Maternal Instinct
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Caroline Anderson
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10
CHAPTER ONE
HE KNEW who she was straight away.
The formal suit, the neat court shoes—they stood out a mile among the relatives in their casual clothes and the hospital staff in their scrubs and tunics and white coats. If that wasn’t enough, the set of her shoulders and the distracted way she was staring out of the landing window while her teeth raked that soft, full lower lip were dead giveaways.
She was a nice-looking girl, he thought irrelevantly. Pretty.
Well, no, probably not pretty in the conventional sense, because her nose was a little crooked and her chin a little too firm, at least from that angle, but she was certainly interesting. She interested Hugh, anyway, and as he climbed the last three stairs he was able to study her for a moment, undetected.
Mmm. Very interesting. Slender, elegant—and not nearly as composed as she would have liked to be, he’d bet his life.
He ought to walk past her, say ‘Good morning’ politely and go and start the process, but for some reason he paused, fascinated by the way she caught the side of her bottom lip in her teeth again and worried it gently as she stared into the distance.
‘Interview?’ he murmured, even though he knew the answer.
His voice startled her, and she looked towards him, her eyes scanning the area as if to check that he really was talking to her. Those soft grey eyes, thoughtful and wary, flicked over his suit and back to his face, checking him out. ‘Yes. You, too?’
He nodded slowly. Well, it wasn’t really a lie…
‘A fellow victim,’ she said with a rueful grin, before honesty could raise its head. ‘I’m Eve Spicer.’
She held out her hand, and he took it. It was slim and cool, her handshake firm despite the slight tremor he could feel in her arm.
For some reason he didn’t want to examine, he withheld his name, just smiled and held her hand slightly longer than was strictly necessary before releasing it, dragging out the subterfuge a moment longer. ‘Good to meet you, Eve,’ he said.
Her pretty mouth twisted wryly, that bottom lip a little pinker where she’d nibbled it. ‘I wish I could say it was mutual, but if we’re after the same job I think I’m screwed.’
He felt his brows twitch together at her refreshing honesty, and guilt tugged harder at him but, instead of coming clean, he found himself asking, ‘Why?’
Her smile became rueful. ‘Because I’ve lost the last two jobs to a man. It might be coincidence but, whatever, it’s beginning to be a habit.’
‘Habits can be broken. Perhaps it’ll be third time lucky.’
She gave a little shrug, frustration showing in the line of her shoulders. ‘Maybe. I’m beginning to wonder if I’m doing something wrong in my interviews. Perhaps it won’t matter so much for a temporary post—or am I deluding myself? Seem to do a lot of that these days, but I really want this job, even though it’s only covering sick leave, because I know someone who was his SHO last year, and she said Hugh Douglas is wonderful to work with and a brilliant teacher. She learnt so much from him.’
Wonderful? Brilliant? He squashed his ego back into its box and wondered to whom he owed this amazing PR. Probably Kate. He’d have to thank her. ‘I’m sure you can’t be doing anything too badly wrong,’ he said with another twinge of guilt.
She sighed. ‘Oh, I wouldn’t be too sure. I think I’m just too honest, but at least I’ll stand or fall on my own merits, and if anybody gives me a job, they’ll know what they’re getting. Trouble, probably!’
Her laugh was a little too taut, and the remark puzzled him, but he was distracted by her hand sliding over her hair, nervously checking that it was in place, scraped back against her well-shaped head and twisted into a knot skewered with what looked for all the world like a pair of short chopsticks.
He wondered what would happen if he pulled them out, if the sleek, glossy hair with its paler streaks of gold would fall down round her shoulders in a shimmering curtain, or if it would curl rebelliously. Curl, he thought hopefully, but he was distracted again by her hand moving down, straightening the lapel of her jacket, tugging at her skirt as if to lengthen it. The hem skimmed her slender, shapely knees, and he felt a little surge of jealousy that it wasn’t his hand running over her thigh like that…
Good grief. What was happening to him? He hadn’t reacted like this to a woman in years.
‘You look fine,’ he said hastily. ‘Stop worrying. Very chic and professional. I have to go, they’ll be waiting for me. Just remember to smile.’
‘Thanks. Good luck.’ She grinned a little off-kilter, her eyes slightly less wary, and then, just as he turned to go, she threw him a curve.
‘Would you give me the job?’ she asked, and this time he couldn’t lie. He felt his mouth tug into a smile.
‘Absolutely.’
Bless his heart, she thought ruefully. If only!
He waggled his fingers at her, turned and strode down the corridor, palming the double doors out of the way as she watched him go. She tried—she really tried—to wish him positive vibes, but it was hard. She wanted this job so much and he was, after all, her competition.
But then the door at the end of the corridor opened, and she heard a man’s voice—the great Mr Douglas?—say casually, ‘Hi, there. Good of you to join us.’
She didn’t hear his reply, because the door swooshed shut behind him, but she’d heard enough. She turned back to the window, staring out over the car park and the trees in the distance, her optimism fading even further. He knew them. No wonder he’d gone breezing down there without a care in the world, whereas she was hovering out here, a bundle of nerves.
‘Dr Spicer? Could you come through?’
So soon? It must be just a formality, then, a foregone conclusion. Damn, damn and double damn.
She nearly told the secretary, Maggie, that she wouldn’t waste their time, but Maggie smiled at her and held the door, and that didn’t seem to leave her a lot of choice.
Oh, well, it couldn’t get worse than being told she hadn’t got it. She straightened her shoulders, swallowed hard and dredged around for an answering smile. Not easy, but she managed it, and even hung on to it until Maggie opened the door and she was ushered in, but then it failed her.
There were three of them, two men, one woman, seated around a table, and there was one empty chair.
‘Dr Spicer, thank you for joining us,’ the woman at the head of the table was saying, but she wasn’t really listening, because there, on the left of the empty chair, was her fellow interviewee, getting to his feet with lazy grace and smiling at her.
She would have thought they’d show him out first, give her the dignity of a private rejection—but then he walked towards her, his hand outstretched and his smiled tinged with apology, and said, ‘Hugh Douglas. Welcome to the Audley Memorial Hospital, Dr Spicer,’ and she wasn’t sure whether to cry or hit him.
His hand was still extended, and for a moment she contemplated ignoring it and slapping him instead. Only for a moment, though—just long enough to make him think.
Then tipping back her head and meeting his eyes again with a look that should have fried his eyeballs, she said, softly but clearly, ‘Well. Fancy meeting you here, Mr Douglas.’ And instead of slapping that guilty, handsome face, she placed her hand in his for the second time that morning.
His fingers closed around hers and his mouth twitched. ‘I’m sorry. I owe you an apology.’
‘I think so. I don’t like being made a fool of—and I hate being lied to.’
Her voice was deathly quiet, and his reply was just as quiet. ‘I don’t recall making a fool of you, Eve—and I didn’t lie, exactly. I meant every word I said.’
She extracted her hand from his. ‘Every word?’ Even the bit about giving her the job? But his smile had faded and his eyes were utterly sincere.
‘Absolutely,’ he repeated. Funny, it was harder to believe him this time, no matter how much she might want to.
‘I’m sorry, have we missed something?’ The woman at the head of the table interrupted their soft-voiced exchange. ‘Do you two know each other? Because if there’s a conflict of interest here, Mr Douglas, we ought to know.’
‘No conflict, Julia,’ he said easily. ‘We met a few moments ago at the top of the stairs. I wasn’t perhaps quite fair with her about my identity. Hopefully she won’t hold it against me.’
Eve felt her eyes drawn to him again—the lean, muscled frame that did incredible things to his understated charcoal-grey suit, the warmth in his toffee-brown eyes, the teasing smile that played at the corners of his mouth—and refused to allow herself to contemplate holding anything against Hugh Douglas—least of all herself!
‘Eve, allow me to introduce you to my colleagues,’ he went on smoothly. ‘Dr Julia Fry, our fertility expert, and Sam Gregory, another of the obs and gynae consultants.’
She shook their hands, noting that Julia’s was cool and hard—curiously like her eyes—and that Sam’s was warm and firm and matched his smile.
So it was Julia she was going to have to convince.
Hugh Douglas drew out her chair, turned the full wattage of his charm on her with a smile that made her knees go weak and slid the chair in behind her in the nick of time, bending so his breath whispered over the nape of her neck.
‘Break a leg,’ he murmured, so low that only she could hear it, and she wondered if he realised it wasn’t her leg she was contemplating breaking!
As he hooked his own chair back in behind him and sat down again, she took a steadying breath, smiled again and swept her eyes around the table, wondering who was going to start.
She didn’t have long to wait. ‘Thank you for seeing us at such short notice,’ Hugh Douglas said, and she turned to him, her smile taking on a cynical twist that she could feel but couldn’t control.
‘No problem. As you’ll be aware, I’m not in a post at the moment—’
‘No, I noticed that in your CV,’ Julia Fry said, her expression chilly, as if she still didn’t quite trust what was going on. As you know, we only have the post because the person we’d appointed has had an accident and is on long-term sick leave, but we weren’t expecting to find anyone of the right calibre able to take it on at such short notice. Perhaps you could explain your immediate availability, Dr Spicer?’
Here we go, she thought, and swallowed discreetly. ‘I shouldn’t have been available. I was offered a post, but the offer was subsequently withdrawn just before I was due to start, so I missed the February rotation start date—hence I’m applying for locum posts.’
‘Why was the offer withdrawn?’ That was Sam Gregory coming in unexpectedly, studying her over his steepled fingers, asking the very question she’d fruitlessly hoped to avoid, but his eyes were kind and his tone encouraging.
‘It was…personal.’
‘I think we have a right to an explanation, if you wish us to consider your application seriously, Dr Spicer,’ Julia Fry said without a trace of warmth, and Eve’s heart sank. ‘It is, after all, almost April and you’re still without a job.’
Eve met Julia’s eyes full on and sighed softly, resigning herself to another lost opportunity, another interview down the pan. ‘Of course. He was a friend of my father’s. He has a good reputation as a surgeon, and that was why I’d applied. However, he also has a reputation as a womaniser, but I’d fondly imagined that his relationship with my father might protect me from that. Apparently not. I complained to him, and he withdrew the offer. Said I was a troublemaker.’
‘And are you?’
‘No. Not if my colleagues don’t grope me uninvited.’
There was a grunt of laughter from her left, quickly stifled, and she was aware of Sam shifting, leaning back, relaxing and enjoying the moment.
She wished she had that luxury, but Julia’s eyes sharpened and she shot a look at Hugh that should have withered him.
Apparently he was made of sterner stuff. ‘I can promise you that won’t happen here, Dr Spicer,’ he cut in. ‘Whatever the reason, their loss is our gain and you’re available.’ Leaning forward, the laughter slowly fading from his eyes to be replaced by something much more searching, he continued, ‘Now, earlier you said you’d get this job on your own merits and if anyone gave you a job they’d know what they were getting. So, Dr Spicer, what would we be getting?’ Apart from trouble, he could have added, and she wanted to shoot herself for having been quite so horribly honest earlier.
She wondered if he’d even remembered her saying it, but one look into his twinkling eyes and she knew perfectly well that he did. Oh, damn.
She couldn’t allow herself to be distracted by his mischievous smile or that wicked twinkle in his warm brown eyes. He was as devious as a snake, albeit a sexy, well-made and highly desirable snake, but he held her future in his hands, and she couldn’t afford to lose this opportunity, so she sucked in a deep breath and launched on her sales pitch.
‘Dedication,’ she said. ‘Concentration, attention to detail, a willingness to learn, good basic surgical skills and a sound foundation. I like people, I try and get on with them, and I’m good at assessing situations quickly. My diagnostic skills are showing promise, and although I haven’t done very much in the way of obstetrics, I’ve prepared for it with a great deal of reading and I’m keen to get some hands-on experience to back it up. I’m not always a very good judge of character, though, and I tend to be a little too trusting, but I’m working on that.’
She met Hugh’s eyes and he had the grace to look uncomfortable, but he didn’t look away. She had to give him credit for that.
‘That was slick—it sounds as if you’ve had a great deal of interview practice,’ Julia put in, breaking the rather awkward silence.
Eve felt the barb sink in.
‘Unfortunately, rather more than I would have liked,’ she said honestly, and she caught a gleam of approval in Hugh’s eye.
‘Nothing wrong with being prepared,’ Sam said, defending her unexpectedly, and Julia gave him a chilling look before turning back to continue her grilling.
‘And where do you see yourself in the future?’ she went on, looking broadly unimpressed by all of them.
‘As a consultant at thirty-two,’ Eve said, going for broke. If she could ever get off the interview bandwagon…
‘So—a career doctor. In obstetrics?’
‘Or a related field, yes.’
‘Why obstetrics?’ Sam asked, and she felt herself relax a little. This she knew.
‘Because the patients tend to be well, and you’re helping them do something that comes naturally. That has to be a refreshing change from general surgery, which was my last rotation. And I love babies.’
‘So why not midwifery instead of medicine?’ Julia asked. ‘We tend to see women when things go wrong. Have you thought of that? In my job I see women because things aren’t happening naturally, and I know many of our maternity patients are less than well.’
‘Of course—and part of the job, surely, is to put that right as much as possible so they can have the families they want.’
‘But it doesn’t always work.’
‘Well, it can’t work at all if there aren’t doctors doing it,’ she retorted, and she saw Sam’s mouth tilt into an approving smile.
Hugh was looking thoughtful, though. ‘So much for obstetrics. What about gynae?’ he asked. ‘If you don’t like sick people, you may not like gynae, and the two disciplines tend to go hand in hand. I wonder if you’ve considered that deeply enough.’
‘Absolutely!’ she protested, mentally kicking herself. She’d walked into that one with her eyes wide open, and now they thought she didn’t like medicine! ‘And I didn’t say I didn’t like sick people. That’s the other side of the coin, and why I went into medicine. Why I would choose this branch over any other is because it can bring so much joy into people’s lives, and if I can be a part of that, I don’t see that it’s anything to apologise for. And for the record I definitely see myself as a doctor and not as a midwife. I haven’t spent the last ten years getting to this point to realise I’m barking up the wrong tree so, please, don’t imagine that.’
‘Have you ever lost a patient, Dr Spicer?’ Julia cut in. ‘Because, in our field, if you aren’t careful, you can easily lose two, and I wonder if you’re tough enough to take that. Are you sure this area of medicine is what you really want to be doing with your life, or would you actually be better headed for general practice?’
Oh, lord, the woman definitely hated her, and Hugh thought she was a silly little optimist. Damn. Resigning herself to failure—again—she tried to find an intelligent and comprehensive answer, and wondered how long they’d torture her before they told her someone else was getting the job.
‘I think we should give her the post.’
‘What about Dr Meadows?’ Julia said. ‘He was good.’
‘David Meadows was arrogant and opinionated. Eve Spicer isn’t arrogant.’
‘We all know what you see in her, Hugh,’ Julia said a touch shrewishly, and he had to bite his tongue. Ever since she’d come on to him six months ago and he’d gently but firmly turned her down, she’d been distinctly chilly towards him. This time, though, he wasn’t going to make any concessions to her hurt pride. It was his post, his registrar’s job, and he had the final say. Besides, he could still hear Eve saying she’d lost the last two posts to a man. Well, not this time, not if he had anything to do with it—and he did.
‘I want her,’ he said, meeting Julia’s eyes straight on, ‘and I intend to have her.’
‘I don’t doubt it,’ Sam murmured, just too low for Julia to catch, but she shot him a quelling look nonetheless.
‘Oh, well, be it on your own head. I don’t think she had enough confidence but, no doubt, with your hand to guide her, she’ll come on in leaps and bounds. Her last post seems to have gone well, and her references are certainly excellent, but I’m concerned about her attitude to sick people. I hope she doesn’t think this is going to be all cooing babies and happy mums, because she’s in for a rude shock. And I’m also worried about this sexual harassment thing. Just make sure your hands are only guiding her surgical skills.’
‘I don’t think we need to worry about that,’ he said bluntly. ‘I don’t mix business with pleasure—as you well know.’
The remark hit home, and Julia sucked in her breath. Sam looked away, and Julia glared at Hugh, shoved back her chair and stood up, her furious eyes skewering him. Hell hath no fury, he thought, and braced himself, but it was a dignified if ruffled retreat. For now.
Her voice was crisp. ‘Well, you’ve obviously made your mind up. Have her if you want her. I just hope you don’t regret it.’
‘I do want her—and I won’t regret it,’ he said, hoping to heaven he was right, and turned to Sam. ‘If you agree?’
‘Excellent choice,’ Sam said, not bothering to hide his smile. ‘I liked her, too—nice, uncomplicated girl, and her academic record is stunning. If her practical skills match up she’ll do well, I think.’
‘I think so. I’ll go and call her in—and I’ll try and resist the urge to grope her on the way back,’ he said drily, drawing a huff of outrage from Julia which he ignored with the ease of long practice.
He stood up, opened the door and forced himself to walk slowly down the corridor. He pushed the door open, caught Eve staring nervously out over the car park with her hands locked together, and as she turned, he felt desire kick him firmly and unexpectedly in the groin.
‘Dr Spicer?’
‘I know,’ she said, her eyes resigned. ‘You would have given me the job, but it was out of your hands…’
He grinned, taken with her honesty, which managed to struggle to the surface despite the nerves. He admired that immensely. Real guts. ‘Not at all,’ he hastened to assure her. ‘If you want the job, it’s yours—but you’d better come back and let Julia Fry make you the offer, or she’ll get all bent out of shape and we couldn’t have that, now, could we?’
Her jaw dropped. ‘Me?’ she whispered, then her voice changed to a little shriek and she threw herself into his arms and—hugged him!
Dammit, she actually hugged him, pressing that delectable little body firmly up against his and squeezing the life out of him. So much for sexual harassment! Then abruptly she let him go, coloured furiously and pressed her hands to her face.
‘Oh, I’m so sorry! I can’t believe I did that.’
‘Forget it,’ he said, wondering if he ever would, but her eyes were searching his as if it still hadn’t sunk in.
‘Are you sure? Really? I got the job?’
Her eyes were sparkling with tears of joy, and he had to bite the insides of his cheeks to keep the smile in. ‘Really, Eve. If you can do it at such short notice, we’d like you to start on Monday.’
‘Monday! Oh, thank you so much! Oh, good grief! I can’t believe it, especially after that rubbish about liking obs because people are well. You must think I’m a complete airhead—I can’t believe you still want me.’
‘Oh, we still want you,’ he said, wondering if it was as obvious as it felt.
‘You won’t be sorry. I promise I won’t let you down.’
‘I’m sure you won’t,’ he said, his own smile refusing to stay trapped in the face of such enthusiasm. ‘Come on, let’s go and do this properly.’
He ushered her through the door, manfully resisting the urge to put his hand on that delicate hollow in the small of her back and wondered how in the hell he was going to keep his hands to himself while he was working with her. No wonder the old professor had succumbed to temptation. The woman was enough to tempt a saint, and Hugh hadn’t been a saint in his entire life. He was just too busy to do anything about it, and now was certainly not the time!
Eve couldn’t believe she’d done that!
Flung her arms round him and hugged him, for goodness’ sake!
Madness. Of all the undignified, stupid things to do—but it hadn’t been the great Hugh Douglas she’d been hugging it had been the man she’d met before, the man who’d smiled at her and put her at her ease, who’d said he’d give her the job—and had, bless his heart.
And all that talk about the professor groping her, and she’d gone and flung her arms round him and squashed herself all over him like a rash!
She groaned inwardly, wondering if it was too late for him to change his mind because of her stupidity, but he didn’t seem inclined to dither, just strode down the corridor, ushered her back into the room and stood there without contradicting while Julia offered her the job and welcomed her to the department.
So it was real.
She couldn’t believe it. She’d actually got the job! Even if it wasn’t a unanimous verdict, which it clearly wasn’t. Julia, summoning a smile that was meant to be welcoming but failed, shook her hand and congratulated her.
Sam, warm, generous and much more genuine in his welcome, did the same.
And then Hugh pulled his bleep out of his pocket, frowned at it and excused himself.
‘So, Dr Spicer—will you be able to start on Monday?’ Julia asked, and Eve nodded.
‘Yes. It’ll be a bit of a rush, but so long as I can sort accommodation—’
‘You can stay with us for a bit if necessary,’ Sam volunteered. ‘If you can stand the kids. I’ll prime Molly to look out for you, so you can meet her. She’s a midwife in the department. She’s easy to spot—she’s waddling at the moment.’
‘Waddling?’
‘Thirty-four weeks down, six to go.’
‘Ah,’ she said, answering his wry smile. ‘That kind of waddling.’
The door opened and closed behind her, and without preamble Hugh said, ‘Eve, what are you doing now?’
‘I don’t know—nothing. Why?’ she asked, puzzled. Was this his way of dismissing her?
Apparently not. ‘My SHO’s off sick and my specialist registrar’s running my antenatal clinic. He’s just seen one of my mums and he’s worried—query antepartum haemorrhage from a placenta previa. He’s sending her up to Theatre as a precaution and I need to get up there fast. If I have to do a section I’ll need an assistant and he’s up to his eyes. Want to scrub in and help me?’
She felt her eyes widen. ‘Me?’
‘If you have time.’
She swallowed, then nodded. ‘Um…sure. I only put two hours on my car park ticket, though.’
‘Don’t worry about that. It’ll be fine. Come on—we need to hurry.’
‘What about insurance and stuff? I mean, I’m not on contract till Monday.’
‘Hugh, this is most irregular.’
‘You want the baby to die, Julia? Sam, fix it, please. Locum or something?’
‘Consider it done,’ Sam said, and that was that.
Hugh whisked her up to the theatre suite, threw a set of theatre blues at her and pointed her towards the female changing room. Then, without bothering to move, he stripped off his clothes and tugged on the scrubs right then and there.
Oh, boy. She tried not to look. She really, really tried not to look, but he was just too gorgeous to miss, all that hard, lean muscle and his legs—oh, lord, his legs…
‘Boots or clogs are over here, help yourself to any that haven’t got a name on. Here—have a locker for your things,’ he said, pointing out a spare one, and she forgot about his body and shot into the changing room, ridding herself of the strangling suit and hated tights and diving into the top, pulling up the trousers of the scrubs, tightening the drawstring with fingers that were starting to tremble.
Was this op part of the interview? she wondered as she stuffed her clothes into the locker. Another sneaky, devious test, like their little chat at the top of the stairs? No. She’d been offered the job. They couldn’t take it away, could they? Although the professor had, but she’d been on the point of lodging an official complaint about him, so it hadn’t been surprising.
As for the pre-interview subterfuge, she was still contemplating whether or not to forgive Hugh when their patient was wheeled in, eyes fearful even though she was clearly trying not to panic, and Eve forgot all about it, her attention totally engaged by the way he soothed and calmed his patient with his gentle manner and a few reassuring words.
‘Trying to keep me on my toes, Jeannie?’ he said with a wry grin, his hands already moving over her, asking for details, nodding as he heard them.
Her pulse was up, her blood pressure down, she was on 100 per cent oxygen to help the baby and for now, at least, the little one seemed to be OK. They could hear the foetal heartbeat on the monitor, sounding very fast to Eve’s ears, and the monitor showed the heart rate to be over 150. The baby was tachycardic, and if it wasn’t delivered soon, it would be in real trouble. At thirty-seven weeks it was certainly viable and would probably be fine without any extra help or support—so long as they could get it out soon enough.
Eve watched Hugh examine the patient quickly, confirming what they already knew from the information he’d been given, then he straightened up, the woman’s hand in his.
‘OK, Jeannie, let’s get this baby out for you now. Paul, I’m sorry, you’re going to have to wait outside, but it won’t be long and we’ll bring the baby out to you as soon as possible.’
The husband nodded nervously, and as the anaesthetist started to work on Jeannie, Hugh scrubbed, held his arms out for the gown, snapped on his gloves and headed for the operating room, with Eve scarcely a second behind him.
‘Right, let’s move,’ he said. ‘Knife?’
Jeannie was draped and ready, and with the first slice of the blade Eve felt the tension rise.
‘This shouldn’t be too hard, because the placenta’s lying against the back wall, so at least I won’t have to go through it—OK, suction please—Eve, can you hold the retractors? Thank you. Fundal pressure, please.’
And in a whoosh of blood and amniotic fluid he eased the baby out and handed her to the waiting neonatal team, clamping and cutting the cord without delay. As the baby was carried off, a furious little wail from her brought a sigh of relief from everyone.
Except Hugh. He was stern-faced and silent, bar the odd snapped instruction for syntocinon or suction, and as Eve assisted he scooped out the placenta, dropped it in a bowl and the well of blood slowed to a trickle.
Then he let his breath out on a sigh, his shoulders dropped and he grinned, his eyes crinkling over his mask.
‘That’s got it,’ he said, and everyone relaxed.
Everyone, that is, except Eve, because with the next breath he said, ‘OK. I’m happy with that. You can close. Let’s see your suturing at first hand. This is Eve, by the way, everybody. My new registrar. Dr Spicer, meet the team.’
There were a few polite murmurs of welcome, and that was it. In at the deep end. But he kept his mouth shut for the most part while she sutured, and she forgot about him after the first couple of stitches and just got on with it, following his suggestions for the kind of closure to use for each layer. Finally she was done.
‘Well done, very neat,’ he said as she snipped the last suture. She looked up into his gorgeous brown eyes and they locked with hers and she was suddenly thrown into confusion, her smile fading. Something fierce and elemental and dangerous crackled between them, nearly taking her legs out from under her, and she wondered if she wouldn’t have been safer with the old professor’s roaming hands.
Then he stepped back, tugged off his gloves and mask, dropped them in the bin with his gown and turned to her with a smile, his eyes back to normal so she wondered if she’d imagined it.
‘Come on. Let’s go and see the proud father and have a look at this baby. Then I owe you lunch—and since I haven’t even had breakfast yet, I won’t take no for an answer.’
Oh, yes. Much, much safer with the old professor. Apart from anything else, she could outrun him, and she had a horrible feeling that the only direction she wanted to run in with Hugh was straight back into his arms!
And there was no way on God’s green earth that that was going to happen.
