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She swung her legs from the trolley and reached for her bag. Somewhere in the depths of this giant tote bag should be her watch—she’d slipped it off earlier when her wrist had felt uncomfortable. She rummaged around inside the bag—lipstick, phone, receipts, purse, umbrella, spare undies, fold-up flat shoes, pens, pens and more pens. Ten minutes later she gave up. She pulled the cuff from her arm, the ripping Velcro echoing around the quiet emergency department. Where had everyone gone?
As her bare feet hit the cold linoleum floor her head swam a little. How long had it been since she’d eaten? Judging from how her stomach felt, it must have been hours. A little gust of cold air struck her back. Blast! She still had on her hospital gown. It fastened down her back and currently felt like fresh-air fortnight back there; thank goodness she had respectable undies on. She grasped the back of her gown in her hands and stuck her head out between the curtains, glancing one way, then the other, out into the eerie silence, before heading towards the nurses’ station. It was deserted and according to the white board on the wall she was the only patient currently in the E.R. No wonder it was so quiet around here.
Then the thought struck her. Of course there were no other patients—the President and the First Family were in this hospital. She’d only got in here by default. Fainting at the police cordon could do that for you.
A packet of half-eaten cookies sat on the desk. She looked around again. Still no people. Well, if someone wanted to leave an open packet of cookies unguarded they could take the consequences. She flopped down into one of the nearby chairs and grabbed a cookie, oblivious to the crumbs falling down the front of her hospital gown, and closed her eyes. Bliss.
‘Do you always steal the staff food?’
Amy’s eyes shot open and she spluttered, which turned into a cough as part of a cookie lodged in her throat.
Lincoln looked amused as he went around behind her and gave her two hard slaps on the back.
She coughed the piece of cookie back up, catching it in her hand before depositing it in the trash can. She held her hands up. ‘Guilty.’
She looked around the darkened corridors. ‘Where did you spring from? I never even heard you. This place is like a scene from a bad slasher movie.’
Lincoln laughed, looking at the deserted corridors. He pointed to a door down the hallway. ‘I came from the staffroom, where the current E.R. staff are watching reruns of the baby announcement. Don’t think they’ve ever had it so quiet. And you…’ he pointed at her ‘…are apparently resting peacefully with a still-borderline blood pressure and signs of pre-eclampsia.’
Amy rolled her eyes. She lifted her leg and stuck it on the nearby chair, prodding around her ankle and then further up her shin. ‘I think the oedema is getting worse.’
Lincoln bent his head towards her leg under the dimmed lights. He was so close she could feel his breath on her skin. He ran his hand up and down her leg.
Wow! A physical examination wasn’t supposed to feel like that. It wasn’t supposed to make your skin prickle and your blood heat. Thank goodness she’d shaved her legs, or the hairs would currently be standing on end!
But what about him? How was he feeling right now? Did he know the effect he was having on her? Lincoln had always had a wicked sense of humour—was he teasing her? Knowing that her insides had currently turned to mush?
‘Any oedema around your abdomen?’
His voice broke through her thoughts. So much for illicit daydreams. She bit her lip and shrugged her shoulders. ‘To be honest, I didn’t really look when I woke up. I was too busy in the hunt for food.’
‘Do you want me to get you something to eat?’
‘Can you? This place looks as if it’s closed down for the night.’
‘Aha.’ He put a finger to his lips. ‘I might only have been here for two days but I prioritised. I made sure I’m best friends with the canteen staff. What do you want?’
Pictures of barbecue chicken breasts, fresh green salads and French fries swam in front of her eyes. Closely followed by images of scrambled eggs and sausages. It was amazing the weird cravings that pregnancy gave you—even in the middle of the night. She sighed. ‘To be honest, Linc, I’ll take whatever I can get.’
He stretched out his hand towards her in the dim light. She hesitated, just for a second. Was this a doctor-patient thing? No. It wasn’t. David Fairgreaves was her doctor. Linc was her friend. Her good friend. A friend she was going to have to persuade to take care of her baby.
She reached up towards his hand. ‘You’re going to have to heave, Linc, I don’t think I can get out this chair.’
He enclosed her hand with both of his and gave her a gentle tug from the low-seated chair. The momentum caught her unawares and she took a few steps forward, her hands coming automatically upwards and resting on his hard chest.
And she stopped.
Both hands were resting on his firm muscle, his face just a few inches from hers. In the dim light she could see his dark-blue-rimmed eyes pulling her in. See his perfect skin, with a light stubble on his chin. Before she knew it, her fingers had moved upwards and touched his shadowed jaw. This was how her dream started. A smile broke across his face, his hand moved across her back and she felt two fingers resting lightly at the base of her spine, between the gap in her patient gown. Would he kiss her?
When was the last time she’d felt like this? When was the last time she’d wanted a man to kiss her? To feel his touch on her skin? Her lips tingled, aching to feel his pressing against them. Her tongue ran along them, desperate to give them some moisture and invite him in.
‘I don’t know if I’m dressed appropriately for the staff canteen,’ she whispered.
He looked downwards. His eyes following the gentle swell on one side of her breast. Her breath caught in her throat. Would he look to the other side? Would his face register disgust or displeasure?
Neither. His eyes stayed fixed on one side. As if there was nothing wrong. As if the gap on the other side was the most natural thing in the world. Something lurched inside her and she almost jerked in recognition of what it was. Acceptance. This was her. This was her body shape now. And there was no need to feel ashamed or embarrassed. Her skin flushed. For the first time in a long time she felt like a woman again. His lips brushed against her ear, his voice husky. ‘From where I’m standing, you look just fine.’
I’m dreaming. This isn’t really happening. I’m still lying on that hospital gurney, waiting for the BP cuff to go off again.
Light spilled across them. The door from the staffroom opened. A person still facing inside and laughing at the jokes stood with their foot jammed in the door, sending bright white light spilling down the corridor towards them.
Lincoln stepped backwards. For a second he looked like the proverbial deer caught in the headlights, before he regained his composure and cleared his throat.
‘The canteen,’ he said. ‘I was going to take you to the canteen.’ It was almost as if he was saying the words out loud to remind himself what he was supposed to be doing.
His hands fell back to his waist and he gave her a nod in the other direction. ‘The canteen’s this way, Goldilocks. Let’s see what we can get you to eat.’
He took a few long strides ahead of her, making short work of the corridor and pushing open the swing door at the other end and holding it open for her.
‘I think Goldilocks was a blonde, not a redhead,’ she murmured as she followed him, still grasping self-consciously at her gown.
‘But look how much trouble she got into for the search for food,’ he replied promptly, sending another smile across her face. The easy banter between them was returning as quickly as it had left. Linc was obviously relaxing again. And she was glad. That was when she liked him best.
