The Heart Surgeon's Baby Surprise Page 13
Necessary!
Coffee to celebrate?
Hell, no, she’d have to give up coffee.
This early, would it matter?
She had no idea but decided she’d become a weak-
tea drinker.
And that being the case, there was no way she
could not tell Theo! As if he wouldn’t guess, when
she who was a coffee addict suddenly took to weak
tea…
Theo!
How could she have been so excited when she felt,
deep in her heart, Theo really didn’t want another
child?
Although now they knew each other better, might
things not work out?
Might she not be able to have Theo and a child?
He’d already spoken, occasionally, of visiting South
Africa—maybe even working there some time. Good
perfusionists could get work anywhere in the world…
But the excitement she’d felt when she’d first seen
the confirmation failed to return. She may have fallen
in love with Theo but in no way had he indicated he had
similar feelings for her…
At least she’d have his child…
Theo knew he shouldn’t be feeling excitement at the
simple fact of coming home from work and knowing
Grace would be waiting for him, but it was the first time
their days off hadn’t coincided and there had been
something different about going off to work while she
had been lazing in the bed—so warm and inviting he’d
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been tempted to be late—and now, coming home to her,
was even more— It couldn’t be exciting, their relation-
ship being the way it was…
He smelt the aromas as soon as he walked in.
Grace cooking?
She’d told him she was a hopeless cook and had
insisted on paying for dinner on the nights they went
out, which, as she kept claiming, were the nights it was
her turn to cook.
But something was definitely sizzling in the kitchen,
or perhaps on the barbeque, and whatever it was
smelled delicious.
But no more delicious than the woman who came
running lightly down the steps to greet him as he
closed the door.
She was wearing the tight jeans that had his libido
stirring just thinking about them, and his hands itching
to strip them off her when he saw her in them. But no
white shirt. No, tonight she was in a pale blue-aqua
T-shirt, the same colour as her eyes, so tight it clung to
the breasts she said were too big.
‘Been shopping?’ he asked, super-casual, hoping his
desire for her wasn’t throbbing in his voice the way it
was throbbing in his body.
‘I have indeed,’ she said, smiling at him and coming
into his open arms, wrapping hers around him so they
stood, their bodies pressed together, remembering…
‘And not only for T-shirts,’ she teased, kissing his
neck and nibbling on his earlobe. ‘I shopped for food.
We’re eating in—my treat.’
‘We should have different days off more often,’ he
murmured, pressing his lips against her cheek. Then he
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remembered the days off they’d shared, rarely leaving
the bed, and added, ‘Or maybe not.’
His hands moved to the button on her jeans, wanting
her, ready for her, wanting her now.
Her hands stopped his.
‘No way—we’re eating first,’ she said, then she
kissed him lightly on the lips.
Was it just the day’s separation that had made her
so…? Teasing was the only word he could come up
with, but Grace never teased and didn’t handle being
teased all that well, although he teased her all the time
and she was getting better at handling it.
And sexually she could tease—oh, could she tease!
He shook his head in wonder at the sexually liberated
woman who now shared his bed—at the change their
relationship had brought to her, from their first tenta-
tive kiss when she’d haltingly apologised for her inade-
quacy as a lover.
He felt anger burn deep inside him as it always did
when he thought of the rat who’d hurt her so badly and
of the damage it had done to her. Damage only he,
most probably, would ever know or see…
Unless, of course, she married someone else back in
South Africa.
The thought came out of nowhere, but now it was
there, it horrified him. She wouldn’t! She couldn’t!
Of course she could—she was beautiful, more beau-
tiful than when he’d first seen her, the sexual confidence
that had been lacking somehow giving her an inner
glow.
What man wouldn’t want her?
His gut knotted at the thought but she’d already dis-
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appeared into the kitchen and as he’d been as adamant
as she that this was nothing more than an affair, he
could hardly change the rules now.
CHAPTER SEVEN
‘IT’S a braaivleis—an Afrikaans barbeque,’ she ex-
plained. ‘I couldn’t believe it when I saw the sausages
in the wonderful food hall of a big department store. I
knew I had to get some for you, then phone Margie in
the middle of the night to ask her how to make mielie-
pap to go with them and the gravy—I really can’t cook.’
He’d followed her as far as the kitchen before she
turned and he saw once again the uncertainty that lay
beneath her composed exterior.
‘I know the sausages—we call them boerewors—
might be a bit spicy for your taste. They have thyme and
nutmeg and coriander and allspice and cloves and—’
He stopped her with a kiss.
‘Whatever you cook for me will taste delicious,’ he
whispered. ‘And even if the food is not to my taste, I
know the afters will be just fine.’
His kiss intensified and he wondered if the food
would spoil if they had just a quick…
But then he realised she wasn’t with him in the
kiss—not responding with the heat and joy she usually
gave back to him.
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Of course, she was worried about the meal—the first
she’d cooked for him. He stopped kissing her and asked
what wine they should open to have with it.
‘Red would be best but just a very small glass for
me,’ she said.
Definitely anxious about the cooking!
He carried the wine and glasses into the courtyard
where the table was already set and the barbeque lit.
Grace was stirring something in a pot on one side of the
barbeque, the strange sausages already grilling on the
other side, giving off tantalisingly tempting aromas.
‘We could have had them with salad but I went tra-
ditional. There’s a salad in the refrigerator if you really
don’t like the mieliepap and there are regular sausages
in there as well.’
Theo carried his glass of wine
over to the barbeque.
‘Will you stop with the negativity? The dinner will
be fine—the sausages smell delicious. For someone
who is so good at what they do, not to mention so beau-
tiful, you are unbelievably insecure. You have to start
believing in yourself. You have to think, if Theo doesn’t
like my— What did you call them?’
‘Boerewors,’ she said, a little smile playing about her
lips.
‘Right, boerewors. If Theo doesn’t like them, he can
starve.’
‘But then you mightn’t be any good in bed later,’
she said, the smile broadening, and he stared at her
in disbelief.
‘You teased me!’
And, forgetful of the grill and pots and pans, he put
his arms around her from behind and kissed her neck.
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‘You’re learning! Oh, Grace, you are one wonder-
ful woman!’
He had to let her go so she could turn the sausages,
and realising she was getting tense he left her to her
cooking. He sat down at the table, sipping at his wine,
watching her concentration and her movements, think-
ing how good things were—how satisfying—suspect-
ing for a minute that he might actually be happy.
‘That was extraordinarily good,’ he said, some time later,
sitting back and looking at the woman across the table
who was positively glowing with delight at her achieve-
ments.
‘I’m not sure I got the mieliepap right but it didn’t
taste too bad, did it?’
He shook his head, seeing once again the insecurity
which he’d thought their being together had laid to rest.
‘Not only worked but possibly filled me up so much
I might not be able to move, let alone make love to you.’
She smiled, the half shy, half teasing smile that
stirred him deep inside, and said, ‘Then don’t move.
Let’s sit and talk.’
Was it a measure of how well he felt his life was go-
ing that no warning bells clanged in his head?
But, then, why would such innocent words set off
alarms?
‘So talk,’ he said, relaxing back in his chair, sipping
the coffee she’d made. ‘Or do you want a rundown on
my day? Scarlett is still doing well. It’s funny because
I know she’s far too young and too sedated to know
whether her parents are by her side or not but she seems
to have done better since they were there. Whoever or-
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ganised that was a miracle worker. Alex’s ops went
well, although at one stage a coronary artery bled and
there was a panic.’
He smiled across the table, where Grace was leaning
back against the wall of the house, nodding at him, a
little smile on her lips but a glow in her eyes that urged
him to finish his coffee and be done with talk.
‘Now your turn,’ he said. ‘You’ve obviously been out.
I love the T-shirt and it’s rubbish that you shouldn’t wear
fitted shirts. You look sensational.’
She didn’t respond but, then, she rarely did, some-
how embarrassed by any compliments he paid her—
certainly, he was sure, to do with not having had a
mother telling her she was pretty as she’d grown up.
‘I did shop,’ she confirmed, not smiling now—in
fact, looking rather tense and anxious. ‘Not only for
clothes and food but for one other thing. I know it was
stupid but I was late…’
She was obviously too stressed to go on, but why?
He reran the conversation through his head.
Late?
What on earth could she be talking about?
‘I’m usually very regular so I bought a pregnancy
testing kit. It was awful testing in the public toilet in the
shop but once I had it I had to know and—it showed
positive. I’m pregnant. Theo, I know you didn’t want
it to happen yet, but I did want a baby and now I have
you to thank for it and I’m so grateful I don’t know how
to thank you.’
Theo could only stare at her, so stunned by this—
not by the news that she was pregnant but by the im-
plications of it—he couldn’t speak.
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What was he supposed to feel?
Not angry, he was sure, but it was definitely anger
simmering inside him.
‘You’re pregnant?’ he heard the anger say. ‘We used
protection. Or did you do this deliberately? Stick pins
in the condoms? Sabotage them in some way?’
The light in the courtyard wasn’t bright, but it was
still bright enough for him to see the colour leave her
cheeks.
‘I can’t believe you’d think that of me!’
But beneath the quiet words he heard all the old
Grace-uncertainty return and cursed himself, but
couldn’t control his rage.
‘What am I supposed to think?’ he demanded.
‘You’ve certainly got what you want, you can’t deny
that.’
‘I’ll move out now, if that’s what you want,’ she said,
so quietly he once again had to repeat the words in his
head to make sense of them.
‘Of course it’s not what I want!’ he muttered—then
congratulated himself. Surely he’d got that bit right.
But apparently not entirely right.
‘You don’t sound too certain,’ she said, standing up
and picking up their plates, hovering over the table,
waiting…
‘How can I be when you spring this on me?’ he
growled, standing up himself and picking up the salt
and pepper mills. ‘I don’t know what to think!’
The glow had faded from her eyes, which now
looked lost and haunted, and once again he was struck
by just how insecure this woman was.
And how much that insecurity hurt him!
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He shouldn’t be holding salt and pepper mills, he
should be holding her, he knew that, but he didn’t free
his hands, instead following her inside. The two of
them were as awkward as they’d been when first they
had met—when everything they had said to each other
had seemed to come out wrongly.
He set the mills down on the counter in the kitchen
and turned to where she was rinsing their plates at the
sink. He put his arms around her and held her against
his body, knowing he had to make things right between
them but not sure how.
‘Congratulations—you’re going to be a mum!’
He squeezed her gently, still trying to get his
thoughts into some kind of rational order, still aware
something was missing from this conversation.
He tried again.
‘And your father will have his grandchild. You’ll
have to find an obstetrician—you want to be seeing
someone good while you’re in Australia. And you may
as well stay here, because we do enjoy each other’s
company—don’t we? A
nd just think, if you get the
dreaded morning sickness, I’ll be around to hold your
hand.’
Grace didn’t need to replay the conversation in her
head to know she was disappointed in his reaction,
though why she didn’t know.
Or, more likely, she knew but didn’t want to consider
it. It all went back to his initial accusation—that she’d
done this deliberately in spite of his precautions. The
hurt of it was like a bruise deep inside her, one that
would be there for a long time.
But what to do right now?
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She had no idea.
In fairness she had to give Theo time to get used to
the idea of a baby. He didn’t want a child at all but
maybe…
No, she was being foolish. There was no maybe.
But as she stood there, wasting water while he held
her from behind, touching her breasts and belly and
wondering how soon they’d change, she felt…bereft.
She’d stupidly wanted Theo to share her joy, but of
course he wouldn’t—couldn’t…
‘Right, out of the kitchen with you. The cook never
washes up. Leave me to clean up and stack the dish-
washer. You take your tiny, tiny foetus and go to bed.’
She went, but in the shower she wept, knowing that
the one thing she’d dreaded had indeed occurred. Making
love with Theo, living with him so she saw him day and
night, learning little things about him, growing depen-
dent on his strength of character, she’d gone and got
herself so emotionally involved with him it had to be
love.
Which was, of course, her problem, not his—and he
must never know.
She dried her eyes and then her body, and when he
came to bed, his naked body joining hers, literally, be-
neath the sheets, she shut her stupidity out of her mind
and enjoyed the bliss of being Theo’s lover.
The next day, Sunday, they were both off duty, and
Grace lay in bed beside Theo, relaxed and almost happy.
They were reading Sunday papers, sharing little bits of
news or snippets of interest, life going on as it had
before the little strip on the stick had told her she was
pregnant.
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Although not quite the same. She’d changed, she
knew that. No matter that the secret of her feelings for
him were tucked away inside her, the very fact she had
the secret made her feel different—less at ease.
And Theo, too, had changed. He’d not said much but