Christmas Eve: Doorstep Delivery Page 2

  ‘She didn’t upset me.’ Patrick signed a document that had been left out for his attention. ‘I’m fine, Maggie.’ And the last thing he wanted to talk about was his ex-wife.

  But Maggie showed no sign of shifting. ‘I know you hate this time of year—have you heard from her? Has she been in touch?’

  ‘No.’ Resigned to having the conversation he didn’t want to have, Patrick put his pen down. ‘She sent a card and a cheque for me to choose something for the kids.’ The anger rushed through him but he controlled it, as he always did. He’d trained himself to be civilised about the whole thing for the sake of the children. He didn’t want them to feel like tennis balls being thumped between two players. ‘She said I was more likely to know what they wanted than she was.’

  Margaret’s mouth tightened with disapproval and Patrick knew what she was thinking. The same thing he’d been thinking—that Carly should have known exactly what to buy her own children for Christmas.

  ‘It’s been two years since she walked out, Patrick. It’s time you found someone else. Let’s face it, it isn’t going to be hard.’

  Patrick gave a faint smile of mockery. ‘Not hard at all to find someone you want to spend your life with and trust with your children’s happiness.’

  ‘All right, all right—it’s hard.’ Maggie pushed the box of chocolates towards him. ‘The kids are lucky to have you. You’re such an amazing dad.’

  Patrick’s jaw tensed. If he was so amazing, why were his children living without their mother?

  ‘Maggie, I appreciate your concern but you don’t need to worry about me. The children and I are fine. Goodness knows, my life is complicated enough without adding in a relationship.’ He helped himself to a chocolate. ‘Does this have nuts in it? I hate nuts. You midwives always know the chocolates by heart.’

  ‘That’s because we eat too many of them. That one’s caramel. And relationships don’t have to be complicated, Patrick.’

  ‘Mine always seem to be.’

  ‘That’s because you picked the wrong woman last time. Next time choose a nice, kind motherly girl who would love those gorgeous children of yours and be proud to be with a high-flying doctor.’

  ‘I don’t want a nice, kind, motherly girl.’ Patrick unwrapped the chocolate and ate it. ‘I want a raving nymphomaniac with the gymnastic skills of an Olympic athlete.’

  Margaret choked with laughter. ‘And there was me thinking you need someone intelligent you can have a conversation with. I never knew you were so shallow. Or are you just trying to shock me?’

  ‘I’m trying to shock you.’ And move her off the subject of his ex-wife.

  ‘What about that girl you met when you were in Chicago?’

  Patrick sighed. ‘Remind me why I told you about that?’

  ‘I caught you in a weak moment.’ Smiling, Maggie settled herself on the edge of his desk. ‘You really liked her, didn’t you?’

  ‘I spent twenty-four hours with her, Mags,’ Patrick said carefully, pushing aside the memory of a girl with long legs and an endless smile—and a night that would stay with him for ever. ‘Hardly a recipe for happy ever after.’

  ‘You should have taken her number.’

  ‘She didn’t give me her number.’ Patrick sat back in his chair, a wry smile on his face. ‘Clearly she didn’t want to repeat the experience.’

  Maggie started to laugh. ‘Is that really what you think? It’s far more likely that she felt awkward at having spent the night with you and slunk out of your room before you woke up.’

  Not having considered that possibility, Patrick frowned. ‘She seemed pretty confident.’

  ‘Was that before or after you’d removed her clothes?’

  ‘Does it make a difference?’

  ‘Of course it does! Confident women are often full of insecurities when they’re naked. That’s why we prefer to keep the lights off.’

  They’d kept the lights on. All night.

  ‘Enough!’ Patrick aimed the chocolate wrapper towards the bin in the corner of the room. ‘You and I may have been colleagues for years but there are limits.’

  ‘I’m just saying that maybe she didn’t want you to see her in daylight.’

  ‘She showed me around the hospital in daylight.’

  ‘But presumably she was wearing clothes at that point.’ Maggie dipped her hand into the box and pulled out a chocolate. ‘Trust me, it’s different. If I ever went to bed with you, I’d want the lights off.’

  ‘If I ever went to bed with you, your husband would kill me.’ Patrick emptied the contents of his in-tray into his briefcase. ‘Can we drop this conversation? Relationships aren’t a priority for me at the moment. And if you ever mention this to anyone else on the unit, I’ll drown you in the birthing pool.’

  Maggie looked smug. ‘You really did like her.’

  ‘Yes.’ Exasperated, Patrick reached for his coat. ‘Yes, I liked her. Satisfied?’

  ‘You liked her a lot.’

  ‘Yes, I liked her a lot.’

  ‘Was she pretty?’

  ‘Very.’

  ‘Did she make you laugh?’

  Patrick thought about the day they’d spent together. ‘Yes. She was fun. She smiled all the time.’ Which had been a refreshing change after Carly’s endless moaning.

  ‘And you didn’t take her number?’ Maggie rolled her eyes. ‘I thought you were supposed to be clever.’

  ‘Clever enough to spot when a relationship isn’t going to work.’ Patrick put his coat on. ‘If she’d wanted me to have her details, she would have left her number. And even if she’d left her number, it would have been somewhere in Chicago because that’s where she lives.’ He snapped his briefcase shut. ‘I, on the other hand, live in a small corner of England. Even if she hadn’t made her feelings clear by slinking out of my bedroom, I wouldn’t get in touch with her. It would never have worked and I don’t need another romantic disaster.’

  ‘So that’s it, then?’

  ‘That’s it. It was just one night and the only reason you even know about it is because you have an uncanny ability to prise information from the innocent.’

  ‘I care about you. You deserve to be with someone special.’

  ‘My kids are special. I’m with them.’ Patrick walked towards the door. ‘Any luck finding an extra midwife willing to work over Christmas?’

  ‘No. So far that particular miracle hasn’t happened. I’m just hoping that no one has contractions on Christmas Day because there’s definitely no room at this inn.’

  ‘You can call me if you’re desperate. I can always bring the children in with me. They can sit in the staffroom with the chocolates.’

  ‘We’d love to see them. I haven’t seen Posy for a few months. But I don’t want to call you in over Christmas. You deserve the break.’ Maggie walked to the door. ‘I’m glad you didn’t take the job in Chicago. I would have resigned and gone with you. Tell me honestly—were you tempted?’

  Yes. Because if he’d taken the job, he would have seen the girl again.

  He’d even picked up the phone once, but had put it down again before it could ring. What would he have said? Hi, you know that night of hot sex we shared? Any chance you could give up your job and your life in the States and come and live over here so that we can do it again?

  Patrick sighed. He didn’t even have to say it aloud to know it sounded ridiculous.

  He’d already wrecked one woman’s life. He wasn’t going to do the same thing a second time.

  ‘I wasn’t tempted.’ Reminding himself that he had two young children depending on him, he glanced at the clock. ‘I’m off home. It’s Christmas Eve tomorrow. I’ve promised to spend it with my children. This raving nymphomaniac you’re finding me…’ He gave Maggie a slow smile. ‘Just make sure she has a passion for sexy underwear.’ He regretted the words immediately.

  She had worn the sexiest, classiest underwear he’d ever seen. Just thinking about the provocative silky knickers he’d found on the f
loor of his room the next morning made him glad he was wearing his coat.

  ‘Go home and do battle with that turkey,’ Maggie said cheerfully. ‘I’ll see you in three days.’

  Discovering that there was nothing like the thought of cooking a turkey to cure a man of an attack of lust, Patrick groaned. ‘I’d forgotten about the turkey. I’d rather deliver triplets than cook a turkey.’

  Maggie gave a choked laugh. ‘Welcome to the festive season. Merry Christmas, Patrick.’

  ‘Merry Christmas.’ Patrick felt exhausted as he thought of the challenge ahead of him. ‘Yet another family Christmas that I’ll mess up. Alfie still hasn’t let me forget last year’s turkey disaster. I need a miracle.’

  CHAPTER ONE

  HAYLEY climbed out of the taxi, slipped on the ice and landed hard on her bottom in the snow.

  ‘Are you all right, love?’ The taxi driver peered at her and she gave a weak smile as she slithered and slid her way back onto her feet, clutching the door for support and mentally itemising the damage.

  ‘I’m fine,’ she lied, trying not to picture the bruise that was going to appear later. ‘Fortunately my bottom is big enough to provide a decent cushion. Which is useful because I’m not that great at walking on ice. Actually, I’m not that great at walking on pavements either. I’m the only person I know who can trip on a flat surface.’

  The taxi driver chuckled sympathetically. ‘Uncoordinated, are you? I have a sister like that. Always falling over, she is.’ He flicked on the windscreen wipers to clear the snow. ‘It’s been great chatting to you, Hayley. Cheered up my Christmas Eve, you have. Feel as though I’ve known you for years.’

  Remembering just how frank she’d been, Hayley squirmed with embarrassment. She’d said far too much. As usual. He knew everything about her except her bra size. Come to think of it, he probably knew that, too, because she had mentioned that she always felt nervous in strapless dresses. In her head she could hear her stepbrother’s mocking voice saying, Hayley doesn’t have an ‘off’ switch. But what was she supposed to do? She’d been in the car for twenty minutes and it would have been rude not to speak. ‘I’m glad you were the one who picked me up from the station, Jack. And I hope you get that hip of yours sorted out soon.’

  ‘I’m sure I will. The doctors are very clever around here. Good with their hands, you know?’ He gave her a knowing wink and Hayley blushed, wondering what had possessed her to confess that particular bit of her life history.

  ‘How much do I owe you, Jack?’

  ‘Nothing. Haven’t enjoyed a fare so much all year. You made me laugh so hard I almost had the car off the road at that last corner,’ he said cheerfully, setting his meter to zero. ‘And if you really want my opinion, I think your family should be ashamed of themselves. If my daughter were a midwife I’d be proud as punch—I wouldn’t be telling her she was wasting her talents and should have been a lawyer. Where would the world be if we all picked our jobs on the basis of how much they pay? No wonder you wanted to come up here and escape. Now, forget about the lot of them and have a good time. I hope the romance works out for you. With any luck he’ll propose by New Year and then you can invite me to your wedding.’

  Wedding?

  Had she actually confessed that bit of her fantasy?

  ‘If there’s a wedding, you’ll be there. I’ll need someone rooting for me on my side of the church,’ Hayley said weakly, holding onto the door and wishing she hadn’t revealed quite so much to someone she’d known for twenty minutes. It wasn’t so bad to have told him why she wasn’t going home to her family for Christmas, but it was probably a mistake to have told him about that night.

  But she was excited! And happy! And it was all because of a man.

  At least now she was in the same country as him, she thought dreamily. The thought that he might be within miles of her made her want to sing and dance. It was only the knowledge that dancing might leave her with two broken ankles that stopped her from twirling in the snow.

  That and the fact that she didn’t want to make a bad impression on her new employer.

  Brushing the snow from her coat, she thought to herself that for once—just once—it would be nice to be a naturally elegant and dignified person. She would have liked to arrive at her new job as housekeeper looking like one of those women you saw in magazines—long black coat, elegant boots, lipstick…

  ‘You’ve got snow in your hair, love,’ the taxi driver said helpfully, and then nodded at the house behind her. ‘Well, this is it. High Fell Barn. Nice place. Smart. Like something from one of those fancy architect designed home programmes you see on the TV. I know you haven’t met the family but I can tell you from looking at this that they’re loaded. I wouldn’t mind spending Christmas here myself. Starting to think you might be right to ditch the whole family thing.’

  ‘Oh, no, I think family is wonderful,’ Hayley said hastily, dragging snow out of her hair with her fingers. ‘Just not my family. And they’d probably be all right if I was different. They’re all scarily clever and co-ordinated and have really well-paid jobs and apartments with big windows and glass—you know the sort of thing. I was the runt of the litter. Well, actually I came from a different litter because they’re my step-siblings. My mum married their dad and they never forgave me for that.’ She was doing it again, talking, talking, talking. ‘Anyway, enough of that,’ she said lamely, and Jack smiled at her.

  ‘Stepfamilies can be complicated. Everyone knows that. Lots of jealousy there.’

  ‘I don’t think my step-siblings are jealous,’ Hayley said humbly. ‘More embarrassed to be officially associated with me, I think.’

  Whoops—here comes Hayley. How many babies has she dropped this year?

  Not for the first time Hayley indulged in a swift fantasy about her acid-tongued stepbrother choking on a chicken bone and her saving his life with a skilfully performed Heimlich manoeuvre. Of course, he’d be blubbering with gratitude, her whole family open-mouthed with awe at her hidden talents, begging her forgiveness for having so grossly underestimated her.

  We had no idea, Hayley.

  Trying not to dwell on how inadequate her family made her feel, Hayley stared at the huge glass windows and the snow-covered roof of the barn. Despite the size of the place, it was the most welcoming building she’d ever seen. Lights twinkled along the front of the barn and through the window she could see a haphazardly decorated Christmas tree standing guard over piles of brightly wrapped parcels.

  To the side of the barn was a wide stream in full flow, the winter silence disturbed by the roar and rush of white water as it frothed down from the top of the icy fells.

  ‘That’s the beck.’ The taxi driver nodded. ‘That’s what we call it in these parts. In summer it’s no more than a trickle of water but now, with the snow melting…’

  ‘It’s fantastic.’ After the urban chaos of Chicago, Hayley savoured the sound of the water smashing over the rocks on its way down the mountain.

  Behind the barn stretched acres of fields, sparkling white with snow, and beyond that the forest and the mountains. Pine trees stood tall and straight as sentries either side of the barn, tiny twinkling lights twisted through their branches.

  It was like something from a Christmas card. She half expected to see Santa and a team of reindeer hauling a large sack towards the gently smoking chimney.

  ‘It’s enough to lift your spirits, isn’t it?’ The taxi driver grinned at her. ‘Talking of which, it’s time I went home and lifted spirits with the wife. Brandy is her tipple. You never know—I might get lucky. Hope you do, too.’

  ‘I don’t know—I’m starting to think this might have been a mistake,’ Hayley confessed, cautiously letting go of the car door and pushing her hands into her coat pockets for extra warmth. ‘I don’t even know where the guy lives. I just know it’s the Lake District.’

  ‘But you know he works at the hospital so he should be easy to track down once Christmas is over.’

  Despera
te for reassurance, she bit her lip. ‘Do you think it’s crazy to have come all this way to find a guy I’ve only met once?’

  ‘I think it’s brave.’

  ‘Brave as in stupid or brave as in courageous?’

  ‘If you hadn’t done it, you would have spent the rest of your life thinking, What if he was the one? And what if he was? You’d have thrown it all away. What’s the worst that can happen? He can reject you and you’ll be a bit embarrassed. So what?’

  Feeling her nerve seep out of her like air from a punctured tyre, Hayley decided that if she was going to find the courage to carry out this plan, she needed to end this conversation. ‘Thanks for the lift, Jack. Merry Christmas.’

  ‘Merry Christmas to you.’ His eyes twinkled. ‘Will you make it to the door without slipping?’

  ‘Probably not, but don’t worry—bruises suit me. I look good in blue and purple.’ Hayley smoothed her hair, even though she knew that without a pair of straighteners and half an hour in front of a mirror her attempts to look groomed wouldn’t make an impact.

  With a final wave and toot of his horn, Jack drove away and Hayley was left staring at the house.

  A pair of child’s red Wellington boots were tipped over in the snow, and a tiny shovel had been discarded on the path, as if the owner hadn’t been able to wait to run back inside this wonderful house and prepare for Christmas.

  It wasn’t a house, Hayley thought wistfully. It was a home.

  A dream home.

  And inside was a family who needed her—a family who wasn’t going to spend the whole festive season treating her as the entertainment.

  So why was she suddenly nervous?

  Well, because she was always the same about decisions. Right thing, wrong thing? This or that? Invariably she jumped in with both feet and then realised that the other way was the better way. In fact, she’d spent most of her life unravelling the consequences of decisions she’d made.