Her Motherhood Wish. Anne Fraser
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remember us agreeing on seven-thirty!’
Instead of looking embarrassed and penitent, he lay back on the sofa, placed his hands behind his head and eased his legs out in front of him. At least Bouncer had the grace to look guilty as he climbed onto the couch next to David and curled up against him. ‘Don’t mind me,’ David said.’ I’m happy to wait until you’re ready to go.’ He raised an eyebrow and grinned. ‘Nice look, by the way.’
She looked down, mortified to find that her breasts were as clear as day under her thin vest that she wore with her pyjama shorts. She’d been so disorientated and anxious to answer the door she hadn’t stopped to cover herself.
She was about to grab him by the arm and physically eject him when she noticed his breathing had already deepened. She went to stand over him. Sure enough, he was fast asleep. And so was her dog.
Why, oh, why had she stopped to give him a lift? For some reason he had taken that as carte blanche to invite himself into her life. Was he so used to women keeling over in admiration that it hadn’t crossed his mind that his behaviour was completely out of order?
Or maybe the man was mad? Perhaps he’d been removed from his job in New York for irrational behaviour? Perhaps the reputation of California for being more accepting of idiosyncratic personalities had brought him here?
And it was all very well for him to imply that she could go back to bed until later, but once she was up, she was up!
Still seething, she took a sip of whatever he’d brought in the carton. Raspberry tea. It was delicious—but if he thought he was going to get around her with a cup of herbal tea he had another think coming.
She stalked into the study and booted up her computer. A few moments later she typed in David’s name.
Immediately several entries came up, mostly articles in JAMA with his name attached. So he was definitely a well-regarded neurosurgeon. No evidence of him being struck off for flaky behaviour, then.
But then, a few lines below, another item appeared. One that made her suck in her breath. It was a photograph of David, standing with his arm around a beautiful brunette in front of a nightclub. But it wasn’t so much the photograph that surprised her, it was the caption. ‘Dr David Stuart, heir to the Stuart fortune, with partner, snapped outside the 40/40 club.’
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