Christmas Eve: Doorstep Delivery

That was one small consolation.

‘You can’t go!’ Alfie sounded horrified. ‘And we do need a housekeeper. Dad can’t cook a turkey, honestly. And if you leave, you won’t be able to surprise your friend. Remember? You told me that on the phone. You said you were coming over to surprise a special friend and you needed somewhere to live while you tracked him down.’

Oh, no. No, no, no.

Feeling Patrick’s gaze on her face, Hayley wanted to throw herself into the stream. Her impetuous nature had got her into some embarrassing situations in the past, but none quite so embarrassing as this one.

It was almost as bad as that day at school when she’d discovered that her stepbrother had planted a camera in the girls’ showers.

All she needed now was for Patrick to produce her knickers from his pocket and her humiliation would be complete.

He leaned against the doorframe, watching her. ‘You came here to look for…someone?’ His pause was significant and Hayley felt her face fire up to a shade that probably matched the dreadful Mrs Thornton’s vampire lipstick.

How dared he look amused? Obviously he was a sadist as well as being hugely insensitive. And an adulterer. This situation was about as amusing as discovering you were the only one in fancy dress and everyone else was in black tie. As the list of his crimes grew longer, Hayley grew more affronted.

‘I’m not looking for anyone. I mean—I might have been, originally, yes…’ She knew she was babbling incoherently, but all hope of a smooth response had deserted her. ‘My friend let me down.’ She looked at him pointedly and saw his eyes narrow slightly. ‘So I won’t be looking for him.’

‘Is that right?’ His soft drawl was as annoying as his blank expression and Hayley wondered whether falling face down in the snow would put out the fire in her cheeks.

Deciding that she needed to make her exit no matter how undignified, Hayley started to back away but Alfie grabbed her arm.

‘No, I won’t let you go! Dad, tell her she has to stay! I know you didn’t put the advert in, but she’s here now and think how great it would be to have someone helping over Christmas. Dad? Say something.’

Chapter Two

SHE had the sexiest mouth he’d ever kissed.

Not beautiful—her mouth was too wide to qualify for beautiful—but soft, full and with a slight pout that made a man think the most basic, primitive thoughts. And then there was the tiny dimple in the corner that was so deliciously feminine. Suddenly Patrick wished life wasn’t so complicated. All he wanted to do was throw her over his shoulder and carry her up to his bed.

The fact that she was flustered, embarrassed and visibly angry with him did nothing to cool his libido. Far from it. It just reminded him how refreshingly open she was with people. He’d seen that from the first moment they’d met—been intrigued by just how much she’d divulged about herself as she’d shown him around the hospital.

He even found her slightly ungainly battle with the ice appealing. The fact that she didn’t seem fully in control of her legs simply reminded him that she had incredible legs. Incredibly long legs.

A vivid image of exactly how long her legs were brought a groan to his lips but he managed to stifle it. Why did everything about her make him think of sex?

He remembered the moment when she’d landed flat on her back in the snow. For an unsettling moment, the contrast between her dark hair and the white powder had reminded him of how she’d looked against the sheets in his hotel room and he’d been on the verge of lowering himself on top of her and doing what he was burning to do when Alfie had disturbed his red-hot daydream.

And now his son was looking at him, waiting for an answer.

Dragging his mind away from sex, Patrick tried to remember the question.

But what did you say to a woman with whom you’d been intimate but hadn’t expected to see again?

Hi, there—what are you doing on my doorstep?

Patrick stood in silence, the reality of his life squashing the fantasy. He felt the children looking at him and he knew that, no matter what he said next, someone was going to be hurt. If he told her that they didn’t need a housekeeper then she’d be hurt and so would Alfie. If she stayed—

He dismissed the thought impatiently.

How could she possibly stay?

They always said that the past would catch up with you, but he hadn’t expected it to catch up with him this quickly—hadn’t thought his children would find out about what had happened in Chicago.

On the other hand, there had to be a reason why she was here. And only one reason came to mind.

She was pregnant.

She had to be pregnant. It was the only explanation for the fact that she was standing on his doorstep on Christmas Eve. She’d travelled over six thousand miles to talk to him.

Patrick closed his eyes briefly, forcing himself to stay calm and think clearly.

He still didn’t understand how her visit to the UK had somehow become entangled with Alfie’s innocent advert for a housekeeper. All he knew was that his private moment of self-indulgence was no longer private. And the fact that she was pregnant…

Biting back a word he tried never to say in front of his children, Patrick ran his hand over the back of his neck and concentrated on her face. If he looked at his kids he’d just feel guilty and lose his thread, and that wasn’t going to help anyone.