But she obviously hadn’t ignored his presence for it seemed as if every detail of his physical appearance had registered in her brain.
Even sitting, she’d been able to tell he was tall—a rangy man, with brownish-reddish hair. A swatch of it hung across a high forehead. Dark eyebrows above eyes that had seemed to be studying her, a fine, neat nose and lips—
Surely to God she hadn’t just noticed his lips—hadn’t noticed how well shaped they were …
Pregnancy brain!
She’d put it down to that—as she put all the silly things she was doing lately down to it.
Settling carefully behind her desk, she lifted her phone.
‘There’s a man in the waiting room,’ she muttered to Meryl, her receptionist and the mainstay in her life right now.
‘He’s from the fertility clinic—some kind of rep, I suppose. They phoned and made an appointment for the end of the day.’
‘End of the day? He’s going to sit there while I see another four patients?’
‘Apparently,’ Meryl said, sounding so completely unfazed by the man’s presence that Joey realised she’d have to pull herself together.
Difficult when every time she brought a patient in, or walked a family to the door, she’d see the man.
So?
She was beautiful!
He wasn’t sure why this should surprise him, but it did. Dark hair and pale, creamy skin—hugely pregnant and looking very tired, but still beautiful.
The receptionist had told him he couldn’t get an appointment until the end of the day and suggested he go off and get himself a coffee somewhere, but he’d felt he needed to stay—to see her—to hear the chat in the waiting room. It had all been positive. In fact, from all accounts she was an angel set down on earth, a miracle worker, and so kind, so caring, so …
He’d certainly got the picture her patients and their parents painted of her—seen her kindness as she’d shown the young teenager out, although offering her private phone number when she was about to have a baby?
Surely that was above and beyond the call of duty!
Pete had told him she was a paediatrician, so he wasn’t surprised to see the waiting room with its big cane basket full of brightly coloured toys and the prints from Alice in Wonderland on the walls. A welcoming, non-scary place for kids.
But it was the woman herself who drew his attention, appearing at the door to her rooms to summon in the next small patient, always greeting the child first, then the parent, ushering them in, speaking directly to the child or adolescent all the time.
Her dark hair was pulled ruthlessly back into a knot on the back of her head, but from the tendrils escaping to frame her face, or dangle enticingly down the back of her neck, he could tell it was curly.
He felt a pang of sympathy for her as she followed a little group through the door, for she’d put one hand behind her and was rubbing just above her left hip.
Thirty-eight weeks … Why was she still working?
Money worries?
A string of questions rattled in his head.
Surely he wouldn’t be expected to help out financially—it was all a mistake, and not his mistake.
But this was his child. If she needed financial help, how could he deny it?
His child?
What was he thinking?
But when she appeared again, he found himself staring, riveted by the bulging belly.
That was his baby in there.
The baby he’d decided he wasn’t ever going to have for a whole fleet of excellent reasons.
This woman was having his baby.
His gut churned, then she glanced his way, flashed a smile at him and other bits of him reacted as well.
From a smile?
He smiled back although it was probably such a poor effort she might not have recognised it. But here he was, the man who, not so many hours ago, had made the final, definite ‘no children in my future’ decision, getting twinges of attraction—well, more than twinges—towards a woman carrying his child.
She’d been doing okay until he’d smiled. Admittedly, she’d sneaked a glance at him every time she’d walked into the waiting room, but apart from registering that he was a very attractive man—and her body registering the same thing in a most inappropriate manner for someone eight-and-a half-months pregnant—she really hadn’t been taking that much notice.
The smile changed everything.
The smile made her think of things she’d long given up considering.
Like sex?
It had to be her hormones, all out of sync now she was getting so close to giving birth. The man was a total stranger—someone she’d never see again in her life. And so what if he was talking to Sam Wainwright, a hyperactive six-year-old, and actually calming him down …
But the smile had lightened the tension she’d read earlier on his face, and revealed strong white teeth, framed by those well-shaped lips—
Get out of here! Get your mind back on the job. Do not go out the door again—get Meryl to send the next patient in.
Disobeying the orders from the sensible part of her brain, Joey pushed herself to her feet and went to the door.
‘Your turn, Sam,’ she said, pretending to a professionalism she was far from feeling, her eyes drawn to the man who now was pulling coins from behind Sam’s ear.
‘Can Max come in with me and Mum?’ Sam asked, smiling up at the man, who, fortunately for Joey as she’d been struck dumb, smiled at the boy and explained it wasn’t his turn yet.
Of course his voice would be just that tad husky, just the kind of male voice that had always got her in.
Joey closed her eyes and prayed for sanity.
A little bit of sanity—surely not too much to ask for!
It came, in reaction to Sam seizing one of her legs and hugging hard, protesting that he didn’t want her to go away, even for a little while.
Sensing he was genuinely upset—and assuming she’d fall over if she tried to walk—Joey eased Sam off her leg and squatted, uncomfortably, so she could look into his freckled face.
‘But I have to go to hospital to have the baby, then stay home to look after it for a bit,’ she reminded him. ‘We talked about it, and you know Dr Austin, who’ll be seeing you while I’m away.’
She ran her hand over his hair, and in a moment of complete insanity added, ‘Maybe once I have the baby, you can come and visit me in hospital and meet it.’
She was about to struggle back to an upright position when a firm hand with long, strong fingers grasped her elbow and helped her up, the husky voice murmuring, ‘And think what havoc he could wreak in a maternity ward,’ in her ear, as he made sure she was balanced before releasing her arm.
But she wasn’t thinking of Sam, or the chaos he could cause. She was trying very hard to work out why the touch of a stranger had made the hair on the back of her neck stand up and a shiver travel down her spine.
The kind of shiver she hadn’t felt for seven years …
The kind of shiver David’s touch had given her …
Somehow she managed to get Sam and his long-suffering mother through the door and close it behind them, but the feel of the man’s fingers on her arm lingered, and something