breathed a sigh of relief. He was glad that she was as wary as he was of this energy he felt flowing and sparking between them, the pull that he felt between their bodies. Much as he might find her attractive, he would never act on that. He wasn’t the kind of man she needed in her life. When she found someone she’d need a partner—a father for this child and the ones that would come in the future. She would need someone she could rely on, and he knew that he wasn’t capable of being that man.
But the part of his brain less removed from his primal ancestors groaned, trying to persuade him to get that dreamy look back on her face, to seduce her into softness.
‘Morning,’ he said, rather more briskly than he’d intended. ‘I brought coffee. I know the stuff here’s awful.’
‘Morning. Thanks...’
Her voice was as wary as her expression, and he guessed that he wasn’t the only one who’d thought that they would never see each other again after he’d left the hospital. He wondered if she’d found it as impossible not to think of him as he had of her. Of course not, he reasoned. She had the baby to think about—there was probably no room in her life right now for anything other than feeding, nappies and sleep.
At the sound of her voice the baby had started to stir, and Lily automatically reached out a hand to stroke her cheek.
‘How is she?’
‘She’s fine...good. They’ve said that I can take her home today.’
Home. So that settled it, then. Kate had been right the other day—Lily was going to look after the baby as her sister had asked. And that meant he’d been right to fight off this attraction. Because if there was one thing he was certain of it was that he could never get involved with someone who had a child. He could never again open himself up to that sort of hurt.
Even if Lily’s sister returned, he couldn’t imagine that Lily saw a future without children. He’d seen the melting look in her eye as she’d gazed down at her niece—there was no hiding her maternal instincts.
‘That’s good. I’m glad she’s okay.’ Now that he had his answer he felt awkward, not sure why he had come. No doubt Lily was wondering what he was doing there, too. Or perhaps not. Perhaps his real interest was as transparent to her as it had been opaque to him.
Perhaps he had imagined this energy and attraction—imagined the way her eyes widened whenever her skin brushed against his, the way she flushed in those rare moments when they both risked eye contact. Maybe she saw him as nothing other than the Good Samaritan who had happened to be there when she’d needed someone. If only she knew that when someone else had really needed him, when they’d relied on him to be there for them, he’d let them down.
He glanced up at the name plate above the crib and realised that the little girl was no longer Baby Baker.
‘Rosie?’ he asked, surprise in his voice. Kate hadn’t mentioned that.
‘It seemed to suit her,’ Lily said with a shrug. ‘It’s not official yet. If Helen doesn’t like it...’
‘It’s pretty.’
‘Look, I hate to ask this when you’re already doing so much for us...’
Lily glanced at the door and Nic guessed what was coming. Instantly he wished himself anywhere in the world but here. But Lily was still speaking, and he knew that it was too late.
‘...just for fifteen minutes or so, while I grab a shower. I know the nurses are listening out for her, but I hate the thought of her being alone. I know I can trust you with her.’
A lump blocked his throat and he couldn’t force the word no out past it. He’d not been responsible for a child since the morning he’d found his son, cold and still in his crib. But the look on Lily’s face—the trust that he saw there—touched his heart in a way he hadn’t realised was even still possible. And more than anything he wanted to know that the baby—little Rosie—was going to be okay. That was why he’d dragged himself down here, after all. Fifteen minutes alone with a sleeping baby—surely he could manage that, could ensure that she was safe while Lily was away?
He nodded. ‘Sure, go ahead. You look like you could do with a break.’
Her smile held for a moment before her face fell. Oh, God, that wasn’t what he’d meant at all. He’d all but said, You look awful, hadn’t he? What was it about this woman that made it so impossible for him to function anything like normal?
He started back-pedalling fast. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that at all. You look fine. I mean—I just meant you’ve slept in that chair two nights in a row, and I bet you’re tired. You look great.’
This wasn’t getting any better. But Lily grinned at him, probably enjoying his discomfort, and the fact that he didn’t seem at all able to remove his foot from his mouth.
A disconcerting noise and a very bad smell halted Nic’s apology in its tracks, and as he caught Lily’s eyes they both laughed.
‘Well, perhaps if you change her I might find it in my heart to forgive you.’
Before he had a chance to argue she was out of the room, leaving him alone with the baby. This was not at all what he’d expected when he’d reluctantly agreed to watch a sleeping baby for fifteen minutes, but he reached for the nappies and the cotton wool, acting on instinct.
He narrowed his eyes, trying not to see Rosie’s little pink cheeks or her tiny fingers. He just had to concentrate on the task in hand, and he could do that without really looking at her, without thinking about the fact that this little body was a whole new life—maybe a hundred years of potential all contained in seven pounds of toes and belly and new baby smell. Without thinking about his son.
He had nearly finished the nappy when Rosie began to fuss. As he fastened the poppers on her Babygro and washed his hands, he silently pleaded with her not to start crying. But her face screwed up and the tears started, and her banshee-like wail was impossible to ignore. He shut his eyes as he scooped a hand under her head and another under her bottom and lifted her to his shoulder, making soothing noises that he hoped would quiet her. He tried not to think at all as he bounced her gently, waiting for her tears to stop, tried not to think of the first time he had held his son, Max.
Or the last time.
The memory made him clutch Rosie a little tighter, hold her a little safer, knowing how precarious a young life could be. Eventually her cries slowed to sniffles as she snuggled closer to his shoulder and started looking for a source of food. He looked around the room, wondering where he’d lay his hands on formula and a bottle. He could ask the nurses, he supposed.
He transferred Rosie to the crook of one arm, only flinching momentarily at the remembered familiarity of the movement, and headed for the door. As it opened he was greeted by the sight of Lily, fresh from the shower, with no make-up and her hair pulled back, and it took his breath away.
Any chance of kidding himself that his interest was only in Rosie’s welfare was lost. It was more than that. It was...her. He just couldn’t stop thinking about her. But that was the problem. If he’d met Lily just one day earlier, before her sister had turned up with a baby, he wouldn’t have hesitated to explore this connection between them, to imagine Lily looking as she did now—all fresh and pink and polished from the shower. But the shower would have been in his flat, and she’d have just left
