Single Dads Collection - Lynne Marshall Mills & Boon e-Book Collections

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with Freddie in tow and Mini-Dot here yelling the place down? I don’t think so.’

      ‘She’s not yelling now,’ he pointed out. ‘Maybe she’s stopped that.’

      Foolish, foolish man.

      The baby began to stir almost before he’d finished speaking, and within seconds she was bawling her tiny lungs out.

      ‘I’ll get her bottle,’ he said, standing up, but Emily got up, too, extracted Kizzy from the sling and handed her to him.

      ‘I’ve got a better idea. You take her and deal with her, and when she’s settled, you can take her carpet shopping. And I can get on with my work.’

      A fleeting frown crossed his brow. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t realise you were working,’ he said, and took Kizzy from her arms. ‘We’ll get out of your way. And don’t worry about having us to stay. We’ll find a hotel.’

      ‘Harry, no!’ she said, angry with herself for upsetting him.

      ‘No, really,’ he said, his voice a little gruff. ‘I’m sorry. I can’t just come back here after all these years and expect you to welcome me with open arms.’

      Oh, Harry, if you only knew, she thought, and her hand came out and curled over his wrist, holding him there with her. ‘I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just—I do have work to do, and Freddie is having a nap and it’s my one chance. Please, come and stay. I can’t let you go to a hotel. Not with the baby. Anyway, Freddie and Beth will love having her here. Please?’

      His eyes were serious, searching hers for an endless moment, and then, finally satisfied, he nodded briefly. ‘OK. But we’ll try and keep out of your way so we don’t stop you working.’

      She felt the tension go out of her like air out of a balloon. ‘Still want help with the carpet shopping?’ she said with a smile.

       CHAPTER THREE

      HE HADN’T realised just what an expedition it would be, shopping with three children.

      Kizzy was more than enough trouble, but by the time he’d got her fed and settled and Freddie had woken up, Beth had come back from playing with a friend, so they were all going together.

      And then, of course, because she was so tiny and seemed to be hungry every three minutes or so, he needed to take feeds for Kizzy, and because she was just like a straw he’d need nappies, and because he was so rubbish at putting the nappies on she’d need a total change of clothes…

      He bet they took less equipment on an Arctic expedition.

      ‘You OK there?’

      He gave Emily what he hoped was a smile and nodded. ‘Sure. I’m fine. I’ve got everything, I think.’

      She eyed the bulging bag dubiously. ‘Got wipes?’

      Of course not.

      He found them and put them in, then straightened up, baby carrier in hand. ‘Will I need the sling? Because I still don’t think I know how to put it on.’

      ‘I’ll help you. Bring it,’ she instructed, and so he followed her out—to her car, not his, because it was set up with baby seats for her two. Beth and Freddie were already strapped in, reaching across and poking each other and giggling, and they looked up and beamed a welcome at him and Kizzy that made him feel—just for a second, until he reminded himself that he wasn’t—as if he was a part of their family.

      As if he belonged.

      And the pain hit him in the chest like a sledgehammer.

      He sucked in a breath. ‘Hi, kids,’ he said, leaning over Freddie to put the baby carrier in the middle, and Freddie reached up and grabbed his face and planted a wet, sticky kiss on his cheek.

      ‘Harry!’ he said happily, and Harry straightened up and ruffled Freddie’s hair and swallowed hard.

      No. They weren’t his kids. He wasn’t going to get involved. Look what had happened the last time he’d got involved in someone’s life…

      ‘All set?’

      He clipped on his seat belt and nodded. Emily started the car and headed for town.

      It was a good job he had her in tow, she thought.

      He was fingering a lovely pale pure wool carpet with a thoughtful look on his face.

      ‘Imagine it with baby sick and play-dough on it,’ she advised sagely, and he wrinkled his nose and sighed heavily.

      ‘So what would you suggest?’

      ‘Something a little darker? Something scrubbable? There are some you can pour bleach on. Maybe a tiny pattern, just to break it up? Or a heather mix, so it’s not a flat, plain colour.’

      He was glazing over, she could tell. Poor baby. For the first time in his life he was up against having to consider something other than his own taste. And he didn’t like it.

      ‘I want wood, really. I’d like to strip the boards, or put down an oak strip floor, perhaps. I’ve got solid walnut in my flat and it’s gorgeous. And you can wipe it clean.’

      ‘Hard to fall on, and it can be a bit cold. Anyway, they probably couldn’t do a really nice floor that fast.’

      ‘Oh, damn,’ he said, ramming his hands through his hair and grinning ruefully. ‘I tell you what, you choose. You’ve had more experience than I have. So long as it covers the floor and I can have it next Tuesday, I don’t care.’

      So she chose—a soft pale coffee mix that would stand children running in and out—and then wondered what on earth she was thinking about because the only child running in and out would be Kizzy and she was less than two weeks old! He’d probably replace the carpet before she was walking.

      ‘Next?’

      ‘Furniture? I haven’t got any.’

      So she took him to a place that sold beds and sofas and dining furniture, and he ordered the best compromise between what he wanted and what was available at short notice, and then right on cue Kizzy started up.

      Freddie was wriggling around in the buggy, wanting to get out, and Beth was hanging on her hand and needed the loo.

      ‘How about lunch?’ she suggested. ‘Then we can tackle curtains and bedding—a bit more retail therapy for you.’

      ‘Retail therapy?’ He gave a snort. ‘Not in this lifetime—but lunch sounds good,’ he said, the air of hunted desperation easing slightly at the suggestion of reprieve, and she nearly laughed out loud.

      Poor Harry. Anyone less in touch with their feminine side she had yet to meet, but she had to hand it to him. He was taking it on the chin and giving it his best shot, and she felt a strangely proprietorial sense of pride in him.

      Swallowing a lump in her throat, Emily tucked her arm through his and steered him into the little café next door, sat him and Beth down, found a high chair for Freddie and took Kizzy from the sling on Harry’s chest, rocking her while the waitress heated the bottle. Then she fed her while her children played with their bendy straws and Harry sat back and closed his eyes and inhaled a double espresso with the air of a condemned man taking his last meal.

      It was all she could do not to laugh.

      ‘Well, that was painless.’

      ‘Painless?’ He cracked an eye open and studied her for signs of lunacy. ‘I thought we’d never get them settled. I’m exhausted.’

      ‘You’ll get used to it,’ she promised. ‘I did.’

      ‘You’re a woman. You have hormones.’

      ‘Yes—and

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