A Father This Christmas?. Louisa Heaton
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rel="nofollow" href="#ulink_e7b58145-5b65-5b06-8291-5e447491e35f">CHAPTER ONE
‘QUICK, EVA, TAKE my pulse!’
Eva turned to her friend. What was wrong?
‘What? Are you ill?’
She placed her fingers on Sarah’s pulse point on her wrist and looked with concern at her friend as she counted beats. But Sarah wasn’t looking at her—she was focussed on something or someone behind Eva, across the minors department, towards the entrance. She was seemingly fascinated, with a sparkle in her eyes and a slow smile creeping across her face as she looked someone up and down.
‘Sex on a stick at one o’clock.’
‘What?’
Why was she being ridiculous? Eva swivelled in her seat to see who was making Sarah act like that and her eyes fell upon the one man she’d thought she’d never, ever see again.
Jacob.
Dressed all in black, in what had to be tailored clothes, considering how well they fit, with his tousled dark hair and a five-o’clock shadow, a red-tubed stethoscope draped casually around his neck, he looked stunning.
Well dressed, powerful.
Virile.
More so than four years ago, if that were possible. Time had been overly generous to Jacob, bestowing upon him masculine maturity in a well-defined body that simply oozed sex appeal.
She’d begun to believe that she’d imagined this perfect man. That her one hot night with him that Christmas Eve four years ago had been a figment of her imagination. Despite the obvious, startling reminder that it hadn’t been imaginary.
Their son.
Eva wanted the earth to swallow her up. Because then she wouldn’t have to face him. Wouldn’t have to explain to him that he was a father.
She could hardly believe that she had slept with a man she had only known for such a short time. Just because of something she’d felt when she’d looked at him. Taking him at face value—because, really, what else had she had to go on? He’d been in her arms, and they’d danced together in a slow, sultry melting of bodies... The way his hips had swayed, his groin had pressed against hers, the feel of him...
But now she was different. Stronger. She was no longer the young woman who had given her heart to a man who had only been a fantasy for just one night—a man she’d dreamed of after the fact.
Now she was more mature. A strong woman. A confident doctor. And there was no way she was going to let Jacob know how she was really feeling.
Terrified.
Still attracted...
I’m not! Just because it feels as if my heart is trying to leap from my chest...
She let go of Sarah’s wrist and deliberately turned her back on him.
There was so much he needed to know! So much she needed to tell him. She’d searched for him. Tried to let him know about Seb. But it had been impossible! Would he understand?
Her mouth felt dry, as if it was full of sawdust, and she knew if she were to talk to him her tongue would just stumble over the words. She groaned as her stomach flipped and swirled like snowflakes in a snow globe.
‘It’s probably that new doctor Clarkson mentioned earlier.’ She tried to sound as casual as she could. When Dr Clarkson, clinical lead of their A&E department, had mentioned they were getting a new doctor she’d initially been thrilled. Who didn’t need an extra pair of hands in A&E after all? Even if it was just temporary cover for Christmas.
But he hadn’t told her who was coming. Who the new doctor actually was.
Jacob Dolan.
The doctor who’d slept with her and then run off to Africa. The doctor who’d got her pregnant and then disappeared without leaving a trace!
Why did he have to look so good?
Sarah leaned forward to whisper to her, ‘Oh, my goodness, I’d really love to find him in my Christmas stocking...’ She licked her lips. ‘How on earth are we going to get any work done with him hanging around? I’m going to be spending all my time wiping drool off my chin and hoping the cleaners have enough wet-floor signs to dot around me.’
Eva grimaced a smile, but went back to her paperwork. All she had to do was write these notes. Write these notes and then maybe get the earth to open up and swallow her or something. Once he realised she was here—once he realised that she was the woman who had slept with him four years ago...
She could grab her coat and go. She could say she was sick or something.
No...that wouldn’t work. You only get a day off if you’re dying—nothing less...
Their son.
She could tell Dr Clarkson it was something to do with Seb.
This was her dream come true and her worst nightmare all rolled into one! Whilst once she had dreamed about what life might have been like for the pair of them if Jacob hadn’t disappeared, she was now faced with the fact that he was back. Here. In her department. And he would eventually need to be told about Seb.
She’d tried to tell him before.
I tried. I tried to track him down. But there was no trace! This isn’t my fault! He can’t hold me responsible for this!
She didn’t have to think about him being here. About him actually being in her A&E department. Standing mere metres away, looking even more alluring than he had before, if that were possible.
She’d hoped her imagination had got it wrong. That her memories of him were impaired. That perhaps he’d not been that stunning. That perhaps he’d have more in common with Quasimodo, or a troll, or something hopeful like that.
‘Look at him, Eva.’ Sarah glanced at her friend and frowned. ‘Eva? Why won’t you look at him? Oh, he’s coming over...’ Sarah scraped back her chair and stood up.
Eva sucked in a deep, steadying breath and felt her heart pound against her rib cage. This couldn’t be true! This couldn’t be happening! Not now. She wasn’t prepared for it. She’d dreamed about finding him and telling him about Seb for years, but now that the opportunity was upon her she was terrified.
‘Eva?’
That voice.
Chills trembled down her spine and she felt every single goosebump that prickled her skin.
She could see Sarah glance at her in surprise that somehow Eva knew this man. No doubt there would be an interrogation later, and she’d want all the details, but Eva was mindful that not only was this her workplace but she was a professional—and what business was it of anybody but her?
She dredged up what she hoped was a pleasant smile from somewhere—hoping it didn’t look like a ghastly rictus—and turned around, praying to any god that existed that she didn’t flush like a menopausal woman or look as if she was going to pass out.
Those blue eyes...
‘Jacob! Nice to see you again. It’s been a long time.’
Was her voice as strangled as it sounded to her? She hoped not. She was determined to be as professional as she could be. Professional and distanced. She was at least grateful for the fact that her voice was actually working. She’d felt so trapped and cornered suddenly she was amazed her voice hadn’t disappeared altogether, in a case of phobic aphasia.
She held out her hand for him to shake, as one colleague would to another. He raised a quizzical eyebrow and shook it, smiling that kilowatt smile.
Oh,