Come Fly With Me...: English Girl in New York / Moonlight in Paris. Fiona Brand

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      Dan nodded and started folding up the towels he’d pulled from his cupboard, forming a makeshift kind of mattress in the crib. ‘What do you think?’

      ‘Perfect.’ She had to put him down. She had to put him down now. She was starting to feel a little overwhelmed again. A baby cuddling into the nape of her neck and giving little sighs of comfort was making a whole host of emotions wash over her. None that she wanted to share.

      She adjusted Abraham and laid him down in the crib, covering him with the hand-knitted shawl, and held her breath, waiting to see if he would stir.

      It took her a few seconds to realise Dan was holding his breath right next to her.

      But Abraham was out cold. His first feed had been a success.

      ‘Darn it. Do you think we should have changed his nappy again?’

      Dan raised his eyebrows. ‘I think if you touch Abraham right now and wake him up I will kill you.’

      She gave a little laugh. ‘It’s kind of strange, isn’t it? Standing here waiting to see if he’ll wake up again?’

      Dan straightened his back. ‘What time is it?’ He looked over at the kitchen clock. ‘Ten-thirty? Wow. No wonder I’m starved. I haven’t eaten dinner. What about you? Are you hungry, Carrie?’

      She shook her head. ‘Maybe I should go.’

      ‘You are joking, right?’

      She shook her head firmly. All of a sudden there wasn’t a baby as a barrier between the two of them.

      All of sudden there wasn’t a whole lot of space between them. And it was as if a little switch had been flicked.

      Everything about Dan was making her feel self-conscious. How was her hair? Was her make-up still in place?

      She’d spent the past few months going around in a fog. It had never once crossed her mind how she looked to the opposite sex.

      But there was something about Dan. Something about being in close proximity to him that was making her feel uncomfortable. She didn’t want to have to think about all those kinds of feelings resurrecting themselves. Not when she knew where they could eventually lead.

      Now, she was fixating on his straight white teeth, the little lines of fatigue around his eyes and the sincerity in his face.

      Then he snapped her out of it by giving her a cheeky wink and folding his arms across his chest. ‘If I have to arrest you, I will.’

      She jolted out of her daze. ‘Arrest me?’

      He smiled. ‘To keep you here. To force you to help me look after Abraham overnight. What do I know about a newborn baby?’

      ‘And what do I know?’ She felt the rage surge inside her along with something else she couldn’t quite work out. ‘Because I’m a woman you think I should know about babies?’

      ‘No.’ His words were firm and strangely calming. They must have taught him that in cop school. How to calm a raging bull. ‘I think you’re another human being and two heads are better than one.’

      It sounded logical. It sounded sensible. And it made all the chauvinistic arguments that had leaped into her head feel pathetic.

      She didn’t want to spend the night with a new baby. How on earth would she cope? It could end up bringing back a whole host of memories she didn’t know how to deal with.

      Then there was Dan. With his short dark hair and big brown eyes that made her skin itch. No, that made her skin tingle.

      Every now and then he flirted with her, as if it was his natural demeanour. Flirting with women was obviously second nature to a guy like him. But it wasn’t second nature for her. And she just didn’t have the defences for it yet. She didn’t want to be drawn in by his twinkling eyes and cheeky grins. She would look like some hapless teenager around him. This was feeling more awkward by the minute.

      Carrie walked back over to the window, sneaking a look at Abraham on the way past.

      ‘How long do you think he’ll sleep?’

      She shook her head. ‘Yet another thing I’ll need to look up. Isn’t it usually around four hours for new babies?’

      Dan glanced at the clock. ‘So we’ve got until two-thirty.’ He smiled. ‘Do you want the night shift or shall I?’

      Carrie hesitated. ‘I’m not sure about this, Dan. I told you I’ve got no experience with babies. How am I supposed to know if something is wrong or not? I can’t read everything you’re supposed to know about babies in a few hours. What if we do something we shouldn’t?’

      He lifted his hands. ‘We can only do our best. And anyway, look at you earlier—you were a natural.’

      The words sent a chill down her spine. She knew he didn’t mean for that to happen—he probably meant the words as a compliment. But her mind and body just couldn’t react that way.

      She was trying to partition this whole experience in her head. Put it inside a little box that could be safely stowed away somewhere.

      Somewhere safe.

      This was hard. And the reality was, it was only going to get harder. She’d felt herself waver a few moments before when Abraham had snuggled into her neck and she’d caught that distinctive baby scent in her nostrils.

      She knew it was time to back off. To give herself a little space. And if she could keep doing that she might actually survive this experience.

      And let’s face it. Dan was hardly a strain on the eyes.

      Why hadn’t they ever spoken before? Had she really seemed so unapproachable? So caught up in her own world?

      She watched as he looked in his cupboards, trying to find something to eat. Eventually he pulled some glasses and a bottle of soda from the cupboard. She could see the taut muscles across his back through his thin T-shirt. She tried not to stare at the outline of his behind in the well-worn jeans.

      Her eyes automatically went downwards. Would he look at her the same way? Maybe she should have given some more thought to what she was wearing.

      ‘I see you’ve finally got some clothes on.’

      She gave a little smile as she walked over and sat down at the table. ‘I didn’t really have time to think earlier. I don’t often roam around strange men’s apartments in my nightclothes.’

      ‘You don’t?’ He had a gleam in his eyes. He was trying to lighten the mood. Ease the stress they were both under. ‘Is your apartment cold upstairs? You were bundled up like you live in an igloo.’

      She took a sip of the soda he’d just poured for her. ‘No. It was comfort clothes. I was freezing when I got in—I ruined my suede boots walking in that mucky slush. My raincoat was covered in muddy splatters and all I could think about was getting inside, heating up and eating myself silly.’

      He tilted his head as he sat down. In СКАЧАТЬ