Playboy Doctor to Doting Dad by Sue MacKay Page A

bit better.’
    He shook his head. ‘No, I’m needed here.’ As head of the department, how would it look to the staff if he went charging off to see his niece just because of the diagnosis on one of his patients? Damn it, they’d be sending him home in no time at all.
    He tried not to watch Abby as she raced away. The ultimate mother with all the right instincts. Could he even come close to that as an uncle or father? Vulnerability squeezed his gut. Sweat pricked his skin. Despite his denials, those two children were already overtaking his determination to remain aloof.
    Did that mean he’d begun accepting he had a son? With all the connotations of what that meant? No. It was far too soon for him to be ready. He would never be ready. But the control he had over his life was rapidly becoming a myth.
    H OPE. The sign flashed by, and this time Kieran didn’t even slow down. He didn’t know why the compulsion to see Olivia and Seamus felt so strong, didn’t understand the need to reassure himself they were healthy and happy.
    To be sure, he knew they were all of those things and more. But he had to
see
for himself. His hands gripped the steering-wheel, stones flicked up as he braked hard outside Abby’s cottage. Abby. How did he explain his mad rush from town at nine o’clock at night? She’d think he’d gone crazy.
    But it was almost as though she’d expected him if the lack of surprise in those expressive eyes was anything to go by. ‘Hey, want a coffee? I’ve just made a plunger full.’
    ‘That would be lovely. But don’t move. I’ll get it.’
    What was really lovely was Abby. Her legs were curledunder her bottom as she sat in an old rocker on the veranda. A magazine lay open on her lap, her hair spilling around her face, her hands lightly holding her mug. Her soft mouth relaxed into a welcoming smile. The efficient, serious nurse he’d worked beside that day had been put away for the night.
    ‘Thanks. You know where everything is. I’m catching the last of the sun now that the kids are asleep.’
    His heart lurched. Disappointment warred with relief. Olivia and Seamus were asleep. He could take a quick peek and get out of here. Forget the coffee. It would keep him awake half the night anyway.
    Olivia slept under a light sheet, lying on her back with Teddy clasped to her side in a headlock. Her curls dark against her pale Irish skin. Kieran leaned against the doorframe and watched her. Again he was stunned at the likeness to his sister. Looking at Olivia felt like Morag was still with him. He wanted to talk to his sister, tell her he missed her, explain that Olivia was gorgeous, happy and well cared-for and that she mustn’t worry about her.
    Kieran shut his eyes, squeezed the bridge of his nose. He could not be tearing up. Not now, not when he’d done his grieving two years earlier. He’d come out here to see the children, not to let the past grip him in a wave of nostalgia. He blinked, sniffed. And stepped up to the bed, bent over and kissed Olivia’s forehead. Softly.
    ‘Thank goodness you’re safe,’ he whispered.
    As he straightened up he noticed the collage of photos adorning one of the walls. Morag. David. Olivia. The three of them in different poses—laughing, serious, waving, playing. In the half-light from the doorway Kieran studied every photo thoroughly, his heart feeling as though it was breaking. It was wrong for those two to have died. Abby was doing her best to make up for Olivia’s loss but the child would never really know her real parents.
    He turned to gaze at his niece again. And fought off the tears once more. ‘Goodnight, little one.’
    He backed quietly out of the room. He’d just take a quick look in on Seamus and go.
    Seamus was a restless sleeper. His feet moved almost continuously, and his hands plucked at the sheet, pulling it in every direction. His stuffed toy, a monkey, lay on the floor. He looked so like the Flynns with his colouring and features that