Читать книгу Her Playboy's Secret - Tina Beckett, Tina Beckett - Страница 9

FELIX WASN’T AT HOME.

Arms loaded with items for their dinner, Lucas set everything down in the kitchen. “Where is he?”

Chessa, the childminder, shrugged and said in a quiet voice, “He went out an hour ago, saying he needed to buy prawns, and hasn’t come back yet.”

Damn. “And where’s Cora?”

“Outside with Pete.” The young woman’s brow creased. “Should I be worried? He’s been good for the last few weeks, but he did put some bottles of ale in the fridge. I haven’t seen him drink anything, though.”

“It’s okay. It’s not your job to watch him. If he ever fails to come home before you’re supposed to leave, though, call me so I can make sure Cora is taken care of.”

“I would never leave her by herself, Mr. Elliot.” The twenty-five-year-old looked horrified.

“I know you wouldn’t. I just don’t want you to feel you have to stay past your normal time.”

The sliding door opened and in bounded Pete the Geek in a flash of brown and white fur, followed closely by Cora, whose red face said they’d been involved in some sort of running game. The dog came over and sat in front of him, giving a quick woof.

Lucas laughed and reached in his pocket for a treat. “Well, you’re learning.”

He and Cora had been working on teaching Pete not to leap on people who walked through the door. By training him to sit quietly in front of visitors, they forestalled any muddy paw prints or getting knocked down and held prisoner by an overactive tongue. The trick seemed to be working, although if the tail swishing madly across the tile floor was any indication, Pete was holding himself in check with all his might.

Kind of like him when Darcie had smiled at him as he’d left the hospital?

Good thing he had more impulse control than Cora’s dog.

Or maybe Darcie was training him as adeptly as Cora seemed to be training Pete.

“He wants his treat, Uncle Luke.”

Realizing he’d been standing there like an idiot, he tossed the bacon-flavored bit to Pete and then bent down to pet him. “I think he’s gained ten kilos in the last week.”

He squatted and put an arm around both his niece and her dog.

Cora kissed him on the cheek, her thin arms squeezing his neck. “That’s just silly. He doesn’t weigh that much.”

“No?” He gave her a quick peck on the forehead, grimacing when Pete gave his own version of a kiss, swiping across his eyebrow and half his eye in the process. “Okay, enough already.”

He couldn’t hold back his smile, however, despite the niggle of worry that was still rolling around inside him.

Where the hell was his brother?

Standing, he kept one hand on Pete’s head and smiled at the minder. “Would you try ringing his mobile phone and seeing how long he’ll be while I fire up the barbie and get it ready? I don’t know about everyone else but I’m starving.”

His voice was light, but his heart weighed more than the dog at his feet.

“Of course,” Chessa said. “I’ll bring you some lemonade in a few minutes.”

As he was preparing the grill, she came out with a glass and an apologetic shake of her head. “There was no answer, but I left a voice mail.”

“Thank you. Luckily I brought some prawns with me, just in case. Feel free to stay and eat with us, if you’d like.”

She smiled. “Thanks, but if it’s all the same to you, I think I’ll head back to my flat. Do you need anything else?”

“No, I think we’re good.”

Twenty minutes later he had the briquettes going while Cora and Pete—worn out from a rough-and-tumble game of tug of war—lounged in a hammock strung between two gum trees, the dog’s chin propped on his niece’s shoulder. Both looked utterly content. Rescuing Pete had been the best thing his brother had ever done for his daughter, unlike a lot of other things since his wife’s tragic death. In fact, the last four years had been a roller coaster consisting of more lows than highs—with the plunges occurring at lightning speed.

He went in and grabbed the package of prawns and some veggies to roast. Just as he started rinsing the shellfish, the front door opened and in came his brother. Bleary, red-rimmed eyes gave him away.

Perfect. Lucas already knew this routine by heart.

“Was our cookout tonight?” his brother asked, hands as empty as Lucas’s stomach. “I forgot.”

His molars ground against each other as he struggled with his anger and frustration. Was this what love and marriage ultimately led to? Forgetting that anyone else existed outside your own emotional state? Felix had a daughter who needed him, for God’s sake. What was it going to take to make him look at someone besides himself? “Cora didn’t forget.”

His brother groaned out loud then mumbled, “Sorry.”

“I’m just getting ready to throw it all on the barbie, so why don’t you get yourself cleaned up before you go out there to see?”

The first two steps looked steady enough, but the next one swayed a bit to the left before Felix caught himself.

“Tell me you’re not drunk.”

“I’m not.”

“Can you make it to your bedroom on your own?” The last thing Lucas wanted was for Cora to come in and see her father like this, not that she hadn’t in the past. Many times.

Felix scowled. “Of course I can.” He proceeded to weave his way down the hallway, before disappearing into one of the rooms—the bathroom.

Looks like you’re spending the night on your brother’s couch once again, mate.

Lucas had impressed on Cora the need to call him if her father ever seemed “not himself.” The pattern was bizarre with periods of complete normalcy followed by bouts of depression, sometimes mixed with drinking. Not a good combination for someone taking antidepressant medication.

He made a mental note to ask Felix if he was still taking his pills, and another note to make sure he arrived at work…on time! As he’d found out, it was tricky getting Cora off to school and then making the trek to the hospital, but if the traffic co-operated it could be done.

Otherwise that hard-won peace treaty would be shredded between pale English fingers.

Strangely, he didn’t want that. Didn’t want to disappoint her after he’d worked so hard to turn things around between them. Didn’t want to lose those rare smiles in the process. So yes. He would do his damnedest to get to the hospital on time.

And between now and then he’d have to figure out what to do about his brother. Threaten him with another stint in rehab? Take away his car keys?

He cast his eyes up to the ceiling, trying not to blame Melody for allowing his brother to twine his life so completely around hers that he had trouble functioning now that she was gone.

Lucas never wanted to be in a position like that. And so far he hadn’t. He’d played the field far and wide, but he still lived by two hard and fast rules: no married women and no long-term relationships. As long as he could untangle himself with ease the next day, he was happy. And he stuck to women who felt the same way. No hurt feelings. And definitely no burning need to hang around and buy a house with a garden.

Finishing up the veggies, he faintly caught the sound of the shower switching on, the poof from the on-demand water heater confirming his thoughts. Good. At least Felix was doing something productive. He opened the refrigerator, pulled out the ale in the door and popped the top on every single bottle. Then he took a long gulp of the one in his hand, before proceeding to pour the rest of the contents down the drain, doing the same with every other bottle and then placing the lot in the recycle bin. If the beer wasn’t here, Felix couldn’t drink it, right?

Not that that stopped him from going out to the nearest pub, but at least that took some effort, which he hoped Felix didn’t have in him tonight.

Lucas went outside and loaded the prawns into a cooking basket and set it over the fire, then arranged the vegetables next to them on the grate. Cora’s empty glass of lemonade was next to his full one. She was still sprawled on the hammock and it looked like both she and Pete were out for the count. If only he could brush off his cares that easily, he might actually get a full night’s sleep.

But maybe tonight would be different. He’d learned from experience that the fold-out cot in the spare room was supremely uncomfortable. He was better off just throwing a quilt over Melody’s prized couch and settling in for the night there.

And he would wake up on time. He absolutely would.

And he’d arrive at work chipper and ready to face the day.

He hoped.

Something was wrong with Lucas.

He’d come through the doors of the MMU with a frown that could have swallowed most of Melbourne. She’d arrived at work armed with a smile, only to have him look right past her as if she didn’t exist.

Ha! Evidently she’d been wrong about his reaction. Because there was nothing remotely resembling attraction in the man’s eyes today. In fact, his whole frame oozed exhaustion, as did the two nicks on the left side of his strong jaw. He’d muttered something that might have been “G’day.” Or it might just as easily have been “Go to hell.”

She was tempted to chase him down and ask about his evening, but when she turned to do so, she noticed that the back of his shirt was wrinkled as if he’d…Her gaze skimmed down and caught the same dark jeans he’d worn yesterday.

Her stomach rolled to the side. The staff all had lockers, and the last time he’d come in like this he’d used the hospital’s shower and changed into clean clothes. That’s probably what he was headed to do right now.

The evidence pointed to one thing. That he’d spent the night with “Cora” or some other woman.

The trickle of attraction froze in her veins.

None of your business, Darcie.

Just leave the man alone. If she made an issue of this, they would be back where they’d started: fighting a cold war that neither one of them would win.

But why the hell couldn’t he drag himself out of his lover’s bed in time to go home and shower before coming to work?

Unless he just couldn’t manage to tear himself away from her.

An image emerged from the haze that she did her best to block. Too late. There it was, and there was no way to send it back again—the one of Lucas swinging his feet over the side of the mattress, only to have some faceless woman graze long, ruby fingernails down his arm and whisper something that made him change his mind.

She shook her head to remove the picture and forced herself to get back to work.

Just as she did so she spied one of her patients leaning against the wall, her hands gripping her swollen belly. Margie Terrington, an English transplant like herself, had just come in yesterday for a quick check to make sure things were on track. They had been.

At least until now. From the concentration on her face and the grey cast to her skin, something wasn’t right. Darcie glanced around for a nurse, but they were still tending to the morning’s patients. Darcie hurried over.

“Margie? Are you all right?”

Her eyes came up. “My stomach. It’s cramping. I think it’s the baby.”

“Let’s get you into a room.”

Alarm filled her. No time to check her in or do any of the preliminaries. This was the young woman’s second pregnancy. She’d miscarried her first a little over a year ago, and she was only seven months along with this one. Too soon. The human body didn’t just go into labor this early unless there was a problem.

Her apprehension grew, and she sent up a quick prayer.

Propping her shoulder beneath Margie’s arm, they headed to the nearest exam room. One of the nurses came out of a room across the hall, and Darcie called out to her. “Tessa, could you come here?”

The nurse hurried over and got on the other side of their patient.

“Once I get her settled, can you see if you can find Lucas? He arrived a few minutes ago, so he might be in the lounge or the locker area. Let him know I might need his help.”

“Of course.”

The patient was sweating profusely—Darcie could feel the moisture through the woman’s light maternity top. Another strike against her. If she had some kind of systemic infection, could it have crossed the placenta and affected the baby? A thousand possibilities ran through her mind.

Pushing into the exam area, the trio paused when Margie groaned and doubled over even more. “Oh, God. Hurts.”

“Do they feel like contractions? Are they regular?” They finally got her to the bed and helped her up on it.

“I don’t know.”

Tessa scurried around, getting her vitals, while Darcie tried to get some more information. What she learned wasn’t good. Margie had got up and showered like normal and had felt fine. Forty minutes later she’d got a painful cramp in her side—like the kind you got while running, she’d said. The pain had grown worse and had spread in a band across her abdomen. Now she was feeling nauseous, whether from the pain or something else, she wasn’t sure. “And my joints hurt, as if I’m getting the flu.”

Could she be?

As soon as Tessa called out the readings, the nurse went out to get the patient’s chart and to hunt down Lucas.

“Let’s get you into a robe and see what’s going on.”

“Wait.” Margie groaned again. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

Grabbing a basin, she held it under her patient’s mouth as she heaved. Nothing came up, though.

“Did you eat breakfast?” Darcie started to reach for a paper towel, only to have Lucas arrive, chart in hand. He took one look at the scene and anticipated what she was doing. Ripping a couple of towels from the dispenser, he glanced at her in question. “What’ve you got?”

“This is Margie Terrington from Southbank. She’s cramping. Pain in the joints. Nausea.”

“Contractions?”

“I’m not sure. I’m just getting ready to hook her up to the monitor.”

He tilted his head. “Theories?”

“None.” She laid a hand on the young woman’s shoulder. “Are you up to telling Lucas what you told me?”

Even as she asked it, Margie’s face tightened up in a pained grimace, and she gave a couple of sustained breaths, dragging air in through her nose and letting it out through her mouth. A second or two later she nodded. “Like I told you, I took a shower this morning. Then I started getting these weird sensations in my side.”

“What kind of weird?”

“Like a pulled muscle or something.” She stiffened once again. She gritted out, “But now my whole stomach hurts.”

“Where’s the father?” Lucas asked.

“He’s at work. I—I didn’t want to worry him if it’s nothing.”

Lucas frowned. “I think he should be here.” He glanced at Darcie. “Can you get her hooked up while I ring him?”

If anything, Margie looked even more frightened. “Am I going to lose this baby too?”

Darcie’s heart ached for the woman, even as her brain still whirled, trying to figure out what was going on. “Let us do the worrying, love, can you do that?”

“I think so.” She wrote her husband’s phone number on a sheet of paper and handed it to Lucas.

While he was gone, Darcie got Margie into a hospital gown and snapped on a pair of gloves. Then she wrapped the monitor around her patient’s abdomen. Wow, she was really perspiring. So much so that it had already soaked through the robe on her right side.

And her abdominal muscles were tight to the touch. “Are you having a contraction right now?”

Margie moaned. “I don’t know.”

She started up the machine and the first thing she heard was the quick woompa-woompa-woompa-woompa of the baby’s heart. Thank God. Even as that thought hit, a hundred more swept past it. A heartbeat didn’t mean Margie’s baby wasn’t in distress, just that he was alive.

She stared at the line below the heart rate that should be showing the marked rise and fall of the uterus as it contracted and released. It was a steady line.

Placing her hand on Margie’s abdomen again, she noted the strange tightness she’d felt before. But it seemed more like surface muscles to Darcie. Not the deep, purposeful contraction of a woman’s uterus.

Lucas came back and glanced at the monitor. “Your husband’s on his way.”

“Thank you.” Another moan, and her hands went back to her stomach.

Lucas sat next to the bed and held the patient’s hand, helping guide her through the deep breathing.

“She’s not contracting.” Darcie’s eyes were locked on the monitor where a series of little squiggles indicated that something was happening, but it was more like a series of muscle fasciculations than the steady rise and fall she would expect to see. Could she have flu, like Margie suspected?

“When did you start sweating like this?”

Lucas’s voice drew her attention back. He eased Margie’s robe to the side and stared at the area where moisture was already beading up despite just having been exposed to the chilly air of the ward. Strange. Although Margie was perspiring everywhere—Darcie gave a quick glance at her face and chest above the gown—there was a marked difference between her moist upper lip and her right side, where a rivulet of liquid peaked and then ran down the woman’s swollen belly.

“I don’t know. An hour after my shower? Right about the time I started to hurt.”

He peered at her closer. “You said you took a shower. Did you feel anything before or after it? A sting…or a prick maybe?”

A prick? Darcie stared at him, trying to figure out where he was going with this.

“No.”

“Where did the pain start exactly?”

Margie pressed her fingers right over the area that was wet from perspiration.

He muttered something under his breath then glanced up at Darcie. “I need to make a quick phone call.”

“What?” Outrage gathered in her chest and built into a froth that threatened to explode. Surely he was not going to make a personal call right now.

As if he saw something in her face, he reached out and encircled her wrist. “I want her husband to check on something at the house before he comes here,” he said in a low voice.

The anger flooding her system disappeared in a whoosh as she stared back at him.

Margie’s panicked voice broke between them. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m not sure yet. But I don’t think you’re in labor.”

“Then what?”

“I think you may have been bitten by a redback,” Lucas said.

“A what?” Margie asked.

“It’s one of our most famous residents,” he said. “It’s a spider. A nasty one at that.”

A redback! Darcie had heard of them but had never encountered one, and since she wasn’t from Australia, it had never dawned on her that Margie could have been envenomed by something. Her patient was also from England. She’d probably never thought of that possibility either.

She glanced at Lucas. “Are they that common?”

“Quite.” He patted Margie’s hand. “If that’s the case we have antivenin we can give you, which should help.”

“If it is a bite, will it hurt the baby?” She gritted her teeth and pulled in another deep breath.

“I think we’ve caught it at an early stage.” His gaze went back to the monitor, which Darcie noted still held steady. “I want to have your husband check the towel and your bathroom.”

The patient’s eyes widened. “I used the walk-in shower in the guest bathroom this morning. I almost never use that one because it’s quite a long way from the bedroom. But my mother is due to fly in to help with the house and baby in a few weeks, and I thought I could tidy things and scrub the shower stall down as I was bathing.”

“I’m just going to pull Dr. Green into the hallway for a moment. I’ll send the nurse in to sit with you.”

Once they were outside the room, and Lucas had rung the husband, asking him to shake out the towel and examine the bathroom, she spun toward him. “A redback. Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure. Most Australians know what to look for, but no one else would. I’ve seen this once before. A redback bite that comes in looking like preterm labor.”

She sagged against the wall. “God. I would have never checked for that. I didn’t see a bite. Didn’t even think to ask.”

“You wouldn’t have. And as for the bite mark…” He shrugged. “Small fangs, but they pack quite a wallop.”

He gave a smile that looked as tired as she suddenly felt.

“Can we give antivenin to her during pregnancy?”

“We’ve given it before. I can’t recall anyone having a bad reaction, unless the patient is allergic to the equine immunoglobulin in the serum.” He sighed. “There’ve been some conflicting reports recently about whether or not the antivenin actually works, but I’ve seen enough evidence to tell me it’s worth a shot. Especially since she’s miscarried once already.”

Lucas’s mobile phone buzzed, and he glanced at the screen. “It’s him. Let’s hope this is the answer we’re looking for.”

He punched a button asking a few questions before assuring the man that she should do well with the antivenin and telling him they’d be awaiting his arrival.

“He found the redback. It was still in the towel. A big one, from the sound of it.” He dragged his fingers through his hair. “I’ll need you to sign off on the medication. We’ll go the intravenous route rather than administering the antivenin intramuscularly, since that’s more favored at the moment.”

“Of course.” She closed her eyes with a relieved laugh. “God, I could kiss you right now. I never in a million years would have got that diagnosis right.”

A few seconds of silence met her comment.

Hell. Had she really just said that? About kissing him?

Evidently, because when she dared to look at him again a thread of confused amusement seemed to play across his face. “I don’t think now would be appropriate, do you, Dr. Green? But later…” He let his voice trail off in a way that gave her no question that he was definitely open to whatever later meant.

What? Hadn’t he just come to work this morning all rumpled and sexed up?

Sexed up? Was that even a real expression?

Whether it was or not wasn’t the point. It was unbelievable that he would roll out of one woman’s bed and be ready and willing to kiss a second one. A perfect stranger, actually, since they barely knew each other.

Not likely, you jerk.

She gave the haughtiest toss of her chin she could manage and fixed him with a cold glare. “It’s a figure of speech, Lucas, in case you haven’t heard. I was just happy to know that Margie’s symptoms have an explanation and a treatment. But get this straight. As grateful as I am for your help, I had no intention of really kissing you. Now…or ever. I have no interest in being part of a love triangle. Been there. Done that.”

Before she could scurry away in horror over that last blooper, he murmured, “I stand corrected on the kissing, although you totally had me for a moment or two. But I’m intrigued by this supposed love triangle you envision us in. Care to enlighten me as to who the third party might be, or do I have no say in the matter?”

Was he serious?

She wanted to hurl Cora’s name at him. Instead, by some superhuman force of will, she clamped her jaws shut before they had a chance to issue any other crazy statements. Then, without another word, she swung back into their patient’s room to give her the news about the redback.

At least he hadn’t asked her about the been-there-done-that part of her rant, because no one needed to hear her sad tale about the wedding that almost had been. Or the woman who’d stolen her fiancé’s heart when he was supposed to be madly in love with her.

Since when had she become so reckless with her words?

Just like the ruby stripe on the infamous redback that warned of dire consequences to those who came in contact with it, the answer to her last question was inscribed with words that were just as lethal: Lucas Elliot.

He made her forget about everything but his presence.

The thing was, she had no idea how to go about scrubbing him—or the image of their lips locking in a frenzy of need—from her mind and finishing out the rest of her time in Australia in relative peace.

But she’d better figure out an antivenin that would work against his charm and inject herself with it. As soon as she possibly could.