The Best Man for the Job

TEN


‘You’re pregnant?’

At the volume of her brother’s voice and the sudden hush that fell over the tapas bar where she, her brother and her sister-in-law were having supper and a catch-up for the first time since the happy couple had been back in London Celia winced. ‘Not sure they heard you in the kitchen, Dan,’ she muttered. ‘Would you mind keeping it down a bit?’

‘Yes, I bloody well would,’ he said hotly. ‘We’ve been here for over an hour, and you didn’t think to mention it?’

She put down her fork, arched an eyebrow and shot him a look. ‘And interrupt the fascinating and lengthy tales of your adventures on honeymoon?’

‘You did go on a bit, Dan,’ murmured Zoe, picking up her glass of wine and taking a sip.

Celia grinned. ‘To tell you the truth, I loved hearing about what you got up to,’ she said. ‘Especially the bit where you got chased by a herd of angry alpacas. That’s definitely one to bring out at your diamond wedding anniversary. And anyway, I’m mentioning it now.’

Dan frowned. ‘How pregnant are you?’

‘Twelve weeks, give or take a day or two.’ She’d had the scan yesterday and when she’d seen those tiny little hands and feet and then been told that everything was progressing as it should had felt a mixture of relief, excitement and terror.

Marcus had been there too, the first time she’d seen him since they’d reversed their decision about the abortion. He’d sat next to her, asking questions and squeezing her hand and for a split second she’d felt this deep, deep longing that they were together. For each other, not just the baby. Which didn’t make any sense whatsoever because they hadn’t seen each other for four weeks and for all she knew he’d bedded half of London in that time. And while she knew that it was undoubtedly down to hormones, all in all it had been a rather peculiar, faintly unsettling quarter of an hour.

‘Congratulations,’ said Zoe, beaming.

‘Thank you.’

Dan shot his wife a look. ‘Why don’t you sound as surprised as I am by this?’ he asked suspiciously. ‘Did you know? Two months in and do we already have secrets?’

Zoe shook her head and patted him on the arm. ‘Calm down, Dan. Of course I didn’t know. But when a woman declines alcohol and avoids the prawns it doesn’t take a genius to work it out.’ Then she shot him a wicked smile. ‘And you might as well get used to the secrets thing because I have loads. You might even like some of them.’

His gaze locked onto his wife’s and something flickered in his eyes that Celia didn’t even want to try and analyse. ‘Right,’ he murmured, softening for a second before snapping his gaze back to her and glaring.


‘You can stop looking and sounding all outraged,’ said Celia, refusing to rise. ‘This is the twenty-first century, you know. Women do get pregnant by accident and out of wedlock.’

‘I know,’ said her brother, shoving his hands through his hair and frowning. ‘I’m just a bit stunned, that’s all. I’d never have thought you...’ He tailed off. Looked a bit bemused. Then rubbed a hand over his face as acceptance settled in. ‘Do Mum and Dad know?’

‘Not yet. I’ll tell them soon.’

‘Who’s the father?’

Celia didn’t see the point of not telling them. If Marcus was intending to be as hands-on as he claimed they’d find out soon enough anyway. ‘Marcus.’

Dan nearly fell off his chair. ‘My Marcus?’

‘If you want to put it like that.’ Although to be honest she didn’t think he was anyone’s. Nor, in all likelihood, would he ever be, given his track record, his comments on the subject and the look of horror that had filled his face when she’d jokingly asked if he was going to suggest they got married.

‘I thought you couldn’t stand each other,’ said Dan, while Zoe merely smiled knowingly and helped herself to the last of the prawns.

Celia lowered her gaze and studied her non-alcoholic cocktail. ‘Yes, well, things change,’ she said, ignoring the sudden and unexpected urge to ask her brother if Marcus’ aversion to commitment was simply down to an enjoyment of variety, because why would she need to know that?

And actually, things had changed quite a bit, she thought, turning it over in her mind as she twiddled her straw. Primarily her opinion of him. How she could ever have thought him shallow and pointless and irresponsible she had no idea. He might go out with—and probably sleep with—a lot of women but he was none of those things, and she’d been stupid and arrogant in her presumption that she had the measure of him all these years.

There was clearly a lot to learn about the father of her child. A lot of assumptions she had to ditch. So maybe she could do a lot worse than spend the next six months trying to figure out who Marcus really was, because if she was being honest he was turning out to be more fascinating than she’d ever have imagined.

‘Since when?’ asked Dan, slicing through her thoughts and making her head snap up.

‘Since your wedding,’ she said, and to her irritation she felt a blush storm into her cheeks.

Zoe flashed Dan a smug grin. ‘Told you,’ she said.

‘So much for not ending the drought,’ Dan muttered.

Celia snapped her gaze to him. ‘What?’

‘Before you, Marcus hadn’t slept with anyone for six months.’

Blush forgotten, her jaw dropped as yet another assumption exploded into bits. ‘Six months?’

‘Exactly. We talked about it at the wedding. He had an ex who turned into a bit of a stalker. I told him that as you were the only single woman there and you weren’t exactly each other’s flavour of the month I didn’t think that’d be changing. Seems I was wrong.’

‘You were,’ she murmured, intrigued and a bit distracted by the stalkery ex.

‘I take it you’re keeping it?’ said Zoe.

‘I am,’ said Celia, dragging her thoughts back on track and deciding that there was no need to go into detail about the roundabout way they’d made that particular decision. Dan had only just got over his shock at finding out she was pregnant.

‘And how the hell’s that going to work out?’ he asked.

She took a sip of water and thought about all the very practical—if faintly overwhelming—suggestions Marcus had made sitting on that bench in the square outside the clinic. ‘I’m not entirely sure at the moment. We’ve tossed around a few ideas, but I guess we have six or so months to figure it out.’

And to figure out other things. Such as the truth behind his wicked reputation. Such as why he wanted to keep the baby. Such as whether she and Marcus had anything in common other than chemistry.

Her brother frowned. ‘Have you considered the fact that Marcus has about as much stickability as an old Post-it note?’

‘I have,’ she said with a brief nod. Mainly in the moments of doubt she had when she wondered what the hell they were doing, if maybe a couple of years down the line she wasn’t going to be left literally holding the baby. But then she’d recall what he’d said about never giving up once he’d started something, the steadfast determination etched into every inch of his face and the burn of his eyes, and her doubts eased somewhat.

‘And he might be my best friend,’ said Dan darkly, ‘but Marcus and responsibility aren’t words I’d put in the same sentence.’

‘Oh, I don’t know,’ said Celia, unexpectedly finding herself bristling a bit on his behalf. ‘I think you’d be surprised.’

Dan looked at her, his eyebrows shooting up. ‘Would I?’

‘I think he actually has quite a strong sense of responsibility,’ she said, a bit taken aback by the strength of her desire to set the record straight. ‘I mean, look at the way he made sure all his staff were taken care of when he sold his business,’ she said, remembering something she’d read in the press weeks ago. ‘Look at the plans he has now. Business mentoring? And that apprenticeship scheme thing for kids who’ve slipped through the system? He said it was his way of giving something back, and if that isn’t a sign of recognising one’s responsibilities I don’t know what is.’

And then look at the way he’d taken care of her when she hadn’t been well. The way he was stepping up to the plate now. All in all, she thought he was a remarkably responsible individual, even if Dan and Zoe couldn’t see it.

Realising her heart was beating rather too fast and that she was feeling a bit fired up, she took a couple of deep calming breaths and gradually became aware that Dan and Zoe were staring at her.

‘What?’ she said, swinging her gaze between them as her pulse slowed and her indignation faded.

‘Interesting,’ said Zoe, regarding her thoughtfully.

‘It is interesting,’ she said firmly. ‘Very. And I’m sure he’ll make a success of it all.’

‘I don’t mean his plans,’ said Zoe. ‘Although those do sound good. I was referring to your defence of him.’

‘I’m not defending him,’ said Celia. ‘I’m simply being honest.’

Zoe picked up a menu and smiled knowingly. ‘If that’s what you want to call it,’ she said in an annoyingly conciliatory fashion. ‘Now, who’s having pudding?’

* * *

Two hours later, lying in the bath, enveloped in orange-blossom-scented bubbles and surrounded by a dozen flickering bergamot-scented candles, Celia dropped her head back and closed her eyes and pondered that disconcertingly knowing smile of her sister-in-law’s.

What Zoe thought she knew Celia had no idea. She was being honest when she’d said all that stuff about Marcus being more responsible than everyone gave him credit for. And yes, maybe a teensy bit defensive, but so what? It didn’t mean anything. She was just setting the record straight, and anyway, she was sure that if he ever learned that she’d leapt to his defence like that he’d split his sides laughing at her.

Zoe was too smug by half, thinking that she had the measure of their relationship. She didn’t have a clue, apart, possibly, from identifying the chemistry, which now didn’t matter all that much when there were so many other far more important life-changing decisions to be made.


Marcus might have alluded to the fact that they were still attracted to each other when they’d been sitting on the bench in that park, and, heaven only knew, he was in her thoughts a lot, sometimes all laid-back and smiling that lethal, lazy smile, sometimes all dark and intense, either way refusing to budge and making her pulse throb and her body tingle, but that didn’t mean they were going to act on it, did it?

She, for one, had absolutely no intention of doing so. She had her child to think of and a relationship to build with its father, and sex complicating that and messing with her head was the last thing she needed.

How hard could it be to keep the attraction in hand anyway? It wasn’t as if she were completely at the mercy of her hormones or anything. She was far too mature and sensible for that. It was simply a question of willpower, and that she had in abundance. So she’d easily be able to handle her attraction to him. She probably wouldn’t even see that much of him over the next few months, apart from the occasions she intended they got together to work on that relationship. They were both busy, after all, and he had ‘interests’...

Actually, she thought, not particularly wanting to contemplate Marcus and his ‘interests’, bearing that in mind, maybe she’d better get in touch with him to suggest fixing up the first ‘getting to know you’ session, because who knew how long it might be before they found a date they were both free?

* * *

Figuring out how he was going to adapt his lifestyle to incorporate looking after a child wasn’t giving Marcus nearly as much trouble as figuring out what he was going to do about Celia.

The former wasn’t a problem at all. Ever since the afternoon of Dan and Zoe’s wedding, despite the concerted effort he’d made to move on, the thought of sex with anyone other than her was so off-putting he hadn’t even bothered trying.

At first he’d found his lack of interest in anyone else infuriating, not to mention frustrating. Then he’d made himself relax because what could he do about it? He could hardly force himself to take things further, could he? Anyway, it was bound to be nothing more than a hiccup.

But if it was, then he was still hiccuping. And weirdly, not minding all that much. To his surprise he wasn’t missing the thrill of the chase, the dating or even the sex. He’d been getting more than enough kicks from the work he’d been throwing himself into. The apprentice scheme he was setting up was an idea he’d been toying with for a year or two now, and it was great to be able to finally get it started. And while unprofitable—at least in financial terms—it meant so much that it felt good to be getting stuck in. Very good.

With a puritanism the Victorians would have been proud of he was working hard and sleeping alone, and he’d never felt more virtuous.

His thoughts about Celia, however, weren’t virtuous at all. They were wicked and filthy and sometimes came to him at the most inappropriate of times. Such as during the scan she’d had a couple of days ago. She’d hopped onto the bed, and, with a wriggle that was sexier than it ought to be, had lifted her top. It had been the least erotic of occasions, yet at the expanse of taut, tanned stomach she’d revealed he’d found himself tuning out the voice of the obstetrician and wondering whether anyone would mind if he leaned over and ran his hands and mouth across her skin.

She was in his head all the time. And not just with the smiles she occasionally shot him. He found her fascinating. The contradictions that characterised her were intriguing. She was an intoxicating combination of strength and vulnerability, pride and self-deprecation, confidence and bewilderment.

Not that anyone got to see the softer side of her. He was willing to bet everything he had that he was the only person who knew about her craving for her father’s approval, the only person ever to see her in the state she’d been in the night they’d dashed to A and E. The only person to hold her as she cried her heart out.

But even though he was now sufficiently not in denial to know that he still wanted her—and quite desperately—that didn’t mean he was going to do anything about it. He couldn’t, could he? His relationships, however long they lasted, always ended, and he’d never seen the point in keeping in touch.

If he and Celia had sex again, whether once, twice or a hundred times, when that side to their relationship burned out—as it inevitably would when he felt he needed to move on—it would make things unbearably awkward between them. Decisions they’d have to make would be clouded by things that were totally unrelated.

So they’d both be far better off ignoring the chemistry and concentrating on what was important here, namely the child.

Thank God she’d turned down his offer of his house next door. Heaven only knew what he’d been thinking when he’d suggested that. He might have been just throwing things out there but if she’d actually taken him up on the offer she’d have been living a mere stone’s throw away instead of five miles, and his resolve to disregard the attraction that arced between them would have sorely been put to the test. Simply being in her vicinity did that as it was. A half-hour hospital appointment had been bad enough. Twenty-four-seven might just about do him in.

At least there was no reason to see her for a while, he thought, abandoning the Sunday papers for a moment, and reaching for his phone, which had just begun to ring. He’d use the time to shore up his defences and build up an immunity to her, so that when he next came across her he’d be rock solid, utterly immutable and ruthlessly focused.

Unlike now.

Feeling as dizzy and winded as if someone had thumped him in the jaw and then followed up with a punch to the gut, Marcus scowled and glared at the name on the screen.

For a split second he was tempted to ignore the call, let it go to voicemail and get back to her once those barriers were in place and he was immune. But that smacked of weakness and he had some pride, so he braced himself and hit the button. How disturbing could a phone call be anyway?

‘Celia,’ he said, pleased and relieved to note that he sounded cool and casual and not at all bothered by the fact that she’d rung.

‘Hi,’ she said, and, even though he could just about ignore the wave of heat that swept through him at the sound of her voice, there wasn’t anything he could do about the goosebumps breaking out all over his skin.

He set his jaw, shifted his chair so he was sitting in a shaft of lovely warm sunlight and told himself that the sooner he made a start on building those defences, the better. ‘How are you?’

‘Fine, fine. You?’

Exhibiting worrying displays of a complete loss of control, but nothing he couldn’t handle. ‘Couldn’t be better.’

‘I’m so glad.’

She sounded glad. She sounded all warm and soft and seductive and he wondered what she was doing at half past ten o’clock on a Sunday morning. Where she was. What she was wearing... ‘So what can I do to—I mean, for, you?’ he said, his voice just as warm and soft and seductive, which so wasn’t the plan.

‘I’m ringing to see if you’d like to come over for supper some time.’

Mentally giving himself a slap and pulling himself together, he echoed, ‘Supper?’

‘That’s right.’

‘Why?’

‘Well, I’ve been thinking,’ she said, and he thought that it was a good thing that at least one of them was. ‘You’re the father of my child and it occurred to me that if we’re going to do this together, it would make sense to discuss values. Opinions we might have about parenthood. And other stuff.’


What other stuff? Sex other stuff? His head swam for a second and his pulse spiked and then he calmed down because, no, not sex other stuff, clearly. He was the only one having trouble with that at the moment. ‘I see.’

‘I also thought that it would be a good idea to get to know each other a bit better and learn to communicate without the sarcasm. Food seemed like a good idea. So what do you think?’

Marcus thought that was a fine idea. Maybe in a few months’ time, say around January, when he’d have had the chance to build up those defences.

‘Makes sense,’ he said, carefully vague.

‘Great,’ she said brightly. ‘So what about tonight?’

Marcus nearly dropped the phone. ‘Tonight?’

‘If you’re available.’

He was. He was available a lot of nights these days. Not that that was the point. ‘What’s the hurry?’ he said, trying to maintain the cool and calm tone he’d been foolishly quick to congratulate himself on only a couple of minutes ago. ‘We have months.’

‘I know. But it’s going to fly by and I’m busy every night for the next week or so. So, are you free?’

Breaking out in a sweat, he shifted his chair out of the sunlight. ‘No,’ he said abruptly. ‘And I won’t be for a while.’

There was a moment’s silence and he inwardly cursed because he could have turned her down a little more tactfully.

‘Oh,’ she said flatly. ‘Right. Well. When you do have a moment free in your busy schedule let me know.’

Despite the flatness of her tone, he could hear the disappointment in her words, and as guilt swept through him his conscience suddenly started prodding at him. All she was suggesting was supper. Surely he could manage that. He always had before. Where was this idea that Celia somehow posed a threat to him coming from anyway? It was ridiculous. He was ridiculous.

‘Wait,’ he said, hearing a rustling sound and guessing she was about to hang up.

The rustling stopped. ‘What?’

He sighed and shoved a hand through his hair. ‘Look, let me see what I can do.’

‘Really?’

He closed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose and reminded himself that it was only supper. ‘Really,’ he said. ‘What I had planned shouldn’t be too difficult to get out of.’ Which was true seeing as the only thing he had in his schedule was a night in front of the TV with his laptop.

‘Won’t she mind?’

At the hint of waspishness in her voice, Marcus found himself opening his eyes and smiling faintly. ‘She won’t mind at all.’

‘One of these days you’re going to come up against someone who does.’

As the memory of his ex flashed into his head he shuddered, his smile vanishing. ‘Not in my plans.’ He sat back and idly flicked through one of the colour supplements. ‘And anyway, what was that you were saying about learning to communicate without the sarcasm?’

There was another pause. ‘Fair enough,’ she muttered eventually. ‘Sorry. Old habit.’

‘If it’s too tricky to resist, I’m more than happy to join in. I might even find myself having to make some kind of comment about the fact that you’re willing to sacrifice a night’s work for supper with me.’

She huffed, all contrition gone. ‘You’ve made your point, Marcus.’

‘Have I?’

‘For the moment.’

‘Until the next time you forget.’

‘Until then,’ she conceded after a moment.

‘So, shall we say seven?’ he said, thinking that that gave him enough time to throw up at least a few barriers.

‘Sounds perfect,’ she said.

‘Although maybe it would be better if you came over here.’

‘Why?’

‘You don’t cook and I’ve seen the state of your fridge.’

She hummed. ‘Another point well made.’

‘See you later, Celia.’

‘I’m looking forward to it.’

As they hung up and the prospect of having Celia in his house, a mere floor away from his bed, sank in Marcus thought that she might be looking forward to tonight, but he wasn’t. At all.