‘How old did you say Dana was?’
‘She’s four.’
‘Cute age.’
Carrie smiled. ‘Yes, it is. You got kids?’
Charlie snorted. ‘No.’
OK, not into kids. ‘Not your thing?’
Quite the opposite. Charlie had wanted a family of his own for a long time. A chance to do it better than his parents had. If that was possible. If he hadn’t been genetically wired to screw it up as badly as they had.
He shrugged. ‘Veronica, my ex-wife, didn’t want them. It was probably just as well, given the divorce and everything.’
Carrie detected a bitterness scarring his deep voice. ‘Was it bad?’
Charlie’s knuckles grew white on the steering-wheel and Carrie wished she could have bitten her tongue off. She had no idea what had come over her. Maybe it was the moments they had shared at the accident scene that made her feel like she knew this man. That she could ask him such a personal question on such short acquaintance.
‘Oh, God, sorry, that’s none of my business. Forget I asked.’
He could hear the mortification in her voice and relaxed a little. ‘It’s OK. It was…kind of messy.’
They drove in silence for a little while longer.
‘So, does Dana have a dad?’
Carrie shook her head, trying to keep her voice neutral. Unemotional. Even after five years Rupert’s desertion still stung. ‘Not one that’s interested in her, no.’ She looked out the window.
‘Sorry.’
She shrugged. ‘His loss.’ Rupert had no idea what he was missing out on.
Charlie flicked another glance at the little blonde angel sleeping soundly in her seat. ‘Absolutely,’ he replied, his voice quiet.
She looked at him, hit by the sincerity of his tone. It was ridiculous to feel so connected to a person so quickly. She looked away and stared straight ahead. But his thigh was bulky and solid in her peripheral vision. His biceps flexed distractingly with every slight movement of the steering-wheel. He leaned forward and switched the radio on, his hair brushing against the neckline of his shirt and falling forward, momentarily obscuring the sexy stubble covering his jaw.
‘Do you mind? Will it wake Dana?’
Carrie dragged her gaze away from his jaw. She laughed. ‘She slept through a car smashing into us, four sirens and a helicopter.’
He chuckled. ‘Good point.’
Charlie was grateful for the music to distract them from conversation. At the accident scene Carrie had been easy to dismiss as a blood-phobic, hyperventilating tie-dye flake. But seeing her now, free of the stress of the accident, she was a different woman altogether. One that appealed to him immensely. She had teased him about his car, sympathised over his divorce and told him about her little girl. Suddenly she was three-dimensional. Complex.
Desirable even. The thought slid insidiously into his head. No. No way. She was a single mother. You didn’t mess with them. Honourable men knew that. Especially not when his life was such a mess. A separation, a divorce and an almost year-long health crisis. In two weeks he’d have some closure, but until then his life was on hold.
And after that? There were things to do. Big things. A major project that had been shelved for too long was a priority. He wouldn’t have time for an exotic single mother and her cute child. Relationships were going to be light from now on. Nothing heavy. His life had weighed a tonne for years. And women with children deserved more than that.
They passed the rest of the trip listening to the music and indulging in occasional light conversation. Charlie was grateful when he pulled up outside her apartment block. Her laughter and her scent had filled the car. He couldn’t hear the squeak of the back tyre any more or smell the slight aroma of rust. And he liked those things about his car. OK, it was probably a guy thing—heaven knew, Veronica had hated every inch of it—but he liked them a lot. And it was disturbing to think this woman could completely obliterate them.
‘Thanks for the lift, Charlie. And for…you know…snapping me out of it back there.’ Now she was home she didn’t want to get out. Strangely she felt like staying in the car, chatting with him. They’d shared an experience tonight that few strangers shared. They’d saved a man’s life. She felt a weird kind of connection.
‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘I know that wasn’t easy for you. You did good. Really.’ Charlie wanted her to go as desperately as he wanted her to stay. It was an unsettling feeling. It was as if they’d developed a strange kind of bond. ‘I’ll help you with Dana.’
They got out of the car and Carrie ducked her head to unbuckle Dana. She managed to pick her up without disturbing her.
‘I’ll get the seat,’ Charlie said.
Being unfamiliar with children’s safety seats, he made a real hash of it. ‘How do you get the blasted thing out?’
Carrie laughed. ‘Here.’ She gently passed Dana to him. ‘Move aside I’ll do it.’
Charlie felt a funny tightening in his chest as Dana murmured and wriggled in his arms, trying to find the most comfortable position. Her blonde head snuggled into his neck and her hair smelt like toffee-apples.
Carrie removed the seat easily and he indicated for her to precede him. Carrie placed the seat on the ground and opened the front door. She turned and held her arms out for Dana. Charlie passed her over gently.
It was such a domestic scene Charlie couldn’t quite believe he was in it. Or how…nice it felt. It had an odd kind of pull. But his life was complicated, his head was messed up and she had a child. And he’d probably never see her ever again. They were hardly compatible.
‘Well, thanks for this, Charlie. I really appreciate it. It was nice meeting you. I just wish it had been under different circumstances.’
He chuckled. ‘Amen to that.’
Carrie walked through the door and closed it without looking back. She put Dana to bed, trying not to think about the sense of intimacy she’d had when Charlie had handed Dana back. It was insane to think that way. Charlie was gone. The book had shut on their brief encounter. She had a daughter to raise and a career to forge.
She didn’t need any Charlies in her life.
CHAPTER TWO
CHARLIE sat at his desk on Monday morning and drummed his fingers impatiently. He’d slept badly and his first appointment was late. He was annoyed. Just because he ran a drop-in centre, it didn’t mean he had time to wait around for nosy hospital administrators.
He picked up the phone and dialled Joe’s number. His best friend answered with his usual jovial greeting.
‘Deep, philosophical question for you. Is it insane to fantasise about a woman who nearly vomited over you and you had to talk out of a panic attack?’
‘And this couldn’t wait half an hour?’
‘Nope.’
‘Is she hot?’
‘Hell, Joe, I said deep.’ Charlie laughed. ‘We saved a life together. Well…actually, she was a mess but…I can’t stop thinking about her.’
‘OK, buddy, back up. Tell me the story.’
Charlie relayed the details of the previous night’s incident. ‘She’s so not my type. She looked like a gypsy. She was wearing tie-dye, for God’s sake. You know I prefer pinstripes.’
‘Like vile Veronica?’
‘Well…yes.’
‘Oh, yeah, that turned out so well.’
‘Well,