The Consultant's Christmas Proposal

‘It’s going to be fine.’ Toby kissed Saskia’s cheek. ‘I’ll pick up some clean clothes from your place on the way back,’ he said.

Saskia had given him a spare key years ago, just as she had the spare key to his house on her keyring. It meant if one of them was on holiday the other could water the plants and generally keep an eye on things. ‘Try to pick something that matches,’ she said.

He snorted. ‘You always wear a black or navy suit and a cream shirt at work. What’s to match?’

‘Shoes. I can’t wear a black suit with navy shoes, can I?’

He rolled his eyes. ‘Women,’ he said, then winked at her and escorted Lydia to his car.

Saskia checked on both children—who were sleeping soundly—then rejected the idea of reheating her fajitas. She ought to wait for Toby, even though she knew it’d be at least four hours before he came back from the airport and their respective houses. She made herself a cup of coffee, raided Lydia’s biscuit tin, took a novel at random from the shelves on one side of the fireplace and curled up on the sofa.

What an evening.

She’d gone out for dinner with her best friend, expecting a chance to chatter and have a glass of wine and put her problems out of her mind. And now she was facing possibly a few weeks of being a stand-in mum.

Wife and mum, seeing that Toby had put himself in the role of stand-in dad.

She shook herself. No. Her relationships were a disaster area, and she wasn’t going to mix up Toby in that. She sighed, wishing Lydia hadn’t even suggested it. She didn’t want to think about Toby in that sense. He was her best friend. Sure, he was good-looking—the blueprint of tall, dark and handsome, with slate-blue eyes and that vulnerable mouth. He was funny, he was clever—he’d made consultant last year at the age of thirty-three—and he was genuinely nice.

In fact, she couldn’t work out why someone hadn’t snapped him up years ago.

But he wasn’t the one for her. Was he?

CHAPTER TWO (#ub389257c-dae2-51cb-b84c-ebf688eab92f)

IT WAS nearly midnight before Toby came back. ‘I stayed to see Lyd onto the plane,’ he explained.

Only Toby would be that thoughtful. ‘You must be shattered. And starving,’ Saskia said.

‘I’m past it now—I couldn’t face the fajitas. I hope you didn’t wait for me.’

She shrugged it off. ‘I wasn’t that hungry anyway. Hey, I’ll make you a hot drink. If you have coffee now, you won’t sleep—so would you rather have camomile tea or hot milk?’

‘They’re both vile,’ Toby grumbled. ‘Nah, I’ll be fine, but thanks for the offer. What shift are you on tomorrow?’

‘Early. You?’

‘Early. But I’ll fix it so I can go in an hour later than you. I’ll drop the kids off, you pick them up.’

‘Sure. I’ll book a taxi to drop me at work, and I’ll pick my car up later.’ She smiled. ‘I made up your bed in the spare room.’

‘Cheers. I’m ready to drop.’ He handed her a small, bright pink case. ‘I’m glad nobody saw me with this. Pink luggage. Now, that’s embarrassing.’

She grinned. ‘Don’t be such a baby.’

‘I sorted out a couple of shirts, two suits and two pairs of shoes.’

And underwear, she hoped. The idea of Toby picking out her underwear…She shook herself. No, this was her best friend. Not her lover. Not the man she wanted to surprise her with a confection in silk and lace. Not the man she’d dress up for.

Though she was aware it sounded as if she was trying to protest a little too much.

‘Thanks. See you in the morning, then. Um, do you want the shower first?’

‘Ladies first,’ he said gravely.

She laughed. ‘You’ll regret that when I’ve hogged the bathroom for an hour.’

Mmm, and he could think of exactly how she could spend that hour. In the shower. With him. He shook himself. Hell, he must be more tired than he’d thought. He usually managed to suppress his fantasies about his best friend.

Usually.

Then again, he didn’t usually live with her. OK, so they weren’t sharing a room. Weren’t sharing a bed. Other than that, they were living together as stand-in parents. Arranging things around the kids, like any other couple with a family. They’d even be making Christmas decorations together with Billy this year…

He reined in his thoughts. If he didn’t watch it, he’d do something stupid. Like kiss her. Or sweep her off her feet. And then he’d lose her for good. No, he’d stay with the softly-softly approach. It would work, in the end. He just knew it.

‘See you in the morning,’ he said, and headed for his room before he gave in to temptation.

By the time Toby had showered and changed next morning, Saskia had already fed the children, strapped the car seat into Toby’s car, made a pot of coffee and found out from Vancouver that Paul’s operation had been a success.

‘You’re seriously scary,’ he said, accepting a cup of coffee gratefully. ‘And I love you for it.’

‘Good.’ A horn beeped outside and she looked out of the living-room window. ‘Yes, that’s my taxi. I’d better go.’ She kissed the children goodbye. ‘Be good for Uncle Toby,’ she told Billy. ‘I’ll see you both this afternoon. And I’ll see you…’ she waved at Toby ‘…some time at work, so we can synchronise our duty rosters. Lunch?’

‘I’ll ring you,’ he promised.

‘Ciao.’ And she was gone.

Toby tried to stifle his disappointment. As if she’d been going to kiss him goodbye, as well as the children.

But it would have been nice.

Odd, odd, odd. Saskia was used to not sharing her breakfast table. No crumbs or cereal on the floor, no spilled milk all over the table, and she could do the crossword and listen to the news on the radio in peace without having to make conversation with anyone else.

But it had been…well, nice. Helping Billy to smear butter and Marmite on his toast, having Helena blowing raspberries at her, seeing the children’s faces light up as soon as Toby had walked in. It had never been like that when she’d grown up. Just a succession of nannies and then her parents, who’d insisted on complete silence at the breakfast table while they’d read the newspaper or a case brief.

She shook herself as she realised that they were at the hospital and the cabbie was waiting for the fare. Now was not the time to start fantasising about having a family. She had a job to do.

She paid the cabbie, gave him an extra tip to make up for her dozy behaviour, took the stairs to the maternity unit and started her ward round. No complications on the ward, so she did a quick round of the delivery floor.

‘Saskia, I’m glad you’re here. I could do with a second opinion.’

Saskia went straight onto red alert. Georgina Wilson was their senior midwife, and her instincts were always spot on. ‘What’s up?’

‘Clare Fellowes. First baby, due eleven days ago. We induced her yesterday morning with prostaglandins—two lots—and she was only just three centimetres dilated at a quarter to one this morning.’

Usually induction meant a fast labour—this one was unusually slow.

‘Larissa broke Clare’s waters at six this morning. It doesn’t seem to have speeded up her labour at all.’