chapter SEVEN
AVA HAD BEEN in her office for one minute on Monday morning when the door opened and Finn stormed in.
‘What do women want?’ he demanded.
Ava looked up from the mail she’d been opening. He was in his usual work attire of a carelessly worn suit, his tie pulled askew. ‘And good morning to you too, Finn.’
Finn waved his hand dismissively. ‘I bought her a house—a goddamn house—and she still turned me down.’
‘You bought her a house because … you love her?’
He shoved his hand on his hip. ‘This has nothing to do with love. I bought her a house so our son has a roof over his head.’
‘Right … so you bought her a house but you don’t love her? Goodness.’ Ava tsked. ‘That’s a tad ungrateful.’
Finn glared at her. ‘There’s no need for sarcasm.’
Ava sighed as Finn prowled back and forth in front of her desk. ‘Okay. Did she say why she turned you down?’
Finn stopped pacing. ‘She said she could buy her own house.’ He shot her an incredulous look. ‘Like I’d offended her feminist principles.’
Ava nodded patiently. Of course Evie Lockheart could buy her own house. With or without the Lockheart fortune behind her. But years of being a psychologist told her there was a lot more to Evie’s refusal than an affront to feminism.
‘What else?’
‘What?’
‘Did she say anything else?’
Finn took up prowling again and Ava leaned back in her chair to wait him out.
‘She wants me to open up to her,’ he said eventually.
Ava suppressed a smile. Opening up was not something that Finn was known for. He made it sound as if Evie had asked for a sparkly unicorn or some other such nonsense.
‘And you don’t want to do that?’
‘How does talking about my past have anything to do with raising our son together?’ he demanded.
Ava swung slightly in her chair, watching Finn pace. ‘Because it’s what couples do?’ she suggested.
‘We’re not a couple,’ he snapped, coming to an abrupt halt.
She quirked an eyebrow. ‘And yet you want her to marry you …?’
‘None of that stuff is important to a successful future together.’
Ava knew he was dead wrong and she suspected that somewhere beneath all the injury and barriers he knew it too. But it wasn’t her job to tell him he was wrong. ‘Is it important what you think or what she needs?’
He glared at her. ‘Goddamn it. Can’t you just give me one piece of useful advice instead of answering every question with another question? You’re a sex therapist, aren’t you supposed to be full of practical ideas about making relationships work?’
Ava sighed. He was far from ready for practical exercises and she should be annoyed that he wanted her to give him a magic wand without doing any of the hard yards he obviously needed. But this was Finn, who wasn’t a client, and for Evie’s sake maybe she could help.
‘Fine.’ She folded her arms across her chest. ‘Woo her, Finn.’
He frowned. ‘Woo her? Are we living in Shakespearian England all of a sudden?’ he scoffed.
Ava knew that good wooing took time and if Evie was smart she’d use it to her advantage. ‘You wanted my advice.’ She shrugged. ‘You got it.’
‘I’ve already got her pregnant—don’t you think it’s a little late for the wooing?’
Ava shook her head. ‘It’s never too late for wooing.’
Finn shut his eyes. Bloody hell. He’d bought her a house and now he was going to have to woo her as well?
He opened his eyes. ‘Gee, thanks.’
Ava grinned at Finn’s look of distaste. ‘Don’t mention it.’
Finn knocked on Evie’s door that night in his suit, juggling some flowers and a bag of Indian takeaway. He knew she was on days off because he’d checked the emergency department’s medical roster at lunchtime.
He’d been brooding about Ava’s advice all day and by the time he’d finished his afternoon theatre list he’d decided it might be a worth a try. He had time, after all, and instead of rushing like a bull at a gate, which was what he had been doing, maybe a little subtlety was called for.
But it had better show dividends pretty quickly because, come hell or high water, they would be married by the time the baby was born.
The door opened and he suddenly felt awkward and unsure of himself standing there with flowers. Women usually came to him—flowers and that kind of thing weren’t his style.
Evie blinked. ‘Finn?’
‘I have flowers,’ he said, pushing them into her arms. He lifted up the plastic bag in his other hand. ‘And Indian takeaway. Have you eaten?’
Evie shook her head, the aroma of yellow roses and oriental lilies enveloping her. ‘I was just doing some … yoga.’
Finn noted her workout gear. Skin-tight Lycra knee-length leggings. An equally form-fitting top with a round neckline and spaghetti straps that bared her shoulders and stretched over her full breasts and rounded belly. Her hair had been scraped back into a messy ponytail.
‘I see,’ he said, exceedingly self-conscious as he tried not to stare. She seemed to get bigger every time he saw her.
‘Come in,’ she said, falling back to allow him entry.
Finn stepped inside and then followed her through to the lounge room. There was some low Gregorian chant playing from a sound system somewhere and he noted the yoga mat on the floor. He sat where she indicated on the three-seater lounge and started to pull the containers out while she took the flowers out of sight.
He heard water running, a fridge door opening then shuffling of crockery and tinkling of glasses as he pulled the lids off. He almost called out to just bring some cutlery but he supposed part of the wooing process was to eat off good plates rather than straight from the containers.
Evie, her brain busy trying to fathom what Finn was up to now, was back in the lounge room in a couple of minutes, balancing a tray and the vase of flowers. Finn, who’d taken off his jacket and tie, stood and relieved her of the tray as she placed the vase on top of the television cabinet and used a remote to turn the music off. When she turned back he’d unloaded the tray and her plate was waiting for her, the napkin a bright slash of red against the snowy white pattern.
He was pouring them both sparkling water and he smiled at her as he handed her the glass. A smile that went straight to her insides. She sat towards the end of the lounge, tucking a foot up underneath her, being careful to leave a cushion’s distance between them as he asked her what she wanted then proceeded to plate it up for her, passing it and the napkin over when he was done.
She took it and sat unmoving for a few moments as he turned his attention to his own meal. When that was done he smiled at her again and then tucked in.
‘Okay,’ she said, placing her plate on the coffee table. ‘What’s going on?’
Finn, in mid-swallow, thought about feigning obtuseness as Bella had already accused him of being obtuse anyway. But he was a cards-on-the-table kind of guy.
He finished his mouthful and took a drink of water as the spicy lamb korma heated his mouth. ‘Ava thinks I should woo you.’
Evie frowned. ‘Ava? Ava Carmichael?’
Finn nodded. ‘The one and only.’
‘You’re seeing Ava?’
‘Yes. No. Not like that. We just … chat sometimes …’
Evie was lost for words. ‘I … see …’ What on earth could she say to such a startling revelation?
It was Finn’s turn to frown. ‘You don’t like it.’ He shook his head. ‘I knew it was a dumb idea,’ he muttered.
Evie shook her head. ‘No, I just …’ Just what? Was shocked, amazed, flabbergasted? That Finn Kennedy had not only asked a sex therapist for advice about their relationship but had also obviously taken it on board. ‘It’s sweet … really sweet,’ she ended lamely.
‘Great,’ Finn grumbled, as he also put his plate down. ‘Why don’t you just pat me on the head and tell me to run along?’
Evie watched as he ran a hand through his hair. This was her chance to start making inroads into his reserve. If he’d finally dropped his bullying tactics and was willing to take others’ advice he might just be open to doing things her way.
She leaned forward, resting her bent elbows on her knees. ‘I don’t want you to woo me, Finn.’
Finn gave a self-deprecating smile. ‘Probably just as well. I obviously suck at it.’
Evie laughed. ‘You were doing fine. I’m sure with a little practice you’ll be perfect.’
He glanced at her. ‘But it’s not what you want?’
She shook her head slowly. ‘How about I do you a deal? I will marry you after the baby is born if we spend these next few months getting to know each other first.’
Finn’s heart started to pound in his chest. It was the same thing she’d told him she wanted at the house. Except she’d made a major concession—she was promising to marry him. ‘You’ve changed your tune,’ he said warily.
Evie nodded. ‘I spoke to Lydia. She thinks you’re worth a little perseverance.’
Finn felt every muscle in his body tense. ‘Lydia?’
Evie almost shivered at the sudden drop in his tone. ‘She told me a little about you and Isaac growing up in the care system and what the house at Lavender Bay symbolises for you. She asked me not to give up on you. So, by the way, did Ethan.’
Finn wanted to roar at the interference. How dared they talk about him behind his back? This stuff was deeply, deeply personal! ‘Lydia and Ethan,’ he ground out, ‘should really learn to keep their big mouths shut.’
‘They care about you, Finn,’ she murmured. ‘As I do. And I’m willing to meet you at this halfway you wanted, to marry you, but only if you’re willing to meet me halfway. I want us to get to know each other, Finn. No holds barred. No topic off limits.’
Finn felt the slow burn of anger being doused by hope as the push and pull of emotions seesawed inside him.
He could have what he wanted.
But at what cost?
Was she hoping her amateur attempts at psychology would result in some breakthrough? ‘Do you think me spilling my guts to you will make me love you somehow? Is that what you’re hoping for, Evie? Because it’s probably just going to make me resent you.’
Goose-bumps broke out on Evie’s arms at the conviction in his voice. She shrugged. ‘Well, I guess that’s a risk I’m prepared to take. This isn’t about making you love me, Finn.’
‘Isn’t it? Isn’t it?’ he demanded, his emotions swinging again. ‘So when we get to the end of it all and you know all the sordid details of my life, especially the bit where I don’t know how to love anybody because I grew up without any and I still can’t give you the love you want, you’re still going to marry me? Is that right?’
Evie swallowed at the stark facts he hadn’t bothered to sugar-coat. ‘Yes. That’s right. I just want to know you better. Is it so wrong to want to know the man you’re married to? The father of your child?’
Finn hated that she was so bloody rational. They were talking about his life and there was nothing rational about that. He stood and glared down at her. ‘So you want to know how it felt to have Isaac die in my arms?’ he demanded. ‘And my awful childhood with a mother who abandoned us? You want to know all my dirty little secrets?’
Evie nodded, knowing it was vital to stay calm in the face of his consternation. She understood she was asking a very big thing of him. It was only fair for him to rail against it for a while.
‘Yes,’ she said quietly. ‘I don’t want you to tell me everything in one night. We can build up to the hard stuff but … yes, I want to know it all.’
Finn felt lost as the storm raged inside him. He’d thought she’d back down in the face of his outrage but she wasn’t even blinking. He felt angry and scared and panicked as he contemplated what she wanted.
Cornered.
And then Evie slipped her hand into his and it was like the storm suddenly calmed and he had an overwhelming urge to tell her everything. Completely unburden himself. ‘Sit down,’ she said. ‘Eat your curry. It’s getting cold.’
Finn sat, his heart beating like a bongo drum as he raked his hands through his hair. She picked up his plate and handed it to him and he took it, eating automatically as his thoughts whizzed around and collided with each other like atoms on speed.
‘What do you want to know?’ he asked eventually after half his meal had been demolished and he couldn’t stand the silence any longer.
‘It’s okay,’ Evie said. ‘We don’t have to talk tonight. Just … tell me about your day.’
He frowned. ‘My day?’
Evie gave a half-laugh at his bewildered expression. ‘Yes. Your day. You know, the stuff married people talk about all the time.’
It was awkward at first but they were soon chatting about safe hospital topics—his theatre list tomorrow, how Prince Khalid was going, some new whizz-bang monitor he wanted for the cath lab and the new salads on the canteen menu. And before Evie knew it, two hours had passed and Finn was on his second cup of coffee.
Even he looked surprised when he checked his watch as he drained the dregs from his mug. ‘I guess I’d better get going,’ he said, looking at her, curiously not wanting to leave.
Evie nodded. It would be the easiest thing in the world to ask him to stay. He’d actually been acting like a human being for once and he looked tired and stubbly and masculine and it had been so long that she wanted to reach across the gap and sink into his arms. But she didn’t want to mess with what she was trying to establish now.
Sex would just distract them.
Suddenly the baby gave a swift kick that stole her breath and she gasped involuntarily and soothed her hand over the action.
Finn followed the intimate action, struck by the notion that he’d put the baby inside her. That it was his son, his flesh and blood that blossomed in her belly. ‘Baby awake?’ he said, feeling awkward again.
Evie looked up, a grimace on her face, which died quickly. Finn was staring at her belly, or rather at the circular motion of her palm, and he seemed so alone and isolated, so untouchable, so Finn, way over the other side of the cushion, that it almost tore her breath from her lungs.
‘Do you …?’ She hesitated, unsure of how to broach the subject. ‘Would you like to feel him moving?’ she asked.
Finn mentally recoiled from her quiet suggestion even as his fingers tingled at the possibility. His pulse kicked up a notch. His breath thickened in his throat.
Lay his hands on her? Feel his son moving inside her?
He was used to touching women. Used to touching this woman. But as a prelude to something else. Not like this. Not in a way that bound them beyond just a physical need for release.
He would know his son soon enough. He didn’t need to feel his presence to understand his responsibilities.
‘Ah, no,’ he said, standing, gathering his jacket and his tie and taking a pace back for good measure. ‘I’m good.’
Evie tried not to take his rejection personally. They’d taken a big step tonight—she didn’t want to scare him away by going all militant mummy on him. ‘That’s fine,’ she said, plastering a smile on her face as she also stood.
They looked at each other, Finn avoiding her belly, Evie fixing on his collar. Finn cursed the sudden uncomfortable silence. The night had gone well—considering.
He cast around for something to say. It seemed only fair, given that he’d been the one to ruin the atmosphere. ‘Do you want to have dinner with me tomorrow night?’
Evie blinked. She suddenly felt like a teenager being asked on her first date. ‘Ah … yes.’
He nodded. ‘I’ll pick you up at seven.’
And that set the pattern for the next couple of weeks. Going out or staying in, keeping things light, getting used to just being together without arguing or tearing each other’s clothes off. One night Evie pushed a little and asked Finn about his life as a trauma surgeon in the army, and for the longest moment as he hesitated she thought he was going to shut her down, but he didn’t and she found herself asking a bit more about it each night. About the places he’d been and the people he’d met.
He was more close-lipped about the specifics, about the horrors he must have seen, but each time he gave away a little more and a little more, even mentioning Isaac’s name a couple of times before he realised and then stopped awkwardly and changed the subject.
But for every backward step Evie felt as if they were inching forward and they had plenty of time. She was determined not to push him too far too fast.
Evie was almost twenty-eight weeks when Finn called one night to say he’d been delayed at the hospital and would miss their restaurant booking. ‘How does a spot of telly and a takeaway sound?’
Like an old married couple, she almost said, but, already exhausted from her own full-on shift, she readily agreed.
‘I could be a while yet,’ he warned.
‘Whenever you get here will be fine,’ she assured him. She took great delight in kicking off her pregnancy jeans, which she hated, and her bra, which felt like a straitjacket around breasts that seemed to get bigger by the day, and getting into her sloppy pyjamas. The shirt had a tendency to fall off her shoulder and the legs were loose and light. One day soon it wasn’t going to meet in the middle but for the moment the ensemble was holding its own.
That was one of the advantages of their unconventional relationship. There was no need to dress to impress. The man had already seen everything she had. She could sloth around in her daggy pyjamas with no bra and no real shape and he was prepared to marry her anyway.
Besides, she didn’t think he found her pregnant body much of a turn-on. He’d studiously avoided looking, touching or getting too near her belly. He didn’t refer to it, he never remarked about how big she was getting or comment when she rubbed it.
She knew that was partly to do with his issues but she had to face facts—she’d put on some weight, her breasts had doubled in size and her belly had well and truly popped out.
Hardly a sex kitten.
So there seemed very little point making an effort and there was something very comforting about a man who was a sure thing so she threw herself down in front of the telly, her feet up on the coffee table, and waited.
It was nine o’clock when Finn finally knocked and Evie was almost asleep on the couch, but her belly rumbled as she admitted him and she realised she was ravenous. For food and for him. There was something very sexy about the total disregard with which Finn wore a suit. The way he never bothered to do up the jacket so it flapped open all the time or how he couldn’t care less about doing up the collar buttons on his shirt and how his tie was always just a little skew. The whole look said, I’d much rather be in scrubs.
Which pretty much summed him up.
He’d brought beer and pizza and they ate it out of the box while he told her about the emergency thoracotomy he’d had to perform on an MVA that had come in after her shift had ended and they watched TV re-runs.
Finn shook his head as Evie laughed at some ridiculous antic. ‘I can’t believe we’re watching this.’
‘Hey, I love this show,’ Evie protested. ‘The nanny used to let us watch it if Lexi and I had done our homework.’
‘What about Bella? Didn’t she watch it?’
‘Of course, but none of them made Bella do anything because of her CF.’
‘Poor Bella,’ he mused. ‘How did she feel about that?’
Evie opened her mouth to give him a flippant reply but it suddenly struck her that Finn was asking her about her life, seemed interested in her life. After two weeks of gently pushing his boundaries back with a feather, he was actually taking an interest in her past.
It was beyond thrilling. She smiled at him. ‘She played on it for all she was worth.’
An hour later, with Evie having fallen asleep on his shoulder and snuggled into his side, Finn decided it was time to leave. His arm was numb, which was the stuff his nightmares were made of, and frankly with a large expanse of her cleavage exposed to his view she was just too tempting.
He’d tried not to notice how her body had burgeoned over the last weeks. Tried to concentrate on her, on sticking to his side of the bargain, but her athletic body was developing some fascinating curves, which he’d need to be blind not to notice, given how much time they were spending together.
It was taking all his self-control not to reach for her. To remember she was pregnant. As her bump was getting bigger, it shouldn’t have been that difficult but here, now, with her all warm and cosy and smelling fresh and soapy with her hair all loose and her shirt half falling off, exposing the creamy rise of most of one breast and the light from the TV flickering over her skin, it was very difficult.
Finn liked sex. And he was good at it. Even when he’d been practically crippled with pain and numbness in his arm, he’d been good at it.
He and Evie were especially good at it. He reached a plane with her that he’d never reached with anyone else. There’d always been something more than physical. Kind of like what they’d been sharing these last few weeks.
But she was pregnant and they were trying to build a relationship beyond what they already had so making a move on her right now, when things were going so well, was just plain stupid.
He tried to slowly ease away from her but she shifted and murmured and seemed to cling to him even more firmly, pushing her soft breasts into his side.
He prayed for patience, or deliverance.
Whichever came first.
‘Evie,’ he whispered, and shook her gently, trying really hard not to watch everything jiggling nicely. ‘Evie.’
She stirred a little and murmured sleepily. ‘Hmm?’
‘I’m going to go,’ he whispered, trying to ease away again.
Evie dragged herself back from the dark abyss of sleep towards the lure of Finn’s whisper. Her eyes fluttered open and her gaze slowly fixed on his face as awareness filtered in. She’d crashed on his shoulder and was smooshed up against him like some crazy stalker.
She removed her hand from his biceps and sat back a little, snuggling her head against the couch instead of his shoulder. She gave him a sleepy, apologetic smile. ‘Sorry,’ she murmured. ‘I’m perpetually tired these days.’
Finn felt the low note of her voice hum along his veins like a tuning fork. ‘It’s fine,’ he said, also keeping his voice low and his gaze firmly trained on her face and not the view straight down her loose top.
‘Thanks for the pizza.’ She rubbed her belly. ‘It was delicious.’ The action pulled her shirt down a little more and Evie was surprised to see Finn’s eyes widen slightly.
Finn looked. He couldn’t help himself. Her breasts were so lush and so … right there. He grimaced as he looked back at her. ‘I should … definitely go,’ he murmured.
Evie felt her insides dissolve to mush at the look of naked lust she saw heating his gaze to a blue flame. Her hormones, suddenly not sleepy, roared to life. ‘You don’t have to go,’ she said.
Finn sucked in a breath at the shimmer in her soft hazel eyes. ‘Evie …’
Evie leaned forward, her breasts tight, her internal muscles quivering in anticipation. ‘Stay,’ she murmured, and pressed her mouth lightly to his. The beer on his breath was sweet and heady.
Finn, everything north of his groin burning up, groaned the second her lips touched his, ploughing his hands into her hair and deepening the kiss. He pulled back, pressing his forehead against hers as he sucked in air. He felt his control unravelling, as the urge to push her back against the lounge and ravage her pounded through his system. ‘I want this too much,’ he said on a husky whisper.
‘Good,’ she breathed, picking up his hand, placing it on her breast and muttering, ‘So do I,’ as she sought his mouth again.
Finn held her back. ‘Wait,’ he muttered. ‘Not here.’ Too many times they’d had rushed sex, hastily parted clothes and a dash to the finish line. Not tonight. Not in her state. He stood and held out his hand. ‘Your bedroom.’
Evie would have been perfectly happy with the lounge or the wall or the floor but she was touched by his consideration. But once they hit the bedroom he swept her up and she felt his control shatter on a guttural groan as he kissed her deep and hard.
And then they were pulling at each other’s clothes. Shirts and buttons and pants and zippers seemed to melt away as their hands sought bare flesh. And then they were standing before each other naked, his erection jutting between them. His hands brushed against her belly and he pulled away from her, looking down at it, looking down at where his baby was growing. He reached for it again, slid his hands over its rounded contours then slowly up over her breasts, fuller than he remembered, the nipples bigger.
He looked back at her face. ‘You’re beautiful,’ he whispered.
Evie felt beautiful when he looked at her like that. When he touched her so reverently. ‘So are you,’ she murmured, pressing a kiss to both flat broad pecs.
She trailed her fingers where her mouth had been, trekking up to his shoulders, tracing the scars on his right shoulder before moving down to his biceps. Then slowly shifting, moving around his body until she was standing behind him, her fingers trailing over his back, finding the shrapnel scars she’d only ever felt before, each one breaking her heart a little more.
‘Did you get these the day Isaac died?’ she asked, dropping a kiss on each one, rubbing her cheek against the puckered skin of his back.
Finn shut his eyes as her kisses soothed and healed. It reminded him of the time she’d tried to offer him solace after he’d lost a patient on the table and for a moment in the operating theatre’s change room they’d stood like this, fully dressed, her cheek to his back, him drawing comfort from her simple gesture.
‘Evie …’
‘I hate it that you were hurt,’ she whispered, her lips brushing his skin. ‘That you had to go through all that. That your brother was taken from you.’
He opened his mouth to tell her it was a long time ago but it felt as raw right now as it had back then. ‘There wasn’t anything I could do,’ he murmured.
Evie squeezed the tears from her eyes. She’d expected him to say nothing, to clam up. The anguish in his voice was unbearable. She kissed his back. ‘I know,’ she murmured. ‘I know.’
And then she circled back to his front and kissed him with every ounce of passion and compassion she’d ever owned. And then they were on the bed, stroking each other, caressing, kissing and teasing as if they were getting acquainted all over again.
And when they could take it no more Finn looked down at Evie, stroked her belly and said, ‘I don’t want to hurt you …’
And she hushed him, rolling up on top of him and Finn had never seen anything more beautiful than Evie pregnant with his child, her hair loose, her full breasts bouncing, her belly proud as they moved in a rhythm that was slow and languorous and built to a crescendo that was so sweet Finn knew the sight of Evie flying on the crest of her orgasm would be forever burned into his retinas.
She collapsed on top of him, spent, and he didn’t know how long they lay there but at some stage she shifted and he pulled her close, fitting her back against his chest, curling around her, his hand on her belly, kissing her neck, all to the hum of a phenomenal post-coital buzz.
And then he felt the baby move.
And the buzz evaporated.
He waited for something. A bolt of lightning or a beam of light, a trill of excitement—but he got nothing. Life, his own DNA, moved and shifted and grew right under his hand and he felt … nothing.
Panic rose in him. Shouldn’t he feel something?
Other than protective? And an overwhelming urge to provide?
Shouldn’t he feel love?
Evie, oftentimes oblivious to the baby’s movements due to their frequency and this time due to a heavy sexual fog, only became aware of them as she felt Finn tensing around her. She felt him about to withdraw and clamped his hand against her.
‘It’s okay,’ she whispered. ‘It’s just the baby moving.’
But it wasn’t okay and Finn pulled his hand away, eased back from her, rolled up, sat on the side of the bed, cradling his head in his hands.
Evie turned to look at his back, the scars affecting her as deeply as they had just moments ago. She scooted over to where he sat. Her fingers automatically soothed the raised marks and he flinched but didn’t pull away, and she kissed each one again as she had earlier. ‘What is it Finn? What are you worried about?’
Finn shut his eyes. He wanted to push her away but her gentleness was his undoing. ‘Something died in me the day I got these scars, Evie. The day Isaac died. I don’t think I’m capable of love.’
He heard her start to protest and forced himself to open his eyes, forced his legs to work as he broke away to stand and look down at her, gloriously naked, her belly full of his baby.
‘I’m worried I’m not going to love him.’
Evie smiled at him gently. ‘Of course you will. That’s what parents do.’
Finn shook his head and the sadness in his eyes cut her even deeper than his scars had.
‘Not all of them, Evie.’