Page 33 of His Secretary's Nine-Month Notice
Matt grinned. He relaxed, marvelled at how that quirky sense of humour could break through the clouds like a sudden, unexpected ray of sunshine. She had her eyes closed and her breathing was shallow, and the concern that ripped through him was shocking. Of course, she was having his baby, and he wouldn’t have been human if he hadn’t been sick with worry—because she was clearly not going to be one of those who blossomed in pregnancy—but he just wanted to reach out and smooth the strands of hair from her face.
‘University friend,’ he told her. ‘I’ve done him one or two favours in the past. As it happens, this is the first time I’ve ever had to call upon his professional services.’
‘Of course it is.’
‘Never get ill. I’m as strong as an ox.’
‘I don’t need a doctor.’
‘What you need...’ Matt heard the ping of his phone announcing the arrival of his pal of old ‘...is to learn to depend on someone else for a change.’
Violet had to admit that it was bliss. The doctor was earnest, serious and treated Matt with the fond affection that came from many years of friendship. He was excellent at what he did, even though he was not an obstetrician but ‘a brain guy’, as he jokingly called himself.
‘He knows everything there is to know when it comes to the human body,’ Matt asserted.
‘That’s either a good thing,’ Phillip said as he examined her with quick, efficient hands and asked pertinent questions as he did so, ‘because I would clearly be a genius, or a bad thing, because a jack of all trades and master of none isn’t great in an operating theatre...’
High blood pressure was the verdict. Not dangerously high, but high enough to be a cause for concern. It wouldn’t be a good idea to overdo anything. Likewise, the sickness was more pronounced than usual, but not in the red zone. Combined, the young doctor declared as he headed for the bedroom door, they pointed in the direction of her having to take it easy and get a certain Matt Falconer to start discovering the joys of domesticity.
‘So,’ Matt drawled once he had shown his friend to the door and returned to the bedroom, ‘I guess that settles the immediate question of what happens next in this scenario. It’s safe to say that you won’t be going anywhere any time soon...’
CHAPTER EIGHT
EVERYTHINGMOVEDQUICKLYafter that satisfied assertion. She had been advised bed rest by a doctor, no less, and it would have been the height of irresponsibility to ignore the advice.
That had been the first arrow shot over the parapet, a warning shot of the series of persuasive arguments that were shamelessly piled on through the course of Violet’s bedridden week.
‘I don’t want you fighting me on this,’ Matt told her on more than one occasion. ‘You’re not interested in giving me a chance because I don’t happen to live up to the mental image you have of the sort of guy you’d always dreamt of marrying, but it would be wrong to let our child pay for your scepticism.’
Violet thought back to his track record, but she knew better than to constantly remind him of it because at the back of her mind, like the promise of a storm lurking behind the illusion of clear, blue skies, was always the notion that he might fight her in court.
He’d hinted at it, and she was terrified of taking him to task on the subject because she didn’t want to hear him confirm her worst nightmare.
He had also planted a seed of treacherous unease in her head, and not only had it taken root, but it had begun to grow at an alarming rate, like the beanstalk in the fairy story. One minute there had been a harmless bean, and the next minute the bean had sprouted into a rampaging plant inhabited by fearsome creatures.
How would she feel when he began seeing another woman? That was the thought that occupied her as she remained in his sprawling apartment, ordered to stay put, her every need met either by his housekeeper, who came in daily to clean and prepare meals, or by him when he returned from work at stupidly early hours, even though she kept telling him that there was no need.
How would she find the strength to stand back and watch as another woman invested in their child?
She couldn’t foresee finding another man. No one could compare to Matt, and she would never have the luxury of moving on, because he would be on her doorstep week after week, relentlesslypresent.
And in the meantime, on doctor’s orders, he returned to the apartment with the regularity and perfect timing of a well-oiled Swiss watch, clumsily warming the food his housekeeper had prepared, asking her about her day, coaxing conversation out of her.
Everyone at work was asking after her, he had informed her the evening before. As soon as she was back on her feet—and that should be in the next few weeks, if Phillip was on target with his prognosis—she would have to pay them all a visit. No one could believe that he was going to be a father. She would have to show them her swelling belly to prove it.
Typically, he didn’t give a hoot what his employees thought of this development and, when she had vaguely mentioned that her showing up pregnant might be some cause for embarrassment, he had burst out laughing.Why?he had asked with genuine curiosity. Who cared?
After a mere ten days of being treated like a china doll, Violet found that she was getting used to having him around. Indeed, she discovered that she actively and guiltily looked forward to hearing the turn of the front door handle as he entered the apartment.
Bit by bit, he was wearing down her defences and making her question the decisions she had made.
He had stopped trying to argue her into submission. Instead, he was doing it by stealth. She wondered whether it was a cunning tactic or just a method of winning that came easily to him.
The nagging thought that he was a man who wasn’t made for settling down—a man who would always find temptation lurking round every corner and who would eventually be unable to resist, however dedicated a father he turned out to be—was being replaced by the dawning hope that she could somehow turn him into the guy she wanted him to be. Namely, a guy who could return her love. Given time. It happened, didn’t it?
Summer was fading fast into autumn. Outside, the days were getting shorter. She chatted to her father every day on the phone. Somehow, he had cottoned on to the fact that Matt had proposed marriage. She thought she might just come right out and ask him whether he had been having man-to-man conversations with her dad behind her back. She wouldn’t put it past him.
Today, bored with languishing on a chair watching telly and reading, Violet dismissed the housekeeper and busied herself making dinner. Ever since she had moved into the apartment, the fridge had been kept in a state of readiness, well stocked with enough food to pander to her appetite whenever she might feel the need to tuck into something nutritious.
