Come Fly With Me...: English Girl in New York / Moonlight in Paris

He stared at her. Hard. ‘You’ve got to be joking, right?’

Her eyes opened and widened. It was clear she was instantly on the defence. ‘No. Why?’

He shook his head in disbelief. ‘You turn up at my door with a baby, and now you’re expecting to dump it on me in the middle of a snowstorm.’

When he said the words out loud they were even worse than the thoughts in his head.

Her face paled. ‘But I...’

‘I nothing.’ A grin appeared on his face. ‘Suck it up, Carrie.’

She drew back from him and he could sense her taking some deep breaths. ‘It’s not quite like that.’

He shook his head. There was no way she was leaving him high and dry. He waved his cast at her. ‘What am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to bath a baby with one of these? Sure, I can probably manage to feed a baby and make up some bottles. But be practical, Carrie. I’m hardly the ideal babysitter right now.’ He could see her staring at his pink cast and trying to work things out in her head. ‘Least you can do is give me some help.’

Her cheeks flushed with colour, as if she’d just realised how mean it looked to walk away.

She pointed at his cast. ‘How did you end up with that anyway? And what made you pick a pink cast?’

He snorted. ‘Pick isn’t the word I would choose. There was an accident earlier today, a tonne of snow fell off a roof and I got trapped underneath it pushing people out of the way.’

Her eyes widened. ‘On Fourteenth Street? That was you?’

He sat up a little straighter. ‘How do you know about that?’

‘I was there. I saw it happen.’ She tilted her head to the side and stared at him again. ‘I didn’t realise it was you—I mean, I didn’t know you.’ She reached over and touched his cast. ‘I remember. I remember seeing you hold your wrist at a funny angle. I guess it’s broken, then?’

He nodded.

‘And the pink?’

He smiled. ‘It seems that today was the biggest day in the world for fractures at the clinic on Sixteenth Street.’ He waved his wrist. ‘Pink was the only colour they had left.’

She started to laugh. ‘I can just imagine the look on your face when they told you that.’

He started to laugh, too. ‘I was less than impressed. The air might have been a little blue.’

‘Not pink?’

‘Definitely not pink.’

She shook her head. ‘That was really scary. I just remember the noise and the shouts. What about that woman in the red coat and her little boy? And that elderly couple?’

She really had been there. And she could remember the details. The lady could be a cop. ‘All checked out and okay. One of the businessmen twisted his ankle and the other was being assessed for a head injury. He kept being sick.’

‘Wow. Thank goodness you were there.’

Her words struck a chord with him. He hadn’t really thought about that. He’d been too angry at breaking his wrist and being out of action for the NYPD. He hadn’t really had time to stop to think about what could have happened to that elderly couple, or the woman and her young son.

A vision flashed in his eyes. The woman in the red coat cradling her son with one arm as if he was the most precious thing on earth. Then looking at him, with her hand on her heart, and mouthing, Thank you. He hadn’t really had time to talk to her properly, but that one action had been more than enough for him. He didn’t do this job for the thanks.

The little bundle shifted in his arms and started to whimper again. There was colour coming into the baby’s cheeks and his tongue was starting to play around the edge of his mouth. He sighed. ‘I guess our boy is getting hungry. I’ll give Mr Meltzer a call and see if he can open the store so we can get some supplies. Know anything about making baby bottles?’

Carrie shook her head quite forcefully. ‘I’ve told you—I can’t help. This isn’t my thing.’

But Dan was already on his feet, shifting his weight and moving the baby into her arms, whether she was ready or not. ‘My computer’s right next to you. Do an internet search while I’m gone.’ He flicked through the nearby phone directory and punched a number into his phone. ‘I’ll only be five minutes.’

He grabbed his jacket and headed for the door again. What was her problem? He wasn’t so chauvinistic that he expected all women to want to be mothers, but he did expect any responsible adult to help out in an emergency situation.

Maybe it was just the cop in him. Maybe his expectations of the average person were too high. But he’d seen the way she’d looked at the baby. She might not have experience, but she couldn’t hide the tenderness in her eyes.

Maybe she was just uncomfortable with the pyjama situation. Maybe he should offer to let her go back upstairs and get changed.

He pressed the send button on his phone as he headed along the white street. Whatever it was, she’d better get over it quick. There was no way he was doing this on his own.

* * *

Carrie sat frozen on the sofa.

This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening.

There was a weight pressed firmly against her chest. Like a huge dumb-bell just sitting there, taunting her to try and pull some air into her lungs.

He was scowling at her again. The baby. Nearly as much as Daniel Cooper had scowled at her when she’d tried to pull out all the lame excuses under the sun to get out of here.

It must make her seem like a bitch. But right now she didn’t care.

She could feel tears starting to flood into her eyes. This was someone’s precious baby. Someone’s living, breathing, precious bundle. What on earth could happen in this life that would make you leave a baby on someone’s doorstep in the middle of a snowstorm?

It wasn’t fair. Life wasn’t fair.

Last time she’d held a baby it hadn’t been moving. Its little chest didn’t have the rise and fall that this little boy’s had. It didn’t have the pink flush to its cheeks.

She blinked back the tears. The tightening in her chest was getting worse.

It.

A terrible term.

But she couldn’t use any other right now. She couldn’t think about her daughter. She couldn’t think about Ruby McKenzie. She couldn’t let that name invade her thoughts.

Because then she would spiral downwards. Then she would remember the nursery and pram. Then she would remember the routine check at the midwife’s, followed by the urgent scan. Then she would remember the forty-eight-hour labour, with no cry of joy at the end of it.

Then she would remember the disintegration of her five-year relationship, as both of them struggled to cope with their bereavement.

The whimpering was getting worse, turning into full-blown screams.

She’d have given anything to hear the screams of her daughter. She’d have given anything to see her daughter screw up her face and let out a yell like that.

She shifted the baby onto her shoulder. Five minutes. Dan would be back in five minutes.

She put her hand on the keyboard of the computer and did a quick search. If she could keep her mind on something else, she could fight back the feelings. She could stop them from enveloping her. How to sterilise and prepare bottles.

She read the screen in front of her, scanning quickly. Her hand automatically moving and patting the baby on the back. She could do this. She could help him make a bottle and then leave.

He couldn’t expect any more. She couldn’t give any more.

She could feel herself pulling in—withdrawing inside herself. Turning into someone else. Stepping outside herself to a place where there was no hurt, no memories. Switching off.

It was the only way she’d coped before. And it was the only way she could cope now.

She glanced at the clock. Ten minutes maximum.

She could keep this face painted in place for ten minutes when he got back. That was how long it would take to sterilise the bottle, make up the powdered milk and leave him positioned on the sofa.

Her eyes registered something on the screen. Darn it! Cooled boiled water. How long did the water have to cool for before it was suitable to give a baby?

Maybe he’d only just boiled the kettle. She juggled the baby in her arms and walked over to the kitchen countertop, putting her hand on the side of the kettle. Stone cold. She picked it up and gave it a shake—and practically empty.

Nightmare.

She ran the tap and filled the kettle, putting it back into position and flicking the switch for it to boil.

Then she felt it—and heard it.

That first little squelchy noise. Followed by a warm feeling where her hand was resting on the baby’s bottom.

No nappy. This little boy had no nappy on.

Her heart sank like a stone as she felt the warm feeling spread across her stomach. Could this night really get any worse?

CHAPTER THREE

DAN ENDED THE CALL on his phone. His captain had let out the loudest, heartiest laugh he’d ever heard when he’d told him about the baby. It hadn’t helped.

He could hear pandemonium in the background at the station. He should be there helping. Instead of doing a late-night recce for baby supplies.

Mr Meltzer, on the other hand, had been full of concern. Loading up supplies on the counter and waving his hand at Dan’s offer of payment.

‘If I help the little guy get a better start in life that’s all I need.’

The words tormented him. Ground into him in a way they shouldn’t. If only everyone felt like Mr Meltzer.

He pushed open the door to the apartment building and kicked the snow off his favourite baseball boots. They were really beyond repair.

Carrie was waiting and she pulled open the inside door. ‘Did you get some milk?’

He nodded and dumped the bags on the counter.

‘Wow, how much stuff did you get?’

He pulled his arms out of his jacket. ‘Who knew a baby needed so much? Mr Meltzer just kept pulling things off his shelves and saying, “You better take some of that”.’

Carrie tipped one of the bags upside down. ‘Please tell me you got some nappies and dummies. We need both—now.’

‘What? What are you talking about?’

She waved her hand in the air. ‘Oh, you Americans. Nappies—diapers. And dummies— what do you call them? Pacifiers? He’s starting to get restless and it will take a little time to sterilise the bottles.’ She rummaged through the bags. ‘You did get bottles, didn’t you?’

‘What’s that smell?’ He wrinkled his nose and caught sight of the expression on her face. ‘Oh, no. You’re joking. He can’t have. He hasn’t eaten yet.’ He pulled out a pack of baby wipes. ‘I take it we’ll need these?’

She nodded. ‘Do you have a towel we can lay him on? I’d say getting a nappy on the little guy is a priority.’

Dan walked over to the laundry cupboard and started throwing things about. ‘I know I’ve got a brand-new set of towels in here somewhere. My friend Dave just got married. He was drowning in the things. Ah, here we are!’ He pulled out some navy blue towels and laid one down on the rug, a little away from the fireplace. He glanced at his cast. It was more inconvenient than he first thought—to say nothing about the constant ache that was coming from his wrist. ‘Can you do this?’

He could see her taking a deep breath. ‘Fine,’ she muttered through gritted teeth. She grabbed the bag of diapers from the counter, along with the wipes and some diaper sacks. ‘Did you get some cream?’

‘Cream? What for?’

‘For putting on the baby’s bum, of course. Everyone knows you put cream on a baby to stop them from getting nappy rash.’

He shrugged his shoulders. ‘Mr Meltzer didn’t seem to know—and he knew everything else.’ He pulled something from a second plastic bag. ‘Look—ready-made formula in a carton. We’ve got the powdered stuff, too, but he said this was ready to use.’

She scowled at him as she laid the baby down on the fresh towel and peeled back the blanket.

‘Eww!’

‘Yuck!’

The smell was awful and filled the apartment instantly. The baby, on the other hand, seemed to quite like the freedom the open blanket gave and started to kick his legs.

‘How can all that stuff come from one tiny little thing?’ He really wanted to pinch his nose shut.

Carrie was shaking her head, too, as she made a dive for the baby wipes. ‘I have no idea, but the next one is yours.’

He looked at her in horror. ‘No way.’ He waved his pink cast again. ‘Can you imagine getting a bit of that caught on here? It would stink forever. I would smell like this for the next six weeks.’ He shook his head. ‘At least you can wash your hands.’

Carrie was deep in concentration, wiping and thrusting the dirty wipes into the supposedly scented diaper sack. She pulled out one of the diapers and held it up. ‘Well, at least you seemed to have got the right size.’

Dan bit his lip. ‘Actually, there was a whole shelf of the things. Mr Meltzer picked them out.’

She raised her eyebrow. ‘Can you ask him to come babysit, too, please? He seems to be the only person around here who knows anything about babies.’

‘I tried. He wasn’t buying it.’

Carrie positioned the diaper under the clean little bottom and snapped the tapes into place. ‘There, that’s better. Pity the smell hasn’t disappeared.’ She picked up the blanket by the corner. ‘This will need washing. Where’s your machine?’

‘In the basement.’

She let out a sigh. ‘I don’t get that about New York. Why does everyone have their washing machine in the basement?’ She waved her hands around. ‘You’ve plenty of room in here. Why isn’t your washing machine in the kitchen? Everyone in London has their washing machine in their flat. You don’t have to walk down miles of stairs to do the laundry.’

‘Worried about leaving your underwear unguarded?’

There it was again. That cheeky element coming out. He couldn’t help it. She seemed so uptight at times.

Just as he suspected, a pink colour flooded her cheeks. He could almost hear the ticking of her brain trying to find a way to change the subject quickly.

She nodded over to the counter. ‘We need to sterilise the bottles.’

‘I think he gave me some tablets for that.’ Dan started to root around in one of the bags.

‘He probably did, but according to the internet the bottles would need to be in the sterilising solution for thirty minutes. It only takes ten minutes if we boil them. That way you can use the ready-made formula and get it into him quicker.’

‘What about one of these? Can we give him a pacifier in the meantime?’

Carrie shook her head. ‘I think we need to sterilise them, too. And we need to use only cooled boiled water with the powdered milk. But I’ve no idea how long water takes to cool once you’ve boiled it. And I don’t know whether we should put the milk in the fridge or keep it at room temperature—everyone seems to have a different opinion on the internet.’ She was getting more harassed by the second, the words rattling out of her mouth and her face becoming more flushed. ‘I told you—I’m not an expert in all this. I have no idea what I’m doing!’

Something clenched in his stomach. He could sense the feelings overwhelming her, and he had a whole host of some himself.

Deep down, having a woman in his apartment—without an expiry date—was freaking him out. But these weren’t normal circumstances. He needed Carrie McKenzie’s help. He couldn’t do this on his own and right now he could sense she wanted to cut and run.

He was feeling a bit flustered himself. Flustered that some gorgeous Brit was in his space. But this wasn’t about him. This wasn’t about Daniel Cooper and the fact he liked his own space. This wasn’t about the fact his relationships only lasted a few months because he didn’t want anyone getting comfortable in his home—comfortable enough to start asking questions. This was about a baby. A baby who needed help from two people.

So, he did what his grandma had always taught him. Her voice echoed in his head. You get the best out of people when you compliment them—when you thank them for what they do.

He reached over and touched Carrie’s hand. She was getting flustered again, starting to get upset. ‘Carrie McKenzie?’ He kept his voice low.

‘What?’ she snapped at him.

Yep, he was right. Her eyes had a waterlogged sheen. She was just about to start crying.

He gave her hand a little squeeze. ‘I think you’re doing a great job.’

* * *

The world had just stopped because she wasn’t really in it.

This was one of those crazy dreams. The kind that had your worst type of nightmare and a knight in shining armour thrown in, too. The kind that made no sense whatsoever.

She wasn’t here. She wasn’t awake.

Her earlier thought had been true. She was actually fast asleep on the sofa upstairs. She would wake up in a few minutes and this would all be over. This would all be something she could shrug off and forget about.

Except those dark brown eyes were still looking at her.

Still looking as if he understood a whole lot more than he was letting on. As if he’d noticed the fact she was seconds away from cracking and bursting into floods of tears.

But he couldn’t, could he? Because he didn’t really know her at all.

Daniel Cooper was an all-action New York cop. The kind of guy from a romance movie who stole the heroine’s heart and rode off into the sunset with her. A good guy.

The kind of guy who looked after an abandoned baby.

She was trying to swallow. Her mouth was drier than a desert, and it felt as if a giant turtle had started nesting at the back of her throat.

She looked down to where his hand covered hers. It was nice. It felt nice.

And that was the thing that scared her most.

When was the last time someone had touched her like that? At the funeral? There had been a lot of hand squeezing then. Comfort. Reassurance. Pity.

Not the same as this.

He smiled at her. A crooked kind of smile, revealing straight white teeth.

A sexy kind of smile. The kind that could take her mind off the nightmare she was currently in.

There was a yelp from the towel. Dan moved his hand and looked down. ‘I guess baby’s getting hungry. I’ll stick the bottles in the pot.’

Carrie left the baby on the towel and started to look through the bags on the counter. Five prepacked cartons of formula, two different kinds of powder, more dummies and a whole mountain’s worth of baby wipes.

She folded her arms across her chest as she watched Dan dangle the bottles and teats from his fingertips into the boiling water. ‘Clothes, Dan. What are we going to put on him?’

His brow wrinkled and he shook his head. ‘Darn it, I knew I’d forgotten something. There weren’t any baby clothes in the general store, and there’s no place else around here that sells any. Can’t we just leave him in the diaper?’

Carrie shook her head. ‘Want me to do a search on that?’ She started to pace. ‘Don’t you know anyone around here with kids who might still have some baby clothes? How long have you stayed here?’

He blinked and his lips thinned. As if he was trying to decide how to answer the question. He averted his eyes and started busying himself with the coffee maker. ‘I’ve lived here on and off my whole life. This was my grandma’s place.’

‘Was it?’ She was surprised but it made perfect sense. After all, how did a young guy on a cop’s salary afford a gorgeous brownstone West Village apartment? She looked around, starting to take in the decor of the place. There were a few older items that didn’t look quite ‘him’. A rocker pushed in the corner near the window, a small antique-style table just at the front door, currently collecting mail and keys, a dresser in the more modern-style kitchen. It was kind of nice, to see the old mixed in with the new. ‘It’s a lovely place. Big, too. You’re a lucky guy.’

He made a noise. More like a snort. ‘Yeah, I guess. Just born lucky, me.’

Carrie froze, not really knowing how to respond. What did that mean?

But he must have realised his faux pas because he changed the subject quickly. ‘The ten minutes will be up soon. Once we’ve fed the little guy I’ll go on up to Mrs Van Dyke’s place. Her family used to stay here. She might have some things in storage we could use.’

‘Mrs Van Dyke? Which one is she? Is she the one on the second floor who looks as if she came over on the Mayflower and is about six hundred years old?’

He raised his eyebrows. ‘Watch it. According to her, her family were amongst the original Dutch settlers. And I don’t think she’s quite six hundred years old. She’s as sharp as a stick, and she hasn’t aged in the past twenty-five years.’ He gave her a wink as he switched off the burner. ‘Maybe you should ask her what cream she uses.’

Carrie picked up an unopened packet of pacifiers and tossed them at his head. They bounced off the wall behind him.

‘Careful, careful, we’ve got a baby in the apartment. We don’t want anything to hit him.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘On second thought, it’s getting kind of late. Maybe it’s too late to go knocking on Mrs Van Dyke’s door.’ His gaze was still fixed on the baby, lying on the floor, grizzling impatiently for his milk.

Carrie folded her arms as she stood next to him. ‘You’ve got to be kidding. Mrs Van Dyke is up watching TV until four a.m. most nights. And I take it she’s getting a little deaf, because I can’t get to sleep in my apartment because of the Diagnosis Murder or Murder, She Wrote reruns that I hear booming across the hall. Seriously, the woman needs a hearing aid.’

‘And seriously? She’ll be far too proud to get one.’

There was something nice about that. The fact that he knew his elderly neighbour so well that he could tell exactly why she didn’t have a hearing aid. ‘So what was wrong with me, then?’ She couldn’t help it. The words just spilled out.

‘What do you mean?’

‘You obviously know your other neighbours well, but it was too much trouble to even say hello to me in the foyer.’

The colour flooded into his cheeks. Unflappable Dan was finally flapping. He could deal with a tonne of snow falling from a roof, he could deal with a baby dumped on his doorstep, but this? This was making him avert his eyes and struggle to find some words.

‘Yeah, I’m sorry about that. I just assumed you were staying for only a few days. Most of the others seemed like ships that pass in the night.’

‘I’ve been here two months, Dan. Eight long weeks—’ she let out a little sigh ‘—and to be honest, this isn’t the friendliest place I’ve ever stayed.’

He cringed. ‘I can hear my grandmother shouting in my ear right now. Shaming me on my bad manners. I did see you—but you always looked like you had a hundred and one things on your mind. You never really looked in the mood to talk.’

This time Carrie felt like cringing. There was a reason Dan was a cop. He was good at reading people. Good at getting to the heart of the matter. And she had only herself to blame for this, because it was she who’d called him on his behaviour.

She gave a little shrug, trying to brush it off. ‘Maybe a cheery good morning would have been enough.’

She walked over and lifted the pot, tipping the boiling water into the sink.

He appeared at her back, his chin practically resting on her shoulder, as he lifted the plastic bottles and teats out onto the worktop with a clean dish towel. ‘You’re right, Carrie. You’re absolutely right. I should have said hello. I should have said good morning.’

She turned her head slightly. He wasn’t quite touching her, but she could feel the heat emanating from his body. She wanted to step away, to jerk backwards, but her body wasn’t letting her.

Her lips were curving into a smile—even though she was telling them not to—as she stared into those brown eyes again. It was nice. Being up close to someone again. His lips were only inches from hers. She wondered if he was having the same kind of thoughts she was. The kind of thoughts that made her forget there was a baby in the room...until he let out an angry wail from the floor.