Found: A Father For Her Child Part 9

'Oh...I...No, darling. I'm sure Charlie doesn't want to dance with Mummy.' Carrie resisted the pull on her hand.

Like h.e.l.l Charlie doesn't.

'Oh, please, Mummy. Please, please.'

'Sweetheart, you know Mummy's not a very good dancer,' Carrie said.

'He'll let you stand on his feet, won't you, Charlie?'

Carrie gave a nervous laugh. 'Darling, I'm too heavy for Charlie, I'll break his toes.'

Charlie thought how great her weight had felt against him the other night. Pushed against him. Rubbing against him. He felt a rise of naked heat. A surge of potent desire. 'Nonsense,' he said, grabbing Carrie's hand and twirling her towards him as 'Rock Around the Clock' blared out.

Carrie spun crazily and landed against Charlie's hard body for one cataclysmic second before he pushed her out again, spinning her away from him. He spun her around and twisted and jived, their hands linked, her heart hammering madly. Dana sat on the lounge and clapped excitedly. One of the teenagers wolf-whistled. By the time the music stopped and Elvis was crooning 'Love Me Tender', Carrie's entire world was spinning.

'Me, oh, me.' Dana jumped up excitedly. 'Let's all dance together.'

Carrie nodded as Charlie released her and took Dana's hand. She looked down to see her daughter had also commandeered Charlie's hand.

'Mummy, this is the song from the wedding last week.'

Carrie shook her head, trying to clear her hazy thought processes. Her cells still rocking around the clock. 'Oh, yes, it was the wedding waltz.'

'Waltz with me, Mummy, like you did with Grandpa at the wedding.'

Carrie smiled down at her beguiling little girl, finding her as hard to resist as ever. Even the suture line gave her a certain appeal. She hauled Dana up onto her hip.

'Charlie, too,' Dana said, hooking an arm around Charlie's neck and drawing them into an intimate circle.

Carrie daren't look at him as Charlie's arm slid around her back. She could hear his breathing and was excruciatingly conscious of the sheer male presence of him. From his spicy aftershave to his rea.s.suring bulk.

This was wrong. It was too intimate. Not in the way it had been on Friday night. But intimate in the way a family was intimate. And it felt so good for something so wrong. This was a family of two. It was pointless thinking otherwise. Or getting Dana too caught up in it. But it was so nice she found it hard to step away, despite the dictates of her very sensible brain.

The song came to an end and Charlie stepped away abruptly. For a crazy second there he had felt more like part of a family then he had during his entire childhood. Dana had moved Carrie and himself into dangerous territory with the memory of their pa.s.sion still so vivid.

Carrie looked up at his sudden withdrawal. She was again reminded of his quick-as-a-flash departure the other night. Why did a man who was so good with kids run a mile from them? Obviously being nice to a child and wanting one were two different things.

'We'd better go,' she said quietly, not wanting to face rejection again, not with Dana involved, too. She kissed the top of her daughter's head. 'Say good bye to Charlie, sweetheart.'

Dana waggled her fingers at him. 'Bye, Charlie. Can I come and dance to your dukebox again?'

Charlie laughed and flicked one of her bunches. 'Any time, Sleeping Beauty.'

Charlie stood in the middle of the lounge area, watching them walk away ignoring the heavy feeling in the vicinity of his heart. Maybe there was something to this commitment thing after all?

CHAPTER FIVE.

THE week ground by with snail-like slowness. Carrie was there, a constant presence in his staffroom, hanging around, pestering him for figures while hers drove him crazy in those pinstripe suits. Joe popped in and out with annoying frequency, making ba.n.a.l observations and counting down the days. Angela ruled the place with an iron fist. The jukebox thumped. Kids came and went. Stressed-out parents came and went. Police came and went.

When Friday finally came around Charlie welcomed the day with mixed feelings. It was hard to believe that it had been a year to the day that an HIV-positive drug addict had deliberately stabbed him with an infected needle. And that today was the day of his blood test. His final blood test.

It didn't seem to matter that all the others over the past year had been clear and it was against all the odds for this one to come back positive-the possibility was still there. What if it was positive? What if he had to s.h.i.+ft from maybe having the disease to actually having the disease? OK, the stats were on his side and it wasn't the death sentence that it had been with the medication they now had but still...

It was a mental barrier that he hadn't been able to get past. He'd been putting his life on hold for this moment. He'd shelved his expansion plans for the centre, denied himself a s.e.x life and buried himself within these four walls from early morning to late at night. He'd lurched from his separation to his divorce to his health crisis and consequently work had been his solace for over three years. What the h.e.l.l was he going to do if he didn't have to do that any more?

'Today's the day,' Joe said, interrupting Charlie's thoughts and dumping the regulation cup of coffee in front of him on his desk. 'What time's your appointment?'

'I'm ducking out at lunch.'

'And then it's how long...?'

'Should get them back mid next week.'

'Then we're hitting the town? Right?'

Charlie nodded unenthusiastically. 'Right.'

Joe's brow furrowed. He was getting worried about Charlie. A year of celibacy had really messed up his mind. He'd become a workaholic hermit. The last few years Charlie had been all work, work, work.

It wasn't even seven o'clock yet and he was at his desk. 'The Mill is jumping midweek.'

'OK, sure,' Charlie agreed tonelessly, sipping his coffee.

Joe shook his head and laughed. 'Don't worry, old mate. We'll get you hooked up and this whole nightmare will be behind you. You'll be able to get on with your life. It'll be like it never happened.'

Oh, no. One thing was for sure. This was one thing he was never going to forget had happened. 'I think I've forgotten how to pick up women, Joe.' Had he forgotten or was it just so completely uninteresting to him now? Facing death had given him pause to review his life.

Joe cracked up. 'You?' He laughed. 'Impossible. Even a wedding ring didn't deter women. All you have to do is just sit back and let it happen.'

A few weeks ago he'd been champing at the bit to release a year's worth of pent-up frustration but on D-day it now didn't seem so important. The thought of picking up a stranger and taking her home left him cold. The only woman that preoccupied him these days was the one who sat in his staffroom all day with a bunch of figures and a pair of lips he was supposed to be forgetting about.

He took another sip of coffee. It was official-he had a thing for Dr Carrie Douglas.

Carrie arrived at work shortly after seven. She was hoping a few early starts would help her complete her investigation sooner. Even if it was just a day or two. That was one advantage of having a live-in nanny!

She placed the key she'd insisted Charlie provide for her in the front door, only to discover the centre all ready open. No clients were in yet but she could hear the murmur of voices from Charlie's office.

'Hi,' she called, smiling at Joe and nodding to Charlie as she walked past his open door.

She ignored the flare of heat she'd seen in Charlie's steady grey gaze. The same flare she'd seen that night they were supposed to be forgetting about. Heavens, how was she going to get through another fortnight of this insanity?

Her attraction to Charlie was getting harder and harder to ignore. Even at home, away from the centre, she was getting no respite-Dana made sure of that. Charlie was her newest favourite person and she hadn't stopped chattering about him. Or his d.a.m.n dukebox.

She was setting up her laptop when he waltzed into the staffroom.

'How's Dana?' he asked, fixing himself another coffee.

Carrie gritted her teeth. The mutual admiration society was wearing thin. 'Fine.'

'Those sutures can come out at the weekend.' He stirred his drink.

'Yes, thank you, Charlie. I can count to five.' She clicked on her file.

Charlie turned and raised an eyebrow at her as he leant back against the sink. 'You can bring her in and I'll take them out if you want.'

Did he not think her capable? 'I know you don't have a whole lot of faith in my doctoring skills, Charlie, but I'm pretty sure even I can manage to remove four sutures.'

What the h.e.l.l? Something had put her knickers well and truly in a twist. No. Do not think about her knickers! 'I know.' He shrugged, sipping at his drink. 'I just thought, you know...I'm going to be here anyway, and I thought she might enjoy another dance.' He smiled, thinking about Dana's dance style.

'You're going to be here?'

He nodded.

'So, let me get this straight.' She looked at him over her gla.s.ses. 'You're here at the crack of dawn until late at night. And weekends? Charlie, I hate to break this to you but you need a life.'

This from a woman who pretended she'd rather deal with piles of paperwork than minister to the sick and needy, a role to which she was so obviously suited. 'You sound like Joe.'

She nodded and returned to her work. 'I knew I liked Joe for a reason.'

Hearing her talk affectionately about his friend churned in his gut. 'So, that's a no to me removing the sutures?'

She gave him a you're-interrupting-me look. 'Yes. That's a no. Look, thanks, but even if I wasn't doing it myself, I hardly think this is the place for a kid to hang out.'

He felt another twist in his gut. She sounded just like Veronica. She looked untouchable again in her pinstripes and gla.s.ses. 'But it was OK in an emergency?'

She heard the steel in his voice and saw his eyes turn icy. 'I'm sorry,' she said, taking her gla.s.ses off. 'I didn't mean to offend you. But you've got to concede I'm right. This place isn't exactly Buckingham Palace. She's four. Call me overprotective but I'd like to shelter her from this side of life for as long as I can.'

He straightened. He was so used to his colourful working environment he often didn't see the grungy aspect. But he supposed that mothers had to worry about that type of thing. What the h.e.l.l did he know about being a parent? 'Of course, you're right. I'll let you get back to your work.'

Carrie watched as the door shut behind him. The end of her a.s.signment couldn't come soon enough.

Charlie sat in the chair while an efficient-looking woman with a severe hairdo and a twinkle in her eye extracted blood from the vein in the crook of his elbow.

'Last one, love?' she asked.

Charlie nodded. 'Sure is, Liz.'

'At least you'll be able to get on with your life now, love,' she chatted away.

Charlie nodded again. Liz was the second person to utter those words today. How many times had he thought them this last year? Getting the all-clear so he could bring his life off hold? Carrie's words from earlier taunted him-you need a life.

He watched his blood pour into the blood tube. Infected by a deadly virus? Or not? A flip of a card. A roll of a dice. Is this what his life had become? You need a life. The words reverberated around his head. Liz unclipped the tourniquet and stuck some gauze at the puncture site.

'Bend your arm up,' she instructed unnecessarily.

Charlie did as he was told. You need a life.

'Just a few more days now, Charlie.'

He stared at Liz.

You need a life.

Just a few more days now.

Did he really want to wait a few more days? He'd waited for three hundred and sixty-five of them. More, if he counted the numerous blurry years as his marriage had disintegrated and the divorce became final.

Did he want to waste one single day more? Suddenly everything crystallised in his head. He grabbed Liz by the shoulders and gave her a huge peck on the cheek.

'No, Liz, today. Right now, today.'

He kissed her cheek again and practically sprinted out of the pathology clinic. He'd been feeling sorry for himself for an entire year. Putting everything on hold just in case. In case what? He had HIV? So what if he did? Was he just going to give up work? Take to his bed and wait to die? When he could have decades to live? Decades to make a difference?

Well, no more. Carrie had challenged him to get a life and that was exactly what he was going to do. Well...more of a life anyway. Starting right now. His brisk long-legged stride had him back at the drop-in centre within minutes.

He inspected the outside with a critical eye. It was looking old and worn, even though it had only opened five years ago. He'd been too busy keeping it running to notice how drab it looked and there was never enough money for luxuries such as paint anyway. That was about to change.

Charlie strode through the front door, ignoring Angela's cheery h.e.l.lo. He headed for his office, opening the filing cabinet, found the 'E' section and flicked through until he found the expansion plans for the drop-in centre. He shook his head at his complacency-he should have filed them under 'P' for prat.

He left his office and marched to the staffroom with a single-minded determination he hadn't felt since before his marriage had fallen apart. He crashed the door open and stood staring at a startled Carrie.

'Charlie?'

'I have something to show you.'

Carrie watched him move towards her, carrying a long roll of paper in his hand. She noticed the gauze at the crook of his elbow as he drew closer. Pills and now blood tests? Or maybe he'd given a blood donation? 'I'm kind of busy...'

'Oh, you're going to want to see this.' Charlie pushed some coffee-cups aside and laid the plans out flat in the middle of the table. He placed a mug on each corner.

Carrie recognised architectural drawings when she saw them. But of what? She sighed and removed her gla.s.ses. 'Building a house?'

Charlie laughed, leaning over the plans and admiring them again for the first time in a year. 'Better. I'm remodelling the centre.'

Carrie stared at the plans. Was he mad? The centre was going under-big time. 'These are...adventurous.'

He nodded. 'Yes.' Charlie straightened and pushed away from the table. He moved to the sink and flicked on the kettle. 'For five years I've struggled to keep everything going on a shoestring budget. Offering limited services in an area that's crying out for maximum support. And it's not good enough. This idea...'he walked back to the table, leant over and poked a finger at his plans '...addresses all the areas that are sadly lacking at the moment.'

He pushed away again and paced back and forth, aware she was a.n.a.lysing the plans. He ran his hand through his hair. 'I want to be able to provide full-time legal advice and have a full-time counsellor. I want to be able to run a needle exchange and a methadone programme and have another doctor or two so we can really provide a top-notch service.'

He walked back to the table and braced his hands on the back of a chair. 'I want this to be a one-stop shop to meet all this community's needs.'