A man like Ben would probably run a mile at the sound of a baby. It wouldn’t bring the kind of sleepless nights he’d be interested in.
Regretfully, she screwed up the piece of paper and dropped it in the bin.
It was time to get ready for work.
The baby was screaming its head off.
If ever I needed to hear a healthy set of lungs...well, this kid’s got them.
Ben Willoughby smiled patiently at the mother as she tried her best to calm her distraught child, but her soothing words had no effect.
Clearly the baby did not like a strange man looming over him to try and listen to his heartbeat. Ben sat back. He felt sure the baby was absolutely fine, but it would be nice to check.
The mother had brought in the child, terrified by a strange rash that had appeared on her son’s legs, especially his knees and the tops of his feet. It was red and raw-looking.
Her son had no temperature. No signs of illness at all, in fact, and Ben was sure he knew exactly what the rash had been caused by. But he didn’t want this mother to feel as if she had wasted his time, so he was trying to be thorough and give the boy a check-up. Check-ups never hurt anyone.
‘We’ll wait for him to pipe down. I might get a nurse to distract him with bubbles or something—just so I can listen to his chest when he’s quiet.’
‘What do you think it is? Is it meningitis?’ The mother peered at him, frowning in concern.
He shook his head. ‘No, it’s nothing like that. He’s about eight months old?’
She nodded.
‘Just started crawling?’
Another nod.
‘I think it’s carpet burns.’
He’d had plenty of the damn things as a child himself, and occasionally still got them now, when he had to play uncle and get down on the floor and pretend to have a great time. If he was honest, he did have a good time, but there was no way he was going to admit it.
Everyone knew he wasn’t fond of kids. They were noisy and messy and they sucked away at your time and energies. They definitely weren’t for him, and they most certainly would not be in his future. He intended to have a life that was entirely dedicated to himself, even if that seemed selfish to everyone else.
Because he knew that he wasn’t. He was the least selfish person he knew. He gave everything of himself to others. Always had. But now his life was his own and he wanted it to stay that way. He’d seen what happened when you let other people get involved and it wasn’t pretty. He intended to steer away completely from messy relationships.
And that was how he’d always played things—until this morning. When he’d woken in Leah’s bed, completely satisfied, feeling warm and cosy and comfortable—until she’d stood up and yanked the quilt off him, anyway. He could still picture it. How embarrassed she’d looked. The charming flush that had bloomed in her cheeks. Her twinkling eyes. The way she’d thrown his clothes at him before she’d shuffled out of the room in her quilt cocoon.
Delightful.
And he wasn’t sure just what it was, but before he had left he had felt compelled to leave his number.
I never leave my number. I never ask for more.
He’d closed the door to her flat after fighting the strong temptation to join her in the shower and then stood there for a moment, unable to get back in, wondering if he’d made a mistake. Why break the habit of a lifetime?
He supposed he could screen his calls, but a part of him didn’t want to. And it wasn’t the part below his belt, strangely enough. It was in his head. He wanted to know more about the delicious minx he’d run into last night. More about the woman who’d made him smile with her own smile. Who’d made him feel amazed by her laughter. Whose capacity for dancing was equal to that of a newborn giraffe on rollerblades. Who’d awoken something within him that he’d never felt before...
‘Carpet burns? You’re sure?’
‘Absolutely.’ He pulled up the scrubs on his left leg to show her the carpet burns he had from being made to be a horse by his four-year-old niece Gemma. ‘I’ve got matching ones. But we’ll give him a proper check-over once he’s quiet.’
The mother blushed. ‘Oh, I feel so stupid.’
He smiled. ‘Don’t be. You’re entitled to worry about your baby.’
‘But I’ve wasted your time!’
‘No, you haven’t. It’s always important to get something checked if it concerns you. What if it had been something serious and you’d dismissed it? We’d rather it be a false alarm than something serious. Wouldn’t we?’
He gave another of his winning smiles, hoping the screaming child would soon be quiet, and the mother smiled back, thanking him.
‘I’ll be back in a few minutes.’
He left the cubicle, intending to fill in a chart or two and give the boy time to get his breath back, then glanced up to see how the waiting room was filling up.
And there she was.
The woman from last night, walking towards him in a floaty white blouse and a pencil-slim skirt that hugged in all the right places.
Leah.
She stopped upon seeing him.
He watched in delight as her cheeks flushed once again, and he knew that that was something he would never tire of seeing.
But why was she here? Was she hurt? Or had she known somehow where he worked and come to throw his telephone number back in his face?
‘Hi,’ he said, somewhat lost for words.
He never usually had this. The morning after. That awkward conversation. The embarrassed excuses. He got the good part—the flirting, the excitement, the kissing, the hot sex. He never had to worry about the afterwards because there never was one.
She looked like a startled deer. He saw her swallow.
‘Wh...what are you doing here?’
OH, MY GOD. You idiot! He’s wearing scrubs and has a stethoscope around his neck. What do you think he’s doing here?
She felt her cheeks colour again and sucked in a deep, steadying breath.
Okay, think. He’s obviously a doctor here, but maybe he’s from another department and he’s only down here providing a consult...
Because it would be mortifying to have to work closely with the guy she’d met in a club and slept with last night. A guy she’d kicked out of her flat because he’d overstayed his welcome.
Oh, dear. What must he think of me?
But then a bit of courage pushed its way forward and reminded her that what she’d done last night had not been done alone. He’d done it, too. So what did she think of him?
Her brain provided her with a helpful reminder of what he’d looked like naked on her bed after she’d swooped up with the quilt.
Blushing—again!—she managed a smile. ‘I say stupid things sometimes. Clearly you’re a doctor, here. Obviously...’
He smiled back and it did strange things to her insides.