A Family Worth Waiting For: The Midwife's Miracle Baby

‘Wow.’ Claire whistled. ‘Let me guess. You’re the youngest.’

‘How did you know that?’

‘You’ve obviously been spoilt and indulged. You certainly don’t know how to take no for an answer.’

‘Huh,’ he snorted. ‘You couldn’t be further from the truth. More like harangued and henpecked.’

‘Yeah, right.’ Claire didn’t believe a word of it.

‘Well, maybe a little indulged. But mostly the h-words,’ he answered sheepishly.

‘Tell me about your family,’ Claire said as the waiter placed their meals in front of them.

‘Well …’ He picked up his fork. ‘My sisters, except for one, are nurses, two of them midwives. The other one’s a GP. My mother is also a retired midwife. She’s English and was a community midwife over there for many years. I think that’s where I get my more modern approach from.’

‘And your dad?’

‘He died a few years ago. Heart attack.’

‘Oh, Campbell.’ Claire reached across and touched his hand. ‘I’m so sorry.’

Campbell reeled from the look of compassion in her cinnamon eyes. She might be guarded most of the time but, hell, she could certainly be expressive. Something told him she knew a lot about grief. Would she open up to him? Was it worth the risk of seeing the shutters come down when her compassion gave her a whole new appeal?

‘What about your family?’

Campbell felt the cool air against his hand as she abruptly removed hers, like a slap in the face. She returned her concentration to her meal and Campbell regretted having opened his mouth.

‘Nothing to tell really. Nowhere near as colourful as your lot. Just Mum and Dad and me. Dad took early retirement a couple of years ago … for medical reasons.’

Campbell didn’t dare ask about that. From the rigidness of her back he doubted she’d tell him anyway. They ate in silence for a little while, Campbell groping for a way to continue the conversation without her completely freezing him out.

‘Have you always lived with them?’

‘No. I moved back in a few years ago.’ She placed her knife and fork down on her empty plate. ‘Mmm, that was delicious.’

Campbell knew when to take a hint. ‘Pleased you liked it. We’ll have to come here again. Do you like sorbet? It’s divine here. Better than anything you’ll get in Italy.’

‘Sorbet sounds perfect,’ she agreed, and watched as he leaned back to beckon the waiter. His shirt pulled slightly out of his waistband. Claire tried really hard not to ogle but the tantalising glimpse of tanned skin gliding over muscle proved too much temptation. It certainly distracted her from the awkwardness she’d felt when he’d been quizzing her about her family and from his comment about them coming back here together.

Campbell placed their dessert order, aware the entire time of Claire’s gaze. He felt his heart beat faster in anticipation. He looked at her and she didn’t even bother to hide her hungry stare. He wanted her more now than he had since he’d first met her.

‘Let’s skip dessert,’ he suggested softly, their gazes still entwined.

‘Too late.’ She gestured to the fast-approaching waiter.

‘It’s never too late.’ His gaze didn’t waver.

‘I’m hungry.’

‘So am I.’

Claire had no doubt as the waiter placed their plates before them that Campbell wasn’t talking about the sorbet. Their desserts started to melt as their eye contact continued. The air between them grew thick with unspoken desire.

‘You no like?’ The waiter, completely oblivious to the raging atmosphere, interrupted their silent exchange.

‘Oh, I like,’ said Campbell, his eyes never leaving Claire’s face. ‘I like very much.’

Claire smiled at the waiter and rolled her eyes dramatically, assuring him that everything was fine. She picked up her spoon and took a mouthful of the tangy sorbet.

‘Mmm, I think you’re right. This definitely beats the sorbet I had in the Platz de San Marco in Venice. I didn’t think that was possible.’

‘Maybe it’s the company.’

‘Maybe.’

* * *

The evening air was balmy as they stepped outside twenty minutes later.

‘Why don’t you come back to my place for a coffee?’ Campbell kept his voice light.

‘Oh, Campbell, I don’t think that’s a very good idea. I’ve had a lovely evening but I think I should go home.’ Claire was surprised at how badly she wanted to go with him. Still, that didn’t make it wise.

‘No strings, I promise. I’ve got this great home video of a footling breech I delivered while I was in France. I thought you might be interested.’

‘A footling?’

‘Ever seen one?’

‘No. We just don’t deliver them any more.’

‘It’s fantastic footage,’ he coaxed.

‘OK,’ she agreed slowly, and smiled. Sure, why not? It sounded interesting. Claire knew it was a probably just an excuse to spend more time with her, but she was an adult. Whatever his motive, she was there to watch the video, make some polite conversation and then leave. Nothing was going to happen. She was sure she could keep her hormones in check for an hour or so.

‘I’ll drive you,’ he suggested, holding out his hand.

‘No. I’ll follow you in my car.’

* * *

‘I really thought you were going to do a runner,’ Campbell told her as he inserted his key into the front door.

‘Oh, ye of little faith,’ she mocked him playfully as she stepped into his apartment. He switched the lights on then dimmed them to a soft glow. Claire wandered over to the bank of huge floor-to-ceiling glass windows offering a spectacular view of the river and the city skyline.

‘Wow! Nice digs,’ she complimented him as he clattered around in the kitchen, fixing coffee.

‘Yes, I was really lucky to find it,’ he said, carrying a tray to the lounge area where the television rested in a beautiful heavy wooden cabinet. He placed the coffee-mugs on a matching low table and indicated for Claire to sit beside him on a double-seater leather lounge chair.