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Still feeling uneasy about the whole thing but not knowing why, Bryony gave a shrug. ‘Seven-thirty?’
‘Seven-thirty is perfect. There’s just one thing …’ He pulled up in the ambulance bay and yanked on the handbrake. ‘You haven’t told me who you’re going out with.’
There was something in his smooth tones that made her glance at him warily but his handsome face was impassive.
She paused with her hand on the door. ‘David.’
‘David Armstrong? The paediatrician?’ Jack’s expression didn’t change but she sensed something that made her uneasy.
‘Look, Jack—’
‘I’ll be there at seven-thirty. Now, let’s get on. I need to get antibiotics into Martyn and call the surgeons. That wound is going to need some attention.’
And with that he sprang out of the vehicle, leaving her staring after him.
Jack was going to babysit while she went on a date?
It seemed harmless enough, generous even, so why did she have such a strong feeling that something wasn’t quite right?
CHAPTER THREE
‘MUMMY you look pretty.’
‘Do you think so?’ Bryony surveyed her reflection in the mirror, wondering whether the dress was right for the evening that David had in mind. He’d said dinner in a smart restaurant, but she never went to smart restaurants so she wasn’t that sure what to wear.
In the end she’d settled for the little black dress that her mother had given her three Christmases ago and which she’d never worn.
She’d fastened her hair on top of her head, found a pair of pretty, dangly earrings and dabbed perfume over her body.
And she had to admit that she was looking forward to going out with a man.
So much so that when the doorbell rang she opened the door with a wide smile.
‘Hi, Jack.’ Her face glowed and she stood to one side to let him in. ‘There’s a casserole in the oven. I assumed you wouldn’t have eaten—’
‘I haven’t eaten.’ His eyes slid down her body and he frowned, his expression suddenly hostile.
Bryony felt the confidence ooze out of her. She’d thought that she looked good but, judging from the look on Jack’s face, she obviously didn’t.
‘Come through to the kitchen,’ she said quickly, suddenly wishing that she’d worn something different. Obviously the black dress didn’t suit her. ‘We’ve got time for a quick drink before David gets here. He was held up in clinic.’
Jack’s mouth tightened with disapproval. ‘So he’s going to be late, then.’
‘Well, only because a child with asthma was admitted at the last minute,’ Bryony said mildly, tugging open the fridge and reaching for a bottle of wine. ‘You know how it is.’
‘Do I?’
Instead of settling himself at her kitchen table as he usually did, he prowled round the room, his eyes constantly flickering back to her dress.
Trying to ignore his intense scrutiny, Bryony poured two glasses of wine and handed him one. ‘Here you are. Cheers.’
He took the wine and put it on the table, his eyes fixed on her legs.
Bryony felt her whole body warm with embarrassment. She hardly ever showed her legs. She usually wore trousers for work because they were more practical, and when she went to the pub with the rest of the mountain rescue team she wore trousers, too.
But tonight, for the first time in ages, she’d put on a pair of sheer, black stockings and she was beginning to wish she hadn’t.
‘You hate it, don’t you?’ she croaked, and his eyes lifted and welded to hers.
‘Hate what?’
She swallowed. ‘The way I look. My dress. Me. You’re staring and staring.’
Jack let out a breath. ‘That’s because I don’t think you should be going out with a man dressed like that,’ he said tightly. ‘It sends out all the wrong messages.’
She frowned at him, totally confused. ‘What messages?’
He tensed. ‘Well—that you’re available.’
‘Jack,’ she said patiently, ‘I am available. That is the message I want to send out.’
‘So you wear a skirt that’s up to your bottom?’ He glared at her and she stared back helplessly, totally confused by his attitude.
She’d met some of the girls that he’d dated and they were almost all blondes with skirts up round their bottoms.
‘Jack, my skirt is just above the knee,’ she pointed out, glancing down at herself to check that half her dress hadn’t fallen off without her knowledge. ‘It is nowhere near my bottom.’
‘Well, it’s definitely too low in the front,’ he said hoarsely, reaching across the kitchen table, yanking a flower out of a vase and snapping it halfway up the stem. ‘Try this.’
He walked up to her and slipped the flower down the neckline of her dress and stood back with a frown.
‘That’s a bit better.’
‘Jack—’
Before she could say anything, Lizzie came running into the room wearing a pink gauze fairy dress and wearing wings. ‘Jack, Jack!’ She flung herself into his arms and he picked her up and gave her a kiss on the cheek.
‘Hello, beautiful. Shouldn’t you be in bed?’
‘I was waiting for you.’ Lizzie curled her legs round his waist and waggled her finger at him. ‘Look. I’m wearing three rings. They’re sweets really, but aren’t they great?’
Jack dutifully studied her finger. ‘Really great. And if you get hungry in the night you can eat them.’
Lizzie beamed. ‘Can we play a game, Jack?’
‘Sure.’ Jack put her down gently and smiled indulgently. ‘Any game you like. Just name it.’
‘Weddings.’
Jack’s smile vanished. ‘Weddings?’
Lizzie nodded happily. ‘Yes, you know. You’re the boy and I’m the girl and we get married.’
Jack gave a shudder. ‘I don’t know the rules, sweetheart.’
Bryony covered her hand with her mouth to hide her smile. Jack was brilliant at playing with her daughter but ‘Weddings’ was the one game guaranteed to bring him out in a rash.
‘It’s easy,’ Lizzie assured him happily. ‘We hold hands and then we get married.’
Jack ran a hand over the back of his neck and looked at Bryony for help, but she simply smiled.
‘Weddings, Jack,’ she said softly, her eyes dancing as she looked at him. ‘That well-known game enjoyed by men and women the world over.’
His eyes shot daggers at her but he turned to Lizzie with a resigned sigh. ‘All right, peanut, tell me what I have to do.’
‘Well, first I have to go and dress up.’ Lizzie shot out of the room and Jack turned on Bryony.
‘She’s playing weddings?’
‘She’s a girl, Jack,’ Bryony said mildly. ‘Girls play weddings.’
‘I’m breaking out in a sweat here,’ he muttered dryly, and she grinned unsympathetically.
‘She’s seven years old. I think you can cope. Great practice for when you do the real thing.’
His gaze locked on hers, his blue eyes mocking. ‘You know I’m never doing the real thing.’
‘Well, don’t tell my daughter that. I don’t want her saddled with your prejudices about relationships.’
‘I should be teaching her about reality.’
Before Bryony could answer, Lizzie danced back into the room, this time wearing a full-length sparkly dress complete with glittering tiara.
Jack blinked. ‘Wow …’ He cleared his throat. ‘I didn’t know you had a tiara.’
‘I’ve got seven,’ Lizzie said proudly, and Bryony smiled cheerfully.
‘A girl can never have too many tiaras, can she, Lizzie?’
‘Come on, Jack.’ Lizzie grabbed his hand. ‘First we have to hold hands and walk across the carpet. Mummy can video us.’
Jack glanced at Bryony who could barely stand up she was laughing so much. ‘Great idea, Lizzie,’ she choked. ‘It would make great viewing at the MRT Christmas party. Jack finally getting married.’
Jack scowled, but his eyes were dancing. ‘Revenge is going to be sweet, Blondie,’ he warned softly, but he was laughing too and shaking his head as Lizzie dragged him into the sitting room and Bryony reached for the video camera.
To give him his due, Jack treated the whole occasion with the appropriate amount of solemnity, sweeping Lizzie’s hand to his lips as if she were a princess.
At first Bryony was laughing so much that she could hardly keep the camera steady, but as she watched Jack playing his role to perfection and saw the delight on her little girl’s face, her smile faded and she felt an ache growing inside her. Jack was so brilliant with Lizzie. And although he couldn’t see it himself, he’d make a wonderful father.
She was reminding herself firmly that she wasn’t going to think that way any more when the doorbell rang and she realised that her date had arrived.
She answered the door and David stood on the doorstep, flourishing a bunch of flowers.
‘Are they for me? They’re beautiful, thank you.’ She smiled at him and was wondering whether she ought to kiss him when she heard Jack clear his throat behind her.
‘You’ll need a coat, Blondie,’ he said coolly, the humour gone from his eyes as he held out the long woollen coat that she always wore to work and which covered her from her neck to her ankles.
‘I was going to take my pashmina,’ Bryony began, but Jack walked up behind her and draped the coat over her shoulders, pulling it closed at the front so that not one single inch of her was visible.
‘It’s too cold for a pashmina,’ he grated. ‘You don’t want to get hypothermia over dinner.’ He stood back and gave David a nod. ‘She needs to be home at eleven.’
‘What?’ Bryony gaped at him and then gave an embarrassed laugh. They hadn’t even discussed what time he wanted her home but she’d assumed that she could be as late as she liked. She knew Jack well enough to know that he didn’t go to bed early himself. And invariably he slept in her spare room. So why was he saying that she needed to be in by eleven?
David gave an awkward smile. ‘Eleven is fine.’
Bryony scowled, less than impressed that he hadn’t stood up to Jack. Surely he should have said that he’d bring her home when he was ready, or some such thing. She knew for sure that if someone had told Jack that he should bring a girl home by eleven he would have kept her out for the whole night just to prove a point.
But she’d promised herself that she wasn’t going to think about Jack, she reminded herself hastily, taking the flowers through to the kitchen and putting them in water.
When she arrived back at the door the two men were staring at each other. David looked mildly embarrassed and Jack was standing, feet planted firmly apart, very much the dominant male and not in the slightest bit embarrassed.
Deciding that Jack had definitely gone mad, Bryony held out a hand to David and smiled. ‘Shall we go?’
‘Jack.’ Lizzie tugged his arm and frowned at him. ‘You’re skipping bits.’
Jack shook himself and stared down at the book he was supposed to be reading. ‘Am I?’
‘Yes.’ Lizzie grabbed the book from him and went back two pages. ‘You didn’t read this page at all. And you’ve got a funny look on your face.’
‘Have I?’
Jack tried to concentrate on the pink fairy flying across the page of the book but all he could see was Bryony in that dress. He hadn’t seen her legs since she’d been in the netball team at school and he and her brothers had gone to matches to cheer her on, but he now realised that his best friend had sensational legs.
And if she was going to start showing them, how the hell was he going to protect her?
And it wasn’t just her legs, of course …
He closed his eyes, trying to forget the shadowy dip between her full breasts revealed by the cut of her dress.
Right now they were in the restaurant and David was probably sitting opposite her, staring into paradise.
With a soft curse he stood up and the book fell to the floor.
‘You said a rude word, Jack,’ Lizzie said mildly, leaning over and retrieving the book.
‘Sorry.’ Suddenly seized by inspiration, he gave Lizzie a smile. ‘How would you like to call your mother and say goodnight?’
‘Now?’
