A Mother For His Child

She let him open the front door for her—ten years ago, she would have made a clumsy point of doing it herself—and he surprised her once more by pausing just before he closed it.

‘Does she have her keys with her?’

‘Well, I know she took her purse…’

‘Should I take a quick look around, just in case?’ He did so, but came back empty-handed.

In the car once more, they were silent. Maggie’s thoughts were with Kathy and Matthew, speeding towards the hospital, and then something else began to nag at her—the two calls from Amy Pickford’s parents earlier, about her high fever.

She hadn’t been concerned at the time. Going over the baby’s symptoms in a rational way, she still wasn’t—but what if she was wrong?

‘Will, I’m sorry,’ she said abruptly. ‘There’s another patient I want to take a look at. Five minutes’ drive. I’ll phone ahead now and tell the parents I’m coming. I know I’m being paranoid, but—’

‘Tell me about it,’ he invited her calmly, and when she’d sketched out the details he said, ‘You’re right.’

‘That I should check the baby out, in view of Matthew’s illness, or that I’m being paranoid?’

‘Both. In medicine, as in real life—’

‘Oh, medicine’s not real life, according to you?’ she cut in.

‘No, it’s real life concentrated until it’s four times as thick…’

Maggie laughed.

‘And in both, it’s not the likely odds of a particular outcome that count, it’s how serious the consequences are. From what you’ve said, I’m close to a hundred per cent certain this baby doesn’t have meningitis. But if she did, would you ever forgive yourself?’

‘No. Never.’

‘So go and check her out. I won’t come in this time, and for a premium of around ten minutes of your time, you’ve insured yourself against a lifetime of losing sleep.’

Maggie’s visit to the Pickford household unfolded exactly as she and Will had both predicted. The baby’s temperature had dropped significantly, she had developed a runny nose and she had no rash or neck stiffness. She was now sleeping peacefully, and when Maggie crept in to take a look, she was presented with the familiar sight of a baby with a developing cold.

‘Is the doctor feeling better now?’ Will asked when she came out of the house.

He had got out of the car for some fresh air, and was pacing up and down the steep gravel driveway.

‘Much,’ Maggie answered. ‘Since the patient is feeling better.’

‘Good.’ He flung her one of his gorgeous smiles.

‘When did you get to be this thoughtful?’ Maggie asked without thinking. Not the sort of thing you should say aloud, but somehow with Will she always had.

He stilled for a fraction of a second, then said lightly, ‘Around the same time as most guys, I guess.’

‘And when’s that?’

‘You tell me!’

‘With men like you, often it’s never!’

This time, his stillness wasn’t momentary, but it was definitely threatening. ‘If I’m supposed to regard that as a backhanded compliment, Maggie, sorry, I don’t,’ he said. ‘That’s like telling a woman that she seems surprisingly intelligent for a blonde.’

‘Now you’re a feminist, too?’

Oh, hell, what was wrong with her tonight?

‘I think what I think,’ he growled. He strode down the driveway towards the car, and the loose gravel rattled. In the neighbouring yard, a dog barked.

Apologise, Maggie.

‘Can we…uh…rewind the tape a little?’ she asked. It was inadequate, but both her tongue and her brain stubbornly announced themselves incapable of doing better.

‘To what point in the conversation?’

‘To the place where I said thanks.’

‘Oh, right, yeah, you did,’ he drawled. ‘I’d almost forgotten.’

‘Sorry, OK? I’m sorry.’

He sighed between his teeth. ‘Yeah, so am I. Look, shall we forget dessert? Obviously this joining your practice thing is a non-starter, so there’s nothing to discuss. Just drop me back at the hotel. Daniel sometimes wakes up around this time and I doubt he’ll react well to an unknown babysitter. I told the woman I wasn’t planning to leave the hotel.’

Remorse burned on Maggie’s skin like steam in a sauna.

‘Will, do you have Daniel with you? Why didn’t you say? You didn’t need to come with me to see Matthew. I assumed he was at home in Arizona with Alison.’

‘Home in Arizona is with me,’ he answered slowly. ‘I have custody now. And Daniel is why I need to make this move.’

‘Listen, can we rewind the tape right back to where you first came up to me with those lovely flowers?’ Maggie caught up to him just as they reached the car, parked precariously in the steep, rutted driveway. She touched his arm, but let her hand drop again at once. ‘Daniel is the reason you were late, isn’t he?’

‘Yes, Daniel is the reason I was late,’ Will agreed patiently. ‘I didn’t want to leave until he was asleep, and he wouldn’t settle. But is there any point in explanations?’

There was a sceptical lift and tilt to his head. It showed off his firm jaw. The reflection of a nearby streetlamp glittered in his dark eyes and sheened on his short hair.

‘The point,’ she answered, struggling for a firm, steady tone, ‘from where I stand, is so that I don’t have to spend the next three months confronting my worst weaknesses when I think back on how unfair I’ve been to you tonight. I guess maybe it’s not surprising that you think I hate you. I don’t. But I—I don’t know what gets into me when you’re around, Will Braggett.’

She knew she was blushing, and prayed he couldn’t see it in the dim, bluish light of streetlamp and moon.

‘So if you don’t hate me…?’ he said softly. Left the sentence unfinished quite deliberately, she could tell. There was a new light of interest and curiosity in his dark eyes.

Oh, damn, and she couldn’t even begin to say it! She feared, though, that it was written all over her face. Did he want her to say it? Was he guessing, or did he know?

Her lower lip was trembling, and so were her knees. Her widened eyes swam. Will’s fresh male scent filled her nostrils once more, and his warmth drew her like a magnet. They faced each other, motionless, and the sharp edge of old, unsated and unwanted desire swelled inside her to screaming point.

He did something to her. He always had. Her limbs softened with wanting. Her jaw was wired tight with the tension of fighting it. Her tongue grew barbs whenever she spoke, to keep him from guessing. She fought what she felt by fighting him, but her dreams betrayed her. Her nerve-endings betrayed her.

They had for years, and they were doing it again now. She was so close to reaching out to him, touching him, using her body to beg for his. Didn’t have room in her mind to think about how he’d react, how he was reacting already.