Single Dads Collection. Lynne Marshall

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      ‘So what really brings you back to Suffolk? Em tells me you aren’t a frequent visitor.’

      ‘More frequent than you,’ Dan replied, but Harry wasn’t having that.

      ‘We aren’t talking about me, we’re talking about you,’ he said. ‘And I get the distinct feeling that you rocking up here out of the blue is rather more meaningful than you’re letting on.’

      ‘I could say the same for you—and since my sister seems to be very much at the heart of this situation, I would very much like to know why.’

      ‘Why what?’ he asked wearily. ‘Why I came back here? They told me to take my baby home. This came to mind. It seemed like a good idea at the time.’

      ‘And now?’

      Harry met his eyes, then looked away, giving his hands an unreasonable amount of attention. ‘I’m not here to hurt her, Dan. We’re just friends. She’s helping me out of a jam—offering me and Kizzy a roof over our heads while the decorators are in and until the new furniture arrives. Nothing else.’

      ‘Except she’s feeding your baby.’

      Harry felt his neck heat and ran his hand round it, letting out a harsh sigh. ‘That wasn’t meant to happen. Kizzy wouldn’t take the bottle. I was in London for the day, she didn’t know what else to do.’

      ‘So she got out the breast pump and fed her?’

      He prevaricated for a second, then said, ‘Something like that.’

      Dan’s eyes narrowed. ‘Hell! She breastfed her, didn’t she? Damn, I might have known. She’s as soft as lights, that girl.’

      ‘She’s a woman, Dan.’

      ‘Oh, I’ve noticed—and I might have known you had. Things were never the same after the summer she turned sixteen. I would have thought you’d both moved on from a teenage crush, but perhaps I’ve been naïve.’

      Harry stabbed his hands through his hair and growled softly under his breath.

      ‘Dan, me and Em—there’s nothing to it. She’s just an old friend.’

      ‘So you haven’t touched her, then? I mean, I know you’re in my room, but that might just be for the sake of the children. A cover story.’

      He jackknifed out of the sofa and strode across to the window, glowering down the garden. ‘That’s just fantasy.’

      ‘Yours?’

      Bastard. He felt the colour rise on the back of his neck, the guilt plucking at him.

      ‘So have you touched her?’

      ‘I really think that whether he’s touched me or not is none of your damned business, Daniel,’ Em said from the doorway, and Harry swore softly and turned to face her.

      ‘Em, don’t chew him out, he’s only doing what he’s always done.’

      ‘Yeah—interfered! Well, it isn’t necessary, Dan, so give it a rest. We aren’t kids any longer. I’m going to bed. I suggest you two do the same and maybe by the morning you will have got some common sense.’

      And she stalked off, leaving them both suitably reprimanded.

      ‘Bossy little madam.’

      Harry turned and gave Dan a thoughtful look. ‘Fancy a drop of Irish whiskey?’

      ‘What—for old times’ sake?’ He grinned wryly and got to his feet, slinging an arm round Harry’s shoulder and slapping it affectionately. ‘Why not? Got a secret stash?’

      ‘No, but your father always did.’

      Dan chuckled. ‘I believe he still has. Come on, let’s raid it. It won’t be the first time.’

      And maybe, Harry thought, if he softens up enough, he’ll tell me what’s really going on.