Her Baby Out of the Blue/A Doctor, A Nurse: A Christmas Baby

by Alison Roberts/Amy Andrews

  Hannah shook her head. ‘I think we need to go in and have a look. I’ll organise it. Where are her parents?’

  ‘Mother’s asleep in the parents’ lounge,’ Kylie volunteered.

  Maggie, Nash, Linda and Kylie worked to stabilise Ruby for Theatre while Hannah talked to her tearful mother and gained consent for exploratory abdominal surgery. Maggie averted her eyes as Ruby’s mother stroked her daughter’s hair, tears trekking down her face.

  ‘It’s okay, Rube,’ she whispered, ‘you’re going to be okay.’

  Even after fifteen years Maggie found it impossible not to become involved and she hoped desperately that Ruby’s mother was right and her gut feeling was wrong.

  The sky was lightening when they finally wheeled Ruby into the operating theatre at the end of the corridor. Maggie and Linda, who hadn’t had a break yet, left Kylie to clean up the bed area confident that Ruby wouldn’t be back until the end of their shift, maybe even after that.

  Nash joined them in the tearoom and they all sat round staring into their coffees still a little dazed by rapid-fire events of the night. Sure, these nights happened every now and then but they were both physically and emotionally draining.

  Linda drained her mug and stood. ‘I’ll go check on Kylie,’ she said.

  ‘You haven’t finished your break yet,’ Maggie protested.

  Linda shrugged. ‘I’m too wired to sit still.’

  Maggie nodded. That happened sometimes. Adrenaline was vital to cope with the emergencies they’d had to face tonight but it did have its jittery side effects.

  Linda departed and Nash was grateful to be left alone with Maggie. ‘Are you okay?’ he asked. She looked weary. Good, but tired around the eyes and tense around the shoulders.

  ‘Sure,’ she answered automatically, staring into the milky depths of her coffee. ‘What about you?’ she asked, remembering that Nash’s sister had been about Ruby’s age when she’d died.

  ‘I’m okay.’ He nodded. ‘It’s been a hell of a night.’

  Maggie nodded, swirling the muddy liquid in the mug. That it had.

  ‘I thought we’d pulled our last all-nighter,’ he murmured.

  Maggie flicked her gaze up from the drink. A small smile lifted the corners of his beautiful mouth and he looked sexy and inviting and she wanted to crawl onto his lap and snuggle her head into his neck.

  She smiled back at him, her heart light for the first time this shift. She opened her mouth for a sexy rejoinder but a rattling up the corridor and the trilling of an alarm had her frowning instead. ‘That can’t be Ruby already?’ She looked at her watch. ‘It hasn’t even been half an hour.’

  But it was. Which could only mean two things. The problem had been trivial and easily remedied. Or the problem was so big it just couldn’t be fixed. Unfortunately for Ruby, it was the latter. She’d thrown a clot into her mesenteric vasculature, infarcting her entire bowel. Toxins were flooding her system. She was dying and there was nothing anyone could do.

  To say they were all shocked was an understatement. The nine-year-old had survived a horrific car smash but had been expected to make a full recovery from her head injury. Unfortunately, her conscious level had masked what was going on in her belly and she wasn’t expected to see out the day.

  Maggie sat in with Nash and the surgeon and the social worker as they broke the news to Ruby’s family. Their reaction was heart-wrenching and Maggie blinked rapidly to clear the mist of tears from her eyes as the family broke down. Whatever sadness she felt was insignificant to what the family were experiencing, and they needed her to be strong and do her job.

  They limped through the next couple of hours, getting Ruby out of bed for cuddles with her parents— no easy feat still ventilated with all the associated tubes—and just trying to be there for the distraught family. When the first day-shift person arrived Maggie almost kissed their feet.

  All the staff on the night shift were affected by what was going on in bed eight and there wasn’t one of them that didn’t want to go home to hug their kids or their loved ones and escape the unfolding tragedy.

  It was well after eight by the time Maggie finished handing over and catching up on her charting. She was tired but edgy and the prospect of going home to an empty house with no distractions from the image of Ruby stubbornly implanted in her head was depressing as hell. She knew she wasn’t going to sleep, even though her body craved respite.

  She got into the lift, too tired to take the stairs. It dinged open on the top floor and she headed for the fire exit that led out to the rooftop car park. Nash was halfway through it when she rounded the corner.

  They looked at each other for a few moments, both a little battered from the long night with no rest stops and the emotional whammy of Ruby. ‘Here you are,’ he said. ‘I went looking for you.’

  ‘Here I am,’ she said.

  Nash stepped out into the car park and she followed him. The early sunshine had been usurped by heavy clouds and a cool breeze blew across the rooftop. It looked bleak, matching their mood perfectly. He turned back and opened his mouth to tell her how sorry he was about Ruby but she spoke first.

  ‘Do you want to come back to my place?’

  Nash blinked. He understood where the request was coming from. He’d seen how gutted she’d been when the surgeons had imparted their tragic news. Had felt it cut deep into his soul too, remembering Tammy. ‘I thought we were a one-night-only deal,’ he asked cautiously.

  Maggie looked him straight in the eye, knowing it was wrong to want it. Want him. Like this. After tonight. But it was the only thing that made any sense right now—she wasn’t going to question it. ‘I don’t want to be alone today.’

  Her honesty hit him square in the solar plexus. Neither did he. He couldn’t think of a better way to try and forget last night than being in Maggie’s bed. ‘Your car or mine?’

  He drove and they sat in silence all the way to her place for which she was grateful. She didn’t want to rehash or speculate about what would happen on the unit today. She wanted a shower and she wanted him. To get lost in him, to be wrapped up in him.

  Nash followed her up the front steps as he had the other night and waited for her to open the door. She pushed it open and shut it again after them. She looked so desolate he wanted to make it better.

  ‘You know Ruby’s—’

  Maggie held up her hand to silence him. ‘Can we please just not talk?’

  Nash nodded. She turned and he followed her through the house, into her bedroom and beyond to her en suite. She started peeling off her clothes and he joined her. When she was naked she flicked on the shower and stepped under the spray, holding out her arms to him.

  He stepped in and she kissed him again and again, twining her arms around his neck, fusing her body with his. Kisses that took over, that made her forget. Deep and wet. Full of passion. Tinged with sorrow. She gave herself up to desire, letting it rise up and sweep the sadness away.

  He soaped her body with long slippery strokes and it was only when he was buried deep inside her, her legs wrapped around his waist, screaming his name as their climaxes hit, that she finally let go of the emotions that had threatened to rise up all morning.

  She clung to his shoulders, her head buried in his neck as deep sobs shook her chest and her orgasm shook her to the core. When she spiralled down, she was more exhausted than she’d ever thought possible.

  Nash turned off the taps, wrapped her in a fluffy towel, picked her up and carried her to the unmade bed. He lowered her to the sheets, joining her, spooning behind her, her head tucked under his chin, his arm clasped around her waist.

  They were both asleep in minutes.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  NASH WOKE IN the darkened room to the patter of rain on the roof and Maggie on her side, her bare back to him, murmuring into the phone. He looked at his watch. Two o’clock. They’d been asleep for five hours.

  He heard Maggie say, ‘Just ringing to check on Ruby,’ and ‘I see,’
and ‘I’m fine,’ before she hung up the phone. He reached out and laid his hand against her back between her shoulder blades and admired the contrast between his bronzed skin and the creamy richness of hers.

  ‘Has she gone?’

  Maggie nodded, her heart unbearably heavy. She didn’t turn. ‘An hour ago.’

  The inevitability of Ruby’s situation didn’t ease the impact of her words. Nash felt the little girl’s death deep in his soul. Remembered Tammy’s death and the devastating time that had followed all over again. He ran his hand across to Maggie’s shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze.

  She shut her eyes at his comforting gesture, grateful for his silence. He’d known just what she’d needed like only another who worked in the field could. Her ex, an engineer, had never understood. He’d tried to fill her sadness up with clichÉd phrases or contrived distractions, but none of them had worked as well as Nash’s simple touch.

  She didn’t blame Peter. He’d tried hard but ultimately he hadn’t been able to understand that every death took a little piece out of her soul. That she was diminished a little each time. That life made a little less sense with each tragedy.

  ‘I’m sorry. I get too involved,’ she murmured, falling back against her pillow and staring at the ceiling.

  Nash rolled up on his elbow and looked into her sad brown eyes. He’d hoped that the nurses who had looked after Tammy at the end had been even half as involved. ‘You should never apologise for that.’

  Maggie smiled at him and lifted her palm to cradle his jaw, scratchy with blond stubble. ‘Thank you.’

  Nash turned his head and pressed a kiss to her palm. ‘Are you hungry?’

  His lips tickled against her palm and she moved it up higher, pushing her fingers into his thick, wavy hair. ‘Starving.’

  He kissed her briefly on the mouth. ‘Stay there, I’ll rustle us up something to eat.

  ‘There’s not much there, I’m afraid.’ Maggie had been on a run of days before her nights and hadn’t had the chance or the inclination to shop.

  Nash rolled off the bed and grinned down at her. ‘I am a master of making meals out of nothing.’

  ‘Oh?’ Maggie said, her gaze wandering down his naked body because he was just too magnificent to ignore.

  He could feel his body respond to her blatant enjoyment. ‘Years of sharing flats and camping out back home have honed my culinary skills. Trust me.’

  ‘Hmm,’ she said, distracted by his burgeoning interest being displayed in full-frontal colour.

  ‘Of course, if you keep looking at me like that, I’m just going to skip it and go straight to dessert.’

  Maggie dragged her eyes away from his groin and blushed at the way his gaze was devouring her breasts. Her nipples hardened. But then her stomach growled into the silence and he chuckled.

  ‘I’ll be right back. Don’t move a muscle.’

  Nash made a brief detour into the bathroom for his underwear before heading for the kitchen. He opened the fridge and surveyed the sparse contents. A tub of yoghurt, skimmed milk, half a loaf of bread, a dried-out-looking carrot and three tomatoes.

  Hmm. This was going to be a challenge even for him.

  He opened the freezer and smiled. Maybe not.

  ‘Dessert after all,’ Nash said a few minutes later, carrying in a tray with two bowls piled with ice cream.

  ‘What—no loaves-and-fishes miracle today?’ Maggie teased.

  Nash laughed as he placed the tray on the bed. ‘Please. Mother Hubbard has more food than you. But,’ he said, ‘I can’t fault your taste in ice cream.’

  A waft of something floral tickled her nose and Maggie’s gaze fell to the other object on the tray. The miniature crystal vase she kept on her window sill was sporting a spray of frangipani blossoms. She glanced at Nash. ‘They from my garden?’

  He nodded. ‘I hope you don’t mind. I noticed them through the window.’

  Maggie was inordinately touched. She hadn’t pictured Nash as the romantic type but after the horror of last night it was the perfect gesture. She fingered a velvety petal admiring the vibrant yellow centre. ‘Of course not. It was a lovely thought.’

  He smiled at her and passed her a bowl. ‘Eat up.’

  Maggie sat and they ate the decadent chocolate macadamia ice cream in silence for a few moments. She felt tired but his company and the aroma of frangipani was keeping the dreadful sadness at bay.

  Nash was distracted from the sensational taste by the swing of her breasts in his peripheral vision as she sat cross-legged and oblivious. Thoughts of dropping a spoonful of the dark ice cream on the centre of her chest and watching as her body heat warmed it and it ran in rivulets over her breasts taunted him.

  He didn’t think he would ever be able to get enough of seeing her naked. Maggie, he realised, was becoming addictive. Like double chocolate macadamia ice cream. Like a drug. ‘Why don’t we keep this thing going?’ he asked casually as he took another mouthful.

  Maggie paused with the spoon halfway to her mouth. Her heart skipped a beat. ‘What thing?’

  Nash swallowed. ‘This,’ he said, waving his empty spoon between them. ‘Us.’

  He watched her, waiting for her reaction. She piled some more ice cream on her spoon and popped it in her mouth.

  ‘I know it was supposed to be a one-night deal, Maggie.’ It was suddenly vitally important that he convince her. He couldn’t think of another person he’d rather spend time with before he went overseas. ‘But we’ve already stepped over that line. What harm can there be just having fun together for the next couple of months?’

  What harm indeed? He made it sound so simple. So tempting. And maybe it was. Looking at him, at all his incredible male vitality, his youth, his vigour, the prospect of a relationship with him seemed utterly ludicrous. But sitting next to him eating ice cream, his bare broad shoulders so close she could lean in and press a kiss to them, a short affair involving mutual gratification seemed infinitely possible.

  But. Was it right? It might seem lame to a lot of people but Maggie prided herself on always trying to do the right thing. Was having sex with a man ten years her junior the right thing to do? Just because they desired each other? And what about the gossip? Did she want to be the laughing stock of the hospital? The resident cradle-snatcher? ‘I’m not really into casual.’

  Nash chuckled. ‘What’s wrong with casual, Maggie May?’

  His laugh was full of humour and sin and licked flames deep inside her, and she suddenly felt old. The differences between them were stark. He didn’t have a problem with keeping it light, casual. Whereas she’d reached a stage in her life that craved the security of a relationship. Of waking up together everyday with someone. Maggie knew from experience how good it could be, how fulfilling. It wasn’t that she was out there actively looking for it but she knew she was too old to play games.

  After her divorce she hadn’t thought she’d ever feel like this again, and she was surprised to discover she did now that Nash had forced her hand. She didn’t want to invest too much emotional energy in someone who wasn’t sticking around. Who wasn’t a keeper. Because, as she’d already told him, she got too involved.

  Nash was still trying out all the rides in the playground. And that was fine. But he could keep the swings and roundabouts. ‘Nothing, I guess,’ she murmured. ‘Just not my style.’

  ‘You have a style?’

  Maggie smiled. ‘I do now.’ She finished her dessert and pushed the bowl onto the bedside table, easing herself down until she was on her back again, the pillow behind her head, the sheet pulled up.

  ‘So we just stay…?’

  Maggie wasn’t quite sure how to define it. ‘Friends?’

  Nash eased back too, rolling on his side, propped on one elbow, while his other hand held the bowl. ‘With benefits?’

  God, he was beautiful, looking at her with the promise of an unrivalled sexual adventure. It sucked all the air from her lungs. Could she really pass that up? ‘Maybe. Occasio
nally. I don’t know.’

  It wasn’t much of a concession but he grinned at her. He was so addicted to Maggie he’d take whatever crumb she threw him at the moment. And then he’d make her so crazed with passion she’d be begging him to take up residence in her bed. Until January anyway. ‘Maybe I could help to persuade you,’ he murmured.

  He placed the nearly empty bowl on the bed and slowly pulled the sheet away. He watched her watching him, desire making her eyes glazed and fluttering her eyelids to half-mast. He scooped his spoon into the bowl and filled it with soft ice cream. She was still watching him with those slumberous eyes and Nash felt a fist turn in his groin.

  ‘I’ve been wanting to do this for ages,’ he murmured as he held the spoon above her chest and watched the cold, gooey ice cream slide off and land dead centre. It practically sizzled.

  Maggie gasped. ‘That’s freezing.’

  Nash smiled as her nipples turned to engorged dusky icicles before his eyes. ‘Not for long.’ Already a brown puddle was gathering at the base of the cold glob.

  ‘I hate being cold.’

  But Nash could hear the desire trembling in her voice and watched as she stared at the melting ice cream, her bottom lip caught between her teeth.

  ‘Are you just going to leave it there?’ she demanded in a voice husky with need.

  He dropped his head and kissed a creamy shoulder. ‘Until it melts, and then I’m going to lick it all off.’

  A rivulet escaped then and slowly trekked down the slope of her left breast. It was like warmed mud found in expensive spas and Nash watched its torturously slow trip, salivating. Finally it pooled at the base of her puckered nipple.

  He grinned at her then dropped his head again to suck the melted ice cream from her nipple. He groaned as Maggie arched her back, forcing the sweet, hard, elongated contours deeper into his mouth. When he’d removed the chocolate coating he shifted slightly, trailing the flat of his tongue back up the muddy pathway that had traversed her breast.

  Nash lifted his head, satisfied he’d lapped up every last bit, only to find tributaries of warmed chocolate oozing everywhere now. Over both breasts, towards her neck and down her ribcage like a sweet sticky web.