Jack's Baby Page 2

  Ingrid’s long blonde hair gleamed like skeins of silk falling over her shoulders. Jack frowned at the reminder of Nina’s hair, which some idiot had clearly butchered. What had possessed her to have her beautiful hair cut? She’d looked like a ragamuffin, wispy bits sticking out as though she’d run her fingers through the short crop instead of brushing it. The style didn’t suit her. It made her face look thinner.

  Maybe her face was thinner.

  Had Nina been ill?

  It was a disturbing thought. Frustration boiled up again. He hated not knowing what had been happening to her. Her face had looked paler than he remembered, too, all healthy colour washed out of it. If she’d been ill, was ill…no, it still made no sense for Nina to look at him with fear and anger.

  It was no reason to cut him out of her life, either. She could have stayed with him. He would have looked after her. Did she have anyone looking after her now?

  “My favourite champagne, Veuve Cliquot!” Maurice beamed at him. “Great gift, Jack.”

  “I won’t be able to drink it,” Ingrid wailed. “It’ll sour my milk.”

  New regime rolling in, souring more than her milk, Jack silently predicted. He grimaced an apology. “Sorry, Ingrid. I’m an ignorant male.”

  “Never mind, love.” Maurice dropped a kiss on her puckered forehead. “We’ll keep it until the little guzzler here goes onto a bottle.”

  “I don’t know when that will be.” She pouted. “Look how big my breasts are swelling up with milk. They’re even beginning to leak.”

  They were certainly stretching her nightgown to its limits of stretchability, Jack observed, and suddenly had a flash of Nina in the elevator, her arms hugging her rib cage, her breasts pushed up, surely far more voluptuous than they used to be.

  She’d been wearing a loose, button-through dress, her shape disguised by it initially. Besides, his attention had been riveted on her face then, the expression in her eyes. But when she’d turned around in the elevator, pressing back against the wall, holding herself defensively, her breasts had definitely bulged.

  His heart skittered. He gave himself a mental shake, pushing the idea away. To associate Nina’s breasts with Ingrid’s—swollen with milk—was a neurotic vision he could well do without. Nina couldn’t have had a baby. It was only eight months since she’d left him.

  After an argument about babies.

  His mind whirled at sickening speed. Maternity hospital…not a dress, a free-flowing housecoat…tired, careless of her appearance…shock, disbelief, fear at seeing him here…anger…

  He felt the blood draining from his face. He clenched his hands, gritted his teeth and willed his heart to pump his circulation back into top working order. He had to think clearly and rationally, not leap to wild conclusions. If Nina had been pregnant, surely to God she would have told him. Flung it in his face, most likely, in the middle of that argument. She couldn’t have thought he’d turn his back on her.

  Maybe she had thought it, deciding to take that initiative herself rather than confront what he might say or do, given his negative attitude to having children.

  Nausea cramped his stomach and shot bile up his throat. If she’d gone it alone because she hadn’t trusted him to respond supportively…

  “Are you all right, Jack?”

  Maurice’s question broke through the glaze of horror in his mind. They were looking quizzically at him. Had he missed something? Apart from a nine-month pregnancy?

  “Sorry.” He sucked in a deep breath and swallowed hard. “I was just thinking how great the three of you look together.”

  Ingrid laughed. “Time you found yourself a wife and started a family, Jack.”

  Join the club. They all said that. Once they were caught in the family trap, it was as though anyone who was free of it was an offensive reminder of what they’d given up. The hell of it was he might very well have a child somewhere on this ward, a child whose mother had decided was better off fatherless than having Jack in their lives.

  “Aren’t you thirty-something?” Ingrid persisted.

  “Darling, I’m forty,” Maurice reminded her. “Age has nothing to do with it. If I hadn’t met you, I’d still be a freewheeling bachelor like Jack.”

  Jack didn’t want to be a freewheeling bachelor. He wanted Nina. He didn’t care if she came with a child. He wanted Nina. The need and desire for her burgeoned out of the emptiness that had haunted the past eight months, growing with compelling force, overpowering all his objections to babies.

  A little scrap of humanity like the one in Ingrid’s arms couldn’t beat him. He’d learn how to handle the child. He’d never had a problem handling anything once he set his mind to it. If Nina needed proof of that, he’d give it to her.

  Babies were probably only destructive monsters because parents allowed them to take over. Jack was made of sterner stuff. Having seen the damage babies wrought on relationships, he could take protective steps and save Nina and himself a lot of unnecessary stress. It was all a matter of attitude and organisation.

  What he needed was a plan.

  He also needed definite facts instead of suppositions. A plan could very quickly come unstuck if he didn’t have his facts right. Therefore, step one was to grab a nurse and make a few pertinent inquiries.

  “You know, Jack—” Ingrid eyed him speculatively “—I have a few girlfriends you might enjoy meeting.”

  The good old matchmaking trick.

  Jack smiled. He didn’t even have to force it. His heart had lifted with a swelling sense of purpose. “Actually, Ingrid, I’m on my way to meet a lady I’m very interested in. If you and Maurice will excuse me…It’s a delight to see you so happy, and I hope the new son and heir thrives as he should under your loving care. He’s sure to be a great kid.”

  Pleasure all around.

  Having delivered his benevolent performance, Jack was well-wished on his way. In truth, he was feeling benevolent towards Maurice and Ingrid. Even their baby. They’d done him a great favour. If it wasn’t for them he wouldn’t have come here, wouldn’t have seen Nina and put two and two together.

  Only in this case, two and two were going to make three. Jack had no compunction about changing the mathematics of the situation. He was determined on being counted in, not out.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  VISITING hours had ended ten minutes ago. Nevertheless, Nina apprehensively checked the ward corridor, glancing swiftly to both right and left, confirming an all clear before scooting out of the elevator. It was only fifteen metres to her room. She covered the distance as fast as she could without actually running. Hearing Sally’s cheerful voice still rattling away was an assurance that everything was normal.

  No-one called out her name. Jack didn’t suddenly emerge from one of the rooms in front of her. She reached her door, and with a thundering sense of being home free swung into the room and quickly closed the door behind her, safeguarding against a casual glance inside from any passer-by.

  “There you are,” Sally said with satisfaction. “I was about to send out a search party.”

  “Sorry.” Nina turned to her friend, flashing an appeasing smile, and the world tilted as Jack filled her vision, Jack cradling her baby in the crook of his arm. She feebly fumbled for the door, instinctively seeking support, feeling herself sway alarmingly.

  “Are you okay?” Anxious question from Sally.

  “Here! Quick!” Jack, commanding.

  Double vision. Two Jacks bundling babies into two Sallys’ arms, furniture wavering all over the place. Nina closed her eyes. Too difficult to get things straight. Hopelessly dizzy.

  Strong arms hooking around her, scooping her off her feet, carrying her, sitting her on the side of the bed, holding her safe, thrusting her head down. “Deep breaths, Nina. Sally, put the kid in its bassinette and pour Nina a glass of water.”

  The kid.

  A murderous haze billowed into Nina’s fuzzy mind. Her baby—the baby who’d grown inside her for nine long, miserable, l
onely months—dismissed as a kid! If she had the strength, she’d put her hands around Jack’s neck and strangle him. How dared he come in here, after all he’d said, and actually hold the child he didn’t want, pretending he didn’t mind?

  The kid. Not the baby. Not our daughter. The kid. That said it all to Nina. He probably hadn’t even asked what sex the baby was. Didn’t care. Her heart pumped with furious vigour, clearing her head so fast she didn’t need the glass of water Sally pressed into her hand.

  She was tempted to hurl it in Jack’s face. It might sober him up. Whatever impulsive and stupid ardour had driven him into this room needed dampening down. He wasn’t thinking straight, any more than she’d been seeing straight. But she could see straight through him! Having figured out what she was doing in a maternity ward, he had a hot case of guilt.

  “You need looking after, Nina,” he said gruffly. “And I’m the man to do it. Drink up now.”

  She sipped, just to moisten her throat. Then she glared her outrage at him. “Don’t you tell me what to do, Jack Gulliver. You have no right.”

  He returned a determined look. “I contributed to this situation and—”

  “You did not.” She cut him off with more belligerent determination. “You trusted me to get the contraception right, and I messed up. It’s all my fault.”

  “Accidents happen,” he said grimly.

  “Well, you don’t have to pay for this one. I take full responsibility.”

  “Sure! And you’re doing a fine job of it, letting yourself get so run down you almost faint at the sight of me.”

  “Shock. You holding a baby was more than my mind could encompass.”

  “Then you’d better get used to it, Nina, because that kid happens to be my kid, too.”

  Her teeth clenched. Her eyes sizzled him to a crisp. “She is not a kid.”

  “You’re right,” he snapped. “More like a mind-bending drug than a natural member of the animal kingdom.”

  “Huh! Now you’re showing your true colours.”

  “Just pointing out how distorted your judgment is.” His eyes flashed green fire. “Denying me the right to know I’ve fathered a child. Denying me the right to make my own decisions. Denying me any chance to stand by you through what has obviously been a rough time. Even a murderer gets his day in court.”

  The fierce flow of accusations stunned her for a moment. Justification sped off her tongue. “You told me you don’t want children, Jack Gulliver. So don’t come the injured party to me. I left you free and clear.”

  “I didn’t say I wanted to be free and clear. I don’t,” he retorted emphatically. “I was just asking your friend, Sally, how quickly a wedding could be arranged.”

  “A wedding!” Shock rolled through her mind again, sapping her energy. She took another sip of water, then handed the glass to Sally, who was still standing by, dumbstruck by the verbals zipping back and forth. Nina gave her a hard, warning look. “What have you been telling him, Sally?”

  “Me?” she squeaked. Her mobile face worked through alarm and wary consideration and settled on rueful resignation. “Well, uh, he asked me who I was and I, um, gave him my business card.”

  The card! Customised Weddings—We Deliver Your Dream. With her address and telephone number clearly printed on it!

  Nina groaned, realizing the milk was spilled and couldn’t be put back into the bottle. She sagged onto her pillow, swung her legs onto the bed and turned away from them, closing her eyes, unutterably depressed by an outcome she would have done anything to avoid.

  “If I’ve done the wrong thing…” Sally’s anxious voice floated over her.

  “Don’t blame Sally for letting the cat out of the bag, Nina,” Jack quietly interposed. “I would have found out anyway.”

  That was probably true. Jack didn’t let go of anything until he was satisfied. Like restoring a piece of antique furniture. He’d work at it and work at it until it was finished precisely as he wanted. Seeing her had done the damage, not Sally’s blabbing.

  Nina was suddenly aware of the silence in the room. The other visitors had gone. The babies were quiet. No-one had turned on a television set. Undoubtedly this little real-life drama was more interesting, the unmarried mother confronted by the father of her child. And Jack was so good-looking, so impressively steadfast in rebutting her charges. The two secure wives who shared this room would be looking with favour on him, not knowing what Nina knew.

  It was sickening.

  “A cup of tea,” Sally said as though plucking the idea out of a tank of possible solutions to the situation. “I’ll go and make one for her, Jack.”

  “Good idea,” he approved warmly.

  She heard Sally leave. The sound of a chair being shifted and the squeak of its upholstery told her Jack had sat down, settling in for a siege on her solitary position.

  No point in hiding from him, Nina decided reluctantly. The music had to be faced, and it was better to get it over with here and now. She rolled onto her back, opened her eyes and steeled herself against the tug of attraction that hadn’t diminished at all with either time or circumstances.

  He met her gaze with direct intensity, his expression a moving mixture of compassion and resolution. Tears pricked her eyes. He cared about her. The baby was a complication he didn’t want, but his feeling for her hadn’t changed. It made the necessity of rejecting him again all the more difficult and painful.

  It would be so easy to reach out and take the comfort and warmth and pleasure of being with him again. He’d wrap her in his arms and stroke her back and kiss her hair, and she’d feel his body stir with desire for her and…She’d missed him so much. But if she gave in to the need aching through her now, Jack would be encouraged to stick around, and the inevitable consequences would be worse than her current sense of deprivation.

  Better to remain independent.

  “I don’t need your help, Jack,” she said flatly.

  “That’s not how it looks to me, Nina.” He reached out and took her left hand, fondling it warmly, persuasively pressing a link between them as he added, “I think we should get married as soon as possible.”

  “No!” She snatched her hand away, feeling as though he’d burned her. Her eyes blazed fierce conviction. “I won’t marry you, Jack.”

  “Why not? It’s the most sensible, practical thing to do.”

  “I will not subject my baby to a father who doesn’t want her.”

  “If you’re worried about the kid, let me assure you—”

  “Her name,” Nina interrupted furiously, “is Charlotte.”

  “Charlotte?” He frowned. “It doesn’t go very well with Gulliver. Let’s toss a few other names around.”

  “Charlotte Brady sounds fine to me.”

  Jack studied the stubborn set of her face and made a political retreat. “Fine. If that’s the name you like, I’m happy to go along with it.” He brightened. “On second thoughts, Charlotte isn’t too bad. We can call her Charlie. Charlie Gulliver has a nice ring to it.”

  “Charlotte is a girl, Jack,” Nina pointed out with seething emphasis. “She is my daughter and she will remain Charlotte Brady. I am not going to marry you.”

  He sighed. Heavily. His eyes glittered with devious intent. “Okay. We’ll just live together then.”

  “I have no intention of living with you, Jack. I have my own place. I have everything set up as I want it, and neither I nor my baby requires your support.”

  “Brave words, Nina, but what if something goes wrong with your well-laid plans?”

  “I’ll cope.”

  “You’ll cope better with me at your side.”

  “No, I won’t.”

  “We’ll see about that,” he declared, letting her know he was not about to be put off, put down or put out.

  Nina sighed. Heavily. Jack was going to make a battle of it, no matter what she said. A wave of weakness dragged through her. She wished Charlotte would start bawling her head off. That would soon shift Jack.
If her cries set the other babies off, too, he’d be out the door as fast as his feet could carry him.

  Sally returned, darting apprehensive looks at Jack and Nina as she put the cup of tea on the mobile tray. “Better now?” she asked hopefully.

  Sally Bloomfield was the most assertive person Nina had ever met. She was a brilliant saleswoman, able to talk anybody into anything and make him feel delighted about it. Her appearance was always polished and professional, from her chic auburn hair to her beautifully shod feet. Her smile dazzled, and her bright hazel eyes mesmerised. Sally sailed through life with the blissful belief that no matter what happened, it would turn out for the best. Her optimism was good to be around, but right now Nina needed her professional expertise.

  “Tell Jack I’m perfectly capable of doing without him, Sally,” she appealed.

  “Right!” She sat herself at the end of the bed and addressed Jack gravely. “It’s like this. Nina and I are set up in business together.”

  Jack looked surprised. “Nina is organising weddings, too?”

  “No, no, that’s my specialty. I adore weddings. Nina is a great seamstress. She fixes any bridal hire gowns that need altering. Does extra beading and tucks and stuff. Some of our clients have chosen Nina’s own designs, and she makes them so beautifully, it adds a lot to our reputation of delivering the dream.”

  Jack frowned. “She won’t have much time for that with the baby. They’re time-consuming little mo—” He caught his breath.

  “Monsters,” Nina finished for him. “Go on. Say it, Jack. That’s how you think of them. Monsters!”

  “I was going to say moppets,” he corrected her loftily.

  “Huh!”

  “Well, the thing is,” Sally said swiftly, “Nina doesn’t have to travel anywhere. Everything is very handy. The business is run from my home, and Nina has a completely self-contained granny flat at the back of the premises. She can bring the baby into the house with her when she has to do fittings. There’s really no problem. She’s got a solid income, good accommodation and nothing to worry about.”