Be My Baby (6 page)

Luke scraped the pasta sauce into a large bowl and left it to cool. He could feel Gaby watching him as he washed up the sauté pan. She must think he was ready to revert to his grumpy old self at any time.

He picked up a dish towel to dry his hands. Her teeth were biting the corner of her lip, as if she were trying to decide whether she should say something or not.

‘From now on I'm not going to call you Dr Armstrong. I'm going to call you Dr Jekyll.'

Luke grinned, and then he laughed. Even Gaby gave a reluctant smile and looked away.

‘I'll be back soon,' he said, and walked out of the room.

 

Gaby tried to turn the hot tap with her toe, but it was wedged fast. She swiped some of the bubbles away and reached forward to top up the bath with hot water.

Luke Armstrong was a surprise. It took a real man to be able to admit when he was wrong. David had raised his voice to her on a predictably regular basis, yet he had never once said sorry. How she'd ever thought he was a man worth sticking around for was a mystery to her. She shook her head and picked up a book to read while she waited for the water to go cold.

Later, as she was dressing in her comfy old tracksuit, she noticed the house was oddly quiet. She walked across to Heather's bedroom, knocked gently on the door and turned the handle.

Heather looked up from the book she was reading. ‘Hi.'

‘Hi there. You're being very quiet.'

‘I'm allowed to stay up fifteen minutes longer if I read quietly in bed. Luke…Dad said I could.'

Gaby smiled. It was great to hear Heather call him
Dad,
even if it didn't yet fall out of her mouth naturally. She kissed Heather on the forehead. ‘I'll be up later to turn out the light, okay?'

‘Okay. But don't rush. This book is really good.' With that, she turned the page and carried on reading, and Gaby crept out and made her way downstairs. Luke was nowhere to be seen. She padded into the lounge, sank into one of the large comfortable sofas and tucked her legs up under herself. The fire had been lit, and the feel of its glow on her face was soporific. She hadn't even realised she'd closed her eyes until she heard the front door bang and they snapped open.

It was Luke. He stuck his head through the lounge door and smiled at her. Her stomach did a weird little bellyflop. What was that all about?

‘There you are.' He walked into the room and deposited a couple of plain carrier bags on the coffee table.

‘What have you got there?'

One side of his mouth drew upwards in a wry smile. ‘Humble Pie.'

She smiled back at him as he unloaded the bags. From the delicious smells wafting her way, she was certain it was Chinese takeaway. He opened all the cartons and disappeared into the kitchen for plates and chopsticks, while Gaby peered in each container to see what was what.

Salt and pepper king prawns! Her absolute favourite.

Luke returned and they set about demolishing his ‘pie'. She almost forgot as she sat there, legs crossed on the sofa, that he was her employer. A very stupid thing to do. But, as they talked and ate and laughed, she couldn't help seeing him as the man who was slowly becoming her friend.

Luke watched Gaby as she reached over for the last king prawn. She looked totally at home here. In fact, this old house hadn't felt like a home at all until she'd arrived. And, all he'd done was grump and bark at her. He'd been a Grade A pain in the backside. Well, from tonight, all that was going to change. It was about time he polished up his social skills, and Gaby certainly deserved to be the one who got to see them first.

So he made a real effort to be nice and charming and talkative. And all of a sudden, he wasn't trying, he was just doing it. And it all felt so natural that he couldn't believe he'd forgotten how. With Gaby it was easy.

Just look at her now, smiling as she pushed her plate away and took a sip of her wine.

‘I haven't really told you how much I appreciate all you've done with Heather.'

‘I haven't done anything special.'

Oh, no? Then why couldn't he duplicate it? Why was it so hard for him to connect with his daughter the way she did? He threw the carton he was scraping out back on to the coffee table.

‘Do you think we're ever going to find some common ground, Heather and I?'

‘Luke—' Gaby shook her head and laughed ‘—I can't believe you don't see it! The pair of you are so alike, you're practically carbon copies. Of course, you'll find some common ground.'

‘We are? I mean, we will?'

‘Yes! She's a mini version of you. A baby control freak.'

‘I'm sorry. Did you say “control freak”?'

Gaby nodded. She looked as if she were trying not to laugh. ‘That's why you clash so much. Neither one of you is willing to give an inch sometimes. She needs to be in charge of her destiny just as much as you do.'

He opened his mouth to contradict her, but closed it again and stared at the ceiling. ‘You think?'

‘You just need to ease off a bit and she'll calm down. Stop trying to do everything for her. She's not the little six-year-old you left behind any more. And you can't make up for lost time by treating her as if she were.'

‘And you think this will improve things?'

‘It certainly won't hurt. You've already started doing it a little. Just keep going, a step at a time.'

‘How do you know all this stuff? Is this what they teach you at nanny school?'

Gaby shuffled in her seat a little. She seemed to be embarrassed. ‘Let's just say that, as a child, I used to feel a lot like she did. I know what it's like to have your whole life mapped out for you. It's suffocating. Every little thing had to be just so, or it was the end of the world. I don't know how I stood it as long as I did.'

Somehow the conversation had shifted and he knew she wasn't talking about her childhood any more. It had to be the ex-husband. What an idiot.

‘Earlier on…'

‘I thought we weren't going to talk about earlier on, Luke.'

‘Let me finish, woman. I was going to ask you about your drawing—the one you had in the pad when you came in.'

‘It wasn't very good. I threw it away. I'm a bit rusty.'

‘Better than me. I have problems drawing a straight line.'

‘Painting is what I really like to do. I was planning to start again in my free time. The colours on the river are just so beautiful.'

Were they? He couldn't say he'd noticed that much. Too busy looking inside to notice the world around him.

‘What's your favourite colour, then?' Okay, sparkling conversation was still out of reach, but she didn't seem to notice. She looked as if she were enjoying herself as much as he was.

‘Green, I think. It's hard to choose. But not that garish bright green. Soft mossy greens and deep emerald greens are my favourite. What about you?'

He was mesmerised by her. When she talked about things she loved, she sparkled. How had he ever thought of her as ordinary? She was looking right at him and her eyes were positively glowing…

‘Brown.' The word was out of his mouth before he had a chance to think about it.

‘Brown? Your favourite colour is brown. Seriously?' She pulled a face.

‘No, not brown, I mean…'

Then he looked back into her eyes. Polished chestnut, warm and dark with gold lights. At that moment he couldn't think of a colour to top it.

A
NOISE
dragged Gaby from sleep. She propped herself up on an elbow and listened. The clock showed it was some time past three.

There it was again.

Suddenly, she was very much awake. She flung back the duvet and jumped out of bed. Her movements were swift and silent as she crossed the room and eased the door open. Everything was quiet again. All she could hear was her own magnified heartbeat. She crept towards Heather's door and pushed it gently.

Heather was fast asleep, one leg out of the duvet and an arm around a toy rabbit. Poor kid. She might act tough, but underneath she was a scared little girl who hung on to security anywhere she found it.

Gaby was just pulling the door closed again when she heard a shout. The hairs on the back of her neck immediately stood to attention.

Luke! Was he ill? You could never be too careful with Chinese takeaway. All it took was one dodgy prawn.

She ran across the landing and knocked lightly on his door. There was no answer, but she could hear him groaning and moving around inside. She stayed frozen to the spot, fingertips resting on the door, not wanting to intrude, but reluctant to go back to bed without offering help.

One more loud noise from inside the master bedroom was all it took. She pressed the flat of her hand on the door and pushed. The room was pitch dark. The door swung closed behind her and it took a good few seconds before her eyes adjusted to the blackness.

‘Luke?' she whispered. ‘Are you all right?'

He muttered something unintelligible.

She tried again. ‘Are you ill?'

This time she managed to work out a few words. ‘…can't get out…'

‘Do you need help getting to the bathroom?' Panic began to register in her voice. ‘Luke, please! Tell me what's wrong.'

She moved closer to the bed and laid a hand on his bare shoulder. Luke sat bolt upright and she jumped back, almost falling over.

His eyes were open and he was staring—not at her—but at a bare patch of wall directly in front of him.

He was still asleep.

This was a nightmare or something. She vaguely remembered Justin sleepwalking and having what her parents called ‘night terrors' when he was a boy. He used to scream and shout. Sometimes he'd walk around the house and do the strangest things—like put his wellies on and then just go back to bed as if nothing had happened.

Trying to wake Luke was a bad idea. He'd probably lie down in a second and move into a deeper phase of sleep. She would just sit on the edge of the bed and watch him for five minutes, just to make sure it wasn't the prawns after all.

Her bottom had only just started to make a dent in the mattress when he moved his head in one swift turn to stare at her. She held her breath. If he'd just woken up, she was going to have a tough time explaining her presence in his bedroom—on his bed, no less—wearing nothing but an oversized T-shirt.

But she needn't have worried. He turned away again and shuffled over to the other side of the bed. She was on the verge of breathing out her relief, when she realised he was getting out. And she watched open-mouthed as he walked calmly to the door that led out on to the terrace, opened it and went outside.

Gaby shot after him. The cold air hit her like a wall, but Luke didn't even seem to notice. Thank goodness he was wearing pyjama bottoms. She hadn't been able to tell while he was in bed. She wasn't sure she could handle coaxing her naked boss back to bed. Seeing him shirtless was bad enough. It wouldn't have been quite so uncomfortable if he were awake—in fact, under other circumstances, seeing such a finely toned torso would have been a definite bonus—but while he was unaware of her existence it felt voyeuristic.

And she couldn't think
that way
about
this
man.

He stood motionless at the railing. Coming outside seemed to have soothed the dreams that had him tossing and turning a few minutes ago. But it had to be close to freezing outside; they'd both be hypothermic if they stood here much longer. She couldn't leave him. What if he wandered down the steps? The tide was in. He could drown!

The only option was to try and get him back inside. An image of her father leading Justin back to bed when he'd had one of his sleepwalking episodes floated to the surface of her memory.

Luke still hadn't moved and she walked over to him and gently took him by the hand. His fingers closed over hers, a gesture she found oddly warming, even though it was just a reflex.

She moved towards the open door, tugging him gently. He didn't budge. There was no way she was going to manage to drag him back inside. Over six foot of solid male, versus five-foot-five of slightly out of shape female wasn't a fair contest.

‘Luke?' She tried to keep her voice low and steady. ‘It's time to go back inside now.' Then she moved again and, amazingly, this time he let her lead him. ‘That's it. We're almost there now.'

She ushered him into the room and shut the door behind them. Then, as an afterthought, she turned the key in the lock, removed it and searched for somewhere sensible to leave it. She could hear him moving around the room, pacing, and she didn't want to waste time, so she just left it on the dressing table. Luke would scratch his head when he found it there in the morning.

Now inside, Luke began to show signs of distress again. He walked over to the door and rattled the handle, obviously desperate to escape. What was she going to do? And what was going on inside his head? Was he was back in prison, feeling trapped and powerless?

He just kept working the door handle, each attempt more frantic than the last. The top half of the door was glazed and he started banging on it with the flat of his hand, muttering something about needing to find
her.
She had no idea whether it was Heather or his wife he was talking about, and she didn't have time to work it out. If he kept slamming his hand against the pane like that, it was going to shatter. And she couldn't unlock it and let him go outside to freeze or drown. Think, Gaby!

‘Come on, back to bed.'

She placed her hands on his upper arms and tried to turn him round, but he just kept banging the glass and growling in frustration. The only thing she could think of was to get between him and the door. Luckily she was small enough to duck under his arms, and wedge herself into position.

The next blow from his hand hit her clean across the cheek. He stopped and she took the opportunity to grab his hands and push him back a step or two. ‘Come on, Luke. Please. Just get back in the blasted bed, will you?'

But he wasn't having any of it. He tried to walk through her as if she wasn't there. She stumbled backwards, landing against the door with the handle sticking into her back. She was trying to keep calm as she talked, she really was. But now her cheek was stinging, her back was sore and Luke was seriously starting to cheese her off—asleep or not!

‘Will you just do as you're flipping told?' She was just going to have to get bossy. She shoved Luke hard and it seemed to stop him in his tracks. While he wasn't trying to engineer a break-out, she grabbed him by the hand and dragged him to the edge of the bed. Then she gave him another hefty push so he sat down.

‘Luke.' This was ridiculous. He probably couldn't hear her anyway. ‘You're not going anywhere. Just give up.'

Even in the dark she saw his shoulders droop. His chin dropped on to his chest and he gave a great shuddering sigh. More gently now, she guided him until he was lying on his side and got him to swing his legs on to the bed.

Flushed with triumph, she stood there, grinning in the darkness. Luke Armstrong was going to get what was good for him—whether he liked it or not!

And then she heard a sound that broke her heart. This big strong man, who had been through so much, was crying. It started as just a sniff, but pretty soon the sobs were coming thick and fast.

She couldn't stand it any more. Just couldn't bear to hear him take one more gulp. It twisted inside her like a knife. So she clambered on to the bed beside him and put her arms around him. Tears were streaming over her lashes too.

‘Please, Luke. Please don't cry. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry.'

It didn't matter that she had nothing to apologise for, that none of what had happened was her fault. It just seemed right that somebody should say it, somebody should care.

She stroked his hair and rubbed his back and gradually his tears subsided. She lay there, listening to the sound of his breath as it slowed and grew more even.

She was kidding herself. For the past few weeks she'd been telling herself that she was making a difference, helping him put his life back together, but the scene this evening had made that a farce. His wounds went deeper than she could ever imagine. All her notions of being able to make a difference seemed so pathetic.

He seemed to be more deeply asleep now. She started to wriggle away, but the instant she did so, he started to mumble and fidget again. Soothing words alone didn't do the trick, so she pressed her cheek against his back and snaked an arm around his waist. Physical contact seemed to calm him. Somewhere in his brain the sensations must register and tell him he wasn't totally alone.

She breathed in the smell of him and felt the smooth skin of his back against her face, the contours of his muscles under her fingers.

This man deserved so much more than this.

He deserved love and happiness and a daughter who idolised him. Not this battered mess of a life. Luke let out one more heart-wrenching sigh and then she felt his muscles slacken. She was pretty sure he was over the worst now, but she'd better stay put for another few minutes, just to make sure.

How arrogant she'd been to think she could fix this family. In truth, she didn't know where to start. She was way out of her depth. One thing she could do was make sure he got a good night's sleep. She'd bet he didn't get too many of those.

So she lay snuggled against him and cried for the wasted years and the horrors he must have endured. And, when she had finished, she placed one tender kiss on his back and closed her eyes.

 

Something was tickling her face.

She swatted it away, but it didn't do as it was told. A few seconds later a small puff of air lifted a strand of hair that lay across her cheek. Stupid David! He was always waking her up by breathing on her like this.

And then it struck her that she had been divorced for nearly a year and it wasn't David who was breathing on her. Her eyelids shot up.

Luke! She was in bed with Luke.

She fought the urge to bolt out of bed and kept completely still. She would just have to do her cringing on the inside. If he woke up and found her here, she'd never be able to face him again.

She took a calming breath—well, as calming as she could—and tried to work out which arms and legs belonged to her and which didn't. She was lying on her back and Luke was facing her, one arm draped possessively across her torso. Pale grey light was filtering through the curtains. It was only just dawn and she had a good chance of escaping unnoticed if she kept her cool.

She inched out from under his arm, holding it aloft slightly so it didn't drag across her, then placed it carefully back down on top of the duvet. Moments later her feet touched carpet. She almost smiled with relief. Almost. Luke stirred and she froze. His hand searched the empty space next to him. Thankfully, it landed on the extra pillow she'd thrown aside and grabbed that.

Gaby held her breath for a few seconds more and, when she was convinced he had settled back down, she tiptoed out of the room.

 

The toast had just popped out of the toaster when Gaby heard Luke enter the kitchen. She blushed. Thank goodness she was leaning over the counter and he couldn't see her face.

‘Morning, Gaby.'

‘Morning,' she replied, lowering her head slightly as the blush raged more fiercely.

Anyone would think this was a
different
kind of morning after!

The thing was, her brain was refusing to recognise last night for what it had been—a friend helping a friend in need. It had all seemed so simple at the time. But now her emotions were weaving themselves into complex knots. She wasn't sure what she felt. Only that she was embarrassed and aware of him in a way she hadn't been before.

Sharing a bed with someone, even if it were just for comfort, was an incredibly intimate thing. The barriers she'd erected to stop herself becoming emotionally entangled had been mown down by one nightmare.

Professional distance? Give me a break!

Worst of all, she couldn't stop thinking about the feel of his skin against hers, the warmth their bodies had generated together. It had been so nice to hold him, to have some of the human contact she had missed in the last year.

Yes, that was it. She was just starved of affection. She was just reacting as any normal person would in the situation.

And normal people got into bed with their bosses, did they? Who was she kidding?