Читать книгу One Month to Become a Mum - Louisa George, Louisa George - Страница 7

‘A BEE sting? I’ll be right there.’ Luke shoved away the inconvenient distracting thoughts about his locum that had been flitting in and out of his head all morning, and focused on the emergency. Adrenalin kicked into his gut like a mini-explosion and he relished the buzz it gave him. Managed properly, the outcome would be fine. Managed badly and …

Bee sting. Anaphylaxis. Death.

He hurried down to Reception, to be met by a cacophony and chaos.

A small crowd had formed around a woman who was screaming relentlessly. Her shrieks filled the waiting room, the agony of panic and fear. A flushed child hung from her arms.

‘Quick, my boy. Help.’ The woman charged at him. ‘He can’t breathe.’

‘Ambulance. Oxygen. Resus trolley,’ Luke yelled at his receptionist, ignoring the tearing in his heart at the sight of a desperately sick child. No matter how many times he dealt with this kind of emergency it always threw him back to Lucy in a hospital bed hooked up to a ventilator. But he had no time to surrender to emotion, he needed medical auto pilot. ‘Room One. Now.’

Grabbing the child, he ran to the closest treatment room, laid the boy on the couch and began to assess.

‘Name?’

The boy’s mum pushed forward and held her son’s hand. Her face was ashen as she struggled to get the words out. ‘Ty-Tyler.’

‘Age?’

She looked at him, puzzled.

‘I need to know for the medicine dosage.’

‘Seven.’

‘Weight?’

‘I don’t know … twenty-odd kilos. I think.’ Her mouth trembled as her voice wavered again. ‘I should know. How could I not know?’

‘It’s okay. We’ll work it out.’ Because of Lucy’s asthma he knew every single relevant detail of her life, and lots of the irrelevant stuff too. But he couldn’t blame this mother. How could she comprehend that knowing a child’s weight at any given moment might be important, just in case of an inconceivable emergency?

Tyler’s lips had doubled in size, his arms and face and what was visible of his chest in the V of his shirt were covered in angry red hives. His puffed-up eyes screamed out for help as he writhed and clutched his throat. Traces of vomit graced his front. His whole body shook in panic. But he was whimpering. Which meant he could breathe. For now.

Luke checked Tyler’s pulse. Rapid and weak. He wrapped an automatic blood-pressure cuff around the boy’s arm and waited for its verdict. Dangerously low. Slipping a pulse oxy-meter onto Tyler’s thumb, he grimaced.

‘Come on. Where the hell is that oxygen? The trolley?’ Sats dropping, airway almost compromised. Was he supposed to just watch the boy sink into arrest?

This reaction was severe and headed down a perilous path. Anaphylaxis had its own timetable. And it was always too fast.

‘Where was he stung?’

‘Back of his neck. I put ice on.’

‘Any other allergies?’

‘No. I should have watched him more closely.’ The mother’s hands trembled and tears ran down her cheeks. She pulled down the back of Tyler’s collar and revealed a livid lump with a tiny black barb sticking out.

Luke grabbed tweezers and yanked the sting out. ‘Has he any other medical problems?’

‘N-no. Oh, my God. Help him.’ She tore at Luke’s sleeve, barring his way.

‘I’m trying. Please. If you could just wait outside. We need …’

He glanced to the door and beckoned to Maggie, the practice nurse, to take Tyler’s mother to a calmer environment. Though he knew every pore of her would strain to stay with her child, his own ghoulish experiences had taught him she would never ever forget the disturbing images that could unfold. He wouldn’t wish that on another parent.

As Maggie shuffled the desperate mum away, Luke caught sight of Jessie, portable oxygen tank in one hand and dragging a trolley behind her with the other. Thank God.

Another doctor. Help. That must be why the hairs on the back of his neck had stood to attention at the sight of her. Yes.

Hopefully he wouldn’t have to bark orders.

She threw the cylinder onto the bed and switched it on. The reassuring whoosh of pressurised oxygen filled the room. ‘Anaphylaxis?’

‘Yep. Bee sting. Pretty rapid onset. I need adrenalin. Now.’

‘I’ve got heaps, shame you can’t bottle it.’ For a millisecond her eyes met his. Her calm dark pupils glistened. Clearly she enjoyed emergency work as much as he did. A shot of heat pumped alongside the adrenalin racing through his veins. He took a steadying breath.

Focus.

As Jessie secured the mask over Tyler’s grossly swollen face, Luke snatched out a packet of ampoules and an injection set. He checked the label. ‘Adrenaline 1 per 1000. 0.3 mL. Right?’ He drew the clear liquid into the syringe and primed the needle. ‘Now, I need to get this into him.’

He turned to the child. ‘Hold on there, Tyler. Let’s get those shorts up, mate. A sharp scratch. Attaboy.’

Luke couldn’t wait for more than a nod of consent. ‘Stay still. Still.’

If he stopped, just for a second, he could risk this child’s life. He dragged up the leg of Tyler’s shorts and plunged the life-saving fluid deep into his thigh muscle.

‘And I’ll secure intravenous access.’ Jessie searched the trolley but shook her head. ‘Which is the twenty-four gauge? The packaging’s different wherever you go.’

‘Clear packet.’ He directed her to the right-sized luer.

‘Got it.’ She snapped a tourniquet round Tyler’s skinny arm, tapped gently then stabbed the sharp point into his vein. ‘Damn, I think his peripherals are shutting down. No, no, wait.’

She peered down, a concentrated frown on her face. The boy’s arm flopped to the side as she rubbed and palpated. ‘We’re good to go. I’ll get a line up and some normal saline in.’

The look she flashed him was one of pure relief.

The boy was in shock and needed an urgent boost. If IV access wasn’t secured now and his veins shut down completely there’d be hell to pay and a bigger mess when he got to the hospital.

‘Well done, Grinch.’

This new look she threw him wasn’t so gleeful. But it still had the same effect. A direct hit to his abdomen where it pooled in a shimmering glow. Damn. Tyler might be crawling out of the woods but Luke was getting woefully lost in the details of a woman’s smile. What on earth was wrong with him today? Find a map and get out quick.

‘Mum?’ Tyler dragged the mask from his face, his voice wobbly and weak. His eyes were bloodshot and very, very scared. ‘Where’s Mum?’

‘Steady on, Tyler. I know this sucks.’ Luke gently but firmly pushed the mask back over Tyler’s face. Could someone please invent a mask that doesn’t frighten the hell out of kids?

‘Doesn’t matter if they’re disguised as fish, dragons or shaped like kooky lollipops, they still make a scary noise, eh, buddy?’ Jessie stroked the boy’s head.

Luke stood open-mouthed. ‘Are you a mind reader? I was thinking the exact same thing. Weird.’

‘What?’ She frowned. ‘No. It’s just scary for them. Keep that there a bit longer, Ty, while the juice works its magic.’

‘Want Mum.’

‘I’ll send someone for her in a minute, mate. Hold still. You’re being real brave.’ A wriggling patient normally caused Luke a great deal of agro, but this time it meant he’d done his job and saved a life.

Relief surged into his belly. He leaned against the trolley and allowed himself a deep exhalation.

He always worked on autopilot, pushing back any thoughts of what-ifs and maybes, following a path of medical drugs and best practice. The high of his own fight-or-flight chemicals carried him along. But after the event he struggled with the kickback, the jittery blast of emotion and the unassailable desperate truth that one day it might just be his own daughter he was working on.

‘Back with us?’ Jessie stroked the boy’s hair and beamed at Luke. Her eyes lit up, revealing gold flecks in the pools of deep blue. Thick black eyelashes brushed her cheeks and a smattering of freckles crinkled over her nose. Her body relaxed into the smile as she nodded and spoke. ‘His resp rate’s much better already. Blood pressure rising. Sats at ninety-eight. I can never get over just how quickly adrenalin kicks in.’

‘Yeah. They don’t call it a rush for nothing.’

That smile just about stopped Luke’s heart beating. The warmth of it reached right down to his toes, wrapping him in a haze of heat.

But there was more to a woman than a bright smile. Lies, arguments and pain, for example. This was why he spent every day as a single dad. He may be half of an excellent doctoring team, but flying solo at home suited him just fine. It was like a comfortable sofa he’d no intention of updating.

He forced himself to look away and fuss with the luer, finding his equilibrium again.

Tyler’s mother’s chipped toenails and stripy jandals came into his peripheral vision. He scanned upwards, hoping she hadn’t seen the extent to which they’d had to manhandle her child. ‘Hi, there. How’re you doing?’

‘Is he okay? What happened?’ Her voice trembled.

Luke wrapped an arm round her, helped her find a spot to sit next to her son. He knew how much she’d be wanting to touch Tyler, hold him, breathe him in. ‘It’s okay. He’s going to be fine. Yes, you can hold his hand. He’s a bit of a pin cushion, though and he’s been through the wars.’

He rubbed his knuckles across the boy’s head and ruffled his hair. The kid smiled weakly and Luke felt a comradely connection. ‘I reckon he deserves a treat later. Maybe when he gets the all-clear, ice cream might be nice?’

Jessie watched in awe. Forget bombastic. Commanding. Empathetic. Luke’s velvet voice had taken on a lulling tone, so calming. Trust me, it said.

It certainly seemed to be working on Tyler and his mum, who gazed at him, solemn as he reassured them.

He did everything by the book. Assessing, acting, anticipating. And all with genuine compassion.

‘As you know, Tyler had an allergic reaction to a bee sting.’ Luke held the woman’s hand and now focused entirely on her as he spoke. ‘We’ve given him an injection to help, but sometimes the reaction can come back. So we’ll keep an eye on him in hospital for a day or so. Has this ever happened before?’

‘No. Never. It was horrible.’ She shivered and turned to Jessie. ‘You saved his life. Thank you.’

‘Hey, really, it’s my job. He might have to carry a special injection around with him after this. Just in case he gets another sting, and another reaction this bad.’

Jessie twisted to check on their patient. She’d been holding his wrist and monitoring his pulse. ‘He’s getting a better colour in his lips now. His heart’s still racing, but that’ll be from the bolus of adrenalin. It saved his life, but it can give a heck of a kick to the system.’

Maggie popped back into the room and glanced at each of them in turn. ‘Oh, good. Ambulance is here. I’ll show them in.’

After twenty minutes and a detailed handover Jessie stood in Reception and watched Luke say goodbye to his patient. A buzz of excitement still thrilled round her body. Excess adrenalin was always hard to shake off. At least, she put it down to the medical emergency and not the view.

Luke had handled everything with a professionalism and calm that had had everyone doing his bidding. And yet she’d never seen a more compassionate and composed doctor. His morning clinic had ended with a bang and he still remained as fresh as if the day had just begun. Still Dr Perfect. How did he manage it?

Unlike her. She ran a hand over her hair and looked round for a mirror. Scarecrow chic now probably.

Alarm bells rang loudly in her head. Since coming back to New Zealand, she’d become more and more concerned about how she looked. What did it matter all of a sudden? Appearances didn’t matter. Work did. Saving lives did. Tyler did.

Of course, it was easy—scratch that, essential—for a woman with scars to believe that. Anything else would be just plain stupid. Or egotistical suicide. And she certainly wasn’t into that.

Luke’s eyebrows rose as he closed the front door and turned to her. ‘Thanks for your help in there. You’re one hell of a doctor.’

Heat shunted up her neck. Yes, she was a good doctor. But it felt great hearing it from a colleague. ‘Ditto. Are you okay?’

‘Sure. Why not?’

‘I just thought, having Lucy, it must be hard dealing with sick littlies.’ She knew how hard it was and was giving him a let-out to voice it. ‘We don’t just have to suck it up, you know. It can be good to talk about it.’

‘I’m fine. Seriously.’ His back straightened and his shoulders pushed back. If he had any kind of fatherly concerns, he wasn’t going to share them. ‘We handled everything by the book, I’d say.’

And so she left it. There was a faint question in his eye, then a shut-down look like the one in the car. He clearly wasn’t comfortable talking about his life or Lucy or his worries.

She shrugged and changed the subject. ‘Turning into an interesting first day.’

‘You can say that again.’

He stopped in front of her, jotted a note, signed some prescriptions. As he wrote, fluidly and neatly for a doctor, his shoulders relaxed and his features softened. Then he turned to her and smiled. His blue-grey eyes were like burnished steel, sparked with a heat that reached to her belly. ‘I would like to invite you to lunch.’

‘Oh?’ No need for the hackles. The guy was probably married. Although he wore no wedding band. No white mark. No mention of a wife. Good grief, how did she know that?

‘I usually do a quick debrief at the sushi bar on a locum’s first day. But unfortunately I have a load of errands to run. It’s Lucy’s birthday next week and I’m on party duty. Maybe later in the week?’

She breathed out deeply. ‘No worries, I’ll grab a roll and catch up on paperwork. Maybe familiarise myself again with the resus trolley.’

She flashed him a conspiratorial smile. Memorising the colour-coded packs on the resus trolley was a matter of professional pride. Besides, hours out of his presence would be a fine idea. Then perhaps she could work out why she’d made a study of his left ring finger. ‘Hope you get it all sorted.’

‘Petting zoos and bouncy castles? I doubt it. There’s way too much to get my head around. And I thought medical finals were hard.’ He turned. ‘Maybe we can debrief later? After surgery. Five o’clock.’

‘I was hoping to get home …’

But he was gone.

‘Okay, see you later.’ Jess sighed. So, he lived a busy life. Full-time doctor and very hands on dad. Hopefully tonight’s meeting would be quick if he had a family to go home to and a party to arrange.

She looked round the empty reception area and pushed him out of her head. Where to start? Resus trolley? Sushi?

But that made her think of him again.

‘Oh.’ He stuck his head back around the door, making her jump almost out of her skin. ‘Daft idea, but I don’t suppose you know anything about organising parties for a three-year-old? To be honest, I’m flummoxed by it all. I’m told fancy dress is mandatory. Apparently.’

‘Er … no.’ Typical, he’d come back just as she’d been able to breathe normally again and now her breath had been snatched away. She couldn’t remember the last party she’d been to, kid’s or otherwise. Invites weren’t exactly forthcoming when she moved around enough not to forge any meaningful relationships.

She pressed against the reception desk, grateful to lean against something solid. Almost instinctively her palm ran over the hard knobbles and knots of skin over her abdomen. She cradled the emptiness, the place where she’d once felt her baby kick. Now a mess of scarred tissue. A shaft of pain exploded in her stomach. She breathed it away, shook her head. No. No kid’s parties. And no point dwelling on the past.

‘Sorry. No idea. I’m definitely the wrong person to ask.’

‘Ah, well, worth trying.’

Dragging on a smile, she shrugged. ‘Anyway, shouldn’t you be discussing parties with Lucy’s mum?’

‘Yeah, right.’ His jaw muscles tightened as he turned back towards the corridor. ‘Forget it, I’ll sort it out.’

Brilliant. Deep joy. Talk about putting her two size sevens straight into her big, stupid, careless mouth.

Jessie stared at the computer screen, trying to concentrate on the next patient’s notes. But so many new questions crowded her head. Why wouldn’t Luke talk to Lucy’s mother about organising parties? The only clues she had were the flicker of disdain in his eyes and the clenched cheek muscle; clearly relations between him and the girl’s mother were strained.

‘Excuse me? Jessie?’ Maggie bustled into the room, dragging Jessie away from her reverie. ‘Any chance you can see Kyle Phillips soon? He’s tearing around the waiting room and driving his mum close to tears.’

‘Of course. I was just about to call him in.’

‘I could ask Luke to squeeze him in if you’re too busy.’ Maggie looked pointedly around the empty room, no doubt wondering why on earth they’d employed such a slacker. ‘He usually sees Kyle, but he’s double-booked most of this afternoon. Shame, they’ve just pitched up on the off chance we could fit them in.’

Jessie’s stomach tumbled at the mention of Luke’s name. Traitorous stomach, it was way more interested in him and his business than was good for her.

But her head wasn’t. Michael had sealed her belief that relationships and her couldn’t work. Discovering her husband’s infidelity after her accident, losing her baby and then her marriage, had tattooed a promise onto her heart. Never again.

‘Yes, yes, of course, send Kyle in right away.’ And stop me thinking about Luke and his smile.

Was she thinking about his smile now too? What the hell happened to never again? So he had a cute smile. Perfect teeth. Big deal. Probably paid a zillion dollars in dentistry.

Despite the urgency to get the next patient in, Maggie seemed to prefer talking about her employer. ‘Luke’s always so punctual, his clinics never run late. Don’t know how he manages it, what with little Lucy. She’s a handful. But he has everything organised to work around her routine.’

‘Sounds like he’s a regular miracle worker.’

‘It was a big shock, you know, and such a change for him. He hadn’t a care in the world a few years ago—a big social life, partying.’

‘Partying?’

‘As soon as he had Lucy he put all that behind him. He’s doing so well as a solo parent.’

Aha. Now the fog lifted. ‘Sounds like I’ll be hearing lots more about him over the next few weeks.’ Hopefully like what the heck had happened to Lucy’s mother and how come Luke managed not to have a care in the world when he had a family to provide for?

Jessie looked at the computer clock.

‘I’m five minutes late already.’ She slid her chair back and tried to look like she meant business. ‘I’d better catch up.’

Stacey Phillips shifted in her seat and placed a trembling hand on her three-year-old’s shoulder. ‘For goodness sake, sit still, Kyle, and let the doctor look in your ears.’

‘It’s okay, Mr Wriggle-Bottom, I’ve finished looking now.’ Jessie replaced the auroscope on its charger and smiled at Kyle’s mum. ‘Your instincts were right. Kyle has a slight redness on his eardrum, caused by a viral infection, but it’s nothing serious. Antibiotics won’t be any use because they attack bacteria, not viruses, but paracetamol will help with the pain. Bring him back if things don’t settle down.’ Jessie ruffled the boy’s blond locks, handed him a toy train. ‘Here, Kyle, show Mummy the train while I write in your notes. Choo-choo.’

‘Ahh…. choooooo.’ Kyle sneezed, all over Jessie’s trousers. Great. A snot-coloured sticky patch to match her snot-coloured hair. She bit her lip and held in a smile. Her locum pay had better include laundry bills.

The young mother’s face crumpled, her eyes red-rimmed and brimming with tears. ‘I’m so sorry. Really sorry. Kyle, say sorry to the doctor. Naughty boy. Naughty.’

It seemed an extreme reaction to a sneeze. Maybe she was just the anxious type.

‘It’s fine, Stacey. They’ll wash. Worse things happen, believe me. He couldn’t help it.’ Jessie pointed to her shoulder. ‘Sticky patch number one, vomit from a two-year-old. There’s felt tip on my sleeve from an uncoordinated six-year-old. I’ve got four more hours of clinic to get completely covered in gloop. Things are just warming up.’

Stacey seemed appeased by this, but her twitchy demeanour and puffy red face gave Jessie cause for concern. She leaned forward and touched her hand. ‘Is there anything else?’

Stacey shook her head, reached for a tissue, wiped her eyes and the boy’s nose. ‘We should go, I suppose, you’re busy.’

But instead of standing up, Stacey stayed where she was, tears refilling her eyes. As she wrung her hands in her lap, her knee jerked up and down apace. ‘Kyle, please for once sit still.’

Ignoring the flashing on her computer announcing that her next client had arrived, Jessie waited. Stacey needed time and space. Phooey to Luke, Patron Saint of Perfectly Run Clinics. Sometimes patients needed extra attention. ‘Are you worried about something, Stacey?’

Stacey’s hand hovered over her mouth as if holding her words in. She bit her lip and looked away. ‘I missed a period.’

‘You think you might be pregnant?’ Jessie lowered her voice to prevent Kyle hearing.

‘Yes. I have sore boobs and I feel sick pretty much all of the time.’ Stacey’s chin quivered. ‘Just like last time.’

‘And you’re not happy about it?’

‘No. My husband’s just left me. I can’t cope with two kiddies on my own.’ She looked over at her three-year-old now sitting on the floor engrossed in The Monster Book of Dragons. ‘I can’t cope with one. I don’t think I want this.’

‘I understand.’ Jessie nodded and a lump wedged under her diaphragm, pressing deep, catching her breath. Dealing with pregnant mums always brought back an echo of the sadness that had lingered in her bones far too long.

It was the small details that had surprised her the most; how, in the pregnancy books, foetal development was measured in terms of fruit. The size of a strawberry, then a lime, then a grapefruit. She used to joke about how she was going to give birth to a fruit salad.

And how being pregnant had been like carrying the happiest secret ever. And that as her belly had swelled so had her heart. Chock full of love for someone she’d never even met.

She squashed the swell of emotions rising in her chest. Now was not the time to remember these things. She would never let her own experiences interfere with her practice. Stacey needed a coherent, competent doctor not a gloomy one.

‘The thing is, I wanted a baby, my husband didn’t.’ Stacey’s lip wobbled. ‘I thought I could convince him, but all we did was argue.’

‘Sometimes life gets hard, Stacey. I know. Truly.’

Stacey ripped a tissue into fragments and let them drop onto her lap like a tiny snowdrift. ‘I can’t have a baby. It’s not the right time. I don’t know what I’m going to do.’

‘Whatever happens, you’ll get through this. Trust me.’ It did get easier, she knew that from painful experience. It was amazing what you could survive.

Jessie picked up the tissue scraps and put them in the bin, then took hold of Stacey’s hand. ‘Let’s not jump ahead of ourselves. First, I’ll get Maggie to do a pregnancy test.’

‘Oh, no.’ The colour drained from Stacey’s blotchy face. ‘Not Maggie. She’s my husband’s aunt and word spreads so fast here. North Beach is a small town. Small minds make big gossip, my mum used to say. I don’t want him knowing. Not yet. Not until I’ve got my head around it. Please don’t tell anyone.’

‘Of course not, although I will have to write something in your notes. But seeing as this is Kyle’s consult, I can’t think why anyone would need to look at your information. Rest assured, Stacey, I’m here to help. And I won’t tell a soul.’

Luke regarded the view of the swamp pixie’s taut derrière as she stretched to the back of the drug cupboard, and tried to ignore the fizz of heat in his abdomen.

What the heck was going on with his body these days?

He almost groaned in frustration. Weird. He couldn’t remember his hormones ever being this out of sync with his brain.

He battled against this unfamiliar surge of lust. Yes, she was hot. But there were plenty of hot women around.

It felt like over the last two years every emotion had been caught in a weird freeze-frame and now someone—Jessie—had flicked a switch on his awareness scale. And it had spiked.

Inconvenient. And temporary, he’d make sure of that. Dragging back the memory of her odd behaviour that morning, he attempted to activate his ‘off’ switch. As he glanced at her butt again the switch refused to budge.

Damned irritating. All his knowledge of Jessie so far suggested she was a typical, selfish drifter type. Just like Chloe. Endlessly appealing and ethereal. Promising everything and giving nothing. Oh, except a baby to look after.

Professional courtesy deemed he remove his eyes from Jessie’s backside and make polite conversation. ‘How’s it going? Got over this morning’s drama?’

Jessie twisted and peered up at him. The tight corkscrew hair had softened and tendrils framed her face, giving an almost angelic impression. Apart from an odd milky smudge on her shoulder and a large stain on her knee. And the far from angelic stare.

The pulse at her slender throat beat a rapid tattoo and it took a mammoth effort not to place his hand on it, count the beats, touch her skin. But he managed it.

An eyebrow rose as she spoke. ‘Um. What? Sorry?’

‘Ah, nothing. Forget it.’

‘Forgotten already.’ She turned her back to the cupboard and fumbled in her pocket. Then quickly walked away. Was it his imagination, or were her cheeks red?

He watched Jessie’s quickened pace down the corridor. Her delicate way-too-grown-up blouse pulled across a taut ridge of shoulder muscle, and her clenched fists, the jerky movement of her hand to her pocket all sounded alarm bells in his head.

She didn’t look flustered, she looked hunted. He’d seen that look on a woman’s face before—when he’d discovered Chloe’s one-way plane ticket out of North Beach. Her get-out-of-jail-free card, she’d called it. Free? He’d unwittingly footed the bill when she’d borrowed his credit card.

Still, hunted was not at all how he expected a locum to act. Something in her manner didn’t add up. ‘Did you find what you were looking for, Jess?’

She slowed, but didn’t stop. Her hand curled next to her trouser pocket. ‘It’s Jessie. Or Jessica. No one calls me Jess. I don’t like it. I’m. Fine.’

‘You sure?’

Swivelling on her heel, she pierced him with dark blue eyes, the flush of her cheeks now a rash down her neck. A frown etched deep across her forehead. ‘Luke, I’m busy.’

He glanced at her slim fingers as they stole into her pocket. She was hiding something. His pulse jittered.

Keep calm. It may just be nothing. ‘You’ve just seen Kyle Phillips, haven’t you?’

‘Yes.’

‘Everything okay? Didn’t need anything for him?’

‘No.’ She threw him a tight smile and tapped her watch. ‘Got to go. Don’t want to upset the time police.’

As she turned she stumbled against the wall. ‘Stupid heels.’

A packet fell from her pocket to the floor as she edged down the corridor.

‘Hey, you dropped something.’

‘Oh.’ It was more a sigh than a word. She bent to the floor at the same time as he did.

His hand covered the packet.

Her hand covered his and her heat infused his skin. His gaze shot to her face. Wide blue eyes stared up at him. Her teeth bit into her bottom lip.

She shook her head, a tiny movement that shouted, Don’t ask.

He didn’t. He couldn’t. Words lost their way from his brain to his mouth.

God, she was lovely. An ache stole into his stomach. His heart pounded. His lips dried.

Whatever the heck she’d been doing, whatever she’d been hiding, he didn’t care.

Suddenly he wanted to feel the bow of her lips against his, press against her curves, let her body tell him the answers to all those questions zinging around his head.

What? Kiss her? Here? In full view of his staff?

Since when did lust place before trust?

Lust. For God’s sake, where did this sudden weakness come from? Women like Jessie were poison, and he sure as hell wasn’t tempted to have a shot.

Plus, he was in the middle of the double-booked clinic from hell, with no time to analyse this self-destructive reaction to a locum. He just needed to gain some self-control.

‘I’ve got it.’ He snatched his hand from under hers, dragging his gaze away from those captivating eyes, and unfurled the packet from his fist. ‘There you are. Oh, a pregnancy test. Is that all?’

Even the tops of her ears were red as she grabbed the packet and straightened her blouse down over her hips. ‘Thanks.’

‘All this fuss over nothing.’ He blew out a long breath. He had totally misread the situation. Letting memories of Chloe get in the way of a decent working relationship. ‘Maggie usually sorts the tests out, I’ll give her a shout. Tell the patient to wait in the nurses’ area.’

‘It’s…. No. I can handle it.’ Her eyes flicked towards the bathroom. ‘I’ll do it myself.’

Luke’s stomach plummeted a thousand feet.

Fool.

Three-year-old Kyle Phillips certainly didn’t need a pregnancy test. Jessie’s next patient was Frank Carrington, so unless the IVF schedule had been extended to eighty-year-old kumara farmers, the pregnancy test must be hers.

‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.’

Head cocked to one side, her mouth slanted then curved into an O shape. She waved the packet in the air.

‘You thought this was for me?’

Her eyes darkened as she, almost subconsciously, it seemed, ran a hand across her belly. He’d seen her do that a few times—in the car, when she’d first seen Lucy and again now. Unusual. Some kind of nervous reflexive reaction. Like nail biting or toe tapping.

A bitter-sweet laugh erupted from her lips as she walked back into her consulting room. ‘I don’t think so, Luke. Now, I really do have to get on.’

‘Of course.’ He stared at the space she’d left and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, shaken by his visceral reaction to her. Boy, oh, boy, he’d need therapy by the time this woman had finished her three-week stint.

Once he’d have tried to work her out, enjoyed the thrill of the chase, just for the hell of it. But things had got complicated and he’d been badly burnt.

Jessie’s private life was none of his business, and it would stay exactly like that until she left.