Found: A Father For Her Child

Dana gave her a cute sleepy smile and snuggled her face into Carrie’s neck. Carrie hugged her closer, inhaling the sweet smell of her.

Charlie approached, surprised to see a mop of blonde hair peeking out of the top of the blanket. She had a kid? No wonder she’d been reluctant to get out the car.

‘Is this your daughter?’

Carrie nodded.

‘I’m sorry, I had no idea…’ Maybe that’s why she’d been so shaky? She’d probably still been reacting to the potential consequences had the red car hit hers head on.

‘It doesn’t matter,’ she said. ‘Dana slept through it all.’

‘Who are you?’ Dana’s high voice broke into their conversation.

Charlie was captivated by a pair of big blue eyes fluttering behind heavy lids. ‘I’m Charlie.’ He grinned.

‘Were you in the accident?’ Dana asked sleepily.

‘No, Sleeping Beauty, I just helped out.’

Dana giggled. ‘Mummy, Charlie thinks I’m Sleeping Beauty.’

Carrie smiled down at her daughter. ‘Go to sleep, then, Sleeping Beauty.’ She dropped a kiss on Dana’s forehead.

They both watched Dana drift off.

‘How are you doing?’ Charlie asked.

‘I’m fine,’ she assured him, despite the persisting tremble of her hands.

‘I’m sorry, I was probably a bit forceful back there.’

‘You were just trying to help him,’ she said dismissively.

‘You did well.’ Charlie leant his hip against her vehicle.

Carrie laughed. ‘Sure.’

‘It’s not everyone’s cup of tea.’ He shrugged.

Carrie decided it was best he didn’t know about her qualifications. The chances that they’d ever meet in a professional capacity were fairly negligible. He was obviously an emergency medicine specialist and she was firmly ensconced in management.

‘Are you going to be right to travel home?’ he asked. ‘Your car still goes?’

Carrie looked at the dented rear side panel. It did, but she doubted whether she could drive again tonight, she felt too shaken up. ‘I’ll get one of the tow-truck drivers to take it away and arrange to have it fixed first thing tomorrow. It’s a bit of a pain but, considering I thought we were going to die tonight, it’s an inconvenience I can live with.’

Charlie chuckled. ‘You heading back to Brisbane? Can I give you a lift home?’

Carrie watched the traffic accident investigation squad put yellow markings on the road. They’d promised her a lift back into the city but they didn’t look like they’d be finished any time soon.

She looked up into his face, taking notice of his looks for the first time. He was tall, a good head taller than her. He had nice eyes, grey eyes. A nice face, actually. Calm. Serene. Confident. Even when he’d been snapping orders he’d been completely self-assured. There was something innately tranquil about his features.

He had shaggy brown hair shot with blond, as if naturally streaked by the sun. It hung down, brushing his collar, and seemed to part naturally in the middle, falling in haphazard layers over his ears, just stopping short of impeding his vision. It was hardly inner-city chic, more 1970s rock star, but it suited his laid-back look.

Combined with his three-day growth, he looked a little hippy-ish and as far from Rupert’s cleanly shaven short back and sides as was physically possible. His arms were tanned a deep brown, as if he’d spent a lot of time in the sun. His clothes were casual—threadbare jeans and one of those trendy T-shirts that looked like it had been painted by a preschooler. His chest was broad, his biceps firm in her peripheral vision.

‘You can just drop us at the first taxi rank,’ she suggested.

‘Nonsense.’ He rejected her suggestion. ‘It’s the least I can do for your help tonight. Where do you live?’

‘Windsor.’

‘Perfect. I live in the Valley. You’re on my way.’

Charlie pushed away from the car. He cleared their departure with the scene controller while Carrie arranged for her car to be towed away.

Two minutes later he opened the passenger door to his sedan. Carrie eyed it disparagingly. The thought of leaving the scene with her precious cargo intact was amazingly lightening and for the first time since she’d met him, she could feel her old self returning.

‘You sure this thing goes?’

Charlie feigned an insulted look. ‘I’ll have you know this is a classic car.’

‘It’s ancient.’

He chuckled. It was. It had been secondhand when he’d inherited it as his uni run-around. ‘It’s…retro.’ He was fond of the old banger, preferring it to the ostentatious BMW his parents had bought him for his thirtieth birthday. It had lot of happy memories. He’d kissed his first girl in this car. Had driven to Ayers Rock in it. Slept in it the night of his bucks’ party when he’d been too drunk to drive it home. The Beamer just didn’t have the same amount of soul.

‘Hmm,’ she said, waiting for Charlie to position Dana’s seat. ‘We’ll see how far it gets us.’

Dana stirred as Carrie buckled her into the seat. ‘Where are we, Mummy?’

‘In Charlie’s car,’ Carrie said quietly. ‘He’s taking us home.’

Dana looked around with heavy eyelids. ‘I like it,’ she murmured as her eyes drifted shut.

Carrie stood up and met Charlie’s amused gaze. It was warm and sexy and she blinked, surprised by the parts of her body that were responding to it.

‘Your daughter obviously has an eye for a classic.’

‘She’s four.’

His laughter followed her into the car and Carrie felt a warm sensation down low and deep spread out sensual tentacles until her whole body was humming. It was strange and unnerving and she put the brakes on immediately. So, he had a nice face and a great smile and had talked her down from the ledge tonight. She was a single mother with her eye on a prestigious job. She didn’t have time for this.

Charlie started the car and they drove away slowly. It was a good minute before he lost sight of the multicoloured glow of the accident scene in his rear-view mirror. The adrenaline he had felt at the scene had dissipated, leaving him feeling edgy, and he drummed his fingers against the steering-wheel.

He took a sideways glance at his passenger. At least she was looking better than she had at the accident scene. There was colour in her cheeks now. She had auburn hair, he noticed for the first time. It was wavy rather than curly, tumbling to her shoulders and framing her oval face perfectly.

She had a creamy complexion with a smattering of freckles across her nose and big light brown eyes the exact shade of whiskey. She was wearing a purple tie-dyed shirt with a heavily beaded modest neckline and matching trousers. It was loose and flowing, hinting at her figure beneath rather than revealing it. She had exotic large silver hoop earrings and a thin silver choker with lines of purple beads hanging off it like icicles. The total effect was quite exotic. Very gypsy.

He adjusted the rear-view mirror so he could see Dana’s face. She was staring sleepily out the window, her blonde hair and blue eyes nothing like her mother’s.

‘So, what do you do?’ Charlie asked, making small talk as the silence stretched between them.

Carrie felt her heartbeat pick up tempo. ‘I’m…in management,’ she said.

He laughed. She looked like she read palms for a living. ‘Very vague.’

She shrugged. ‘It’s nothing very exciting. It pays the mortgage and the hours are good.’

He flicked a glance at Dana again. Her eyes had drifted shut. ‘How old did you say Dana was?’

‘She’s four.’

‘Cute age.’

Carrie smiled. ‘Yes, it is. You got kids?’

Charlie snorted. ‘No.’

OK, not into kids. ‘Not your thing?’

Quite the opposite. Charlie had wanted a family of his own for a long time. A chance to do it better than his parents had. If that was possible. If he hadn’t been genetically wired to screw it up as badly as they had.

He shrugged. ‘Veronica, my ex-wife, didn’t want them. It was probably just as well, given the divorce and everything.’

Carrie detected a bitterness scarring his deep voice. ‘Was it bad?’

Charlie’s knuckles grew white on the steering-wheel and Carrie wished she could have bitten her tongue off. She had no idea what had come over her. Maybe it was the moments they had shared at the accident scene that made her feel like she knew this man. That she could ask him such a personal question on such short acquaintance.

‘Oh, God, sorry, that’s none of my business. Forget I asked.’

He could hear the mortification in her voice and relaxed a little. ‘It’s OK. It was…kind of messy.’

They drove in silence for a little while longer.

‘So, does Dana have a dad?’

Carrie shook her head, trying to keep her voice neutral. Unemotional. Even after five years Rupert’s desertion still stung. ‘Not one that’s interested in her, no.’ She looked out the window.

‘Sorry.’

She shrugged. ‘His loss.’ Rupert had no idea what he was missing out on.

Charlie flicked another glance at the little blonde angel sleeping soundly in her seat. ‘Absolutely,’ he replied, his voice quiet.

She looked at him, hit by the sincerity of his tone. It was ridiculous to feel so connected to a person so quickly. She looked away and stared straight ahead. But his thigh was bulky and solid in her peripheral vision. His biceps flexed distractingly with every slight movement of the steering-wheel. He leaned forward and switched the radio on, his hair brushing against the neckline of his shirt and falling forward, momentarily obscuring the sexy stubble covering his jaw.

‘Do you mind? Will it wake Dana?’

Carrie dragged her gaze away from his jaw. She laughed. ‘She slept through a car smashing into us, four sirens and a helicopter.’

He chuckled. ‘Good point.’

Charlie was grateful for the music to distract them from conversation. At the accident scene Carrie had been easy to dismiss as a blood-phobic, hyperventilating tie-dye flake. But seeing her now, free of the stress of the accident, she was a different woman altogether. One that appealed to him immensely. She had teased him about his car, sympathised over his divorce and told him about her little girl. Suddenly she was three-dimensional. Complex.

Desirable even. The thought slid insidiously into his head. No. No way. She was a single mother. You didn’t mess with them. Honourable men knew that. Especially not when his life was such a mess. A separation, a divorce and an almost year-long health crisis. In two weeks he’d have some closure, but until then his life was on hold.

And after that? There were things to do. Big things. A major project that had been shelved for too long was a priority. He wouldn’t have time for an exotic single mother and her cute child. Relationships were going to be light from now on. Nothing heavy. His life had weighed a tonne for years. And women with children deserved more than that.

They passed the rest of the trip listening to the music and indulging in occasional light conversation. Charlie was grateful when he pulled up outside her apartment block. Her laughter and her scent had filled the car. He couldn’t hear the squeak of the back tyre any more or smell the slight aroma of rust. And he liked those things about his car. OK, it was probably a guy thing—heaven knew, Veronica had hated every inch of it—but he liked them a lot. And it was disturbing to think this woman could completely obliterate them.

‘Thanks for the lift, Charlie. And for…you know…snapping me out of it back there.’ Now she was home she didn’t want to get out. Strangely she felt like staying in the car, chatting with him. They’d shared an experience tonight that few strangers shared. They’d saved a man’s life. She felt a weird kind of connection.

‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘I know that wasn’t easy for you. You did good. Really.’ Charlie wanted her to go as desperately as he wanted her to stay. It was an unsettling feeling. It was as if they’d developed a strange kind of bond. ‘I’ll help you with Dana.’

They got out of the car and Carrie ducked her head to unbuckle Dana. She managed to pick her up without disturbing her.

‘I’ll get the seat,’ Charlie said.

Being unfamiliar with children’s safety seats, he made a real hash of it. ‘How do you get the blasted thing out?’

Carrie laughed. ‘Here.’ She gently passed Dana to him. ‘Move aside I’ll do it.’

Charlie felt a funny tightening in his chest as Dana murmured and wriggled in his arms, trying to find the most comfortable position. Her blonde head snuggled into his neck and her hair smelt like toffee-apples.

Carrie removed the seat easily and he indicated for her to precede him. Carrie placed the seat on the ground and opened the front door. She turned and held her arms out for Dana. Charlie passed her over gently.

It was such a domestic scene Charlie couldn’t quite believe he was in it. Or how…nice it felt. It had an odd kind of pull. But his life was complicated, his head was messed up and she had a child. And he’d probably never see her ever again. They were hardly compatible.

‘Well, thanks for this, Charlie. I really appreciate it. It was nice meeting you. I just wish it had been under different circumstances.’

He chuckled. ‘Amen to that.’

Carrie walked through the door and closed it without looking back. She put Dana to bed, trying not to think about the sense of intimacy she’d had when Charlie had handed Dana back. It was insane to think that way. Charlie was gone. The book had shut on their brief encounter. She had a daughter to raise and a career to forge.

She didn’t need any Charlies in her life.

CHAPTER TWO

CHARLIE sat at his desk on Monday morning and drummed his fingers impatiently. He’d slept badly and his first appointment was late. He was annoyed. Just because he ran a drop-in centre, it didn’t mean he had time to wait around for nosy hospital administrators.

He picked up the phone and dialled Joe’s number. His best friend answered with his usual jovial greeting.

‘Deep, philosophical question for you. Is it insane to fantasise about a woman who nearly vomited over you and you had to talk out of a panic attack?’

‘And this couldn’t wait half an hour?’

‘Nope.’

‘Is she hot?’

‘Hell, Joe, I said deep.’ Charlie laughed. ‘We saved a life together. Well…actually, she was a mess but…I can’t stop thinking about her.’

‘OK, buddy, back up. Tell me the story.’

Charlie relayed the details of the previous night’s incident. ‘She’s so not my type. She looked like a gypsy. She was wearing tie-dye, for God’s sake. You know I prefer pinstripes.’

‘Like vile Veronica?’

‘Well…yes.’

‘Oh, yeah, that turned out so well.’

‘Well, it should have.’

‘Your ex-wife was a stuck-up cow. Strikes me you could do with a little tie-dye.’

‘She has a child. A little girl.’

‘OK, stop right there.’

‘I know, I know. It’s crazy. I shouldn’t be thinking like this.’

Joe laughed. ‘Relax, Charlie. It’s just the celibacy talking, man. In two weeks’ time the tests will come back negative and you can get back on the horse. No man can think straight after a year of no sex.’

Charlie nodded. His friend made a very good point. ‘Right.’

‘Right. So…see you soon?’

‘Right.’

Charlie hung up the phone and checked his watch, his thoughts returning once again to Carrie. Damn it! He drummed his fingers more loudly.

Carrie was late. It was unprofessional and rude. She tried the number again but was blocked by yet another busy signal. Last night’s accident had sure thrown a spanner into the works. Having to arrange insurance and quotes and organise a hire car this morning had not been conducive to punctuality. And she’d slept badly, tossing and turning and thinking about Charlie all night.

She stood in front of the drab-looking building that she’d been assigned to and felt uncharacteristically depressed. A faded sign on the front announced it was the Valley Drop-In Centre. God, I’m tired. She pushed through the mesh reinforced glass doors and looked around the room.

‘Dr Wentworth?’ she asked a couple of bored, tatty-looking teenagers. They pointed to a closed door and she approached it briskly. She had a job to do and regardless of her near-death experience last night, she needed to put it aside and concentrate on today. Concentrate. The chipped nameplate said ‘Dr Charles Wentworth’. She thought of Charlie and then shook her head disgustedly. Concentrate, damn it!

She gave a brisk rap.

‘Come in.’

Carrie took a deep breath, pushed the door open and walked into the office. She stopped in mid-stride, knowing instantly who the tall rangy man with the shaggy downcast head sitting behind the desk was and gave a startled gasp.

Charlie looked up at the noise, his pen stilling in surprise. ‘Carrie?’

‘Charlie?’ A sinking feeling formed in the pit of her stomach. He couldn’t be. ‘You’re Dr Charles Wentworth?’ she asked, hoping desperately that he was just there doing some locum work for the good doctor who she’d assumed to be years older.

‘The very same.’ He nodded. Surely she wasn’t his appointment? ‘And you’re…Dr Douglas?’

Carrie nodded, temporarily unable to form words.

Charlie stared in dismay at her smart businesslike suit. Navy blue. Rich, red, silky blouse. Pinstripes. No tie-dye in sight. Pinstripes—hell! ‘And you’re here to…’

She nodded again. ‘Audit you.’

The wall clock ticked so loudly in the silence it might as well have been a bomb. Charlie recovered first, ignoring the ominous ‘A’ word and its implications to the viability of the centre. He’d lived under the cloud of closure since he’d opened the clinic five years ago.

‘You’re a doctor?’ What the hell?

Carrie lifted her chin. She’d never had to justify her title before and she was damned if she’d do so now. For the next month she was in charge here so it was imperative that she assert her authority immediately. Having him think less of her qualifications, ones she’d worked long and hard for, ones her parents had worked two jobs and re-mortgaged the house for, rankled. ‘Yes, I am.’

Charlie was flabbergasted. He couldn’t have been more surprised than if she’d told him she was a hooker. ‘A medical doctor?’

‘Yes, Charlie, a medical doctor.’

‘You could have fooled me.’

She shrugged, trying for nonchalant when in reality her heart was hammering madly in her chest. Surely he could hear it? ‘I’ve been in management for a while now.’

‘I thought only middle-aged has-beens went into management.’

No. Sometimes young has-beens did, too. ‘It’s a legitimate career option these days. I’m on track to become the youngest hospital MD in Australia.’

Whoa—real party girl. ‘So, what, when other little girls wanted to be fairies and princesses, you decided to chose something more—’ boring ‘—practical?’

Carrie felt her spine stiffen. She was used to subtle male put-downs. Making her way in a male-dominated career had given her a thick skin and a very low tolerance level for fools. Why did he make ambition seem so dirty? Would he have asked her the same question had she been a male? Where was the man from last night who had so tenderly handed Dana to her?

‘Do powerful women threaten your masculinity, Charlie?’

OK. This conversation was bizarre. She was standing before him in her fashionable pinstriped suit—hell, pinstripes—that moulded curves he hadn’t even been aware of last night. Her collar was up on her soft, wine-red shirt—very chic—and it clung to the very interesting rise of flesh that strained against the buttons, barely succeeding in concealing her cleavage.

Indignation burned in her eyes behind trendy frameless glasses that sat high on her perfectly straight nose. She had some shiny gloss stuff on her full lips, the only make-up he could detect, and they glistened. Her wavy hair was pulled back, restricted in some kind of clasp thingy, not a stray hair in sight.

She was the epitome of a modern businesswoman. Composed. Professional. Collected. And a far cry from the cot case of last night. Pale. Shaken. Hyperventilating. Try as he may, he just couldn’t reconcile the two images. It was as if last night hadn’t even happened.

‘Not at all,’ he said dismissively. ‘Actually, I find powerful women very sexy. Hell, I even married one. I just couldn’t think of anything worse if I tried. Management.’ He shuddered. ‘All that paperwork.’

Carrie swallowed. Did he find her sexy? The idea was as seductive as it was preposterous. She reeled in her straying thoughts. What the hell did she care if he did or not? Whatever happened to asserting her authority? She was going to need to be twice as hard with this man now he’d already had her at a disadvantage. Now he’d seen her so vulnerable.

‘Yes,’ she said briskly, bringing the conversation back to the matter at hand. ‘Apparently paperwork’s not your forte.’

Charlie chuckled. Paperwork was the bane of his life.

Carrie pursed her lips disapprovingly. He could find this as amusing as he liked but it was just irresponsible as far as she was concerned. When you were running a business, particularly with someone else’s money, you had to be fiscally accountable.

‘It’s taken me a while to decipher some of your figures, particularly the last year’s, and a lot of it’s incomplete. To finish my investigation I’ll need to see all your business files, bank records, activity statements and so on.’

Charlie stared at her, his ire rising. She was looking so prim and proper. So together. So unlike the woman from last night. She held the upper hand and she knew it. The future of the clinic depended on the outcome of her report. ‘I have some of them ready. I’ll have to get the rest together for you,’ he stonewalled.

Carrie heard the flint in his voice. She glared at him. Did he think because he had already seen her at less than her best that she was just going to fold and meekly surrender? He needed to know now that the woman he’d seen last night had been a complete anomaly.

‘You’ve had over a week to get this information together,’ she growled, trying to keep her temper in check. ‘I don’t appreciate these stalling tactics.’

Tactics? ‘Lady, what the hell is it you think we do here all day? I don’t have time to scratch myself most of the time. Trying to locate five years’ worth of documentation with the few snatched minutes that I get isn’t possible. You know, I’m trying to practise a little thing called medicine here. Not that I expect you to understand that.’

Carrie felt the barb hit her in the chest and put her hand on her hip to steady herself from the impact. She’d wanted to be a doctor ever since she’d been able to say the word. Being judged by him professionally and found to be lacking was a new experience for her. Especially when he was basing his assessment on last night’s performance. That was hardly fair. It had been four years since she’d had a clinical role. Her management skills, on the other hand, were very highly praised. It was like comparing apples and oranges.

‘Please, don’t call me lady. Doctor or Carrie will be fine.’ The frost in her voice could have frozen a lake.

‘I guess it’ll have to be Carrie, then.’ If she wanted to be called Doctor she was going to have to earn it!

She got his meaning loud and clear. And ignored it. ‘I’ll start with what you’ve got,’ she said haughtily. ‘How about you show me around, allocate me an office and I’ll get started?’

Charlie gave a harsh laugh. He couldn’t believe he’d lain awake all night thinking about this woman. Did she have any idea what it was like at the coal face any more?

‘This isn’t some posh city specialist clinic, Carrie. We don’t have offices to spare. There’s only mine and the one opposite.’ He pointed to the door behind her across the hallway and watched the line of her neck and the interesting pull of fabric across her chest as she twisted to check it out.

‘It’s used most days by our regular clinic holders so you’ll have to vacate it during those times. Other than that there’s the staffroom.’