Their Baby Bond. Amy AndrewsЧитать онлайн книгу.
About the Author
As a twelve-year-old, AMY ANDREWS used to sneak off with her mother’s romance novels and devour every page. She was the type of kid who daydreamed a lot and carried a cast of thousands around in her head, and from quite an early age knew that it was her destiny to write. So, in between her duties as wife and mother, her paid job as Paediatric Intensive Care Nurse and her compulsive habit to volunteer, she did just that!
Amy Andrews lives in Brisbane’s beautiful Samford Valley, with her very wonderful and patient husband, two gorgeous kids, a couple of black Labradors and six chooks.
Their Baby Bond
Amy Andrews
To Sandra Baxter, my mother.
You lift me up so I can walk on mountains.
I am truly blessed.
CHAPTER ONE
DR WILLIAM GALLIGHER knew he’d been fooling himself the minute he saw Louise Marsden again. Damn it. He wasn’t as over her as he’d thought! One year apart had obviously not managed to erase five years of the best relationship he’d ever had. He paused at the entry to Ward Two, his hand on the swing doors, and took a deep breath, his heart pounding in anticipation. He watched her through the glass panels, the familiar pull of attraction flaring to life.
Even a good ten metres away, and with her back to him, he knew it was her. Her thick, golden, rope-like plait brushed the gentle curve of her bottom, revealing her identity at any distance. That plait and the cute package attached to it were known the width and breadth of the hospital.
His groin tightened as, unbidden, images stormed his mind. Lou naked with her hair loose, flowing over her shoulders and down her back. He still had far too vivid recall of how great it felt trailing over his body. How thick and heavy it felt against his fingers when they were buried in it. How he had spent many an hour brushing it, until the streaks of blonde, honey and gold blended together to form a shiny silken curtain of glorious colour. He had missed her hair.
She was leaning against the raised return of the central nurses’ desk, her elbow resting against the smooth surface. Her petite body as slender as he remembered. Her derrière as cute as ever. She was chatting to Lydia, and he could hear her wicked laughter drift towards him. Lou had a fantastic laugh. He had missed her laugh too.
He sighed. Louise Marsden had been an easy woman to love. Generous, loyal, uncomplicated—the complete opposite of his ex-wife. She had known how messed up he’d been over Delvine and the demise of his marriage, and she had been a soothing balm for his battered soul. Lou had been just what he’d needed.
Damn it. He could feel himself being seduced by the past and put the brakes on. He wasn’t here for this. For her. His work had bought him back. And that was it. Because for the first time in years he had a chance to start a fresh page with his daughter. And he wouldn’t complicate it by rekindling the flame with Lou.
Okay, Candy adored Louise, but after years of Delvine muddying the waters with his daughter he finally had the opportunity to reconnect with her, and he needed to devote all his time and energy to that. Not chase after something that he had ended a year ago. No matter how tempting it was.
Louise Marsden felt like hell. She gripped her stomach as the baby did a somersault. Come on, little guy, give me a break. Her back ached, her legs ached, her ribs ached and her stomach growled as the little commandant inside her demanded a sugar-hit. She felt shaky and nauseated as she pulled a packet of Fruit Tingles out of her pocket and crammed one quickly into her mouth.
Her tongue tingled as the sweet fizzed in her mouth, the effect almost instantaneous. The trembling ceased and her stomach stopped feeling as if it was imminently in danger of losing its contents.
‘You okay, Lou?’
Louise nodded, easing her grip on the desk. ‘Am now,’ she smiled weakly at her second-in-charge and good friend Lydia Clarke.
‘Fruit Tingle time?’ Lydia asked.
Louise smiled and nodded. ‘Little dictator,’ she said.
‘Hah! If you think this is bad, just wait. You’re going to be dancing attendance on that little tyke for the rest of your life.’
Lydia had four kids, so Lou figured she could speak with reasonable authority. ‘Oh, goody,’ she grumbled good-naturedly.
‘Still sleeping badly?’
She nodded. ‘I just can’t get comfortable. I feel like I’m an elephant sleeping in a hammock.’
Lydia laughed. ‘You aren’t exactly small.’
‘Gee, thanks … why are we friends again?’
‘Because I’ve known you since first grade and I keep you supplied with Fruit Tingles.’
‘I can buy my own Fruit Tingles,’ Lou protested, but couldn’t deny that Lydia’s multiple stashes had got her out of many a baby-induced hypoglycaemic attack.
The phone rang and Lydia answered it. Peter Booth, a nurse on Ward Two, steamed into the nurses’ station, baby on hip. ‘I can’t get anyone else to do the shave. I just need one more, come on guys—Lou … people are going to pay big money to see all that gorgeous hair come off.’
‘No, no, no and no. It’s all right for you,’ laughed Lou, staring at Pete’s bald pate. ‘You’re used to it.’
‘You could just get it cut short or even coloured. You don’t have to go the whole hog.’
‘Out,’ Lydia ordered, replacing the phone, picking up a chart and whacking him playfully. ‘That would be a sin.’
‘True,’ he sighed. ‘But still …’
‘Out,’ said Lydia, grinning. They watched him leave. ‘So, what have you got planned for the weekend?’
‘Anything and everything I can to keep my mind off Will’s return.’ A month had passed since the memo from the Medical Director had announced Will’s appointment, and she wasn’t any closer to indifference.
Kristy Freeman, a newly graduated nurse, bustled into the station along with Lynne Oliver, the ward clerk. The phone rang again and Lynne answered it. Lynne was efficient and practically indispensable to Ward Two, but loved to gossip. Lydia took her friend’s arm and steered her out of the nurses’ station—too much activity, too much noise, too many flapping ears.
They parked themselves just on the other side of all the activity, in the main thoroughfare, leaning their elbows against the raised return. ‘It’s been a year, Lou. Don’t tell me you still love him?’ Lydia asked.
‘Oh, God, no. I’m over him. Really.’ Really.
‘So, what’s the problem?’ Lydia demanded.
‘I don’t know. Will took up every part of my life for a long time, and …’
‘You loved him?’ Lydia finished.
Lou nodded miserably. She was over him. Really. But suddenly a year’s separation didn’t seem like enough distance.
‘Tell me, Lou,’ Lydia said gently, ‘how long were you unhappy in that relationship?’
‘I was happy most of the time,’ she protested.
‘Sure. But did he ever ask you to marry him? Did he ever give you any indication or promise of anything other than living for the moment?’
‘No.’
‘No,’ said Lydia, touching her friend’s arm, ‘he didn’t.’
‘It