Dating The Millionaire Doctor(24)

She'd already refused him.

He didn't know the first thing about relationships. Where to start?

By taking tomorrow off. Yeah, okay, he thought wryly, good one. It was  his rostered day off anyway. Very magnanimous. He could do a quick  check-in at the hospital before she woke and then he'd show her New  York.

But Monday he had a list longer than his arm, and it was too late to delegate. She'd be on her own then.

He could probably cut it a bit. Get home at a reasonable hour.

To find the little wife waiting for him, with supper served and his slippers warmed?

Tori was right. It was a ludicrous concept. Only it had to be thought of. She had to stay.

Why?

He had a sudden vision of himself, aged about seven. Summer holidays.  His mother off with one of her lovers. He in his grandparents' mausoleum  of a house on Long Island.

Lonely as hell.

Tori was having his baby, and his kid wasn't going to be lonely. If he  was going to be a father, he wanted his kid here, whether Tori agreed or  not.

His kid?

He'd never thought of being a father. He'd had such a solitary upbringing; he'd simply expected more of the same.

He'd reacted calmly enough to Tori's news. Or more. He'd been so stunned  that all he could feel was concern for Tori. To think past that to  fatherhood itself …

He'd have a daughter? A son?

The idea was so overwhelming he couldn't take it in.

He let it swirl for a while, trying to figure things out, but no matter  how he looked at it, one thing stood out. This child would not have his  upbringing. His mother telling lies about his father. His parents  continents apart.

She had to stay.

He'd marry the mother of his child.



She slept until ten, and when she woke Jake was standing over her, lean  and long and gorgeous, wearing a sleek business suit, a crisp white  shirt and a crimson tie. What the …

She glanced from him to the clock-and yelped.

He grinned and set toast on the bedside table, then sat on the side of  the bed. It was such a familiar thing to do that she practically yelped  again.

'Feel up to breakfast?' he said and smiled, and she thought, This man is  the father of my child. That was such a seriously sexy, seriously  wonderful thing to think that her toes practically curled.

But what was with the suit?

'You're dressed up, why?' she managed.

'I've been into the hospital so I could clear the rest of the day.'

'I thought you had today off.'

'I don't do off days, but I'm free now. Moving on …  You don't look like  you have morning sickness,' he said, and she hauled her thoughts back to  earth. Or almost back to earth.

'I'm only sick if I move fast.'

'Then don't move fast.'

'I won't.'

He leaned forwards and took the pillows from the spare side of the bed,  then wedged them behind her. And there it was again, that blast of  caring. And of maleness. And of … want?

Down, girl, she told herself fiercely. You have twenty-four hours left  of this man. There's no use lusting after something-someone-you can't  have.         

     



 

But she was definitely lusting.

He was handing over tea and she had to take it, even though there was  suddenly a really big part of her that wanted to fling the tea onto his  cool-grey carpet, grab him and haul him back onto his own pillows. He  was the father of her baby …

'So have you ever been to New York?' he asked, and she blinked and had a  couple of sips of tea and mustered her hormones into some sort of  corral. But the boundaries she put around them looked frail. Very frail  indeed.

'No,' she managed, and her voice came out a squeak and she had to try again.

'So where have you been?' He handed over toast. Her fingers brushed his  and she practically yelped all over again. She had to get herself under  control.

'Um, Sydney?' she ventured.

'Is that the furthest?' he demanded, astounded.

'Yeah,' she said, defensive, and then because she didn't want him to  think she hadn't travelled because she was a wimp, she told him the  rest. 'Mum died when Micki and I were small. Dad had the veterinary  practice up and we helped him, after school, every holiday. I thought I  might travel for a bit after vet school but by the time I finished, Dad  had Parkinson's. Micki's marriage was in trouble and she was in Perth.  She couldn't help. If I hadn't stayed Dad would have had to sell up and  it'd have broken his heart.' She paused and then added quietly, 'Though  if he sold up maybe he'd still be alive.'

'Hey, Tori, don't.' He smiled, coaxing her to let it go. 'You can't beat  yourself up over decisions like that. And you're here now,' he said.  'Your first overseas experience. You need to stay for more than a day.'

'No.' The thought terrified her.

'Not necessarily with me.'

'I'd mess with your life,' she said and glanced at the spare side of the bed.

'There's no one.'

'I didn't mean that.'

'Okay, you didn't mean that, but I'm telling you anyway. If you want to sleep in my bed for the next month-'

'No!'

'No?'

'No,' she said, and she sounded desperate but there wasn't anything she could do about it. 'I need to get up now.'

'If you need to sleep, then sleep.'

'If I've only got one day in New York, I'm not sleeping.'

'You should take more.'

'I'm house-training Itsy,' she said. 'I can't take more.'

'Tori … '

'I haven't come to interfere with your life. I've just come to tell you and then to go.'

'I can't see that I can let you go.'

'You don't have a choice,' she said, trying hard to sound firm and sure  and confident. Was he planning on locking her up until this baby was  born? Ha! She'd thrown him, she thought. She'd had a month to get used  to the idea of a baby. He'd had less than a day.

'So I'll get up and you can point me to the Statue of Liberty,' she said, moving right on.

'Is that what you want to see?'

'And the Empire State Building, and Central Park and Tiffany's.'

'Tiffany's?' he said blankly.

'My very favourite movie in the whole world. Don't you just love Audrey Hepburn?'

'Like life itself,' he said promptly, and she giggled and ate a bit of  toast and thought, This could be okay. She'd do the tourist thing, maybe  they'd meet for dinner tonight; they'd discuss practicalities like just  how much access he wanted and how they were going to figure it out, and  then she'd head back to Australia and get on with it.

'I'll go put on my walking shoes,' he said.

'You don't have to come with me,' she said, startled. 'I'm guessing you'll already have seen the Statue of Liberty.'

'I might have,' he agreed. 'But she's worth a second look. And to be honest, I've never once been inside Tiffany's.'





CHAPTER TEN




T HEY did the Empire State Building. They had to queue for two hours but  at the top she gasped and decreed the view was worth every minute. She  produced a camera and took the shots every tourist took, but she  insisted on having him front and centre.

'This is your town,' she said. 'I'm visiting Jake's Manhattan. This is  Jake with the Statue of Liberty in the background. Very nice.'

A tourist offered to take a shot of them together and she beamed.  'That'll be good for later,' she decreed, handing over her camera.         

     



 

'Later?' He held her tightly as the German gentleman lined up the  shot-because holding her close seemed the right thing to do. Also it was  a good excuse to keep her near him. He hadn't forgotten how good she  felt. His body was reminding him every time she came within touching  distance.

He could hardly understand her smile, he thought. She must be  jet-lagged. She was facing an uncertain future alone and, here she was,  cheerfully soaking up every minute of her two-day visit.

She was gorgeous.

But then …  'This will be a shot of Mummy and Daddy for our baby's first  album,' she told him as he held her-and desire gave way to something  else entirely, a range of emotions he couldn't begin to understand. But  he kept her still, and when he saw the resulting picture he thought no  one would know by his fixed smile that he felt as if he'd been punched.

But he did feel as though he'd been punched. No matter how many traffic  fumes he'd inhaled last night, he didn't have his head round this.

This lovely, vibrant woman was carrying his baby.

And she was only here until tomorrow.

Would he go to Australia for the birth? He must, he thought, as Tori  went back to snapping views. And what if something happened early? A  miscarriage. A problem later in the pregnancy? What sort of antenatal  care would she get in Combadeen?

How could he let her go back to Australia?

But how could he not? He had no hold on her. They'd had, what, a two-day  relationship. There was no way a future could be based on that.

But still …

Still, he didn't know what to think.

Finally viewed out, Tori headed to the elevators. A big guy, overweight  and overbearing, barged into the elevator beside Tori and pushed her  backwards. He saw Tori's hand instinctively move to protect a bump that  wasn't there yet, and he wanted to move his body in between them and  thump the guy into the bargain.

He wanted to say, 'That's my kid in there. Watch it.'

More. He wanted to say, 'That's my woman, and I'll thump anyone who touches her.'

Only, of course, he didn't. He was civilised and careful; he was a  senior medico with a responsible job; he was someone who taught  nonaggressive solutions to his staff when patients were violent.