‘But they happen in threes,’ her friend said hysterically. ‘First your mother, then Jeff, and now—’
‘He isn’t going to die, Marilyn,’ Callie repeated firmly, looking up as Bill came back into the room. ‘What news?’ she asked softly. Marilyn was crying quietly now.
‘The doctor said that if he can make it through the night he’ll probably be okay.’
‘Only probably?’ his wife choked.
‘He can’t make any promises, love.’ Bill sat down beside her. ‘No doctor could.’
‘I have to go to him. I have to be with him!’ She stood up, her movements agitated.
Callie touched Bill’s arm. ‘Go with her.’
‘Paul…?’
‘I’ll take care of Paul. Stay as long as you have to.’
A look of gratitude washed over his face. ‘I—I don’t know how to thank you.’
‘Just take care of Marilyn,’ she said huskily.
It wasn’t until she had fed and bathed Paul and put him to bed that she remembered her date with Logan Carrington. Well, she couldn’t go anywhere now; she didn’t know when she would be able to either.
But she couldn’t find Logan Carrington’s number in the telephone book, which meant he had an unlisted number. She couldn’t let him know their date was off. He was going to turn up here at eight o’clock, and she was going to have to turn him away!
CHAPTER THREE
EXACTLY at eight o’clock Callie heard her doorbell ring, and stopped her pacing to run out to the corridor.
Logan turned from pressing her doorbell a second time, frowning as he looked at the denims and jumper she had hurriedly changed into before giving Paul his bath, knowing from experience that she would end up soaking wet too. ‘I thought you lived at number twenty-eight,’ he said slowly.
‘I did—I mean, I do! Oh, Logan, I’m afraid our date is off for tonight!’ Goodness, no wonder she was stuttering, with him looking the way he did! He should be on a danger list for women, should have a sign on him warning women to beware of him.
He was wearing a burgundy-coloured velvet jacket, a snowy white shirt, and meticulously creased black trousers, his over-long hair brushed back from his face in a fashionably windswept style. He looked overwhelming—and perhaps it was as well that their date was off for this evening. Logan was looking lethal!
His eyes narrowed to grey slits. ‘Why?’
‘I have to look after Paul. You see, he—’
‘Invite me in, Callie,’ he interrupted mockingly, ‘and then you can tell me all about it.’
Before she was aware of what was happening Logan was in Marilyn and Bill’s flat and she was telling him all about Marilyn’s father and how she wasn’t even sure when they would be back.
‘Have you called the hospital?’ he asked when she had finished.
She nodded. ‘I spoke to Bill. He said there was no change.’
‘Well, it’s early yet,’ Logan dismissed. ‘Have you eaten?’
‘No, I haven’t had time. You see, Paul hadn’t been fed, and—’
‘Are you hungry?’ he interrupted with amusement.
‘Ravenous!’ she admitted ruefully, having missed lunch in favour of going to the hairdressers.
‘Then I don’t see why we shouldn’t have dinner—’
‘But I just told you—’