A Special Kind Of Family

He was…gorgeous?

Um…what? Where had that come from? Gorgeous? Hardly appropriate.

Or, actually, incredibly appropriate. The man’s kindness made her blink back tears. Sexy came in all forms. Sexy came in the guise of a guy holding a little boy by the hand and discussing the Easter Bunny with the same gravity he might accord World Peace.

‘I guess,’ Nathan was saying, still doubtful.

‘It’s true. All you need do is put it with the others that we’ll eat after Easter.’

‘Okay,’ Nathan said, his face finally clearing as he decided to believe. Then he added, ‘I’m glad he’s gone. Will he come back soon?’

‘I don’t know, Nathe,’ Dom admitted, and the little boy’s face clouded.

‘He might,’ he whispered. But then the clouds disappeared again. ‘But he said he was going surfing for Easter and that’s days and days. He won’t come back till after the Easter bunny’s been. I’ll tell Martin.’

And he handed his egg to Dom, edged past the bundle of canine contentment on the floor and scooted off to find his…brother?

She didn’t think so. A few assumptions were being stood on their heads this morning.

Dom was standing in the hallway holding the egg. It really was ridiculously large.

Marilyn snoozed at his feet, with her three puppies. Erin could hear Nathan talking to Martin back in the kitchen.

How many responsibilities did this man have?

‘The boys are your…foster-kids?’ she ventured, and he nodded. He was watching her, an expression on his face like he couldn’t figure her out.

‘What?’ she said.

He shook his head as if clearing fog. ‘Nothing,’ he said. ‘Um…yeah, they’re my foster-kids.’

‘But you don’t have a wife.’

‘You don’t need a wife to foster kids.’

‘I thought…’

‘If I wanted to adopt a cute baby with no strings attached then, yeah, I’d need to be married. I’d need references practically from the Pope himself. But I take kids when there’s a problem-a reason they need closer supervision than even foster-parents can give. If I’m willing to take a kid like Martin, whose mother’s disappeared but who might surface at any minute, in any state, or Nathan, whose dad is…well, like you saw him, then there’s not so much competition that you’d notice. References from the Pope might be waived.’

‘But you’re a doctor. Part time?’ she ventured.

‘In this town? Full time and part time as well.’ Then, as her confusion became obvious, he added, ‘It’s manageable. I have a great housekeeper and the boys come with me a lot. They come here traumatised, caught up in their own dysfunctional worlds. With me they see lots of other worlds, many of them just as dysfunctional, but I give them a solid base. I give them rules and I give them a hug when they need one.’

He broke off as the doorbell pealed again. Nathan’s head emerged from the kitchen, looking fearful.

‘It’s okay, Nathe,’ he said. ‘Hop it. I’ll deal with it.’

Nathan disappeared. Dom tugged the door wide.

It was Charles. Six feet two, blond and tanned, wearing cream chinos, a quality linen shirt with top buttons casually unfastened, and soft leather boat shoes. He really was absurdly handsome, Erin thought. Behind him, in the driveway, was his Porsche. Sleek and handsome as he was.

Charles was a general physician whose patients numbered some of the wealthiest people in Melbourne. He knew what he wanted in life, did Charles, and he didn’t like hiccups.

What was happening now was clearly a hiccup, and it was the second hiccup in a week. The first had been on Tuesday when she’d knocked back his very reasonable request to marry him.

‘Erin.’ He looked straight past Dominic, seeing only her. His glance took her in, from her bare toes to her hair, still tangled and wet from the shower. ‘My God. You said you weren’t hurt. The crutches…’

‘I cut my foot,’ she said, and managed a smile. ‘Lots of little scratches. They’ll heal fast and I already look a lot better than I did last night. Charles, this is Dr Dominic Spencer. He came to my rescue.’

‘I’m very grateful,’ Charles said, and gripped Dom’s hand in what Erin knew would be an exceedingly manly handshake. ‘Not that there was any need. If she’d just phoned…’

He was grateful. As if he owned her. What more did she have to say to cut herself loose? ‘I told you,’ she explained, when he turned on his reproachful look on her. ‘I lost my cellphone, and by the time I got here it was three in the morning. I didn’t want to worry Mum and Dad.’

‘They’re worried now,’ Charles said, reproving. ‘Crashing the car-for a dog. Honestly, Erin, you know not to swerve for animals. You know better than most what tragedy crashes can cause. But I won’t say anything. If you’re ready, we’ll leave. We’ll take a look at your car on the way, see what we can salvage and ring the insurance people before we do anything. That car’s practically new. I don’t want it looted.’

I don’t want it looted. The proprietary thing was automatic.

She should never have let it get this far, she thought bleakly. But it had happened so gradually she hadn’t noticed. According to Charles, her parents had always assumed they’d marry. His parents had always assumed they’d marry. So had Charles.

It was only when he’d suggested they break the news to the parents this Easter and maybe take a family excursion to buy the ring that she’d realised how far those assumptions had gone.

Was marriage supposed to be like this? An assumption that it’d be good for all concerned?

So on Tuesday she’d tried to explain it but he’d simply smiled at her like an avuncular big brother. ‘It’s only nerves. It’s okay. Come home at Easter and we’ll discuss it.’

She so nearly hadn’t come. But her parents were already staying with Charles’s parents. They’d been planning this Easter for months. They’d all be so upset…

Charles was smiling at her. Waiting for an answer. Ready to start his very reasonable discussion again.

Dom was watching from the sidelines.

‘It’ll hardly be looted where it is,’ Erin managed. ‘And…um…Charles, there’s also the problem of Marilyn.’

‘Marilyn?’

‘The…my dog.’ She gestured to Marilyn on the floor behind her. ‘She was the one on the road last night. I’m keeping her.’

Charles glanced at the dog. And then glanced again. In horror.

Marilyn was rousing. Her intravenous line had provided her with fluids, antibiotics and pain relief. Her puppies had drunk their fill and were now sleeping.

With a weary heave, she stumbled to her feet. Dom had left a water bowl by her side. She inspected it with caution, looked up at the three humans watching her and then lowered her head to drink.

Erin found she was grinning. She glanced at Dom and he was grinning, too.

‘I’ll take the IV line out,’ Dom said, sounding exceedingly satisfied. ‘She’ll want to go outside.’

‘What,’ Charles said, in a voice that said he didn’t believe what he was seeing, ‘is that?’

‘It’s the dog I was telling you about,’ Erin explained patiently. ‘She had puppies last night. And I’m keeping her,’ she repeated. ‘I’m keeping them all.’

Ignoring them, Dom dropped to his knees. While Marilyn drank he slipped the IV line out, putting pressure on the entry point for a moment with a wad of clean tissues he tugged from his pocket. What sort of a man carried an excess supply of tissues? Erin wondered.

A guy who was used to life’s messes.

A really sexy doctor who was used to life’s messes.

‘That’s great,’ Dom said cheerfully, as Marilyn kept on drinking. ‘I’m thinking she’ll settle, wherever you take her. She was great this morning while I cleaned her side-she’s a lovely, placid pooch. You’ll have to give the rest of the antibiotic orally but she should be fine.’

‘You’ll have to give…’ Charles repeated faintly, and stared at Erin in horror. ‘You’re kidding.’

‘I’m not kidding,’ Erin said solidly. ‘I can’t leave her here.’

‘Why not?’

‘Dom has enough on his plate. He has kids.’