The Heart Surgeon's Baby Surprise Read online

  perfection.

  ‘The work of a surgeon undoubtedly,’ she said, trying

  for a joke as being in Theo’s house—Theo’s delightful

  house—was making her more and more uncomfort-

  able.

  ‘I enjoy doing it,’ he said, shrugging off her com-

  ment. ‘Do sit.’

  He indicated a padded bench, set under a pergola

  against the back wall of the house. Beside it was a table,

  a bottle of wine standing in an ice-bucket and, beneath

  a fine muslin cloth, obviously the makings of their

  dinner.

  ‘Barbeque,’ he explained. ‘But not the traditional

  Aussie steak and sausages, unless, of course, you don’t

  eat salmon. I do have steak.’

  ‘Fresh salmon, I love it. Hate cooking it because it

  makes the kitchen smell.’

  ‘Which is why I always barbeque it,’ he said, his lips

  twitching so much she frowned at him.

  ‘What?’ she demanded, and he finally gave in and

  laughed.

  ‘Oh, Grace,’ he said, when his laughter stopped, but

  a smile remained in his voice. ‘Do you hear us?

  Prattling on about cooking smells while in the back of

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  both our minds are things of such magnitude salmon

  smells are the least of our worries.’

  He paused, then added, still smiling at her, ‘It’s

  how we’re brought up, isn’t it? Politeness at all costs!

  Don’t talk about anything that’s inappropriate—and

  sex definitely comes into the “don’t talk about it”

  category. So we go through life talking about nothing

  in particular, while in our heads totally different con-

  versations are going on.’

  The smile made her uncomfortable—kind of squirmy

  inside—but not as uncomfortable as the things he’d said.

  ‘I thought I was the only person in the world who

  had head conversations so totally different from my

  audible conversations they might come from different

  people.’

  ‘No way—why should you have all the fun?’ he

  said, so lightly she knew he was teasing her. But instead

  of upsetting her, as teasing usually did, it made the

  squirmy feeling worse.

  ‘Mine aren’t fun most of the time,’ she muttered, dis-

  tracted by her insides, although now she thought about

  it, it had been a long time since lunch so maybe she was

  just hungry?

  Which made her feel much better, although when

  Theo’s fingers brushed hers as he passed her a glass of

  wine, and the feeling intensified yet again, she was

  hard put to convince herself it was hunger.

  Was her insecurity solely the result of the rat who’d

  jilted her? Theo wondered as he took the salmon out of

  the marinade and set it on the hot grill plate.

  Or had growing up without a mother contributed?

  Grace obviously adored her father so he must have

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  87

  done the right thing by her, but without a mother to tell

  her she was pretty, to build up her self-esteem—was

  that where things had gone wrong?

  She was talking now about Scarlett and the improve-

  ment in her condition, so he could watch the fish cook,

  join in the conversation, and still ruminate on what had

  made Grace the way she was.

  He lifted the cooked salmon pieces off the barbeque,

  set them on plates, then put them on the table, lifting

  the protective cloth to reveal a leafy salad and a special

  potato salad his mother swore had been handed down

  in the family since biblical times.

  ‘Help yourself,’ he said, pushing both bowls to-

  wards her.

  She did, then ate with relish, and as he ate he realised

  that, when she wasn’t asking very intrusive questions,

  she was very restful company.

  Undemanding.

  He liked that in a woman.

  He didn’t get involved with colleagues—too com-

  plicated.

  This wasn’t exactly getting involved…

  ‘That was delicious.’

  Her voice startled him out of his reverie, which was

  just as well, because he didn’t like where his thoughts

  had been leading. Although the idea of a child was

  becoming more and more appealing, what he had to do

  was keep the conception purely clinical.

  Enjoyable, his body was sure it would be that, but

  clinical…

  ‘Is that the oven?’

  Had she just noticed his work in progress or was the

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  silence stirring her senses as much as it was stirring his?

  Although he had offered to show it to her earlier.

  ‘It is,’ he said, and she stood up and walked across

  to where he’d built the basic structure of his beehive-

  shaped oven. ‘I need to render it both outside and inside

  so the surfaces are all smooth, then try it out.’

  ‘Lovely shape,’ she said, running her hands down the

  fat-bellied curve, and seeing her, a faint smile of pleasure

  on her face, her hands touching the bricks he’d touched,

  he wanted her with such fierce hunger he had to turn

  away.

  He took the plates and dishes inside, and was going

  back to get the glasses and half-empty wine bottle when

  he saw she’d moved, this time over to his apple tree, ex-

  amining the diamond patterns into which he’d trained

  it.

  ‘May I see your hands?’ she asked, such a bizarre

  question he held them out, palms upward, so she could

  inspect them.

  She ran her fingers over the barely discernible scars,

  her touch as light as spiders’ feet against his skin.

  ‘Did the car catch fire?’

  He couldn’t speak. He wanted to be angry, no,

  furious, with her—for her prurient curiosity, her intru-

  sion—then he realised it wasn’t curiosity or intrusion,

  it was empathy prompting her questions. His worst hurt

  had been emotional, and that she understood.

  ‘It did,’ he said, then he removed his hands from hers

  and put them on her shoulders, drawing her closer,

  sliding his hands to her waist so she was imprisoned,

  very lightly, in his arms.

  ‘But that was then, and this is now, and in further-

  MEREDITH WEBBER

  89

  ance of your desire to have a child I am now going to

  kiss you because, as you well know, there is one almost

  sure-fire way for you to get pregnant, and that is by

  having sex. Not tonight, we need to know each other

  better, but soon, Grace Sutherland, if we find we

  click—our atoms hook—then that’s the way it will be.’

  CHAPTER FIVE

  WAS she really standing in this courtyard, letting this

  man kiss her?

  The thought had barely floated through Grace’s

  brain when she realised it wasn’t all one-sided, the

  kissing thing. She’d joined in, and was kissing him

  back. She tried to analyse her feelings, but how to

  analyse warmth
that spread from her lips, skimming

  her breasts, slithering down to heat her belly, then

  slinking lower to pool between her thighs, making her

  feel tight and excited.

  And could you analyse nerve-endings that seemed to

  be alive, jangling in her body so every cell felt alert, her

  flesh eager for the flood of new sensations she was

  feeling?

  His arms tightened against her spine so her body was

  now pressed against his, fitting easily in a way hers and

  Paul’s had never seemed to fit. Height, it was probably

  height, she thought muzzily, then a deep-throated growl

  reminded her she was kissing, not thinking, and she

  concentrated again on the kiss.

  Which was now making her knees feel decidedly

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  91

  weak, or was that just an excuse to lean against him, to

  check the fit again? A fit so good that she was only too

  aware of his arousal, but far from being put off, as once

  she might have been, she found that hard core pressed

  against her belly exciting.

  Theo was right—sex was a time-honoured way of

  conception and as long as she wasn’t foolish enough to

  let emotion enter into the equation, perhaps she could

  enjoy sex with Theo.

  ‘I’ve lost you.’

  He was growling again, but words this time, and

  drawing away.

  ‘Not really. I was thinking about sex, which wasn’t

  far removed from kissing.’

  And even as the words came out she wondered why

  it was so easy to talk to Theo—to say things she’d never

  have dreamt of saying to anyone, male or female.

  Because there was no emotional involvement?

  It had to be that.

  ‘Sex with me, I hope,’ he said, pressing his lips

  against her temple in such a pleasant way she wanted

  to lean on him again.

  ‘Of course with you,’ she snapped, frustrated that she

  couldn’t lean—well aware the slightest lean would have

  them both kissing again, and who knew where that

  would lead?

  Not yet, Theo had said, although the way she felt

  right now she regretted not protesting the delay earlier.

  ‘Then that is good,’ he murmured, brushing his lips

  against hers before straightening himself. ‘Shall we

  visit Scarlett on our way back to your place?’

  Grace was nodding, but Theo had a feeling she was

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  still lost in the kiss and the nod was purely automatic.

  That other night at the hospital, he’d seen another side

  of Grace, the side who would be mother to the child

  they might or might not have, and seeing her with the

  very sick little girl was important to Theo.

  He may not want emotional connections with the

  child, but he would do everything in his power to make

  sure it had all the love a mother could provide.

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  Had he stiffened, thinking of Lena, who’d been more

  than happy to pass the care of their baby to the staff,

  who’d even refused to breast feed because it might de-

  stroy her figure? Oh, she’d insisted little Elena be

  named for her, but after that she’d wanted as little as

  possible to do with their child.

  ‘Not a thing,’ he said, but he’d turned away from

  Grace and was leading the way back through the house,

  trying to shove the past back where he usually kept it,

  in a deep, dark corner of his mind.

  It wasn’t far to the hospital, but far enough for the

  silence that now lay between them to grow heavier by

  the minute. And though he could think of no way to

  break it—Grace deserved better than some trite remark

  about work or weather—he knew her insecurity would

  be telling her it was somehow her fault that things had

  changed between them.

  ‘I have dark memories,’ he finally admitted, pulling

  up in a short-stay parking bay outside Jimmie’s. ‘They

  surface at unexpected and often inappropriate times.’

  He turned and ran his hand down her soft, shiny

  hair, adding, ‘It was unfair on you that one popped up

  back there.’

  MEREDITH WEBBER

  93

  Then he leant towards her and kissed her on the lips,

  surprised to find just touching his mouth to hers pro-

  vided balm for his troubled soul.

  Or perhaps forgetfulness—wasn’t that what he

  needed? Temporary amnesia—to lose himself with

  Grace.

  In Grace?

  The idea was appealing more and more but he had

  to be careful. Feeling empathy with her—understand-

  ing her insecurities—could be dangerous…

  She returned his kiss, still tentative—just how

  badly had that man hurt her?—but with such sweet-

  ness and trust he again heard danger signals clanging

  in his head.

  Scarlett lay quietly in her crib, sleeping it seemed,

  the weather-beaten man in the recliner beside her also

  sleeping. One glance was enough to show her condi-

  tion was unchanged, although Grace worriedly touched

  the baby’s belly, muttering about distension and fluid.

  ‘If a heart comes up and she’s not well enough to

  have it, I’ll feel guilty for not taking her off the list,’ she

  said, sinking into a chair on the other side of the baby’s

  crib, her eyes feasting on the tiny girl.

  ‘Don’t get off on guilt,’ Theo told her. ‘You were

  only one of a team that made that decision, it wasn’t

  yours alone. And by the time a heart comes up she

  might be over whatever’s causing the fluid build-up.’

  ‘I’m not getting off on guilt, as you put it,’ Grace

  snapped, not insecure at all. ‘But looking at her now I

  think Alex was probably right in suggesting we delist

  her.’

  ‘He’s the head of the team, he could have done it,’

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  Theo reminded her. ‘The problem is that we all get not

  attached but definitely involved with the babies we have

  in the PICU. The fact that there’s a baby in a similar

  situation in a PICU in Melbourne or Perth doesn’t have

  the same impact on us as a baby we’re seeing, and

  treating, and, I suppose, rooting for is the only way to

  put it. Scarlett is our baby while the others are more hy-

  pothetical babies.’

  Grace smiled. ‘I like the idea of hypothetical babies,’

  she said, then she stood up. ‘I’ve an early start

  tomorrow. I’ll walk home from here.’

  ‘No way. I’ll drive you.’

  He stood up so they were close together at the end

  of Scarlett’s crib, so close Theo could feel all his

  atoms hooking.

  ‘No, Theo, I want to walk. I need the fresh air and

  some thinking time, but so I can think productively, are

  we past the hypothetical as far as my baby goes?’

  The clear blue eyes looked into his, not anxious but

  wary, as if ready for a rebuff.

&nbs
p; ‘Let us take this slowly, I certainly can’t consider

  making a child on a whim, which is why I talked about

  revisions—physical revisions but ethical ones as well.

  Getting to know you. And on top of that we need to

  think about the child.’

  Her smile stayed in place, but uncertainty replaced

  the wariness in her eyes.

  ‘It’s not a whim on my part, I’ve really thought it

  through. And although we’ve never really discussed

  the revisions, I do understand what you mean. Although

  I should warn you, Paul always said I was about as

  much fun to go to bed with as a dead whale.’

  MEREDITH WEBBER

  95

  Theo’s gut clenched. Did she not realise what these

  comments did to him?

  Or how much he’d like to kill the rat called Paul?

  But he had to play it cool, for her sake, so he smiled

  at her and raised an eyebrow.

  ‘And did he go to bed with many dead whales?’

  This time the smile was genuine.

  ‘You know, I never asked him!’ She shook her head.

  ‘You must think I’m stupid, still worrying about things

  like that. Even I think I’m stupid. Surely an intelligent

  woman should have worked through it by now and

  moved on. In a way I have, but only by avoiding getting

  close to anyone—by avoiding relationships altogether.

  And, as you must know, that’s not hard when you work

  the hours we do.’

  ‘I still won’t let you walk home alone. If you want

  the walk I’ll walk with you, and if you want to think, I

  won’t say a word.’

  But you’ll be there, Grace wanted to protest, but she

  could hardly say that it was him she wanted to think

  about—him and the way he made her feel, all alive and

  excited but at the same time fearful. Her body may be

  excited but trepidation at where her feelings might lead

  hung like dark, mysterious shadows in her head.

  He walked her home, Grace’s body so aware of his

  presence it grew more and more tense until an acciden-

  tal brush of his hip against hers made her start.

  ‘Twitchy!’ he said, and she could hear the amuse-

  ment in his voice.

  ‘Is it always like this?’ she found herself asking.

  ‘What always like what?’

  He was teasing her but she was getting used to it—

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  and sometimes she wondered if she might get to enjoy

  it—but now when she was so uptight she was worried

  the slightest touch might make her crack apart.