oh, hell, I’ve no idea. I should walk right out the door, right now—out the door and out of your life.’

Out of my life? ‘But you’re not actually in my life,’ Joey pointed out. ‘In my rooms, yes, but hardly in my life!’

Max Winthrop—she was almost certain that was the name he’d given—groaned, turning even paler.

‘Perhaps you should sit down,’ Joey told him, and placing her hand very carefully on his arm she guided him back to where he’d been sitting earlier.

Touching him was probably a mistake as all the sensations she’d experienced earlier returned a thousandfold.

This was insanity. The man was a stranger. Okay, so he was an attractive stranger, but in truth she’d met many better-looking men, knew a dozen of them and had dated quite a few.

With absolutely no physical reaction whatsoever …

Not since David!

She patted her stomach and tried to think.

The clinic!

And for the first time since Meryl had mentioned the clinic, the man and the attraction were forgotten, and she felt a surge of panic.

‘There’s nothing wrong, is there?’

She’d been looking down at him, but now he stood up and put his hand on her arm again.

‘Perhaps we should both sit down,’ he said, so softly, so gently, the surge turned into a roaring tsunami of fear, invading every cell of her body.

Both hands now protectively cradling her belly, she stared at the man.

‘Tell me,’ she demanded.

Had she lost colour that he almost forced her into the chair? Sat her down then settled beside her, his hand still grasping her arm.

It was comforting, that hand, but why should she need comforting?

‘Talk!’ she ordered, trying to read his face—a strong face, unused, she was sure, to uncertainty or confusion, although both emotions seemed to be in evidence right now.

He opened his mouth as if to respond then closed it again, but not before it had attracted her attention to the extent that she had to confirm it was a very nice mouth—and little lines she’d noticed earlier were evidence that he smiled a lot.

But he was not smiling now.

Was he so uncomfortable sitting beside her that he needed to move to squat, awkwardly, in front of her, the way she did when speaking to a small patient?

Or did he need to see her face while he said whatever he had to say?

Fear was creeping into the panic now and her heart was thudding in her chest.

‘Please,’ she whispered.

He took her hands, both hands—and even in her panicky state she felt a shiver of reaction. He turned them in his, before looking into her eyes.

‘Look,’ he finally said, ‘I haven’t the faintest clue how to tell you this, but the clinic said they would contact you, and as far as I could see, that would be a disaster. Maybe it’s a disaster anyway but at least now you’ll see exactly what’s happened. You deserve to know and I need to tell you.’

He wasn’t making any sense but he did seem genuinely concerned, which, together with the talk of the clinic, had the nerves in Joey’s tummy heading straight for riot mode.

‘Perhaps you could just blurt it out,’ she suggested as the tension in the air between them reached seismic proportions.

Just blurt it out, that’s rich! Max muttered to himself. Here’s this stunning woman, ready to pop any minute, and a total stranger walks in …

Aware the silence had already taken too long, he took an extra minute to study Joanne—Joey, her small patients had called her—McMillan.

And was drawn again to her eyes, wide apart so she seemed, even in her bewildered state, to be constantly surprised.

But it was the pale, creamy skin that made her lovely to look at—he hoped the baby got that …

What was he thinking? As if it mattered what kind of skin the baby had? It wasn’t as if it really was his baby!

Was it?

‘The thing is …’ he said, as thoughts of the baby reminded him of his mission. And of the mess they were in.

‘The thing is …’

He stopped, stood up before his knees gave out and slumped back into the chair beside her. Sitting beside her was bad enough as far as the attraction thing was concerned, but looking up into those eyes—no wonder he couldn’t think!

‘The thing is …’ she prompted, reasonably gently considering his eruption into her life and the tension she must be feeling.

To make matters worse, she then turned towards him and reached out to rest one hand on his.

‘The thing is, you’re having my baby. There, it’s said. Now all we have to do is work out where we go from here.’

She didn’t reply—hardly surprising!—but the slim fingers that he’d wrapped in his hand seemed to lose all warmth and he turned anxiously towards her.

‘You’re okay? You’re not going to faint or anything?’

‘Of course I’m not okay,’ she snapped. ‘What are you? Some kind of a madman who goes around scaring pregnant woman? Does it give you a kick to see someone in shock?’

She leaned forward as best she could, given her shape, but she didn’t retrieve her hand. In fact, her fingers were now clinging to his, as if to a lifeline. Fortunately the receptionist reappeared at that moment, and Max turned to her for help.

‘She’s had a shock—a hot drink, tea if she drinks it, and lots of sugar.’

‘No sugar!’

The change to the order reassured Max that Joey McMillan was recovering fast.

Which was good in one way, but it meant explanations were in order.

Not only explanations but also some kind of discussion over the future, although what that future could be was hard to envision.

Impossible really.

Although …

The thought was so unexpected he stopped breathing for a moment, and turned it this way and that in his head before giving it consideration. It remained the same—a conviction that, having had his own father walk out when he was five, he should have some involvement in his child’s upbringing.

Shouldn’t he?

It was nuts but his thoughts were racing at a million miles an hour.

His mother would be a grandmother.

The thought held him riveted. He shuddered as he considered what his mother and sisters would say if he didn’t accept the baby as his own. In fact, they’d be delighted something had happened to curtail what they saw as his irresponsibly nomadic, and often dangerous, lifestyle.

Sisters!

And that made him wonder if Joey knew the sex of the child. A boy would be fun but, then, little girls—

Was he really considering being a father to this child?

Well, shouldn’t he be?

He stifled a groan. He’d been so intent on getting to this woman and telling her the unfortunate truth in person that he hadn’t given a thought to the implications for himself.

His stomach clenched, but it was the confusion in his mind that really worried him. Confusion over the baby but, worse, confusion over his reactions to this woman …

Joey waited until Meryl brought the tea. Meryl headed back behind her desk and turned her attention to her computer. Her presence made things feel … almost normal. She straightened up, retrieved the hand she’d carelessly left lying in the man’s warm paw, took several sips of hot liquid and turned to face the stranger.

Max something, he had said?

‘If you’re not mad, then presumably you have some explanation for your bizarre statement,’ she said, hoping she sounded stronger than she felt, which, right now, was extremely shaky.

And totally confused.

And upset? Yes, she thought, unbelievably upset, so upset she didn’t dare go there. That this wasn’t David’s baby …

And still, crazy as it might be, she was drawn to this man in some inexplicable fashion.

‘I do have an explanation,’ he said. ‘But it’s long and involved and you’ve obviously just finished a full day at work and probably need a rest and food, so we don’t have to do this now.’

She stared at him in disbelief.

‘You think I could rest?’ she demanded, and hoped the words hadn’t come out too shrill. She hated sounding shrill.

‘Well, food and somewhere comfortable to sit,’ he suggested, and Joey realised he was right.

‘I was intending to go straight home, it’s not far,’ she said, immediately regretting it as she realised she was inviting a total stranger into her house.

‘You can’t go inviting total strangers into your house,’ the man scolded, right on cue.

Joey sighed. She was tired and her back ached and her feet hurt and all she wanted to do was go home and sit in a nice warm bath.

Maybe snooze in it until the water got cold … Forget about dramas like a stranger claiming to be the father to her child.

But she couldn’t forget. She pulled herself together—or as together as she was likely to get at the moment.

‘Just give Meryl all your details and show her some identification so she can tell the police about who murdered me if I don’t get in touch with her in the morning.’

The man looked surprised, then worried, then unhappy, but in the end Meryl saved the day.

‘I’ve already done an internet search on him,’ she piped up. ‘I know, it’s not my business but I’m nosey and he’s cute.’ She grinned. ‘He has nothing to do with the IVF clinic.’ She frowned at Max. ‘That’s false pretences when you made the appointment. But he’s still a doctor, but mainly he works for overseas aid organisations. He’s in the front line of infectious disease research in underdeveloped countries. The organisation he works for has his picture on their website so I know it’s him. Take a look if you like.’ She swung the monitor to face Joey. ‘Apparently he teaches as well as works hands on. There’s a profile of him on the page; he climbs mountains in between plagues. He looks like an adrenaline junkie. Maybe a bit mad but harmless.’

‘A bit mad?’ Joey echoed, staring at her receptionist in shock. ‘Did you hear any of his conversation? Do you know what he came to tell me?’

Meryl looked embarrassed.

‘Well, he did kind of explain a little of it when he came in. He asked me to stay in case you needed someone with you. I know it’s a shock, Joey, but I think he’s okay.’

Joey glared at her receptionist.

‘Well, thanks a lot. I’m going home now, so you can go too.’

She knew she shouldn’t be snapping at Meryl, but it was as if the pair had formed a conspiracy of some kind. The worst of it was, she knew, very, very deep down inside, that the bombshell he’d just dropped on her could be possible. Accidents could happen in any medical process or procedure—

But not this time! No way!

Maybe back in the beginning of IVF and sperm freezing, but not these days. Surely not.

‘Well, come on,’ she grumped at the bearer of bad tidings, ‘let’s go to my place so you can explain yourself.’

Politeness dictated he help her up but as Max stood and held out his hand, he felt as if he was poking it into the cave of a very hungry grizzly bear. This particular pregnant woman was certainly angry enough to bite.

He eased her to her feet, grasping her elbow to steady her once she was upright, feeling her softness, seeing the deep cleft between her engorged breasts, feeling a stirring that was way beyond inappropriate.

Half of him was unable to stop considering her belly, feeling quite possessive about a child he’d been determined not to have, while the other half of him yelled that this was madness—getting involved was madness. Hadn’t he already figured out that long-term relationships weren’t for him? And what was a child if it wasn’t very, very, very long-term?

He pushed his brain past the warring voices in his head, seeking a little scrap of sanity.

‘Do you drive to your place?’ he asked, worried about her wellbeing after the shock, and wishing he had a car himself so he could take her wherever she wanted to go.

Madness! The angry voice in his head declared.

She turned her head and smiled—well, almost smiled.

‘No, I walk. It’s my daily exercise, walking to and from work, climbing the stairs rather than taking the elevator.’

‘This suite’s on the fourteenth floor.’

The protest was automatic and this time she did smile, stirring things inside him once again.

‘Not here, but at home. You’ll see.’

And he did. Following her up flight after flight of stairs in an old building near the top of the city terrace that provided consulting suites for most of the city’s specialists.

‘I didn’t know these old buildings still had flats in them,’ he said when she stopped at the top of the final flight and pulled out an old-fashioned-looking brass key to unlock a heavy wooden door.

‘Not many of them do,’ she replied, and he realised, as no hint of breathlessness sounded in the words, that she must be supremely fit for someone almost at term.

Inside he looked around with wonder at the high ceilings, the spacious living/dining room, the wide hall with doors that must open into bedrooms off to one side.

And the view!

Drawn to the wide windows, he gazed down at the city spread out beneath, the muddy green-brown river meandering through it, and out to the suburbs, tree-lined streets and red roofs.

‘It’s amazing,’ he said, and this time the smile lit up her face.

‘It’s my family home,’ she admitted rather shyly. ‘Everyone tells me I’m mad to consider living here with a baby, what with the stairs and all, but my mother managed and my father’s mother before her so I don’t see why I can’t. Especially these days when I can do all my grocery shopping online and there’s an ancient dumb waiter the delivery man can use with his loads of foodstuffs.’

She’d walked into the living room and sunk down onto a comfortable-looking lounge, kicking off her sandals and lifting her legs to rest them along the seat.

‘Sit,’ she said, but the word was more a plea than a command. She sounded exhausted and he cursed himself for hitting her with this shock after she’d had a long day at work.

But better him than the clinic, surely?

He stayed standing, studying her, not knowing where to go next in this impossible conversation—not wanting to hurt this woman any more than he already had but knowing the conversation had to continue.

‘Can I get you something? Go out and get us a meal? Or get you a meal? You’re probably far too tired to be worrying about this other business right now.’

She looked better smiling than frowning, he decided as she said, ‘I thought we’d established that there’s no way I can rest or relax until we’ve sorted out what you so glibly call this “other business”! You’re talking about wrecking my entire life here, do you realise that?’

It was Max’s turn to sink down into a chair, where he sighed, then held his head in his hands for a few minutes, then sighed again before looking up at her.