Her Kind of Trouble (Harlequin Superromance) (14 page)

“Oh,” Melissa said, one hand pressed to her chest. “She looks exactly like Lola as a baby. Exactly.”

Seth stood back and watched them brighten as they hovered over the crib, both refusing to touch her until they’d changed out of their travel clothes.

“She’s not quite as small as I thought she’d be,” Dennis said. “I was expecting one of those tiny babies, like you see on the news.”

She seemed more than small and frail enough to Seth, but he knew what the other man meant.

“They tell me that she should catch up with the full-term babies weightwise over the next few months,” he said.

“Lola is going to love you so much, little one. She’s going to adore you.” Melissa rested a hand on Daisy’s blanket, her voice thick with emotion.

They headed to the ICU afterward, quiet settling over them like a shroud as they neared Lola’s bed. Dr. Patel was waiting for them, a frown on his face as he studied a printout. Seth hoped like hell it wasn’t more bad news.

“Dr. Patel,” he said, causing the other man to look up. “This is Dennis and Melissa, Lola’s parents. They just flew in.”

“Of course. We’ve spoken on the phone. I’m very sorry to be meeting you under these circumstances,” Dr. Patel said in his deep, throaty voice.

They exchanged small talk for a few minutes, then Dr. Patel guided them to the nearest meeting room.

An hour later, Seth led a shattered Dennis and Melissa to his car.

“Someone’s going to be a little uncomfortable in the backseat for a few minutes,” he said apologetically. “But your motel is only a few kilometers up the road, so it shouldn’t be too bad.”

He’d offered to put them up as his place, but they’d wanted to be as close to the hospital and Lola as possible.

“I’ll take the back,” Dennis said.

“Nonsense. You’re as stiff as a board. I’ll sit in the back,” Melissa said.

Seth couldn’t help but squirm as he watched her fold herself into the small space. Vivian had been joking about swapping cars, he knew, but maybe he should have taken her up on the offer.

Melissa’s cramped posture provided much-needed comic relief as he drove to the motel, with Dennis checking on her welfare every few seconds and Melissa responding with ever more effusive descriptions of how comfortable she was. Even as he laughed along with them, Seth recognized it as a necessary release after the discussion they’d just had.

Dr. Patel had been kind but very clear as he outlined Lola’s condition. Successive scans had detected no activity in her brain, and Dr. Patel and a colleague had examined her in detail. They’d both reached the same conclusion—Lola was clinically brain-dead, unable to even breathe on her own without the ventilator. Dennis and Melissa had asked questions and held out for hope, but Dr. Patel had been unable to provide it. Yes, he knew there were miracle stories of accident victims who had woken from years-long comas, but Lola would not be one of them. She had suffered catastrophic trauma to her brain as a result of the closed head injury, and there was no possibility of her recovering. At all. He’d gone on to state that he understood he was asking them to accept a painful truth, and encouraged them to do whatever they deemed necessary for their peace of mind, including procuring another opinion. Once they had satisfied themselves, they could discuss the next step.

Turning off Lola’s ventilator.

Seth spotted the sign for the motel ahead and signaled to turn. The moment the car was stationary and the hand brake on, he shot out of his seat and flipped it forward so he could extract Melissa from her cramped quarters.

“I’ll see if I can borrow my brother’s car tomorrow,” he said as he watched her stretch.

“It’s a beautiful car,” Melissa said, her gaze sliding over the TT’s curvy profile before turning to study him. “It suits you.”

“Did you want to go back to the hospital tonight?” Seth asked as he and Dennis hauled out the luggage.

“I’m not sure. Neither of us slept much on the plane. We might be better served getting a good night’s sleep,” Dennis said.

“Well, I’m going back to give Daisy her evening feed. Call me if you need anything, otherwise I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning at nine-thirty.”

“That sounds fine,” Dennis said. He extended his hand, and Seth shook it.

“You’re a decent man,” Dennis said, his throat bobbing sharply. “We appreciate all you’ve done for Lola and little Daisy.”

Seth didn’t know how to respond, so he settled for manhandling their bags into the foyer before bidding them both a good night’s sleep.

Then he was alone in his car, and he could let himself feel the full horror of the news that Dr. Patel had imparted.

Lola was going to die. His little girl would never know her mother. He didn’t want to even begin to think what that might do to a kid.

His chest hollow, he put the car into gear and headed back to the hospital and the only bright thing amongst all this tragedy.

CHAPTER EIGHT

T
HE
CLOCK
ON
Vivian’s dash showed five past eleven when she stopped in front of Seth’s on Saturday morning—and yet there was no sign of her sister’s car anywhere.

Perhaps something had come up with the kids. No doubt she would be here any minute now.

Any minute.

Vivian glanced toward the house, aware of a cowardly urge to circle the block rather than go inside where it would be just her and Seth until her sister arrived. Whenever that might be.

You signed up for it. This is the sort of thing supportive friends do, after all.

It was. And she had already decided that she would do whatever she could to help Seth and Daisy. Yet it was hard to let go of the instinct to protect herself.

The too-loud ring of her phone made her jump. Her sister’s number filled the screen, and she started talking the moment Vivian took the call.

“Sorry. I’m running late. I’ll be there in about twenty, okay? Did you bring those platters we talked about?”

“Yep. And I’ve already been past the bakery,” Vivian said, preempting what she knew would be her sister’s next question.

“You’re the best. Okay, have to go. Jason got called into work and I need to drop Max at swimming. Grrrr.”

The dial tone sounded before Vivian could say anything else. The curtains were still drawn at Seth’s so it was impossible to tell what was going on inside.

Twenty minutes. She could do twenty minutes alone with Seth without anything untoward happening. Anyway, they wouldn’t really be alone, because Daisy had come home last night. Hence today’s celebration.

She got out and retrieved the platters, then girded her loins and headed for the front door. She could hear a baby crying as she approached, which relieved her of the quandary of how loud to knock.

The door opened almost immediately after her knock, revealing Seth wearing a harried expression, Daisy cradled in one arm. He wore faded jeans and a white T-shirt and looked better than anyone had a right to with a couple of days’ worth of scruff on his jaw, and hair that had clearly not seen a brush or product in the past twenty-four hours.

“Hi. Sorry about the noisy welcome,” he said, gesturing for her to come in.

“Jodie’s running a little late,” she explained.

“No worries.”

“How did your first night go?” she asked, leaning forward to get a better look at Daisy.

Her face was screwed up as she gave vent to whatever frustration or discomfort ailed her.

“Hey, little one. Is it nice to be home?” She had to raise her voice to be heard over the screaming.

“We got about three hours sleep. On and off.”

Vivian pulled a face.

“Yeah. I’m hoping she’ll have a nap before everyone gets here,” Seth said.

“Murphy’s Law says that she’ll be out the moment everyone arrives.”

“Probably, but I’ll still call it a win if she gets some sleep in.”

“True. I’ll just dump these in the kitchen,” she said, already heading in that direction. “There’s more stuff in the car that needs to come in.”

“I’ll get it. Is the car unlocked?”

“Is that your cunning way of passing me a screaming baby, Anderson?”

“I thought whatever it is might be heavy.”

She slid the platters onto the counter and turned to find him wearing a mildly amused expression as he rocked Daisy in his arms.

He was barefoot, rumpled and clearly tired, but the sight of him holding his daughter so tenderly made her chest warm.

“A bunch of miniquiches and savory tarts? Hardly. But I’ll have a cuddle. I have a feeling she’ll be in high demand, so I should get in while I can.”

She approached him, slipping her hand beneath Daisy’s head, her other hand sliding beneath her body as Seth offered his daughter to her. Once again she felt a warm rush of...something as he passed over his precious burden. Sensing that something had changed, Daisy ceased crying for a moment, her gaze searching Vivian’s face in confusion.

“It’s okay, sweetheart, Aunty Vivian’s got you.”

Daisy’s face crinkled into worried lines as she began to cry again, and Vivian tucked her into the corner of her elbow and rocked her gently. “Poor bubby. You’ll be all right.”

A few soothing pats and rocks were enough to calm Daisy and she subsided into confused silence. Vivian smiled at her.

“See? It’s not so bad. We’re all good.” She glanced up to find Seth watching her with a frown on his face.

“What?”

“How come you don’t have one of these? You obviously like kids.”

“For the same reason you didn’t until recently.”

“Because you’ve never accidentally knocked someone up?”

She rewarded him with a wry look for his smart mouth but chose not to respond, hoping he’d simply drop the subject.

“I find it hard to believe that there hasn’t been a guy who wanted to make babies with you.”

“You’re not great at taking a hint, are you?”

“Apparently not.” He crossed his arms over his chest, signaling his intention to wait her out.

She continued soothing Daisy, trying to decide if she wanted to tell Seth about Franco. On one hand, it wasn’t something she liked to rehash, but Seth didn’t look as though he intended to let it go anytime soon.

“I lived with someone in L.A. for a few years. We talked about babies. But we didn’t agree on how things might work.”

“Define
things
.”

She gestured impatiently. “He wanted me to stay home and be a full-time mum while he did the provider thing. And I didn’t want to give up my career. He didn’t understand why I would choose work over a family, I couldn’t understand why it had to be a choice. I’m sure you can see where this is going.” She shrugged, wishing she’d stuck with her policy of ignoring him and hoping he’d go away.

“Had this guy never met you?” Seth’s tone was incredulous.

“What is that supposed to mean?” She narrowed her eyes. If he made one reference to her supposed party-girl past, he was going to be walking funny for a week. At least.

“You love what you do. Who in their right mind would try to take that away from you?”

She was so surprised by his answer that for a moment she could do nothing but blink.

“I suppose he gave you a vacuum cleaner for your birthday, too,” Seth said, shaking his head. “Don’t quote me on this, but sometimes I can fully sympathize with the feminist movement.”

Probably she shouldn’t feel quite so shaken that Seth understood her so easily, so clearly. It wasn’t exactly a news flash that women were as attached to their careers as men—this was the twenty-first century, not the ice age. Yet she’d lived with Franco for two years and he hadn’t been able to comprehend that her sense of herself was as tied up in her work and her creativity as his was in his career.

Seth, however, got it without even trying. But then he’d always got her, hadn’t he? Just as she’d always got him.

“I hope you at least broke the knuckle-dragger’s heart when you walked out on him,” Seth said.

She wished.

“It was kind of the other way ’round, actually.”

There was a strange expression on Seth’s face when she glanced at him.

“Don’t tell me you’re still in love with the caveman?” he asked.

“No. Of course not. It’s heading toward two years. He married someone else last March.”

Seth watched her closely. “Did you fantasize about storming the church and screwing it up for him?”

She smiled faintly. “No. Like I said, I’m over him.”

“You don’t look over him.”

There was a gruff note to Seth’s voice. In another man, she’d be tempted to diagnose it as jealousy. But this was Seth. He’d never had any claim on her—or any designs, for that matter.

Well, unless wanting to sleep with her again counted, and, under the circumstances, she was pretty sure it didn’t.

“I’ll always have a soft spot for him. He’s my one that got away, you know? Even you must have one of those.”

“I thought I was your one that got away.”

She laughed. “You were my lucky escape. My disaster waiting to happen.”

“Let a guy down gently, why don’t you?” He played wounded for all he was worth, but for a split second there was a look in his eyes that gave her pause.

Surely he hadn’t been serious...?

She tried to discern the truth, but his expression was again impenetrable. Then she reminded herself of whom she was talking to—Seth, the guy she’d had sex with in the back of a limo more than a decade ago. The same guy who’d gotten a twenty-four-year-old bar bunny pregnant and who had made a hobby out of avoiding commitment.

As if he considered their long-ago liaison anything more than what it was. The notion was laughable.

Or the worst case of wishful thinking she’d ever encountered in her lifetime.

“You going to hold up your end of the bargain or what?” She gestured with her chin toward the front of the house. “Those quiches aren’t going to march themselves up the driveway, you know.”

“First she crushes me, then she dismisses me.”

He headed for the door. She paced with Daisy while he was gone, jiggling her some more and trying to understand why she’d volunteered all that stuff about Franco. No clear answer had come to her by the time she registered that Daisy was on the verge of sleep, her eyes heavy as she blinked up at Vivian.

“Don’t fight it, sweetheart. You go to sleep.”

She brushed the back off her finger over Daisy’s cheek, then couldn’t resist tracing the curve of her ear. Seth had obviously just bathed her, and she smelled like fresh powder, warm baby and sunshiny cotton. Daisy made an inarticulate sound, and Vivian held her that little bit tighter, pressing a kiss to her gently rounded head.

Seth might not realize it yet, but he was lucky to have this miracle in his life. She would bring him joy, she would terrify him, she would push him to the edge and over—and it would be the ride of his life.

Vivian was aware of an odd, wistful ache in her throat, and she cleared it briskly. Someone was getting sentimental in her old age.

Toughen up, Walker.

She wandered into the living room in search of distraction, noting the packet of pink balloons on the coffee table, along with a roll of ribbon and a Welcome Home banner. Both bemused and amused by the idea of Seth voluntarily decorating his home with pink balloons, she picked up the ribbon as she heard his footsteps on the stairs.

“Pink is so your color,” she told him as he entered carrying both bakery boxes.

“Just for that you can help me blow up some balloons.”

“Okay.”

He looked surprised. “That was easy.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

He made a rude noise before disappearing into the kitchen, and she heard the sound of the fridge opening and closing.

She checked her watch, wondering what was keeping her sister. The sooner she got here the better.

Seth checked on Daisy when he returned. “Hey, she’s almost asleep. You’ll have to tell me your secret.”

“The patented Vivian Walker jiggle. Works every time.”

“Figures.” He glanced at the clock on the mantel. “I might try to put her down while I can.”

“Good idea.”

She extended her arms, trying to make it easy for him to make the transfer, but somehow she wound up confusing him and she felt the distinct brush of his fingers across her breast as Seth scooped his hand under Daisy’s head.

He froze. “Shit. Sorry. I totally wasn’t copping a feel, I promise.”

“I should hope not. Bit pervy using your newborn baby as a pickup prop,” she said, more to cover how flustered she was than anything else.

He was standing so close she could smell the mint from his toothpaste and see the tiny scar on his earlobe from when he’d had his ear pierced.

“No kidding.” He stepped back with Daisy, his cheeks burnished a dull red.

If someone had told her Seth was capable of blushing, she would have laughed out loud. It was a little scary how endearing the sight was.

“Might want to avoid a repeat with my mum, though,” she advised. “She has a rape whistle.”

“Right. Note to self—avoid feeling up Mrs. Walker. Thanks for the hot tip.”

He headed off to put down Daisy and Vivian waited until he’d left the room before glancing down at herself. Yep, sure enough, both her nipples were hard, creating two give-away, look-at-me points beneath her simple cotton tank.

“Thanks for the support, girls. Way to have my back.” She rubbed her palms over them, willing them to subside. “Settle down, damn you.”

“Is this a private party or can anyone join in?”

Vivian spun to find her sister on the threshold, a huge salad bowl in hand.

“I was just— Here, let me help you with that.” Vivian darted forward to relieve her sister of the bowl, aware that there wasn’t an explanation in the world that could cover why she was feeling herself up in the privacy of Seth’s living room.

“You’re supposed to do breast exams when you’re naked,” Jodie said, clearly not prepared to let the subject slide. “Just so you know.”

“Thanks. I’ll remember for next time.”

Vivian carried the salad into the kitchen, aware of her sister following her.

“Where’s Seth?” Jodie asked.

“Putting Daisy down. She’s been up most the night.”

“Babies. They do that.”

Vivian risked a glance at her sister and found she was the object of intense study.

“What?”

“Just trying to work out if talking to your breasts is an L.A. thing or if I should be worried about your mental health.”

“My mental health is fine. Can we change the subject?”

“I’m not sure I’m finished with it yet.”

“I’ll pay you fifty bucks. And throw in my Prada scarf.” Because any second now Seth would be back and she so did not want the subject of nipples to still be on the table.

“Wow. Okay. But I’d rather have that cute red hobo bag.”

“Done. I’m going to go blow up some balloons.” She escaped to the living room, pushing her hair off her forehead. Between fighting her awareness of Seth and ignoring his awareness of her and pretending that her sister hadn’t caught her tête-à-tit, she had a feeling it was going to be a long day.