Come Fly With Me...: English Girl in New York / Moonlight in Paris. Fiona Brand

was certifiable. Daniel Cooper was driving her crazy.

       CHAPTER EIGHT

      BY NOW DAN should have been a crumpled heap on the floor. He’d spent most of last night walking the floor with a sometimes whimpering, sometimes screaming baby. At one point he’d put Abraham back in the crib and gone to stand in the kitchen for a few minutes to catch his breath.

      But from the moment Carrie had appeared, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed after a good night’s sleep, he’d felt instantly invigorated.

      There was something about her brown curls, blue eyes and flash of skin that was slowly but surely driving him crazy.

      And now he knew.

      Now he understood.

      Well, not entirely. God willing he’d never really understand what it felt like to lose a child. But at least now he had an explanation for the shadows beneath her eyes. The moments of panic that he’d seen and recognised. Her abruptness. Her lack of confidence in herself.

      What he couldn’t understand was why Carrie couldn’t see what he could see. A remarkably caring and competent woman who seemed to have a real empathy with this little baby.

      For some reason Carrie’s news reassured him a little. He’d known there was something wrong but hadn’t quite been able to put his finger on it. His instincts told him she was a good person and not a crazed baby-snatcher or madly unstable.

      Carrie McKenzie was probably the bravest woman he’d ever met. And that included his grandmother.

      She’d put the needs of this little baby—a child she didn’t know—before her own needs, even though it was apparent at times her heart was clearly breaking. How many other people did he know who could have done this?

      A smile danced across his lips as he remembered her reaction to Shana’s ‘suck it up’ comment. No wonder she’d been so horrified.

      This was truly her worst nightmare and she’d just lived through thirty-odd hours of it, with only a few minor hiccups along the way.

      He’d been right to let her sleep. It seemed to have given her new strength and the confidence to share. And he was glad she’d shared.

      He’d just resisted the temptation to gather her into his arms and try to take her pain away. Because something told him this was all new for her. Sharing about this was all new for her, and he had to let her go at her own pace.

      And while it seemed the most unlikely solution, holding Abraham had seemed to give her comfort at that moment. Which was why he’d resorted to the smallest movement—the hand squeeze—to show his support.

      What did this mean now for them?

      Now that she’d shared he’d given her the opportunity to walk away. To stop making things so hard on herself. But she was determined to stay and help. And his sense of relief was overwhelming. If left to himself, he was sure he could muddle through. But having someone else there—even a little reluctantly—was more help than she could imagine.

      As for the kiss?

      How much was Carrie ready to move on?

      Because being in a confined space with her was going to drive him crazy—in a good way. Now that he’d tasted her sweet lips and felt the warmth of her body next to his it just made him crave her all the more.

      Carrie wasn’t like any other woman that he’d met.

      Girls in New York weren’t shy. Reserved was an extinct term around here.

      He was used to women throwing themselves at him, in pursuit of either a relationship or something far hotter.

      It was just the way of the world these days.

      But truth be told, it wasn’t really Dan’s world. It wasn’t really the family values his grandmother had brought him up with. They, in themselves, were almost laughable. His mother certainly hadn’t had any family values—no matter what her family had taught her. And that had reflected badly on Dan.

      His grandmother had patched him up, fought fiercely for him and his mother’s name was never mentioned in the house again.

      And that was fine with him. For years she haunted his dreams most nights anyway.

      But Carrie McKenzie, with her too-blue eyes and quiet nature, was slowly but surely getting under his skin in a way no other woman had.

      It was clear there were some aspects of life they disagreed on. But did that mean it would be pointless to pursue anything else? Dan wasn’t sure. He still had his own demons to deal with. And the situation with Abraham was only heightening a whole host of emotions he’d buried for so long.

      His stomach grumbled loudly just as Carrie burst back through the door, wearing a pink shirt and jeans, her hair tied up in a loose knot. She laughed at the sound of his stomach. ‘You called?’

      He nodded at her hands that were clutched to her chest holding a jar of lemon marmalade. ‘It’s getting to the stage I won’t even fight you about the toast and marmalade. You’ve starved me so long I’m ready to concede.’ He walked over to the crib and laid Abraham back down.

      She strode over to the toaster and slid the last of the bread into place. ‘I’ll concede on one thing. I’ll make you coffee instead of tea—but only since you had such a bad night. I might make some scones this afternoon and make you drink tea, then.’

      He felt his ears literally prick up. The cupboards’ supplies were getting low—even though it had only been a few days. The cakes yesterday had been a real boost. Scones today? Even better.

      ‘I’ve never really had the scone things. What do you have them with?’

      She shrugged. ‘It should be jam and cream, but jam and butter will do. Do you want fruit scones or plain?’

      He rolled his eyes upwards. ‘I take it bacon’s not an option?’ He smiled at the horrified expression on her face. ‘You’ve got a secret stash of dried fruit up there, too?’

      She put her hand on her hip and gave him a sassy look. ‘I’ve got a whole host of things you know nothing about up there.’

      He let out a stream of air through his lips. ‘Woman, you’re going to drive me crazy.’

      The toast popped behind her and she started spreading butter and marmalade, pulled out two plates and mugs and finished making breakfast in record time.

      It was almost as if Abraham had an inbuilt antenna. As soon as Carrie’s backside hovered above the chair he started to grizzle in his crib. She glanced at the clock. ‘When did he have his last feed?’

      Dan looked at his watch. ‘I think it was around four. This little guy is like clockwork. He couldn’t possibly let it go any more than four hours.’

      ‘It must be my turn to feed him. Let me make up a bottle.’ She picked out the bottle and teat from the sterilising solution and measured out the formula. ‘I wish we could get some more of the ready-made formula. It’s so much easier.’ She peered into the contents of the formula tub. ‘How many bottles does this make? I know it’s only a small can but it seems to be going down mighty quickly.’ She turned back to face him.

      Dan wasn’t listening. He was staring at the toast and lemon marmalade as if it had sprouted legs and run across the floor.

      ‘Dan? Dan? What’s wrong.’

      He took another bite of the toast. ‘This is much nicer than I remember. Or maybe it’s just that I’m so hungry that I would eat anything.’ He stared at the toast. ‘I always thought marmalade was—you know—yeuch.’ He let a shiver go down his spine. ‘I don’t remember it tasting like this.’

      She gave him a smile. ‘It’s one of my secrets. You probably had orange marmalade as