Playboy Doctor to Doting Dad

‘Amazing what the promise of a visit from Uncle Kieran does.’ Abby finally gave him a full-blown, power-packed smile that sent all thoughts of children miles from his mind. Sweet longing for that special connection they’d once known shot down to his toes. He’d missed her. The knowledge slammed through him, rocked him back on his heels. He had missed her. It couldn’t be possible after such a short liaison. But he found no other explanation for the hollow feeling in his chest. He’d missed Abby, and now he was with her he felt the ground rolling under his feet. Was it too late to pull out of his contract and return to Dublin?

Sticky hands again touched his face. ‘Do you like me, Uncle Kieran?’

Kieran gulped, refocused on his niece. ‘Absolutely, Princess.’ And to his surprise he found he meant it. ‘Absolutely.’

‘Abby, he likes me.’

‘Of course. Who wouldn’t?’

Abby slipped past them, her hip brushing against him, tightening the longing that threatened to unravel his precarious rein on his emotions. Had to be the jet-lag. Or the shock of seeing Olivia after all this time. Or the apprehension about coming face to face with his son. This odd sensation of drowning in need-filled sweetness couldn’t have anything to do with Abby. Abigail. Stick to calling her Abigail and he might be able to banish thoughts of that night they’d shared.

He followed her, his lively bundle twisting and turning in his arms as they walked down a path overgrown with roses. As Abigail entered the house she turned back to him. ‘Seamus is with Dad, having a ride on the tractor.’

Kieran swallowed a tug of disappointment. Ha, gotcha. You were looking forward to seeing your son for the first time. He gulped, checked to see if Abigail had noticed.

She winked at him. ‘Seamus will be driving before he can talk at this rate. Dad spends hours taking him for rides on either the four-wheel bike or tractor.’

‘But he’s only one. Surely it’s not very safe for someone that young.’ Worry flared. This was his son they were talking about.

Abigail looked at him as though she knew exactly what he was thinking, and a triumphant smile lifted her mouth. ‘Dad drives so slowly snails pass them. He also straps Seamus into a harness fitted to him, otherwise I’d be the first to stop them.’

‘I guess you would.’ He didn’t doubt she’d be a very responsible parent. His concern ebbed. He shouldn’t be worrying, that was Abigail’s job.

She twisted away on her feet. ‘Come inside. Make yourself at home.’ Then she smiled over her shoulder at the girl he held. ‘Bath time, missy.’

‘I don’t want one,’ Olivia answered from the safety of his arms.

‘Now, why doesn’t that surprise me?’ Abigail stood with one hand on her hip. ‘The only time you like water is when it’s in a muddy puddle.’

Kieran asked Olivia, ‘Don’t you want to be clean for me?’

‘No.’

‘Do you want Uncle Kieran to bath you?’

What? Did he get any say in this? He wouldn’t know where to start when it came to bathing small children.

It was time he went back to town and the relative safety of his apartment. A haven from his niece and her expectations of him.

‘I want Abby to bath me.’

Relief poured through his tense muscles as he put Olivia down. Warily he followed her through the house. What would it be like to share bathtimes with your kids? It might be fun.

Whoa. Back up. Bathing a child meant getting involved and he didn’t do involvement. Funny how his resolve seemed to be slipping away so fast within hours of arriving. If he had already started wondering about bathtime, what would he be doing by the end of his two-month spell here? He had to remain focused on the purpose of his visit, which was to run ED, not to become enmeshed in this family.

‘If you want a glass of wine or a beer, you’ll find some at the back of the fridge, top shelf.’ Abby swung Olivia up into her arms in a graceful movement that drew his eyes to her curves.

Abigail. Her name was Abigail. So what if today she walked and talked more like an Abby? Looking nothing like the slim, almost anorexic women he usually dated, her height and voluptuousness fascinated him. The night of passion they’d shared in Dublin still slammed into his head at the most unexpected moments. Often in the middle of the night when he couldn’t sleep he’d think of the Kiwi woman who’d shared his grief in the most intimate way imaginable. Her brother, his sister. Both gone, all because of a teenager who’d thought driving his mother’s car would be easy. Abigail’s big, sad eyes had drawn him to her and, like an alcoholic to the bottle, he’d had to have her.

It hadn’t been enough. It should’ve been. He didn’t do commitment. Commitment meant love, and Abigail was the kind of woman that eventually would want, would deserve, commitment and love. He couldn’t give any woman love. Abigail hadn’t grown up learning the hard lessons about relationships that he had got from his father. Thankfully, Morag, being the apple of their father’s eye, hadn’t suffered the knocks he had, hadn’t grown the hard shell around her heart that he had.

Stop the thinking. Grab a beer and relax. As the cool liquid rolled across his tongue he looked around. Abby had created a cosy atmosphere, perfect for young children. The bright blues and apricots on the walls and in the furnishings were warm and vibrant. Just like the woman herself. The furniture had seen better days so she obviously didn’t use the money he sent on anything other than Olivia. If she used it at all. It occurred to him that she mightn’t have touched a single cent.

But this was all about the children. What about Abigail? Surely she got lonely for adult company at night? He was assuming she spent the nights alone, but was probably wrong.

Piercing giggles coming from somewhere along the short hallway drew his attention. Before he could think about what he was doing he followed the sound. Stopping in the bathroom doorway, he leaned against the doorjamb and watched Abby bath Olivia. He had to swallow hard to get the next mouthful of beer past the lump in his throat. The bath was filled with soap bubbles, and Abby wore her share of them on her cheeks and forehead. She looked gorgeous.

He cleared his throat. ‘If Olivia gets this much fun out of a bath then I can’t begin to imagine her excitement in those puddles you mentioned.’

‘It gets fairly messy.’ Abby tugged a towel from the rail and lifted a protesting Olivia out of the water. ‘Let’s get you dry, little missy. Seamus will be here in a minute and he’ll need scrubbing from top to toe.’

Kieran gulped and returned to the kitchen, feeling useless and out of his depth. The door looked very tempting. A few strides and he could be at his car. His son would be here any minute. His heart felt oddly out of whack as he grappled with the enormity of that. The moment he’d been dreading since Abigail’s phone call was racing towards him. He wasn’t ready. He’d never be ready. He stared around, panic beginning to boil up. He needed something to occupy his brain. A bag of groceries lay on the bench. Peering inside, he found steak and salad vegetables. Some of the tension tightening his shoulders eased. Cooking steak and tossing together a salad he could do blindfolded.

Just then the back door fle

w open. A deep voice he recognised as Max Brown’s was telling someone, presumably Seamus, to slow down or he’d trip. A little boy tumbled into the kitchen, his clothes covered in grass stains. His chubby face was red and he was chattering nonstop in gibberish.

Kieran’s hand stopped halfway out of the grocery bag. His breath stuck in his lungs. The time had come. No getting out of this one. What if he got it all wrong? Said or did the wrong thing? Scared the boy off so they’d never get along? He dropped the packet of steak back in the bag. He was out of here. Now. Before Seamus came any closer, before the boy caught his eye and turned him into a complete blithering idiot. Damn it, he should’ve left when he’d had the chance instead of dithering around procrastinating.

Then Abigail was standing beside him, her hand reaching for his, and it was too late. He couldn’t leave now. The tremor in her fingers surprised him. When he lifted his eyes to hers he saw his own fear and trepidation mirrored there. Her teeth were digging hard into her bottom lip. Turning his hand over, he twined his fingers through hers. Knowing this might be as hard for her as it was for him made everything just a little bit easier.

He whispered through his blocked throat, ‘Introduce me to our son.’

She blinked. ‘Sure.’ But she didn’t move a muscle.

‘Come on, Abby, we can do this.’ Really?

Another blink. Then, inclining her head in acknowledgement, she turned to face the man and toddler waiting expectantly. ‘Hey, Dad. Seamus.’ She dropped to her knees and lifted the dark-haired boy against her, hugged him tight for a moment, as though afraid to let him go. Afraid to share him? No, not Abby. She wanted this. Didn’t she?

As the boy squirmed to be set free, Abby stood up and held him so Kieran could take a good look at him. ‘Seamus, love, this is Uncle Kieran.’ She raised troubled eyes to Kieran. ‘Sorry, I’m not sure what you want to be called, and Olivia has been talking about her uncle all week.’