Brought Together by Baby (13 page)

Pushing back her chair, Holly stood up, excitement and determination in her eyes. ‘Let’s bring Max home.’

* * *

Holly sat beside the cot in the moonlit nursery, a smile on her face as she watched Max sleeping. He was the most perfect baby. So beautiful. And he’d settled smoothly into his new environment and routine. Indeed, she allowed with a wry smile, he’d handled things with far greater equanimity than either she or Gus had managed!

A few days in and the rota they’d agreed was slowly being implemented. They hadn’t taken much notice of it at first, as neither of them had been able to tear themselves away from Max. Even when one of them was officially off duty they lingered: not because they didn’t trust the other—at least, not on
her
side, although she couldn’t speak for Gus, who sometimes watched her with a frown on his face—but due to a genuine desire to be with the child and absorb every precious moment of his existence.

She’d taken to motherhood like a duck to water. The pain of yearning for what might have been continued to bite hard, but even without carrying the baby for nine months she’d bonded with Max from the first moment, when he’d been so small and bruised after his traumatic entry into the world. She found caring for Max to be instinctive, and was guided by him and by her own natural judgement. Both were thriving.

The most testing part for her was Gus. Sharing his house was fraught with difficulty. She was constantly on guard, trying to hide her jumbled feelings from him. But most troublesome was watching him blossom as a father. He’d adapted to his role with the same degree of delight and ease as she
had to hers, and it was both an agony and a joy discovering a whole new side to him.

With Max, Gus let down his defensive wall and the real man she’d once glimpsed shone through, revealing so many aspects of his nature. He was funny, kind, caring, infinitely patient, warm and loving. It tore at her heart to see him interact with Max. She marvelled at the way his large hands gently cradled the fragile baby, protective, soothing and surprisingly dexterous when dealing with nappies or the fiddly fastenings on tiny clothes. Seeing the love in Gus’s green eyes and witnessing Max’s delight as his father tickled him or blew raspberries on his bare tummy melted her into a puddle.

But the wonder of those moments was countered by Gus’s retreat when he looked at or spoke to
her
, as though he didn’t trust her. It hurt. As did knowing that he was far beyond her reach. And in spite of everything she couldn’t switch off her feelings for him. She was cross with him—and more so with herself for foolishly loving him. The pain intensified with each passing day.

Following their truce Gus had been civil, but that somehow made her feel worse. The polite distance was so far removed from the closeness they’d shared before that it highlighted the chasm now between them.

Touching each other was proving to be unavoidable, which made her life so much more difficult. When she took Max from Gus it was impossible not to brush against him. She tried to keep contact to a minimum, because the lightest caress of skin against skin fired her blood and increased the terrible awareness that plagued her.

It was even worse when Gus inadvertently touched her. Every particle reacted and each nerve-ending tingled, her body screaming with the long-suppressed aching need. Earlier that evening, when Gus had scooped Max from her, his forearm
had brushed across one of her breasts. Even now her flesh tingled in remembrance, and she hoped he hadn’t noticed the immediate hardening of her nipple.

Soft music drifted through the house. Watching Max, Holly noticed how the sound soothed him: his mouth ceased the cute little movements it had been making. Satisfied all was well and Max was peaceful, she stifled a yawn and rose reluctantly to her feet. It was late, and having been up the night before she ought to take advantage of Gus being on baby-watch to get some much-needed sleep tonight.

Instead of returning to her room, however, she picked up her baby monitor—twin to the one Gus carried—and walked barefoot downstairs, drawn by the music. She halted on the threshold of the living room, surprised by the sight that greeted her. The patio door was open and Gus sat there, catching the soft breeze that relieved the sultry heat of the night. The music came not from the radio or a CD, as she’d anticipated, but from the saxophone Gus was playing. It was another new discovery. Intrigued, she listened, the hauntingly beautiful music bringing tears to her eyes.

Needing to be near him, she tiptoed closer, lost in the music, touched by the depth of melancholy that rang in each heart-wrenching note. The rawness ripped through her heart.

Gus must have sensed her presence because he turned his head, long lashes lifting, his green gaze clashing with hers as the note he was playing trailed into silence.

Holly hesitated.

So did Gus.

For several long moments time seemed suspended. Holly was aware of every rapid beat of her heart. An electric tension fizzed between them. Dressed only in her pyjama shorts and skimpy top, she crossed her arms in an effort to hide her body’s response. As well as the aching knot that tightened
low in her tummy, her nipples peaked against the soft cotton fabric of her pale blue camisole, wantonly craving his touch.

Finally, Gus spoke, his voice gruff. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you.’

‘You didn’t. It was too hot to sleep so I sat with Max for a while.’ Her own voice wavered and dropped to a whisper. ‘Please, don’t stop playing.’

After an eternity, when she was sure he was going to refuse, Gus withdrew his enigmatic green gaze, picked up the sax and returned the mouthpiece to his lips. Once more the music called to her, pulling at her emotions, holding her in its thrall. It wasn’t a piece she recognised but it spoke of loneliness, of loss, of intense inner pain.

‘That was so beautiful,’ she murmured hoarsely when the last note faded. ‘What’s it called?’

Something dark and sorrowful flashed in his eyes before he masked it. ‘I haven’t thought of a title yet.’

‘
You
composed it?’

‘Yes.’

Awed, she shook her head. ‘That’s amazing. You’re so talented, Gus. Have you played professionally?’

‘No.’ He shrugged, looking self-conscious. ‘I do it for me.’ After a moment of hesitation he continued, an edge to his tone, the expression in his eyes unreadable. ‘I didn’t sit down with the intention of writing it. I was hurting, contemplating lost love, and the music flowed out of me with the emotion.’

He meant Julia. Holly winced with an all too familiar pain. Pain for Gus and his suffering. Pain for herself because he’d rejected her and loved another—and not just any other, but her sister.

‘I’m sorry.’

Her broken words drew him closer and her heart nearly
stopped as he cupped her face in his hands and brushed the tears from her cheeks with the pads of his thumbs.

‘Don’t cry for me,’ he instructed huskily.

Her chest tightened as the breath locked in her lungs. Every fragment of her skin tingled. She couldn’t look away, held captive by the intensity of his gaze, praying her need and love for him were not as glaringly obvious as they felt. Her legs felt too rubbery to support her much longer. All she wanted was lean into him, wrap her arms around him, hold and comfort him. And she wished with all her might that circumstances had been different…that he’d returned her feelings and chosen her over Julia.

What was he thinking? She could read nothing in his eyes. As his fingers stroked her face she bit her bottom lip to stop the trembling and silence, the moan of desire that sought freedom. After endless minutes when the tension had reached boiling point, she saw the shutters drop down, signifying his withdrawal and his emotional retreat. His hands fell away and he stepped back, leaving her feeling bereft and alone.

‘You should be sleeping. I’ll let you get to bed,’ Gus suggested gruffly, turning his back to her as he took his time closing and locking the patio door.

Feeling the dismissal, the new rejection, Holly pressed the fingers of one hand to her mouth, stopping the protest and the plea from escaping. Instead, with tears stinging her eyes, she walked from the room and up the stairs. Moments later she lay on her bed, staring into the darkness. Her mind was full of Gus. She knew it would be a very long time before sleep came.

* * *

He’d hated every moment with Julia in his house, Gus admitted. They hadn’t fitted on any level. It had been the first time he’d lived with anyone since he’d been a child, moving
from one foster place to another and then the children’s home. They’d not been happy experiences. He’d been the cuckoo in the nest, the one who didn’t belong. Since then he’d been alone, so it had been a shock to the system when Julia had moved in. Having been alone most of his life, the loneliest he’d ever felt was being trapped in an unhappy marriage, living in the house with Julia, with a growing chasm separating them.

Consequently, he’d been nervous about Holly moving in. As days turned into weeks, however, he was discovering how very different sharing living space could be. For the first time the house felt like a home. He told himself it was because of Max, but he knew it wasn’t true. Holly made the real difference. She’d added fresh flowers and scented candles, colourful throws and cushions—things he was not only surprised to notice but more amazed to find he enjoyed.

When not involved with Max, Holly kept to herself, studying towards the Open University exam she’d told him was in October.

‘You never mentioned your degree to me before,’ he’d pointed out, trying to understand why she’d kept so much back.

‘I wasn’t studying last year,’ she’d explained, her gaze direct. ‘I needed a break. But after Christmas I decided to continue—I need ninety more credits to gain the degree—so I enrolled for this course which started in February.’

The explanation had made sense, and he realised she’d not been excluding him. He’d enjoyed hearing about her degree. Indeed, he was alarmed by how much he enjoyed having Holly around, full stop—not just for her help with Max but for her companionship. He was on dangerous ground.

Holly was nothing like Julia. Julia had hoarded designer clothes, shoes and handbags. Holly’s wardrobe contained casual
jeans, shorts and tops alongside her uniforms. Plus a pair of colourful Wellington boots. The bathroom shelves were no longer overflowing. Holly’s handful of items—deliciously scented shampoo and body lotion included, both of which he’d guiltily uncapped and sniffed—sat adjacent to his own.

Living with Holly was not only eye-opening but a real challenge to his determination to maintain his distance. Little by little she was burrowing back under his skin. And watching her with Max made things tougher. She was a natural mother and his son was thriving in her care.

The health visitor and GP with whom they kept regular appointments were delighted with Max’s progress. Thankfully, there appeared to be no ongoing consequences from the alcohol Julia had consumed, nor from blood-loss and lack of oxygen after the accident. Max truly
was
a miracle—one he gave thanks for every day.

Caring for his son together, he and Holly had shared several poignant and funny moments…experiences that had not only brought them both closer to Max but closer to each other, too. Discovering that Holly was keeping a baby diary—recording information about Max from the moment of his birth, including photographs, hand and footprints, and even a lock of his hair—had surprised and delighted him.

They had dissolved into uncontrollable giggles at some of the comical faces Max pulled. And he recalled one time when he’d lingered, unable to leave Max, watching Holly change his nappy with a strange look on her face.

‘What’s wrong?’ he’d asked as she’d fidgeted and wrinkled her nose.

She’d shaken her head and huffed out a laugh. ‘My nose itches!’

He’d chuckled, seeing her predicament as her hands were fully occupied. ‘Let me help you.’ Without thinking, he’d
leaned over, reached out a couple of fingers and gently rubbed the tip of her nose. ‘Here?’

‘Y-Yes.’

Her voice had caught and he’d looked up, his gaze locking with hers. Awareness and confusion had mingled in sky-blue eyes. The temptation to kiss her had been so overwhelming he wasn’t sure what he would have done had Holly not stepped back, breaking the contact. Electric tension had throbbed in the air between them.

The night she’d found him playing the sax also remained imprinted on his mind. Julia had hated his music. That Holly had been moved was obvious, and he’d come so close to confessing he’d written the piece for her. Instead he’d lied, claiming it was untitled. It wasn’t. He’d named it the moment it had formed in his mind:
Holly’s Lament
. She was the only woman he’d ever loved and her rejection was a painful wound that was nowhere near close to healing. Self-preservation led him to keep the barrier between them, but it was increasingly difficult to remember why he had to keep her at a distance.

Today had been his first day back at work and he’d missed Max—and Holly—terribly. She’d returned to the hospital a few days ago and they were adjusting to the new routine. He’d been assigned to Minors again, the senior consultant on duty having suggested he ease back in after a month away. Given how rusty he felt, it had been the right decision.

His hours at work had seemed far longer than usual now that he had a baby son waiting for him. As soon as he entered the house, his tension began seeping away. Hearing noises in the kitchen, he tossed his new car keys into a bowl on the table at the foot of the stairs and walked down the hall, enjoying the warm, welcoming feel of home.

Tired and hungry, all he wanted was to see Max.

And Holly, who continued to arouse confusing emotions inside him, setting his head and his heart at war.

* * *

‘Hi. Everything OK?’

‘Fine. Max has been good as gold,’ Holly smiled in response to Gus’s question as he strode into the kitchen.

The hours without him had seemed horribly long, and her pulse raced as she drank in the sight of him. Dressed in a grey T-shirt, and faded jeans that lovingly hugged his long legs, he was the epitome of male gorgeousness and she cursed her wayward heart and disobedient body for their instant reactions to him. Gus continued to draw her like a moth to a flame…a moth that had been singed on numerous occasions but still succumbed to the lure, however dangerous.