‘Well, given that’s never going to be true…’ he lowered his voice and, so as not to hurt her, very gently lowered himself on the bed ‘…it might be fun to pretend.’ He looked at her poor bloodshot eyes. ‘Was it awful?’
‘Hell.’
‘Why all the drips?’
‘I had to have surgery.’ She watched him wince.
‘When do you go home?’
‘In a couple of days.’ Kate shivered at the prospect. She couldn’t even lift her baby; the thought of being completely responsible for her was overwhelming.
‘That’s way too soon!’ Aleksi was appalled. ‘I think my cousin had a Caesarean and she was in for at least a week…’ He thought back to the plush private ward, the baby he had glimpsed from behind the glass wall of the nursery. He glanced into the crib, about to make a cursory polite comment, and then he actually smiled, because struggling to focus back at him was surely the cutest baby in the world. Completely bald, she had big, dark blue eyes and her mother’s full pink lips.
‘She’s gorgeous.’ He wasn’t being polite; he was being honest.
‘Because she’s a Caesarean, apparently,’ Kate said. ‘I think her eyes will be brown by the time I get her home.’ And then she asked him, ‘Aleksi, what on earth are you doing here?’
‘I’m on my way to the airport.’ When she didn’t look convinced he gave a shrug. ‘Five hours in my parents’ company and maybe I needed something different.’ He stared back to the baby. ‘She’s awake.’
‘Do you want to hold her?’
‘God, no!’ Aleksi said, and then he changed his mind, because maybe he did need something different. ‘Won’t I disturb her?’
‘She’s awake,’ Kate pointed out.
‘I thought they were supposed to cry.’ He knew nothing about babies, had no intention of finding out about babies, and yet he was curious to hold her—and so he did.
Big hands went into the clear bassinette and lifted the soft bundle. Kate’s immediate instinct was to remind him to support her head, yet she bit on her lip and silenced the warning, because he already had, and for a stupid blind moment she wished the impossible.
Wished, from the tender way he held her baby, that somehow her baby was his too.
‘My dad’s sick,’ he told her. It was top secret information, and he knew she could sell those words for tens of thousands, yet at that moment he was past caring. He held new life in his hands and he smelt an unfamiliar sweet fragrance. He ran a finger over a cheek he could only liken to a new kitten’s paw—before it was let outside to a world that would roughen and harden it.
‘I’m sorry.’
‘No one’s allowed to know,’ Aleksi said, still looking down at the baby. ‘What’s she called?’
‘Georgina,’ Kate said.
‘Georgie.’ Aleksi smiled at his new friend.
‘Georgina!’ Kate corrected.
‘I wonder if I was this cute.’ Aleksi frowned. ‘Imagine two of them.’
Kate rolled her eyes. Two identical Kolovskys in a crib—they’d have had the maternity ward at a standstill!
‘I can’t imagine you cute,’ she said instead.
‘Oh, I was!’ Aleksi grinned. ‘Iosef was the serious one.’ He put Georgina down and his grin turned to a very nice, slightly pensive smile. ‘You’re going to be wonderful as a mother.’
‘How?’ And whether it was hormones, exhaustion or just plain old fear, tears shot from her eyes as her bravery crumbled. ‘I want it to be wonderful for her, but how will I manage it?’
‘It will be,’ Aleksi said assuredly. ‘My parents had everything and they managed to completely mess us all up. You, on the other hand…’ he stared into her soft brown eyes and didn’t see the bloodshot whites, just tears and concern and a certain stoicism there, laced with kindness too ‘…are going to get it so right.’ And then it was over. ‘I’ve got to go.’
‘Thank you.’
She braced herself for him to stand, tightened up her non-existent abdominal muscles as he went to stand, anticipating pain but getting something else. His arms came around her, that gorgeous face moved in and she smelt him—smelt Kolovsky cologne and something else, something male and unique that made her blush just as it had on that first day, just as she knew it always would.
‘Let’s leave your audience with no room for doubt.’
And then he kissed her.
Terribly, terribly tenderly—she was, after all, just twelve hours post-op—but there was this taste and this passion and this heaven that she found on his lips…this gorgeous, delicious escape that was delivered with his mouth and then the cool danger of his tongue. And to the nay-sayers on the ward he proved this wasn’t a duty call.
‘I have to get this flight.’
He should have been on the stage, Kate thought, because there was regret in his eyes and voice as he walked out of the ward. She lay back on the pillow, eyes closed, but basking in the glow of the curious looks from the other mothers and their oh, so plain partners.
Only she didn’t get to enjoy them for very long.
Lost in a dream, still basking in the memory, she was very rudely interrupted as a porter kicked off the brakes on her bed.
‘You’re being moved.’
‘Where?’
Oh, God—she so didn’t want this. Didn’t want to start again with three other mothers—or, worse, maybe she was being moved to an eight-bed ward.
‘You’re being upgraded.’
Five years ago, on a business flight to Singapore, her stingy boss had been overruled by ground staff and she had been invited to turn left, not right, as she stepped onto the plane.
It happened again that afternoon.
Her bed slid easily out of the public section, over the buffed tiles, and then stuck a little as it hit the soft carpets of the private wing, as if warning the porter—warning everyone—that she didn’t really belong there.
But who cared?
Not the staff.
Aleksi Kolovsky had covered her for a full week.
It was bliss to move into the large double bed.
Heaven to stare at the five-star menu as Georgina was whisked to the nursery to be brought back later for feeding.
It was, Kate reflected later that night, as a lovely midwife took Georgina
