Falling For The Single Dad. Jessica Hart

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      ‘Oh. It’s you,’ she said, wondering if there would ever come a time when her heart didn’t hiccup at the sight of him. ‘I thought you would have come through the fence and knocked on the back door.’

      He smiled a little awkwardly. ‘I don’t want to take advantage.’

      ‘You aren’t taking advantage.’ She opened the door a little wider. ‘Come on in. I was just about to have coffee. Join me.’

      ‘Thanks.’ He followed her down the hall and into the kitchen, perching on the stool awkwardly with Kizzy snuggled against his chest, and watched her while she made their drinks.

      ‘Still off coffee?’ she asked with a smile, and he shook his head, his mouth kicking up in an answering smile.

      ‘No. I need caffeine today. I’ve just had the decorator round. He’s coming tomorrow, but they’re going to hit the whole house at once and strip it all right out. I need to find a hotel for us for a week. I wondered if you’d got any ideas or recommendations?’

      ‘A hotel?’ she said, and then, knowing she was going to do it and utterly unable to stop her mouth making the words, she said, ‘Don’t be silly. You can stay here. It’s only a week. You’ll be no trouble.’

      No trouble? Was she out of her mind? And what was she thinking, only a week? That was seven nights! Well, five if she was lucky and he was talking working weeks, but it was Monday now, and if they’d said it would take a week then there’d be a weekend in between and so it would be properly a week before the decorators left, and then the carpets would have to be fitted and the furniture delivered. So, next Wednesday at the earliest. Oh, rats. Still, the house was plenty big enough and there were three bathrooms. They wouldn’t be tripping over each other at least.

      Besides, it was too late, because he was accepting, hesitantly, reluctantly, but still accepting, and only a real bitch would say, ‘Actually, no, I’ve changed my mind, I didn’t mean it at all!’

      Or a woman whose life was complicated enough, whose heart was finding it altogether too difficult to be so close to the person who’d held that heart in the palm of his hand for so very many years…

      ‘I’ve found my old baby sling,’ she told him, putting the coffee down in front of him and lifting the sling off the end of the worktop where she’d put it ready to give him.

      ‘Baby sling?’

      She smiled and handed it to him. ‘You put it round your shoulders and over your back, and the baby lies against your front, without you having to hold her all the time, so she can hear your heart beat and you have your hands free. They’re wonderful.’

      He studied the little heap of soft stretchy cotton fabric with interest. ‘I’ve seen things like this all over the world—women tying their babies to them so they can work, either on their fronts so they can feed them easily, or on their backs.’

      She nodded. ‘The so-called civilised West has just cottoned on. It’s a big thing now. They call it baby-wearing, as if they’d just invented it, but since you seem to be doing it anyway I thought you might like to borrow that to make it easier.’

      ‘Thanks. You’ll have to give me lessons,’ he said, putting it down again with a defeated laugh. ‘It looks like a loop of fabric to me.’

      ‘It is. Here.’

      And just because it was easier to show him than to put it on him with the baby still in his arms, she looped it round herself, adjusted it, took the baby from him and snuggled her inside it, close against her heart.

      Kizzy shifted, sighed and snuggled closer, relaxing back into sleep without a murmur. ‘See? Then you get your hands free.’

      He gave a cheeky, crooked grin. ‘Or I could let you carry her, since you seem to be the expert.’

      She laughed, sat down and sipped her coffee, relishing the feel of the little one against her, warm and curiously reassuring. No. She mustn’t let herself get too used to it. It was much, much too dangerous. Her heart had already been broken by this man, and there was no way she was going to let his daughter do the same thing.

      ‘I don’t suppose you want to come carpet shopping with me?’

      She met his eyes over her cup. ‘Can’t you cope?’ she asked, desperately trying to create a little distance, and then could have kicked herself because she would have loved to go carpet shopping with him.

      He СКАЧАТЬ