The Consultant's Christmas Proposal

‘I’m perfectly capable of sharing your bed without having sex with you,’ he said quietly.

Saskia glowered at him. What was he saying—that she wasn’t capable of sleeping in the same bed as a man without demanding sex? Or that she wasn’t able to make him want her, because he found her unattractive? Either way, it wasn’t very pleasant, and she felt colour scorch into her cheeks. ‘Well, thanks a bunch, Tobe.’ Sarcasm dripped from every word. ‘How to make your friends feel really good about themselves.’

‘What have I said?’ He raked a hand through his hair. ‘I wasn’t getting at you. Just think about it logically. We’re not students any more. We’re both too old to stay up all night and then work all the next day.’

‘Speak for yourself,’ she said with a scowl. ‘You’re the one who’s thirty-four.’

‘And you’re not that much younger,’ he sniped back. ‘We’re professionals, so we’re capable of looking after a sick baby between us without ripping each other’s clothes off.’

‘Mmm.’ That sounded a bit better. Maybe that was what he’d meant in the first place and she’d just misinterpreted it. She’d already snapped at people today, angry and frustrated because her hands were stiff and achy and she couldn’t do anything about it.

‘So are we being sensible about this?’

‘Yeah.’ She sighed, knowing that she owed him an apology. Along with about half the hospital. ‘Sorry.’

‘Hey.’ His fingers brushed her cheek, very quickly. ‘It’s OK. I know you’re worried about our god-daughter.’

She blessed him silently for giving her such a great getout. ‘Yeah.’

And he was right about the bed. They’d shared a bed on countless occasions as students, when they’d fallen asleep over their books. After he’d qualified, he’d still let her study with him. Now she thought about it, she realised how tired he must have been—working long hours as a junior doctor and then studying with her. But he’d always made time for her.

Which was one of the reasons she loved him so much. He spent time with her. He was the first person in her life who had always, but always, had time for her.

And that was the real reason—the selfish reason—why she hadn’t done anything about his love life. If she found him the woman of his dreams, he wouldn’t want to spend time with her any more. Toby’s wife certainly wouldn’t want him spending time with his former best friend instead of with her.

What a bitch she was, putting her own needs before his. You’re going to have to give him up. For his sake, she told herself.

Just…not until Lydia came back.

An hour or so later, Saskia settled the baby in bed between two pillows, took a quick shower, cleaned her teeth and was in her pyjamas by the time Toby walked in. Wearing only pyjama bottoms, she noticed. Since when had his shoulders been that broad and his chest so well defined? With just a light dusting of hair over his pecs, enough to be sexy but not enough to be offputting.

In fact, Toby Barker looked positively edible.

Quelling her panic, she tried to turn it into a joke. ‘What’s with the stripper act?’

He grinned. ‘This is a lot more than I usually wear in bed, believe me.’

Toby slept in the nude? And he was telling her about it?

Then another thought hit her. Was he flirting with her?

No, of course not. Toby was like the big brother she’d never had. And she was like the kid sister he’d never had. Just the way it had always been between them. She pulled a face at him and climbed into bed.

He climbed in on the other side and checked Helena’s temperature. ‘I think it’s coming down a bit.’

‘Let’s put her light show on, and see if she drops off.’ Saskia switched on the little machine she’d brought in from Helena’s room and turned off the bedside lamp. The light show played a soft lullaby and projected a series of pictures onto the ceiling. Various coloured stars were followed by a teddy bear in an aeroplane, then soft clouds which turned into the steam from a train driven by another teddy bear.

‘This is great! I ought to get some of these for the littlies on my ward,’ Toby said.

‘I wouldn’t mind one of these myself,’ she admitted. ‘More fun than a lava lamp.’

‘It’d be good if you could get different pictures and different tunes—all you’d have to do would be to slot a different card in. A Christmas one with Father Christmas in a train, and stars and Christmas trees and holly. Nice soft lullaby versions of “We Wish You a Merry Christmas” or something. It’d be more fun than the piped carols they’ll insist on playing on our ward from the middle of next week,’ Toby mused.

‘You’ve missed your vocation. You could’ve been a toy designer,’ Saskia teased.

‘Secondary career.’ He grinned. ‘I’ll definitely get my own kids one. Then, when they’ve grown out of it, they can pass it on to me.’

His kids. And she couldn’t have children.

‘Saskia?’

Uh-oh. He’d noticed she’d gone silent. ‘What?’

‘That wasn’t a come-on.’

‘I didn’t think it was,’ she said stiffly.

‘Besides, you’re losing your touch.’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘You haven’t dated anyone for two months.’

Two months. Since the day she had been diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis and the bottom had fallen out of her world.

She made herself sound bored. ‘That’s because there’s nobody worth dating at the hospital.’

‘No?’ There was something odd about his voice, but she didn’t dare look at him. She didn’t want him to be able to read her face, guess what she’d been hiding from him for the last two months. It’d come out in the end, she knew that—and he’d be hurt that she hadn’t told him. But she didn’t know where to start, and the longer she left it the more afraid she was.

‘No,’ she said firmly, and concentrated her attention on the light show.

Mmm. Warm and soft and comforting. This was nice. Saskia snuggled back against the body wrapped round hers.

And then her mind jackknifed awake.

A body, wrapped round hers? Where was Helena? Was the baby all right? She struggled against the enfolding arms, desperate to get up and check the baby.

‘Go back to sleep,’ a deep voice mumbled against her shoulder.

A voice she recognised. Toby’s.

Then she remembered. They’d shared the care of Helena last night. Except she’d fallen asleep and he’d obviously been the one to stay awake and look after their god-daughter. Guilt flooded through her. ‘Where’s Helena?’

‘Asleep in her Moses basket. I checked her in the night—she was cooler and she was more likely to overheat between us, so I moved her.’

Short, to the point and exactly what she needed to know. Well, nearly what she needed to know. There was one question he hadn’t answered. Why hadn’t he gone back to his own bed?

And then she realised something else. His left hand was underneath her pyjama top, cupping her left breast. His thumb was resting against her nipple. Her erect nipple.

It sent her into a tailspin. This was her best friend. She’d never, but never, thought about having sex with him.

Well, OK, she’d thought about it. But she hadn’t actually done it. Apart from one kiss at a Christmas party, and he hadn’t even remembered it the next day. If he had…

There was no point in thinking that way. It hadn’t happened. And she wasn’t going to wreck their friendship after all these years over just a little sex.

A friendship that would be wrecked anyway when he found the woman of his dreams, a little voice said in her head. So why deny them both the pleasure?

Common sense fought a brief battle with the little voice. And lost. Particularly when she noticed that his thumb was moving. Very gently, very tentatively—but definitely moving. Teasing her.

‘Toby?’

‘Mmm?’ His voice was still sleepy. Yet he’d sounded very clear a couple of minutes before when he’d spoken about the baby. So was he putting on the sleepy bit, or was it the result of years of practice as a hospital doctor of being on call—waking up, dealing with a patient and then snatching some sleep whenever and wherever he could?

‘Are you asleep?’ she asked.

‘Yes.’

Actually, his mouth felt rather nice against her shoulder. Skin to skin. Just where the neck of her pyjama top had slipped in the night.

‘Is Helena asleep?’

‘Yes.’

Was that her imagination, or had he just nibbled her shoulder? Experimentally, she wriggled her bottom against him.

‘Saskia?’

‘Mmm-hmm?’

‘Stop fidgeting.’

‘You’re fidgeting,’ she pointed out. And wished she hadn’t, when his thumb stopped moving.

Though his hand stayed exactly where it was. So did his mouth.

Her call, then. Keep things as they were between them—the best of friends? Or make this their swansong before she gave everything up?

The tingling in her fingers decided her. The tiny little sign, together with the numbness, that had hacked the bottom out of her world. She was about to lose everything. So, what the hell? He clearly wanted this, too, or his body wouldn’t be plastered against hers, would it? She wriggled again.

‘Saskia. I’m only human.’ His voice sounded thick, tortured. ‘If you push me…’

So she pushed. Simply by twining her left hand in his and moving his thumb.

He was dreaming. Definitely dreaming. Saskia Hayward was in his arms, in his bed, and she was inciting him to make love to her.

Or maybe he’d died and gone to heaven.

Toby was past coherent thought. All he could do was touch. Feel. Slowly, he undid her pyjama top. Button by button. Lord, her skin was soft. He cupped one breast again, and a whoop of delight sang through his head. She was as aroused as he was, her breasts swollen and full.

He was almost afraid to look at her face—please, please, don’t let her be doing this out of pity, he begged silently—but when he turned her to face him, her eyes were dark and her pupils were huge with desire. For him.

And no way could he resist the fullness of her lower lip. He bent his head and kissed her. Lightly, at first, but then her mouth opened under his. Just as it had that time beneath the mistletoe.

He could have spent a year just kissing Saskia, but his body was urging him to explore further, deeper. He felt like a kid who’d just been let loose in a sweetshop, and he was planning to take his fill. And more.

The way she smelt. So sweet. Like roses after summer rain. He nuzzled her skin, inhaling her scent, loving the softness against his own skin. His mouth trailed down her neck, down to her collarbone. He dipped his tongue into the hollows, and he felt her body arch against him. So she liked that. Good. He did, too. Smiling, he traced a line between her breasts with the tip of his nose, and heard her murmur agreement.

This was without doubt the best dream he’d ever had. So real. Everything he’d always wanted: Saskia making love with him. Her hands in his hair, fisting there when he opened his mouth over her nipple and sucked.

She was so responsive. Pushing against him, demanding that he pay attention to her other breast. In a decent dream he’d have super-powers and would have been able to do everything he wanted at once. He’d be able to kiss her all over at the same time, a riot of taste and textures under his mouth.

Now she was lying beneath him, on her back. He needed to know what was going on in her head. Did she feel the same way, or was he deluding himself? Maybe it would be easier not to know. But in the end he opened his eyes and looked at her. She was smiling. Inviting. And in her eyes he could see passion. Need. Love. Everything he’d always wanted.

He kissed her again, murmured against her skin. ‘Saskia. You’re so beautiful.’ The most beautiful woman in the world.

And, since this was a dream, he could tell her he loved—

No. This wasn’t a dream. She was really there, in bed with him. Kissing him back, tilting her hips under his, her body inviting him to remove the rest of her pyjamas and sink into the ultimate closeness.

This was such a stupid idea. Once they had sex, it would be over between them. For good.

But he’d had thirteen years of waiting. He just couldn’t wait for her any more. He needed her. Right now. Slowly, he splayed one hand against her midriff. She shivered, so he let his fingers drift under the waistband of her pyjama bottoms. Peeled them off. Rocked back on his haunches and looked at her.

He sucked in a breath. She was beautiful. More beautiful than he’d dreamed even. And his hands were actually shaking as he stroked her inner thighs. He wanted to touch her, taste her. Lose himself inside her.

But he had to be sure. He wasn’t going to force her into anything. ‘Saskia. We can stop now, if you want to,’ he told her softly.

‘No, we damned well can’t.’ Her hands were shaking as she removed his pyjama bottoms, stroked his buttocks, and her voice was husky with need. ‘Touch me, Toby. Love me.’ She offered her mouth to him.

There was something in her expression he couldn’t read—was she crying? Or was it just that she needed him as much as he needed her, felt that same desperate craving that only one special person could satisfy? He bent his head to kiss her mouth, then slowly moved downwards. He took his time, rubbing his face against the softness of her skin, flicking his tongue around her nipples until she gasped and plunged her fingers back into his hair, pulling him closer.

Closer. He slid one hand between her legs and cupped her. Oh, God, he’d wanted this for so long. The heat, the soft silkiness. All he had to do was move. Nudge his thigh between hers. Let those long, long legs wrap around his waist and pull them both into paradise.

‘Oh, Saskia,’ he breathed, slipping one finger inside her. She was warm and wet and so very ready for him.

‘Yes. Yes, Toby, yes,’ she moaned, arching up against him.

He’d just shifted between her thighs, ready to enter her, when he heard a loud bang.

Half a second later, he realised what the sound was. The bedroom door slamming against the wall. Billy. Instantly, Toby dragged the covers over himself and Saskia.

‘Uncle Toby, is it time to get up?’ Billy asked chirpily.

‘Uh, nearly.’ He could barely string the words together, shocked by how close they’d been to getting caught.

‘What are you doing?’ Billy asked.

Uh-oh. This was definitely a question he didn’t want to answer. ‘Tickling each other.’ Please, please, let the little boy accept that. He definitely didn’t want to do a birds-and-bees explanation. Not now. ‘Can you be a really big boy and go and get dressed?’

‘OK,’ Billy agreed happily, and left the room.

Toby flopped back against his pillow and looked at Saskia. ‘Um. So this is what it feels like to be a parent.’

‘It probably—’

‘Shh.’ He put one finger over her lips. ‘We’ll discuss it later.’ Unable to resist, he rubbed his thumb over her lower lip. His vision almost blurred with desire. Hell, so near and yet… ‘Later,’ he croaked. If he stayed next to her for one second longer, he’d forget where he was and continue exactly where they’d left off.

Sometimes life was a bitch.

And sometimes it promised to fulfil all his dreams. He’d waited so long. What difference would a few more hours make? He leaned over to kiss her lightly. ‘Later,’ he said softly, pulled his pyjama bottoms on again and went to check on what Billy was doing.

CHAPTER FOUR

TWO choices. Saskia had two choices. One: she could get up and pretend this had never happened. Two: she could stay exactly where she was and wait for Toby to come back. Finish what they’d started.

Whichever way she jumped, it was going to be a problem.

If she got up, checked how Helena was and was showered and dressed before Toby came back, she’d spend the whole day on a slow burn. Aroused. Wanting. Wanting Toby, to be exact. The way he’d touched her had felt so good, so right. One finger hadn’t been enough. She needed to feel him inside her. Needed him to take her right to the edge.

But if she stayed put…what then? Billy had broken the spell. Toby was out of the room, had had time to think about what they’d been doing. Time to realise it was all a huge mistake, just a physical reaction to a member of the opposite sex being nearly naked, in close proximity, when he’d woken from a deep sleep. Hadn’t he said last night that he could go to bed with her without having sex with her? Hell. She couldn’t face rejection. Or, if he didn’t reject her, maybe he’d expect their relationship to change after they’d made love, and she couldn’t handle that right now.

With shocking clarity, she realised that it would be making love. Not just having sex. With Toby, deeper feelings would be involved. And then, when it all went wrong, the mess would be spectacular. Hell. She didn’t want to lose her best friend.

Slow burn it would be, then. She swiftly got out of bed and checked on the sleeping baby. Helena’s breathing was regular and not too fast, and her temperature was normal again. Good. So it had just been a virus last night.

Saskia’s own temperature felt very far from normal so she made her shower tepid. Turned the water to cold, even. But it couldn’t quite take away the warmth of Toby’s touch. The way his hands had felt on her breasts, the way his fingers had teased her nipples. The way his mouth had felt on her body.

‘Stop it,’ she told herself through clenched teeth. ‘You’re not going to complicate things with sex and mess up the best friendship you’ve ever had. Got it?’

When Toby returned to the bedroom and found Saskia halfway through getting dressed, his expression was un-readable. And Saskia didn’t dare ask him what he was thinking. Right at that moment, she wasn’t sure she could handle knowing. Deliberately not looking at him and focusing instead on putting her clothes on, she said brightly, ‘Helena’s temperature is normal this morning.’

‘Mmm-hmm.’

‘I, um, wondered if one of us should, um, stay with her today. Just in case.’

‘It’s easier for me to get cover at short notice. I’ll call in.’

‘Thanks. I’ll, um…’ Hell. She was never hesitant. Never. But it was hard to talk sensibly when your brain felt as if it had been turned to mush and your mouth definitely wasn’t working in synch with your thoughts.

How easy it would be to leap on him. Push him back to the bed. Strip off his pyjama bottoms and…

No. It wasn’t fair to Toby. She couldn’t use her best friend to satisfy an urge—even though he’d been the one who’d started it. The relationship would go wrong and she’d lose him. In a few months’ time, she’d need all the friends she could get. When she had to leave the job that was her whole life and find something else to do.

Her mouth tightened. ‘I’ll get breakfast ready while you’re in the shower. D’you want scrambled eggs or cereals?’

‘I’m not hungry.’

Funny how his tone didn’t match the words. Because Toby sounded hungry all right. Maybe not for food. But hungry. Wanting. Needing. Just the same way she felt.

She hardened her heart. It wasn’t going to happen. And, yes, he might feel sore about it right now, but their godson had done them both a huge favour. Billy’s untimely interruption had stopped them making the worst mistake of their lives. ‘I might or might not see you downstairs, then.’

‘Mmm.’

Which told her precisely nothing. Don’t do this to us, Toby, she pleaded silently. Don’t try to change things. It can’t happen, for reasons even you don’t know about yet. I’d tell you if I could. But I can’t.

Silently, she finished dressing and left the room.

A few minutes ago, it had been like all his Christmases and birthdays and red-letter days all rolled into one. Saskia in his arms, naked and aroused. Her words echoed in his mind: Touch me, Toby. Love me.

Heaven help him, he did. Always had. But when he’d first met her, he’d known there was no way the sexiest girl in the entire faculty of medicine would ever consider going out with a shy, speccy nerd. His options had been friendship or nothing. He’d chosen friendship, hoping that one day she might look at him properly, see who he really was and feel the same way about him that he felt about her.

Just as she’d seemed to do this morning.

If Billy hadn’t walked in at that precise moment…

Well, it could have been worse. Three seconds later, Toby wouldn’t have even heard the door bang open. He’d have been drowning in Saskia’s honey-sweet depths, oblivious to everything except her and completely unable to stop.

But they’d been interrupted. For long enough to let Saskia think about it and change her mind. How the hell was he going to cope with being just her friend after this? How was he going to cope, living with her until Lydia came back? But he had to. No way could he let Lyd down and leave Saskia to cope with everything on her own.

‘Looks like it’s going to have to be business as usual,’ he told the still-sleeping baby. ‘Pretending I don’t feel the way I do. Pretending I love her just as a friend, as a sister.’ And all the time he’d ache with wanting her, needing her.

Toby didn’t come downstairs for breakfast. Well, if he was going to sulk, fine, Saskia thought crossly. He’d just have to get over it. He wasn’t the only one who was feeling frustrated, not by a long way. But she managed to chatter normally to Billy, drop him off at nursery and do her shift at the hospital without anyone asking her what was wrong. She also managed to sort out the ward’s ‘secret Santa’ present exchange—where everyone who wanted to take part took someone’s name out of an envelope and bought them a present, given anonymously on the shift before Christmas Eve and usually unwrapped on the ward.

But she still couldn’t help thinking about what had happened that morning, and she was distracted enough to have a near-miss on the way home. Her emergency stop left her bumper mere millimetres from the car in front, earning her a rude gesture from the driver and a blast from his horn. Hell. She really had to concentrate on what she was doing, not think about Toby.

Or was it because of Toby? A nastier explanation suddenly occurred to her, Was lack of concentration a symptom of rheumatoid arthritis?

‘Stop it. Don’t be silly. It’s your joints that are affected, not the synapses in your brain,’ she told herself sharply. But the doubt was still there. The panic. Maybe she’d missed something in her research into the condition. Maybe. Maybe.

She was in a thoroughly bad mood by the time she parked her car outside the cottage, only for her temper to collapse again when she walked into the kitchen and smelt baking.

Baking? Since when did Toby make cakes? He was more likely to buy them from the patisserie at the end of his road.

‘We made Christmas cookies, Aunty Saskia,’ Billy told her shyly, and pointed out the plate of star-shaped biscuits covered in blobs of icing, silver balls and sprinkles. ‘Me and Uncle Tobe. We’re chefs.’

‘They’re lovely, darling,’ she said, giving him a hug.

‘And we made you a special cake. A nana cake.’

A cake, for her? She didn’t think anyone had ever made her a cake. Maybe one of the nannies had. But certainly neither of her parents had. She blinked hard to dispel the threatening tears. She hadn’t cried over her childhood for a long, long time, and she wasn’t going to start again now.

‘Want some?’ Toby asked.

Cake, or you? She pushed the thought aside. ‘Thanks,’ she said, not meeting his eyes. ‘I didn’t know you could make cakes.’

‘We were doing a scientific experiment,’ he said. ‘How was your day?’

‘Average. How was yours?’

‘Fun.’ He grinned. ‘I spent this morning playing with Helena while Billy was at nursery and realising how many nursery rhymes I’d forgotten, and this afternoon chucking flour all over the kitchen with Billy.’

She looked at him, this time about to smile at the picture he’d painted for her.

Then he delivered the killer blow. ‘I think I could get used to being a house-husband.’