EMMA DARCY nearly became an actress until her fiancé declared he preferred to attend the theater with her. She became a wife and mother. Later she took up oil painting—unsuccessfully, she remarks. Then she tried architecture, designing the family home in New South Wales, Australia. Next came romance writing—“the hardest and most challenging of all the activities,” she confesses.

Jack’s Baby
Emma Darcy

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER ONE

BABIES, Jack Gulliver darkly reflected, undermined every normal, congenial intercourse between intelligent adults. They infiltrated people’s lives even before they entered the world, then took over like tyrannical dictators. Nothing was safe from them.

Jack brooded over these truths as he drove through the tunnel under Sydney Harbour, taking the shortest route to Paddington and the Royal Hospital for Women. He wished Maurice had been satisfied with hearty congratulations on the birth of his son. It was totally unreasonable of him to insist Jack actually come and view the new pride and joy. Paternal enthusiasm run rampant. Jack wondered how long it would last.

One by one his friends had succumbed to the lure of fatherhood, only to find themselves knocked off their happy perches of being the main focus of attention in their households. They’d groaned out their misery and their complaints to him, envying his freedom from the chaos they had brought upon themselves.

“Good sex is impossible.”

“You’re lucky if you get any sex.”

“Who wants sex? I’d like one—just one—full night’s sleep.”

“Forget spontaneity. The baby comes first, first, first and first.”

“I haven’t got a wife. She’s turned into a slave to the baby.”

“There’s no time for us any more.”

“It’s like moving an army to go anywhere. I’d rather stay at home. Save the aggravation.”

There was no doubt in Jack’s mind that babies were destructive little monsters. They probably should be born with a 007 warning engraved on their foreheads—licenced to kill. He knew of several couples who had broken up under the stress of parenthood, and the rest were struggling to adjust to changes they resented.

Jack now had a fair appreciation of why his own parents had limited their progeny to one only, why he had been brought up by nannies and shunted off to boarding school at age seven. Quite clearly he had interfered too much with their lives. From his current view as an adult, he understood they had taken practical steps to minimise the damage to their rights as individuals, but as a child, Jack hadn’t liked being on the receiving end of their solutions.

The lonely, shut-out feeling of his youth was still an unhappy memory. No way would he inflict the same process on a child of his. On the other hand, he was quite sure he wouldn’t like such a disruptive influence in his life, either. The solution, as he saw it, was simple. Don’t have children.

Any curiosity he might have had about the experience of fatherhood had been more than fulfilled by what he’d observed with his friends. Apart from which, he felt no urge to perpetuate his bloodline. He enjoyed his life, loved his work, had the financial freedom to do what he liked when he liked. What more could he want?

Nina…

Jack grimaced as he tried to expunge that thought and the gut-wrenching sense of loss accompanying it. Nina had shut him out even more thoroughly than his parents had, not even giving him the chance to open the door again. All over a stupid argument about babies.

Or maybe there’d been other reasons. He shook his head, still frustrated by the way she’d cut him out of her life, leaving him wondering what he’d done wrong. He’d chosen that very night to ask Nina to move in with him, sure in his own mind he’d found a woman he’d enjoy living with, and just because he’d made a few entirely appropriate comments about the baby who’d wrecked the dinner party they’d attended, Nina had gone off her brain and dumped him, then and there. No comeback. Total wipe-out.

It made no sense to him. He was probably well rid of a woman who could act so irrationally. Yet there’d never been a glimmer of such behaviour in all the time they’d spent together—months of sheer joy. He could have sworn they were completely compatible, even to their pleasure in the creative work they did. She was the first and only person he’d ever felt really at home with.

There were times he missed her so badly it was a physical ache. He could still visualise her as clearly as if she were with him now, sitting beside him—dark velvet eyes with stars in them, a smile that made his heart dance, shiny black hair swinging around her shoulders, her soft, feminine curves a sensual promise he knew to be absolutely true. He could hear her infectious laughter and the sexy murmurs that excited him when they made love.

Futile memories. He wished he could forget Nina Brady and how he’d felt with her. There was no shortage of women wanting to interest him. Sooner or later he’d meet one who’d strike that special spark. It was only a matter of waiting. Eight months hardly rated as a long time. In a year or two, Nina’s rejection wouldn’t mean a thing.

The traffic lights favoured him right up to Taylor Square. As he turned into Oxford Street, he switched his mind to Maurice and tried to work himself into a lighter mood. Maurice Larosa was a good friend and a valuable business associate. He not only gave Jack all the French polishing work on the antiques he sold, but frequently sent clients who wanted to have pieces made to match furniture they’d bought. Favours like that deserved favours in return, and if it meant smiling benevolently at a baby, Jack was resolved on obliging. At least this once.

He spotted a car pulling out of a convenient space and shot into it, grateful not to waste time hunting for a parking slot. The hospital was only a short distance away. The dash clock showed seven-fifteen, plenty of time to get there, perform as expected and take his leave with the excuse of giving Maurice and his wife privacy to say their good nights.

He picked up the gift-boxed bottle of champagne from the passenger seat, smiling over this particular forethought as he alighted from the big Range Rover and locked it. Other visitors would undoubtedly shower presents on the baby. Some French bubbly might give the new and soon-to-be-frazzled parents a pleasant hour or two together. He knew from his other friends that babies killed any sense of romance stone dead.

Although it was April, there wasn’t so much as a nip of autumn in the air. The lingering Indian summer made it a pleasant hour for walking. A waste of a nice evening, Jack thought, as he entered the hospital and headed for the inquiries desk. Having received directions, he caught the elevator to the correct floor, mentally bracing himself to endure baby talk with jovial indulgence for a minimum of twenty minutes.

The elevator doors opened. He stepped out. Something familiar about the woman waiting to step into the compartment caught his eye. He looked sharply at her and he had the weird sense of falling down an empty shaft instead of standing flat on a firm floor.

“Nina?”

Her name exploded from his throat.

Her hair was cropped short, but he couldn’t mistake that face, those eyes as she stared straight at him. Recognition, shock, disbelief, fear, anger…each expression pulsed briefly at him from a stillness that shrieked with tension. Then she whirled past him, jabbed a finger at the control panel inside the elevator and hugged herself against the back wall, glaring a fierce rejection of him until the doors closed.

The message burned into his brain. She didn’t want him. She didn’t want anything to do with him. He quelled the raging instinct to chase after her, find her, make her listen to him. Useless. She’d made her decision to shut him out. It hadn’t changed. It wasn’t about to change. She’d just done it again.

He forced himself to walk away, to check the room numbers he passed along the corridor. He’d come here to oblige a friend. Never mind that he had no heart for it. It gave him something purposeful to do. He had to forget Nina.

But why had there been fear in her eyes? He’d never given her any reason to be afraid of him.

Why anger? Surely she realised this meeting was purely accidental.

Damn it all! What had he done wrong?

CHAPTER TWO

JACK…

His name kept pounding through Nina’s mind, creating waves of pain that seemed to suck at her body, leaving her weak and trembling. When the elevator doors opened, she had to push herself away from the wall. Her legs were like jelly, her stomach a churning mess. Somehow she made it to the ladies’ rest room on the ground floor, blundered into an empty cubicle, fastened the door, then gratefully sank onto the toilet seat, safely hidden until she could pull herself together.

Tears welled into her eyes. She hunched over, burying her face in her hands, rocking in anguish at the unkind stroke of fate that had brought her face to face with Jack at such a time and place. It wasn’t fair. It was grossly unfair. She’d spent the past eight months trying to forget him, forcing herself to accept there could be no happy future with him. Seeing him again now opened up all the hurt she’d done her best to bury.

For one heart-stopping moment she’d thought he knew. But he couldn’t. And, of course, he didn’t. The surprise on his face told her he hadn’t expected to run into her.

The husky urgency in his voice had rattled memories better suppressed. Jack wanting her, making love to her with such intense passion they seemed to flow together in a fusing heat that had made her feel it was impossible to tear them apart. They’d been a perfect match in so many ways…if there were only two of them. She hadn’t known then, hadn’t realised there was a fatal flaw in their relationship, silently waiting to explode in her face, just when she’d fooled herself everything would be all right.

The hollow sickness she had felt that night swamped her again. Jack was lost to her. Irrevocably. Their paths had diverged so deeply, no meeting place was left for them. An unpredictable and accidental crossing like tonight was a cruelty, a glimpse of what might have been if Jack’s attitude about babies and having children had been different.

Nina remembered her own father’s attitude too well to inflict the same crushing sense of being unwanted onto any child, much less her own. Every time her parents had argued, they had invariably flung out the bitter accusation of being trapped by an unplanned pregnancy. Nina was to blame for her father not being in the career he wanted, for her mother being tied to responsibility instead of enjoying many more carefree years. The list of resentments was endless.

It would have been the same with Jack—different reasons for resenting the situation but no difference in the feelings aroused. He had left her with no doubt about that. Nina shut her eyes tight, squeezing back the futile tears, wishing she could erase the image of him, stamped so freshly on her mind.

He was still magnetically handsome, emanating the same powerful virility that had drawn her to him at their very first meeting. In just those few strung-out moments before she’d escaped via the elevator, the old familiarities had leapt to vivid life again—the small mole near his jawline, a tantalising little disfigurement on his smoothly tanned skin. His streaky toffee hair, at its shaggy state, needing a trim. The startling directness of his green eyes tugging at her heart.

He shouldn’t affect her like this. Not now, when it was so impossibly hopeless for them ever to get together. And this was the last place he should be. Why on earth would Jack be visiting a maternity hospital?

Someone must have pressed him to come, blindly intent on showing off a new son or daughter, not realising a baby had no appeal whatsoever to Jack Gulliver. Social politeness or professional sensibilities would have pushed him to oblige. It was the only answer Nina could come up with. She desperately hoped that seeing her wouldn’t prompt a curiosity to know why she was here. If he found out…

She couldn’t bear it. She just couldn’t bear it. Arguments, recriminations, an insistence on shouldering some responsibility, financial if nothing else. Trapped by a child he didn’t want but felt obliged to support. A tie between them going on and on…the bitterness of it. She’d hate it. She’d taken every step she could to avoid it—leaving her job, changing house, no telephone number in her name—all to make the break from Jack a completely clean one.

She wanted to howl out her fear and frustration, but if someone heard her it would draw unwelcome attention. A nurse might be fetched. Her chest hurt. Her throat ached. She grabbed some toilet tissue and mopped her eyes and cheeks, determined to rise above this dreadful stress.

Yet if the decisions she had put into action were sabotaged now, how would she cope? Her emotional state was shockingly fragile as it was, without Jack intruding on the life she had to establish and maintain. With Sally’s help she could manage. She didn’t need Jack’s money, and her child certainly didn’t need his attitude.

Maybe she was worrying for nothing. Jack’s surprise didn’t necessarily mean he was still interested in her. He could be attached to some other woman by now. There would have been plenty wanting to interest him in the past eight months. A good-looking man of substance didn’t go begging for female company.

But what they had shared had been special. And Jack was choosy. He didn’t give out to many people. The look in his eyes after the initial shock of recognition—eagerness, hope—would he shrug it off and let it go?

With any luck he might have assumed she was another visitor, passing through, leaving as he was arriving. Had he noticed she wasn’t wearing proper clothes? She groaned as she realised it was more than clothes adding up the evidence against being a visitor. No make-up, hair in disarray, no handbag. She hoped she hadn’t given him enough time to register those details.

Time…She glanced at her watch. Seven thirty-six. She couldn’t risk running into Jack again. Best to stay hidden in this rest room until after the eight o’clock curfew for visitors. Sally would stay with the baby until she returned to the ward. There was no cause for panic. Sally expected her to spend twenty minutes or so browsing through the magazines available at the kiosk. Nina had left her happily chatting to the other two new mothers and their visitors—husbands, happy husbands and fathers.

The tears welled again. It was miserable being a single mother when she was faced with families celebrating their new offspring. Sally was a great friend and wonderful support, but it wasn’t the same.

If only Jack…

Damn him! Why couldn’t he have been different? Why were children so wrong for him?

CHAPTER THREE

SMILING benevolently did not come easily. Jack had to work hard at repressing the angry frustration that seeing Nina had stirred. He wanted to snap and snarl. He felt a deep empathy with his dog’s behaviour when a great bone was moved out of his marked territory. He felt no empathy whatsoever with the drivel coming out of Maurice’s mouth.

“He’s got my ears, poor little blighter.”

Jack smiled. “Well, one can always resort to plastic surgery.”

Maurice laughed indulgently. “They’re not that bad. He’ll grow into them.”

“Bound to,” Jack agreed, his face aching with smiling.

Maurice looked besottedly at his wife. “I’m glad he’s got Ingrid’s nose.”

Jack obediently performed the comparison, studying the straight, aristocratic nose of Maurice’s buxom blonde wife and the longer, slightly bumpy one of his friend. He forced another smile. “Yes. Much the better nose.”

Why was it obligatory to divide a baby’s features between the parents? It was inevitably done, like a ritual, perhaps affirming true heritage, or an assurance that a little replica would fulfil its parents’ expectations. Not only was it a deadly boring exercise to Jack, it almost drove him to snap, “Let the kid be himself, for God’s sake!”

But that wasn’t the done thing.

He wondered whom Nina had been visiting on this floor. Not that it mattered. No point in trying to find some contact point with her. From the attitude she had flashed to him, it would probably constitute harassment. Besides, Jack had a built-in inhibitor against going where he wasn’t wanted.

“Give me the baby, darling, while you open Jack’s present,” Ingrid commanded, brandishing the newborn power of being a mother. This was definitely one time she could boss Maurice around. The proud and grateful Dad would undoubtedly lick her feet if she asked him to. Jack knew from observation that the flow of uncritical giving wouldn’t last.

He watched Maurice lay the precious bundle in his wife’s arms with tender care. It was really a pity such blissful harmony didn’t last. They looked good—loving mother and father with child. Idyllic. The rot didn’t set in until they went home from hospital.

Ingrid’s long blonde hair gleamed like skeins of silk falling over her shoulders. Jack frowned at the reminder of Nina’s hair, which some idiot had clearly butchered. What had possessed her to have her beautiful hair cut? She’d looked like a ragamuffin, wispy bits sticking out as though she’d run her fingers through the short crop instead of brushing it. The style didn’t suit her. It made her face look thinner.

Maybe her face was thinner.

Had Nina been ill?

It was a disturbing thought. Frustration boiled up again. He hated not knowing what had been happening to her. Her face had looked paler than he remembered, too, all healthy colour washed out of it. If she’d been ill, was ill…no, it still made no sense for Nina to look at him with fear and anger.

It was no reason to cut him out of her life, either. She could have stayed with him. He would have looked after her. Did she have anyone looking after her now?

“My favourite champagne, Veuve Cliquot!” Maurice beamed at him. “Great gift, Jack.”

“I won’t be able to drink it,” Ingrid wailed. “It’ll sour my milk.”

New regime rolling in, souring more than her milk, Jack silently predicted. He grimaced an apology. “Sorry, Ingrid. I’m an ignorant male.”

“Never mind, love.” Maurice dropped a kiss on her puckered forehead. “We’ll keep it until the little guzzler here goes onto a bottle.”

“I don’t know when that will be.” She pouted. “Look how big my breasts are swelling up with milk. They’re even beginning to leak.”

They were certainly stretching her nightgown to its limits of stretchability, Jack observed, and suddenly had a flash of Nina in the elevator, her arms hugging her rib cage, her breasts pushed up, surely far more voluptuous than they used to be.

She’d been wearing a loose, button-through dress, her shape disguised by it initially. Besides, his attention had been riveted on her face then, the expression in her eyes. But when she’d turned around in the elevator, pressing back against the wall, holding herself defensively, her breasts had definitely bulged.

His heart skittered. He gave himself a mental shake, pushing the idea away. To associate Nina’s breasts with Ingrid’s—swollen with milk—was a neurotic vision he could well do without. Nina couldn’t have had a baby. It was only eight months since she’d left him.

After an argument about babies.

His mind whirled at sickening speed. Maternity hospital…not a dress, a free-flowing housecoat…tired, careless of her appearance…shock, disbelief, fear at seeing him here…anger…

He felt the blood draining from his face. He clenched his hands, gritted his teeth and willed his heart to pump his circulation back into top working order. He had to think clearly and rationally, not leap to wild conclusions. If Nina had been pregnant, surely to God she would have told him. Flung it in his face, most likely, in the middle of that argument. She couldn’t have thought he’d turn his back on her.

Maybe she had thought it, deciding to take that initiative herself rather than confront what he might say or do, given his negative attitude to having children.

Nausea cramped his stomach and shot bile up his throat. If she’d gone it alone because she hadn’t trusted him to respond supportively…

“Are you all right, Jack?”

Maurice’s question broke through the glaze of horror in his mind. They were looking quizzically at him. Had he missed something? Apart from a nine-month pregnancy?

“Sorry.” He sucked in a deep breath and swallowed hard. “I was just thinking how great the three of you look together.”

Ingrid laughed. “Time you found yourself a wife and started a family, Jack.”

Join the club. They all said that. Once they were caught in the family trap, it was as though anyone who was free of it was an offensive reminder of what they’d given up. The hell of it was he might very well have a child somewhere on this ward, a child whose mother had decided was better off fatherless than having Jack in their lives.

“Aren’t you thirty-something?” Ingrid persisted.

“Darling, I’m forty,” Maurice reminded her. “Age has nothing to do with it. If I hadn’t met you, I’d still be a freewheeling bachelor like Jack.”

Jack didn’t want to be a freewheeling bachelor. He wanted Nina. He didn’t care if she came with a child. He wanted Nina. The need and desire for her burgeoned out of the emptiness that had haunted the past eight months, growing with compelling force, overpowering all his objections to babies.

A little scrap of humanity like the one in Ingrid’s arms couldn’t beat him. He’d learn how to handle the child. He’d never had a problem handling anything once he set his mind to it. If Nina needed proof of that, he’d give it to her.

Babies were probably only destructive monsters because parents allowed them to take over. Jack was made of sterner stuff. Having seen the damage babies wrought on relationships, he could take protective steps and save Nina and himself a lot of unnecessary stress. It was all a matter of attitude and organisation.

What he needed was a plan.

He also needed definite facts instead of suppositions. A plan could very quickly come unstuck if he didn’t have his facts right. Therefore, step one was to grab a nurse and make a few pertinent inquiries.

“You know, Jack—” Ingrid eyed him speculatively “—I have a few girlfriends you might enjoy meeting.”

The good old matchmaking trick.

Jack smiled. He didn’t even have to force it. His heart had lifted with a swelling sense of purpose. “Actually, Ingrid, I’m on my way to meet a lady I’m very interested in. If you and Maurice will excuse me…It’s a delight to see you so happy, and I hope the new son and heir thrives as he should under your loving care. He’s sure to be a great kid.”

Pleasure all around.

Having delivered his benevolent performance, Jack was well-wished on his way. In truth, he was feeling benevolent towards Maurice and Ingrid. Even their baby. They’d done him a great favour. If it wasn’t for them he wouldn’t have come here, wouldn’t have seen Nina and put two and two together.

Only in this case, two and two were going to make three. Jack had no compunction about changing the mathematics of the situation. He was determined on being counted in, not out.

CHAPTER FOUR

VISITING hours had ended ten minutes ago. Nevertheless, Nina apprehensively checked the ward corridor, glancing swiftly to both right and left, confirming an all clear before scooting out of the elevator. It was only fifteen metres to her room. She covered the distance as fast as she could without actually running. Hearing Sally’s cheerful voice still rattling away was an assurance that everything was normal.

No-one called out her name. Jack didn’t suddenly emerge from one of the rooms in front of her. She reached her door, and with a thundering sense of being home free swung into the room and quickly closed the door behind her, safeguarding against a casual glance inside from any passer-by.

“There you are,” Sally said with satisfaction. “I was about to send out a search party.”

“Sorry.” Nina turned to her friend, flashing an appeasing smile, and the world tilted as Jack filled her vision, Jack cradling her baby in the crook of his arm. She feebly fumbled for the door, instinctively seeking support, feeling herself sway alarmingly.

“Are you okay?” Anxious question from Sally.

“Here! Quick!” Jack, commanding.

Double vision. Two Jacks bundling babies into two Sallys’ arms, furniture wavering all over the place. Nina closed her eyes. Too difficult to get things straight. Hopelessly dizzy.

Strong arms hooking around her, scooping her off her feet, carrying her, sitting her on the side of the bed, holding her safe, thrusting her head down. “Deep breaths, Nina. Sally, put the kid in its bassinette and pour Nina a glass of water.”

The kid.

A murderous haze billowed into Nina’s fuzzy mind. Her baby—the baby who’d grown inside her for nine long, miserable, lonely months—dismissed as a kid! If she had the strength, she’d put her hands around Jack’s neck and strangle him. How dared he come in here, after all he’d said, and actually hold the child he didn’t want, pretending he didn’t mind?

The kid. Not the baby. Not our daughter. The kid. That said it all to Nina. He probably hadn’t even asked what sex the baby was. Didn’t care. Her heart pumped with furious vigour, clearing her head so fast she didn’t need the glass of water Sally pressed into her hand.

She was tempted to hurl it in Jack’s face. It might sober him up. Whatever impulsive and stupid ardour had driven him into this room needed dampening down. He wasn’t thinking straight, any more than she’d been seeing straight. But she could see straight through him! Having figured out what she was doing in a maternity ward, he had a hot case of guilt.

“You need looking after, Nina,” he said gruffly. “And I’m the man to do it. Drink up now.”

She sipped, just to moisten her throat. Then she glared her outrage at him. “Don’t you tell me what to do, Jack Gulliver. You have no right.”

He returned a determined look. “I contributed to this situation and—”

“You did not.” She cut him off with more belligerent determination. “You trusted me to get the contraception right, and I messed up. It’s all my fault.”

“Accidents happen,” he said grimly.

“Well, you don’t have to pay for this one. I take full responsibility.”

“Sure! And you’re doing a fine job of it, letting yourself get so run down you almost faint at the sight of me.”

“Shock. You holding a baby was more than my mind could encompass.”

“Then you’d better get used to it, Nina, because that kid happens to be my kid, too.”

Her teeth clenched. Her eyes sizzled him to a crisp. “She is not a kid.”

“You’re right,” he snapped. “More like a mind-bending drug than a natural member of the animal kingdom.”

“Huh! Now you’re showing your true colours.”

“Just pointing out how distorted your judgment is.” His eyes flashed green fire. “Denying me the right to know I’ve fathered a child. Denying me the right to make my own decisions. Denying me any chance to stand by you through what has obviously been a rough time. Even a murderer gets his day in court.”

The fierce flow of accusations stunned her for a moment. Justification sped off her tongue. “You told me you don’t want children, Jack Gulliver. So don’t come the injured party to me. I left you free and clear.”

“I didn’t say I wanted to be free and clear. I don’t,” he retorted emphatically. “I was just asking your friend, Sally, how quickly a wedding could be arranged.”

“A wedding!” Shock rolled through her mind again, sapping her energy. She took another sip of water, then handed the glass to Sally, who was still standing by, dumbstruck by the verbals zipping back and forth. Nina gave her a hard, warning look. “What have you been telling him, Sally?”

“Me?” she squeaked. Her mobile face worked through alarm and wary consideration and settled on rueful resignation. “Well, uh, he asked me who I was and I, um, gave him my business card.”

The card! Customised Weddings—We Deliver Your Dream. With her address and telephone number clearly printed on it!

Nina groaned, realizing the milk was spilled and couldn’t be put back into the bottle. She sagged onto her pillow, swung her legs onto the bed and turned away from them, closing her eyes, unutterably depressed by an outcome she would have done anything to avoid.

“If I’ve done the wrong thing…” Sally’s anxious voice floated over her.

“Don’t blame Sally for letting the cat out of the bag, Nina,” Jack quietly interposed. “I would have found out anyway.”

That was probably true. Jack didn’t let go of anything until he was satisfied. Like restoring a piece of antique furniture. He’d work at it and work at it until it was finished precisely as he wanted. Seeing her had done the damage, not Sally’s blabbing.

Nina was suddenly aware of the silence in the room. The other visitors had gone. The babies were quiet. No-one had turned on a television set. Undoubtedly this little real-life drama was more interesting, the unmarried mother confronted by the father of her child. And Jack was so good-looking, so impressively steadfast in rebutting her charges. The two secure wives who shared this room would be looking with favour on him, not knowing what Nina knew.

It was sickening.

“A cup of tea,” Sally said as though plucking the idea out of a tank of possible solutions to the situation. “I’ll go and make one for her, Jack.”

“Good idea,” he approved warmly.

She heard Sally leave. The sound of a chair being shifted and the squeak of its upholstery told her Jack had sat down, settling in for a siege on her solitary position.

No point in hiding from him, Nina decided reluctantly. The music had to be faced, and it was better to get it over with here and now. She rolled onto her back, opened her eyes and steeled herself against the tug of attraction that hadn’t diminished at all with either time or circumstances.

He met her gaze with direct intensity, his expression a moving mixture of compassion and resolution. Tears pricked her eyes. He cared about her. The baby was a complication he didn’t want, but his feeling for her hadn’t changed. It made the necessity of rejecting him again all the more difficult and painful.

It would be so easy to reach out and take the comfort and warmth and pleasure of being with him again. He’d wrap her in his arms and stroke her back and kiss her hair, and she’d feel his body stir with desire for her and…She’d missed him so much. But if she gave in to the need aching through her now, Jack would be encouraged to stick around, and the inevitable consequences would be worse than her current sense of deprivation.

Better to remain independent.

“I don’t need your help, Jack,” she said flatly.

“That’s not how it looks to me, Nina.” He reached out and took her left hand, fondling it warmly, persuasively pressing a link between them as he added, “I think we should get married as soon as possible.”

“No!” She snatched her hand away, feeling as though he’d burned her. Her eyes blazed fierce conviction. “I won’t marry you, Jack.”

“Why not? It’s the most sensible, practical thing to do.”

“I will not subject my baby to a father who doesn’t want her.”

“If you’re worried about the kid, let me assure you—”

“Her name,” Nina interrupted furiously, “is Charlotte.”

“Charlotte?” He frowned. “It doesn’t go very well with Gulliver. Let’s toss a few other names around.”

“Charlotte Brady sounds fine to me.”

Jack studied the stubborn set of her face and made a political retreat. “Fine. If that’s the name you like, I’m happy to go along with it.” He brightened. “On second thoughts, Charlotte isn’t too bad. We can call her Charlie. Charlie Gulliver has a nice ring to it.”

“Charlotte is a girl, Jack,” Nina pointed out with seething emphasis. “She is my daughter and she will remain Charlotte Brady. I am not going to marry you.”

He sighed. Heavily. His eyes glittered with devious intent. “Okay. We’ll just live together then.”

“I have no intention of living with you, Jack. I have my own place. I have everything set up as I want it, and neither I nor my baby requires your support.”

“Brave words, Nina, but what if something goes wrong with your well-laid plans?”

“I’ll cope.”

“You’ll cope better with me at your side.”

“No, I won’t.”

“We’ll see about that,” he declared, letting her know he was not about to be put off, put down or put out.

Nina sighed. Heavily. Jack was going to make a battle of it, no matter what she said. A wave of weakness dragged through her. She wished Charlotte would start bawling her head off. That would soon shift Jack. If her cries set the other babies off, too, he’d be out the door as fast as his feet could carry him.

Sally returned, darting apprehensive looks at Jack and Nina as she put the cup of tea on the mobile tray. “Better now?” she asked hopefully.

Sally Bloomfield was the most assertive person Nina had ever met. She was a brilliant saleswoman, able to talk anybody into anything and make him feel delighted about it. Her appearance was always polished and professional, from her chic auburn hair to her beautifully shod feet. Her smile dazzled, and her bright hazel eyes mesmerised. Sally sailed through life with the blissful belief that no matter what happened, it would turn out for the best. Her optimism was good to be around, but right now Nina needed her professional expertise.

“Tell Jack I’m perfectly capable of doing without him, Sally,” she appealed.

“Right!” She sat herself at the end of the bed and addressed Jack gravely. “It’s like this. Nina and I are set up in business together.”

Jack looked surprised. “Nina is organising weddings, too?”

“No, no, that’s my specialty. I adore weddings. Nina is a great seamstress. She fixes any bridal hire gowns that need altering. Does extra beading and tucks and stuff. Some of our clients have chosen Nina’s own designs, and she makes them so beautifully, it adds a lot to our reputation of delivering the dream.”

Jack frowned. “She won’t have much time for that with the baby. They’re time-consuming little mo—” He caught his breath.

“Monsters,” Nina finished for him. “Go on. Say it, Jack. That’s how you think of them. Monsters!”

“I was going to say moppets,” he corrected her loftily.

“Huh!”

“Well, the thing is,” Sally said swiftly, “Nina doesn’t have to travel anywhere. Everything is very handy. The business is run from my home, and Nina has a completely self-contained granny flat at the back of the premises. She can bring the baby into the house with her when she has to do fittings. There’s really no problem. She’s got a solid income, good accommodation and nothing to worry about.”

“You see? I’m self-sufficient,” Nina declared triumphantly.

“Except for a man,” Sally muttered.

Nina glared at her.

Sally shrugged and flirted with her eyes at Jack. “Well, you must admit, Nina, he is superb lover material. Why not have him? You can always get rid of a husband if it doesn’t work out.”

“Excellent reasoning.” Jack leapt in eagerly. “If she’d just give me a chance—”

“I am not going to marry him,” Nina interrupted.

“There’s a lot of advantages to it, Nina,” Sally argued. “Where would I be without my husbands? I got a car out of the first, a house out of the second and the capital to set up the business from the third.”

Sally had it the wrong way round. Nina didn’t want a sales pitch directed at her, but Sally had the bit between the teeth and was in full spate.

“Husbands can be very handy. You have a built-in escort, sex on demand, someone to look after you if you get sloshed at a party, financial backing, the muscle to stand over tradesmen and make sure they do the job right, and in your case, a no-cost baby minder when you want a break from mothering.”

“That’s where it falls down,” Nina pounced. “Jack hates babies.”

“It’s different with my own kid,” he defended staunchly.

Nina swung on him. “What’s different about it? You think Charlotte won’t cry? That she won’t dirty her nappy and wake up in the middle of the night and take attention away from you?”

“I can adjust.”

“Ingrained attitudes do not disappear overnight, Jack Gulliver.”

A nurse came in and looked disapprovingly at the late visitors. “I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you people to leave. Hospital rules, you know.”

Sally hopped off the bed. “Sleep on it, Nina,” she advised, her eyebrows waggling suggestively. “It’s very easy to get a divorce these days.”

Jack rose reluctantly from his chair. “I’ll be back tomorrow, Nina,” he vowed, a challenge burning in his eyes. “I’m not going to be shut out again.”

Then he turned to look down at the baby in the bassinette, giving her a salute as he moved past. “Good night, kid. This is your dad talking, and don’t let your mum tell you any different.”

“Her name is Charlotte!” Nina shouted after him.

CHAPTER FIVE

THE roses arrived just before the midmorning feeding time. One of the nurses carried in the huge arrangement, grinning from ear to ear. “Three dozen!” she crowed, eyeing Nina with speculative interest. Being given so many was clearly a notable achievement.

“For me?” Nina asked doubtfully.

“It’s your name on the envelope,” came the ready assurance.

They could only be from Jack. Which meant he really would be coming back today, bringing with him all the conflicts she had tried to keep out of the life she had planned for Charlotte and herself. With her heart aflutter with apprehension and her mind clogged with a host of desires she shied away from examining, Nina cleared the top of her bedside cabinet before she was aware of what she was doing.

The nurse set the vase down just as Nina realised she should refuse the extravagant gift. It was weak to give Jack any positive signals. But the deep red buds had a glorious scent, and they were so heart-liftingly beautiful, it seemed unnecessarily churlish to direct them elsewhere. It wouldn’t make any difference in the long run, she argued to herself. The roses would die, just as Jack’s interest in wooing her would die when the crunch of actually having to deal with a baby came.

Having spent a restless night brooding over Jack’s reappearance in her life, Nina remained unpersuaded there was any real hope of a happy future with him. All she could see ahead of them were endless disputes, damaging to everyone, especially Charlotte.

Recollections of her own childhood were still painfully vivid. Her parents had finally separated when she was ten, and she’d been shunted off to live with her grandmother, who was prepared to shoulder the burden. Despite being tolerated, rather than loved, by her grandmother, Nina had found it an enormous relief simply no longer being a bone of continual contention between her parents.

The nurse unpinned the envelope and gave it to her, still grinning. “Red roses for love. Some guy wants to make an impression.”

“He already has,” Nina muttered darkly, and Jack had a lot of winning over to do before she’d change her mind about his fitness to be a father. “Thanks for bringing them in.”

“My pleasure.”

Nina opened the envelope and withdrew the card. It read, “For the woman who’s given me more than anyone else in the world—Love, Jack.”

A lump filled her throat. She had to swallow hard to ease the constriction. The truth of it was Jack had given her more than any man she had ever met, but that did not make him right for Charlotte. Clinging to the conviction he could not be trusted to love their daughter as she should be loved, Nina opened the top drawer of her cabinet and dropped the card in, denying herself the indulgence of reading it over and over again, making more of it than it meant.

“Looks like your Jack is making up for lost time.”

The optimistic comment from Rhonda, one of her room-mates, struck a sensitive chord. Had she done wrong in denying Jack knowledge of her pregnancy? At the time she had imagined a horrified reaction from him. She had believed he would suggest an abortion and do his utmost to harass her into it. Maybe she had done him an injustice.

Nevertheless, the situation last night had been a very different one. A baby who was already born could not be as easily dismissed as an unseen fetus. It was a reality, a living, breathing human being, who was definitely a little person in her own right, one who couldn’t be ignored or discarded as of no account.

Jack might want to diminish her importance, but no way was Nina going to let him relegate Charlotte to some distant place in their lives. Calling her the kid was so offensively impersonal. Nina still burned at the offhand attitude it typified. And corrupting their daughter’s name to Charlie…No doubt if he had to have a child, he would have preferred a boy.

“Three dozen hothouse roses don’t come cheaply,” came the knowing remark from Kim, her other room-mate.

“He can afford them. It’s not money that worries him,” Nina said dryly, niggled by the unsubtle approbation both women had displayed towards Jack since his dramatic appearance on the scene last night. They couldn’t seem to comprehend her reservations about accepting his volte-face on wanting a child in his life.

They were younger than Nina, and the course of their lives had run with conventional smoothness so far. They had every reason to cling to their romantic illusions, not having run into any serious snags themselves.

Kim, at twenty-three, was a rather plump but pretty blonde who’d married the guy she fell in love with at high school. The only career she wanted was being his wife and the mother of his children. Her husband had a permanent job on the railway, and she felt absolutely secure.

Rhonda, at twenty-five, was more sophisticated, a professional hairdresser who intended to keep working until she and her husband had their house paid off. He was a sales representative of a major food company, and their goals had been meticulously planned—their wedding, the baby, the house, their car traded in for a family station wagon.

Rhonda’s catalogued milestones had driven Nina to reflect that none of her own goals had been achieved. She’d worked her way through design school, dreaming of making a name for herself in the fashion industry. Clinching an apprenticeship with a successful designer had seemed a helpful step, yet it had very quickly punched home to her that she’d never have the capital to launch her own brand name in such a highly competitive field. The closest she’d got to establishing her own business was this partnership with Sally.

As for her love-life, there had been no-one of any deep significance until Jack. She’d been twenty-eight at the time of meeting him, Jack thirty-two, and it truly seemed as though Mr. Right had finally come along. The shock had been totally shattering when he’d revealed how anti babies and children he was. Even if she hadn’t been pregnant, it would have made her think twice about continuing their relationship.

Charlotte stirred, giving one of her little mewing cries. Nina swooped on the bassinette, eager to pick up her beautiful baby daughter and cradle her in her arms. She was so tiny and perfect, like a miracle, and Nina still marvelled at the way she latched instantly onto a nipple and sucked.

Having stacked the pillows on the bed for a comfortable position, Nina settled back against them, unbuttoned her nightie and smilingly watched her daughter home in on what she wanted. A rush of deep maternal love reassured Nina of the decisions she had made, despite the situation with Jack.

Although she had never felt a pressing need to have a baby, it had always seemed to her a natural thing to do somewhere along her lifeline. She would have wanted the choice to have a child and would have felt cheated as a woman to be denied it. Maybe it was some subconscious response to not having been wanted herself, but from the moment Nina had learnt she was pregnant, however unplanned it was, all her protective instincts had been aroused. This baby would be wanted and loved and cherished.

She might have been a failure as a daughter, a failure at making a name for herself with her own fashion label, a failure at picking the right man to love, but she was not going to be a failure as a mother. On that Nina was fiercely resolved.

“If your Jack doesn’t worry about money he must have a great job,” Rhonda remarked, obviously interested in the financial angle. She had a budget worked out for everything.

“He runs his own business,” Nina explained.

“Doing what?” Kim pumped.

Nina sighed and gave in to their natural curiosity. “Mostly French polishing. He restores antiques and makes cabinets and other bits and pieces. He’s very good at it.”

A perfectionist, she thought. Like her with her sewing and dress designs. They both enjoyed making something beautiful. Their mutual understanding of the pleasure and satisfaction in creativity was one of the shared bonds that had made their relationship so good.

She wished she could believe in Jack’s turnaround. Maybe she should risk the hurt of giving him a chance. If he persisted. The roses were a heady reminder of Jack’s sensuality. A convulsive little shiver ran over her skin. She had missed the enthralling intimacy of his lovemaking. Sally had a point there. The nights were very lonely by herself.

“I wish my husband was a handy man,” Rhonda said ruefully. “He can’t even change a tap washer.”

“You can always get in a plumber. You can’t hire a doting and devoted father,” Nina pointed out, reminding herself to be very, very wary of where she was heading with Jack, if indeed she was heading anywhere. There would inevitably be a lot of interrupted nights with Charlotte. Jack’s groaning and grumbling wouldn’t exactly be music to her ears.

“Give him time to feel like a father,” Kim advised. “Does Charlotte favour him in looks?”

“Not particularly.”

She looked at their daughter. Her fair hair probably came from him. Not that Jack was fair now, but he must have been when he was a boy. Nina remembered her mother saying she was born with black hair, so Charlotte didn’t take after her in that respect. In any event, Nina was certain Jack hadn’t examined Charlotte for likenesses. She was just the kid to him.

“Well, whether she looks like him or not, babies have a way of winding themselves around fathers’ hearts,” Rhonda declared, unable to imagine any other outcome. “He wouldn’t want to marry you if he didn’t want her.”

The marriage offer had certainly come as a surprise. Probably a conditioned response to the situation, Nina had reasoned, guilt leading to a burst of doing the right thing by her. Given time, Jack would undoubtedly rue the impulsive idea.

“It won’t last,” Nina said, casting a quelling look at Jack’s well-meaning supporters and determinedly dampening the little hope that kept squiggling through her.

Rhonda couldn’t resist a last word. “Look at it this way. If he’s got plenty of money, you could always hire a nanny to take the hassle out of looking after the baby.”

A nanny for a kid. Rhonda had hit the nail on the head with that one, Nina thought. It probably would be Jack’s solution to avoiding having anything to do with Charlotte. Well, he could think again if he was planning to separate her from her baby so he could have their twosome back without the hassle of being involved in parenting.

Charlotte hiccupped. Nina hoisted her up and gently rubbed her back to bring up wind. No nanny could feed her baby as she could. Jack had better appreciate her position on mothering—and fathering—if he really wanted to consider marriage. It was a family package deal or nothing, as far as Nina was concerned.

If Jack came today—she glanced at the roses. When he came today, she needed to get a few things straightened out. He’d better come today if he wanted to show good faith. Sally was taking her home tonight. Nina had no intention of waiting around with Charlotte, hanging onto a hope that might not materialise.

Charlotte burped, then started snuffling around Nina’s shoulder for more milk. Nina lowered her onto her other breast and settled back contentedly to let her baby have her fill.

If Jack Gulliver thought he could walk into their lives and take over as he pleased, he was in for a big surprise.

Two hours later he breezed into the ward, radiating goodwill and bearing more gifts. Nina felt her pulse quicken. He had always excited her. She found herself cravenly wishing she’d put on make-up and a sexier nightie than the practical cotton one with the convenient buttons for breastfeeding. Which was absurd in the circumstances.

“I beat the lunch trolley,” he said, grinning triumphantly as he set his parcels down on her mobile tray and started removing their contents. “I brought you a chocolate thick shake from McDonald’s, that terrine you love—the one with bacon and chicken and pistachio nuts in it—from David Jones’s food hall, your favourite Caesar salad, and fresh strawberries and cream to finish up. Enjoy,” he commanded, positioning the newly laden tray across the bed for easy accessibility.

She stared at him in amazement, not only that he’d remembered what she liked but had actually gone to the trouble of getting it for her. “The hospital does feed me, you know,” she said, struggling against the seduction of being pampered.

“You need appetite tempters, not mass-produced stuff,” he argued earnestly. “And none of this will upset the baby. I checked. So you can eat with a clear conscience.”

He looked so confident, brimming with bonhomie, his green eyes aglow with a gusto for life. It wasn’t fair that he still had the power to dazzle her with his vitality, to ignite a flood of desire with his sizzling sex appeal. It was imperative she keep her head clear and her heart guarded. His words finally filtered through the attraction zone she had to disregard.

“You checked what would upset the baby?” she asked incredulously.

“No excuses for not eating, Nina. You look thin and run-down, and that’s not a good state to be in. You need a full store of energy to cope with a new baby.”

He was sounding off like an authority, and being altogether too virtuous for someone who wanted nothing to do with babies. “Since when did you become an expert on these matters?” she asked suspiciously.

“Made a few phone calls last night for some first-hand advice.” He grinned again. “I’ve got plenty of friends ready, willing and able to hand it out.”

Determinedly cheerful in the face of disaster, Nina thought, though she had to concede he had made it through about sixteen hours without backing off and he was putting in considerable effort at this point. It won’t last, she repeated to herself, but Sally’s sales pitch swirled through her mind, whispering she might as well make the most of it while it did. The terrine was definitely a slice of gourmet heaven.

“Thank you, Jack,” she said sincerely. “This is very kind and thoughtful of you.”

“You’re welcome. Go ahead and eat,” he urged.

The hospital lunch trolley was wheeled in, and Jack waved it on to Kim and Rhonda. They were served with trays of what they had ordered, and Nina hoped they would be somewhat distracted from being interested spectators to the latest development between her and Jack.

She broke open the packet of crackers that accompanied the terrine and helped herself to a generous slice of the tasty delicacy, highly conscious of Jack watching her, exuding intense satisfaction. It was probably a big mistake accepting anything from him, encouraging him to stick around, Nina thought. It would end badly. But right at this moment, however wrong it was, it felt good having Jack here with her.

He stepped to the bassinette and looked at Charlotte, who was sleeping peacefully. This happy state did not test Jack’s paternal staying power. It positively increased his cheerfulness.

“Hi, kid. This is your dad speaking,” he said, blithely confident of no reply. “I’m looking after your mum now, so there’s nothing for you to worry about. You can dream blissful dreams of plenty.”

The terrine was delicious. Nina had to acknowledge Jack had the capacity to be a good provider. And he couldn’t blame Charlotte for messing up his chosen career, because that was solidly established. Apart from his earning power, he’d never been in financial difficulties, anyway. His parents had both been in the law profession, wealthy people who’d left a considerable estate to their only child when they died, both of them from heart attacks in their early sixties.

“Worked themselves to death,” Jack had remarked offhandedly, and Nina had received the strong impression there had been no great love lost between him and his parents.

Yet he must have been a wanted child. His mother had chosen to have him in her late thirties. Nina figured his parents had probably been disappointed and alienated from Jack when he’d chosen to do manual work rather than follow them into their highbrow profession.

In any event, Jack had no money problems.

He had an attitude problem.

And Nina didn’t believe in overnight transformations, however much she might want to. She had seen Jack look benevolently upon babies before, even speak to them benevolently. She knew it to be an act, a social pretence. They were anathema to him.

“Good sleeper, isn’t she?” Jack commented, warm approval in his voice.

“She’ll probably turn into the baby from hell once I take her home,” Nina predicted.

“Well, we’ll meet that problem when it comes,” he said, clinging to blind optimism.

“Why, Jack?” she demanded. “Why are you even thinking of taking this on? I didn’t imagine what you said to me about babies.”

His eyes were pained. “Nina, if I could take that back…if I could take back these past eight months, I would. There’s been one hell of a hole in my life since you took yourself out of it.”

Her heart flipped over. She tore her gaze from his and attacked the lettuce in the Caesar salad. However much he wanted it to be, this was no longer a one-on-one situation. She couldn’t answer his needs. She concentrated fiercely on what she was eating. The dressing on the salad was superb. She loved the tangy taste of anchovies.

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