Carrying The Single Dad's Baby. Kate Hardy
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you think that was because I’m sulking?’
‘Isn’t it?’
‘No,’ he said. ‘Everyone else thought my name was on that job. That’s the only bit you got right.’
She frowned. ‘So what’s your take on it?’
‘Not that it’s anybody’s business, but I didn’t actually apply for the job.’
She stared at him. ‘You didn’t?’
‘I didn’t,’ he confirmed. ‘Because I can’t give the department what it needs, right now. I’m a single dad, and my son’s needs come before the job. Always.’
She blew out a breath. ‘Fair enough. I didn’t know that.’
‘Well, you do now.’
‘Then I apologise for jumping to conclusions.’
* * *
Daniel hadn’t expected her to react quite like that. He’d expected her to go haughty on him, as she had the previous day.
And he hadn’t exactly been fair to her. He could’ve told her that he wasn’t going to her welcome drinks, and why. Instead, he’d chickened out and just avoided her.
He needed to put that right. ‘And I’m sorry for letting you think I resent you for taking my job.’
‘OK. So we’re saying now that the problem between us isn’t a problem.’
Oh, there was a problem, all right. His libido was practically sitting up and begging. But he was just going to have to ignore it. ‘There isn’t a problem,’ he lied. ‘Welcome to Muswell Hill.’
‘Thank you.’
‘And you didn’t have to buy me lunch.’
‘Call it in lieu of the drink you didn’t have last night,’ she said.
He inclined his head. ‘Then thank you.’ Polite, he could do.
‘So how old is your son?’ she asked.
‘Four.’ Was it his imagination, or did she just flinch?
Imagination, maybe, because then she smiled. ‘It’s a lovely age. My youngest nephew is four.’
She had a killer smile. If Daniel hadn’t known it was anatomically impossible, he would’ve said that his heart had just done a backflip. But, for Iain’s sake, he couldn’t act on the attraction he felt towards Beatrice Lindford. It wouldn’t be fair to bring someone else into the little boy’s life—someone who might not stick around. Someone who was, to all intents and purposes, his boss. It would be too complicated. Inappropriate. ‘Uh-huh,’ he said, not sure quite what to say to her. How to stop this from tipping over into personal stuff he didn’t want to share. Such as why he was a single dad.
‘Stating the obvious, but from your accent it sounds as if you’re from Scotland.’
‘Glasgow,’ he confirmed.
‘With an Italian surname?’
‘My great-grandparents were Italian.’ He paused. ‘And you’re posh.’
‘Yes. But I’m a girl and I’m the youngest, so I got to choose what I wanted to do.’
Meaning that her brother—or brothers—had been expected to go into the family business? But asking her would be too personal; and it would also mean she could ask him personal stuff that he didn’t want to answer. He backed off. ‘So you trained as a doctor.’
‘Here in London. What about you? Glasgow or here?’
‘Here,’ he said. And please don’t let her ask about his son.
‘So what made you pick emergency medicine?’ she asked.
Relief flooded through him. He could talk about work and why he did what he did. It wasn’t quite so personal, so it was easier to deal with. ‘I like the fact that we make a real difference, that we can save people.’ He paused. ‘You?’
‘Pretty much the same. Though we can’t save everyone.’
Again, there was an odd look on her face—as if she was talking about something personal. But he wasn’t going to ask. It was none of his business. Instead, he said, ‘We do our best. That’s all any of us can do. Strive to do our best.’
‘True.’
He finished his coffee. ‘Thank you for lunch. And for the chat.’
‘So we’re good?’
‘It won’t be a problem working together, if that’s what you mean.’ He’d already heard Josh singing her praises, saying that Beatrice was good with patients and she listened to the rest of the team. That was good. He hated it when senior colleagues went all arrogant. It was never good for the patients.
‘I’m glad. We don’t have to be friends,’ she said. ‘As long as we agree that our patients come first.’
‘That works for me,’ he said. ‘We’d better get back to the ward.’
‘OK.’ She swallowed the last of her own coffee. ‘Let’s go.’
THE REST OF the week went smoothly; Beatrice still wasn’t rostered in the same part of the department as Daniel during their shifts, but at least he was civil to her if they happened to be in the staff kitchen at the same time.
On Saturday morning, she headed to the park for the team’s football day out. As Sam had requested, she made some brownies. Remembering that Daniel didn’t like chocolate, she also made flapjacks, as a kind of peace offering. Then again, Daniel might not be there.
She’d just added her offerings to the picnic table when Daniel turned up with a small boy in tow. Even if she hadn’t known that he had a four-year-old son, she would’ve known that the little boy was Daniel’s because they looked so alike. And she was faintly amused to discover that the little boy had a Glaswegian accent almost as strong as his father’s.
But what she hadn’t expected was that Daniel would look so gorgeous in a football kit. The tight-fitting T-shirt showed that he had good abs, and his legs were strong and muscular. He looked more like a model than a doctor, and she wasn’t surprised to see how many admiring glances were headed his way.
‘I didn’t think you’d be here today,’ Daniel said. ‘Or are you a football fan as well as a boxing fan?’
She pushed away the thought of getting hot and sweaty in a boxing ring with him. That really wasn’t appropriate. ‘Hayley and Sam said everyone turns up and has a huge picnic afterwards. I thought it might be a nice way to get to know the team outside work,’ she said.
Daniel shrugged. ‘Fair enough.’
‘Do you work with my daddy?’ the little boy asked.
‘I do,’ Beatrice confirmed.
He looked at her. ‘You’re really tall for a girl.’
‘Iain, don’t be rude,’ Daniel began.
‘It’s fine, and he’s right—I am tall.’ She smiled, and crouched down so she was nearer to the little boy’s height. ‘Is that better?’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Hello. I’m Iain.’
‘I’m Beatrice.’ She held out her hand for him to shake.
He shook her hand, but frowned. ‘That’s a strange name.’
‘You can call me Bea, for short.’
He wrinkled his nose. ‘Like a buzzy bee?’
She