A Baby on Her Christmas List Page 6

  She looked at him in the bathroom mirror, dried her hands and threw the paper towel in the bin. Peered at her eye in the glass. The swelling had worsened. Her one good eye pierced him. ‘So are you.’

  ‘South Sudan can do that to a guy.’

  ‘Don’t tell me you gave half your food away again?’

  ‘I can survive. They don’t have enough. I had plenty even with half-rations.’

  ‘So how was it?’

  ‘Messy. Murky. Complicated.’ Like the rest of his life. ‘But I’m back here and I want to know about you. How long have you been vomiting and how many times?’

  ‘Simmer down. A few times a day. Counting wasn’t helping. Let’s just say, too much. It’s perfectly normal. It’s supposed to go once I hit the second trimester, so it’ll be gone any day now. I’m fine.’

  Fine? She was a mess. ‘And in between the vomiting you’re working full time and then taking out your frustration on your house walls? When do you rest?’

  She threw him a smile that stopped way short of her dark eyes. ‘Well, you know what they say about giving a job to a busy person. That’s me! I like being busy.’

  ‘No, you don’t, Georgie. You like getting drunk in grungy bars playing loud eighties rock anthems, you like blobbing on the couch and watching reruns of your favourite soaps until you can say the dialogue better than the actors, you like strawberry ice cream, but not berry swirl. You like doing nothing at all if you can help it. You do not like to be busy.’

  Uh-oh. Hip-planting was occurring. Both hands fisted. Bad sign. ‘Well, you can add doing renovations when pregnant to that list. Go figure, you learn something new about people every day.’

  ‘You know what they say about people like you?’

  ‘No.’ She turned to him and swayed a little, her cheeks drained of colour. Her eyes fluttered closed as she steadied herself, leaning against the sink, hands flopped to her sides. She looked exhausted. He wanted to swoop her into his arms, wrap her up in bed and look after her. As if she’d ever let him. ‘Tell me, Liam, what do they say?’

  ‘That only the pig-headed, wilful, independent and stubborn will not listen to anyone else. To the detriment of their health. You can’t get sick, this baby needs you to be well. You need to stop and rest.’ And he was not going to stand by and let anything bad happen. Period.

  But contrary to everything he expected from her, she didn’t rally. Her shoulders sagged as she gripped the sink, her voice so small he had to strain to hear her. ‘Okay, okay, I get it. I’m done arguing. Whatever you say, you’re the doc.’

  Things must be bad. Never in all the years he’d known her had she so much as uttered a single word that would make her appear less than über-confident and capable.

  He took her by the shoulders and steered her out into the waiting room. Found her a chair. Sat her in it. Put a finger over her mouth to hush any complaints.

  She needed him and he wasn’t going to let her get sick on his watch. It wasn’t as if she could call a relative to come look after her—she didn’t have any. No one to look out for her, to give her a break when she needed it. To take the baby for a few hours when she needed sleep. To babysit. Did she really have a clue how hard this parenting was going to be? ‘You’re going to start taking it easy. Doctor’s orders.’

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ‘LET ME HELP YOU. Be careful, you have a nasty corneal abrasion.’

  ‘So you keep saying. Urgh. So I’ll play pirates and keep wearing the eye patch, me hearty.’ Georgie had to confess that even though the thick white cotton wool patch didn’t help much with healing, and made her look a lot like a numpty, it protected her eye from the glare of her house lights and made her think seriously about wearing safety goggles in the future.

  But one thing she’d be reluctant to confess out loud was that the moment Liam had said she needed to take things easy it had felt as if a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Because it was all very well trying to be big and brave and bold but sometimes, just sometimes, she tired of having to rely solely on herself for everything.

  A deep breath escaped her lungs as Liam pushed the front door open. She was home. She could relax. At least in theory. It was a little harder in practice, having him in her space, being big and bold for her. Why had he suddenly come over all macho? Why did that make him even more desirable?

  For that matter, why hadn’t her desire dampened down over the last few months? And why was a man in combat kit and biker boots infinitely more attractive than anything else? She turned on the doorstep. Pregnant and now injured, this was not a good time to be finding her friend attractive. ‘Thanks for getting me home. I’ll be fine from here. Maybe we could catch up tomorrow when we’re both feeling better.’

  ‘Hey, what’s the hurry? Are you scared about what I’ll do?’ He shook his head, eyes glittering with tease as he surveyed her body. If she wasn’t mistaken, tension of a very sexual kind rippled between them.

  Air whooshed into her lungs as she gave a sharp intake of breath. She wasn’t afraid of Liam at all, she was more scared about what she might do, suddenly alone with him and very, very hot. ‘No...er...I—’

  ‘Don’t panic. If it’s a total mess I won’t get mad. I’m here to help.’

  He was talking about the state of her house. Not...of course not...anything else. ‘I’ll be okay. Honestly. Go home, you look beat, Liam. You must be jet-lagged and knackered.’

  ‘Listen to yourself, Geo. You’re not letting me help. You don’t have to do everything on your own.’

  ‘Of course I do. And I like it. That way I don’t have to compromise on anyone else’s plans, don’t have to work to their timetable, I can just please myself.’ She placed her hand against the wall and kept him on the doorstep.

  He shook his head. ‘Has anyone ever told you that you’re the most stubborn person in the world?’

  ‘You? Many times. But you’re saying it as if I might care. And I don’t.’

  ‘Well, today you’re my responsibility and I promised the discharging medical officer I’d take care of you.’

  ‘But you were the discharging medical officer.’

  ‘Go figure. So I’ll fix you some dinner, have a look at the damage you’ve inflicted on your poor house. Make sure you’re OK. Then, once I’m satisfied, I’ll leave.’ He went to squeeze past her, but she blocked his way.

  ‘Promise?’

  He frowned. ‘If that’s what you want.’

  She wanted him to be happy about the baby—the single most important thing, and which he’d hardly mentioned. That was all. Well, and to hold her again. Possibly kiss her. Make out, maybe... But that would be a wish too far. ‘What do you want, Liam?’

  ‘To make sure you’re safe, crazy lady. That’s all.’

  As he peered through the dust and grime he scratched his head, fluffing his short dark hair into little tufts. ‘Bloody hell, Georgie. It’s worse than I imagined.’ He stepped in, walked across the floor, leaving large thick footprints in the grey film that coated everything. ‘What the hell have you done?’

  She hid a smile as she followed him into the house where she’d half knocked through the wall, making her downstairs pretty much open-plan. She had grand plans for this room, plans she’d been aching to share with someone. Him, mainly.

  And even though she’d been beyond angry with him for the last couple of months, it was good to be able to see him—through her one useful eye—and talk to him. Because she’d been honest when she’d said she’d missed him.

  She hadn’t expected to have those strange feelings rattling through her again, though. She’d put it down to a cluster of hormones, but when he’d held her, cradling her head like she was something very precious, her heart had done a little leap. More, her body had started to hum with something dangerous. It was a bad idea, having him in her space. ‘Personally, I think it’s looking great. That old partition wall made everything dark and dingy. Just needs a little bit of cosmetic work and it’ll be fine.’r />
  ‘Plus finishing off. Cornices, a new floor.’ He tapped along what remained of the plasterboard wall. ‘You go and sit down in the lounge, if you can find the sofa under all this mess. I’ll finish this off, clear up, then sort out something to eat.’

  ‘You’re hardly dressed for it.’

  He looked down at his ex-army fatigues. ‘They’re old. I don’t care. You just sit tight. That is, Miss Independent, if you know how to let someone else do the work.’ He picked up the hammer and his forearms tightened. Capable hands, plus mussed-up hair already, and he hadn’t even lifted a finger. How was she going to cope?

  For a few minutes she lay back on her couch, closed her eyes and let relaxation take hold. It was lovely to lie there, listening to the crash of the hammer. The crumble of plaster, his deep male grunts as he swung and hit. He worked for a while then there was silence.

  It stretched.

  Suddenly interested in what was happening—or not—Georgie opened her eye and peered across the settling dust.

  Oh, good Lord. Her stomach contracted as she inhaled a mouth full of dust. He’d taken off his shirt and was now measuring across the space with an industrial tape measure. Defined muscles stretched and contracted as he moved. Tight abs ridged down to his trouser waistband, a sexy smattering of dark hair pointed to a promised land. The man had no business looking like that, all sunburnt and muscular and just too damned hot. She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. Her throat was tight. Her breathing came quick and fast.

  Staring was rude.

  She reclosed her eye.

  No good.

  She wanted to look again. It was like watching bad reality TV: she knew she shouldn’t watch, but she couldn’t help herself. The man was gorgeous. And, heck, she’d always known what his body was like. Days spent with him at the beach had had little effect on her in the past. But now... Wow. He’d developed strength and solidity and muscles. Filled out into those broad shoulders. Her body hummed with need.

  He turned to face her. ‘You okay? You need anything?’

  Not the kind of thing he’d want to give her. ‘I’m just fine, thanks. But I wanted to let you know I’m sorry that you left and we’d fallen out. I was worried about you, you know, the whole time.’

  He winked at her. ‘Forgiven. Just about. I hate this arguing. It’s not like us. We don’t argue.’

  So many firsts for them. ‘You do realise that not once have you asked me for any details about the baby? About when it’s due. Or if I’ve had any scans. Which I have.’

  ‘I didn’t know where to start.’ Dropping the hammer to the floor, he looked lost. Shame faced. Terrified. ‘This is all so new. It’s pretty intense to get my head round.’

  He was a long way behind her in this. For the last few months she’d been wondering whether her child having a father around mattered. Whether, in the long term, it would matter to him.

  God, there were so many things she hadn’t thought of when she’d gone hurtling into this process. Things she should have talked to him about. Things that could make or break their friendship for ever. It was already spinning out of control.

  She pulled a scrap of paper from her purse, taking another risk at rejection. If he baulked at this then she’d reconsider. She got up and walked over to him. ‘Here, have a look. An early scan. More of a blob really, but there she is.’

  ‘She?’ He took the paper in a shaking hand but didn’t look at it. His face paled, he swallowed. And again. ‘Too early to talk about gender, isn’t it?’

  She shrugged. ‘I just think of her as a girl. Don’t know why.’ She pushed the paper closer to him. ‘Take a look.’

  His fingers closed over the top corner of the paper. He took a deep breath and looked down. No sound. No emotion. Nothing flickered across his face. Nothing to register that this was his child. That she was carrying his baby. Then he raised his head and gave her the scan picture back. ‘My God.’

  His voice was hollow and raw and she wondered what he was thinking. Maybe he was happy that she was happy but didn’t know how to show it.

  Her throat filled. ‘I don’t know what to say or do to make this easier...or less complicated. I know this is going to sound very selfish, but I want everything, Liam. I want this baby, but I don’t want to lose your friendship.’

  ‘And I...’

  She thought he was going to say more but he didn’t. His hands dropped to his sides as he shook his head and turned away.

  Despite his doubts, he’d given her this gift. How could she have been so angry with him? He looked so empty and confused that she stepped forward and wrapped her arms round him, pulled him to her, and he responded by holding her close.

  Her hands ran over muscles, dips and grooves of naked hot skin, slick with a light sheen of sweat. Her heart began to pound as awareness surged through her. His smell of surgical soap, aftershave and pure male heat filled the air. She inhaled it. And again.

  His face was inches from hers. His breath feathered her skin. But she daren’t move. Something stirred inside her deep and low. Her breasts tingled for his touch. Was he feeling this too? She hoped...but then what? This whole crazy messed-up situation didn’t need complicating further. If he knew what was running through her brain right this second he’d probably walk away and never come back. For all she knew, he was probably planning that anyway.

  Keeping her eyes tightly closed, she held her breath, felt him relax against her, felt his grip on her lessen. She didn’t want him to let go. She wanted...

  ‘Thanks for that, you old bat,’ he whispered, lips pressed against her cheek, his scent intensified along with the tingling through her body, pooling in her groin. She couldn’t think of anything but him, being in his arms, how good this felt.

  Heat swamped her. There was no point pretending that what she felt for him wasn’t real, that this was just a hormonal response. For goodness’ sake, she’d been struggling with these weird emotions for months now. And, yes, she wanted to kiss him. She had to know what he tasted like. How he would feel.

  With every risk of him leaving—and with no thought for the consequences—she turned her head, met his mouth. Felt his surprise resonate against her lips. Then a groan. A growl. A need.

  * * *

  Liam registered the first touch of Georgie’s lips as his heart slammed loud and thunderous in his chest. For one split second a dark corner somewhere in his brain considered that this was the far side of madness—but then that thought was gone and he was left with nothing but heat and need raging through his veins.

  Cupping her face in his hands, he opened his mouth to her. Felt her shaking body, heard the guttural moan from her throat, felt her tight fists grip his trouser waistband as he dragged her closer. And each of her responses fed his need. She tasted wet and hot and soft. Of salty tears and fresh pure joy. He closed his eyes at the sweet sensations she instilled in him.

  Her hands made a slow trail to his backside as she clamped her body to his and she moaned again as she felt him harden at the press of her hips. He liked the way she felt against him. Liked the feel of her fingers on his body. The thrill of her touch.

  As his hands slid down her back he brushed against her bra strap and the memory of those perfect nipples covered in lace made him ache to touch them. Slipping his hand under her T-shirt, he worked his fingers to her breast, felt the hardening nipples beneath silk. He wanted to feel them against his skin. Naked. Wanted to suck those dark buds into his mouth. To taste her everywhere. Wanted to feel her around him.

  ‘Oh, God, Liam.’

  ‘Georgie...’ He opened his eyes, and immediately registered the harsh reality. Damn. This was Georgie. She was injured and pregnant and he was supposed to be looking after her.

  Not taking advantage of her. This was Georgie. His best friend. The hands-off friend.

  Who was pregnant.

  With his child.

  And, yes—ever since he’d held that picture in his hand and felt the deep singular ache in his heart he’
d known that he’d fight heaven and earth for his baby. This was something that was a part of him and he couldn’t turn his back on that.

  He’d been about to tell her his plan. About the financial help he’d decided he wanted to give. About giving his son or daughter the best. Because they deserved it, Georgie did, too. But...when it had come to it, after holding the scan in his hands, he’d panicked. He needed to be sure.

  And then...this...had blown his heart wide open.

  My God. Kissing Georgie.

  In the cold stark light of day that dark corner of doubt started to flourish. Another person he would let down. His life was littered them. He sure as hell didn’t want to include Georgie and the baby in that line-up.

  The shock of what they were doing made him break away. He did it with little finesse and immediately saw the embarrassment or disappointment or just plain confusion flash across her gaze.

  What the hell just happened? He coughed, cleared his throat, tried to sound a lot less shaken up than he felt. ‘Well, that was unexpected. And not at all like kissing my cousin. But, then, Mike never was much good at tongues, apparently. You, however...’

  ‘Always the joker.’ She twisted away and stalked back into the lounge area, wringing her hands in front of her, clearly trying to work out how they’d gone from friends to...this. And what the heck they were supposed to do now they’d crossed an unspoken line. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.’

  ‘No.’ He followed her but couldn’t find it in him to sit down. His first and only instinct was to get the hell out. But running out on a woman who was sick and confused would make him a jerk and a coward. Although he couldn’t help feeling that he’d already started to put distance there. He wasn’t sitting down and talking reasonably, he was edging subconsciously closer to the door. He made himself stand still and focused on her. ‘We shouldn’t have done that.’

  ‘No, Liam. I kissed you. Embarrassment totally one hundred per cent complete.’