A brilliant new consultant joining a busy Obs and Gynae unit should be good news—except Jed Matthews is the last person Brooke wants to see again. Her shock at coming face to face with the man who had brought her body and soul to life for one magical night six years ago pales beside the realization that Jed is eventually going to discover her secret. Brooke had her reasons for disappearing, but will Jed ever understand them—especially when he meets her young son, Toby….?

The Midwife’s Child

Sarah Morgan

Table of Contents

Cover

Back Cover Copy

Title Page

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

Copyright Page

PROLOGUE

‘WHAT DO YOU MEAN, you can’t find her?’

Jed paced the floor angrily, his hands thrust into the pockets of his white coat as he glowered at his brother. ‘Think, man! It’s your hospital, for goodness’ sake. You trained there, you know everyone. You must know who she is. Concentrate!’

‘It’s not concentration I need, it’s information,’ Tom pointed out mildly. ‘Jed, be reasonable. What have you given me to go on? All you can say is that you don’t think she’s a doctor. No name, no age, no nothing! You don’t even know she works in my hospital!’

‘Of course she works in your hospital.’ Jed stopped pacing and frowned impatiently. ‘Why else would she have been at the Christmas Ball?’

‘She could have been someone’s guest. Did you think of that? You were my guest, remember? You don’t work there…’ Tom watched his brother’s face and then shook his head slowly. ‘How on earth did you get the highest marks ever recorded at your medical school? For someone of supposed exceptional intelligence, you’re being remarkably slow in your thinking.’

‘She wasn’t anyone’s guest.’ Jed stared out of the ward office window to the bustling London street twenty-eight floors below.

‘How do you know?’

Jed shrugged and shook his head slowly. ‘Something she said…’

‘Oh, you did manage some sort of conversation, then.’ Tom’s lazy drawl was loaded with sarcasm and Jed turned, his handsome face set as he glared at his brother.

‘This is a joke to you, isn’t it?’

‘Well, no, not a joke exactly.’ Tom shifted uncomfortably under his brother’s penetrating stare. ‘But even you have to appreciate the irony of the situation.’

Jed gritted his teeth and his eyes narrowed. ‘I do?’

‘Oh, come on, Jed!’ Tom leaned back in his chair and risked a grin. ‘All your life you’ve had women tripping over each other to get to you. Now, at last, we discover that there is, in fact, at least one woman in the world who can resist your charms. It gives the rest of us poor mortals some hope. Maybe she doesn’t go for the tough, macho sort. You could loosen up a little, you know—’

‘Unless you want to find out just how macho and tough I can be, you should give it a rest,’ his brother said dryly, turning back to stare out of the window. ‘I thought you knew everyone in this hospital.’

‘I know everyone worth knowing,’ Tom agreed, helping himself to the last biscuit from a packet abandoned on the low coffee-table. ‘And, believe me, your mystery woman doesn’t work here.’

Jed made an impatient sound. ‘You don’t know—’

‘Hear me out, will you?’ Tom lobbed the empty biscuit packet into the bin and gave his brother an injured look. ‘I’ve made discreet enquiries and turned up nothing, but that’s hardly surprising, considering the dearth of information you gave me to go on. I tell you this, if I ever give up medicine I will not be setting up as a private detective.’

He rummaged in his pocket and retrieved a crumpled piece of paper. ‘Here we are. This was the doctors’ ball, remember, and according to my sources there were only eight tickets sold to non-medical staff—the tickets were like gold dust. Because I’m the best brother in the world and I’m intrigued to see you seriously smitten for the first time in your life, I’ve tracked down each one of those eight individuals and had a good look at them. Three of them were blonde and three of them had short hair so that rules them out. No way did they match the description of your girl.’

Jed was watching him intently. ‘What about the other two?’

‘Don’t get your hopes up.’ His brother shook his head dolefully. ‘One of them is Annie Foster, that gorgeous sister on ITU who I went out with for two months, so we know it’s not her. And the last one doesn’t even remotely match the description you gave me, so unless you were seeing her through rose-tinted glasses your girl doesn’t exist.’

Jed stiffened and a muscle worked in his jaw, ‘She definitely exists and you know I don’t wear glasses, rose-tinted or otherwise.’

‘Well, there’s your answer!’ Tom grinned cheekily and tossed the paper at his brother. ‘You’re eyesight’s going and you couldn’t see her properly. She probably wasn’t dark and stunning with legs like a gazelle at all, she was dumpy, mousy and plain. So she could be number eight.’

Jed leaned broad shoulders against the wall, his tone deceptively mild. ‘Have I ever warned you that your sense of humour is life-threatening?’

‘My life or yours?’ Tom caught the look in his brother’s eye and subsided rapidly. ‘Sorry, sorry. Look, are you sure she wasn’t a doctor?’

Jed pulled a face. ‘No, I’m not sure. I’m not sure of anything at all. I just got the impression that she did something else.’

‘Well, that narrows it down,’ Tom drawled sarcastically. ‘Nurse, cleaner, radiographer, physiotherapist—the options are truly limited. Can’t you give me anything else to go on? I mean, why on earth didn’t you get her name? How could you whisper sweet nothings if you didn’t know her name?’

Jed turned away again, his eyes scanning the streetlights glowing far below as he remembered that night.

He’d noticed her almost straight away, leaning against one of the pillars in the ballroom, her black hair bubbling down her bare back, her eyes fixed on the people dancing. He’d watched curiously as man after man had approached her and been turned away. And then she’d moved her head and had seen him, those beautiful coal black eyes widening as they’d fixed on his, her chin lifting slightly as if daring him to approach her. Which he had, of course, partly because she’d been the most stunning woman he’d ever seen, and partly because her aloofness had represented a challenge and he’d never been able to resist a challenge.

And after that—

He sighed. ‘We didn’t bother with names.’

‘I see.’ Tom rubbed his chin to hide the smile and shook his head in disbelief. ‘It must have been some night…’

Jed’s shoulders tensed. It had been incredible, but he didn’t expect his playboy brother to begin to understand that. Even he didn’t understand the way he felt so how could he expect his brother to? ‘I suppose it never occurred to me that she’d run.’

‘Yeah, that must have been a first.’ Tom’s voice was dry and Jed turned with a frown.

‘Meaning?’

Tom rolled his eyes and lounged back in his chair. ‘Has anyone run from you before? No. Normally they’re beating your door down. So maybe you scared her or something. Or maybe she just found you repulsive.’

‘I didn’t scare her.’ Or maybe he had. He frowned. The intensity of feeling between them had been so overwhelming it had knocked him for six. Maybe it had frightened her, too. After all, she’d never— ‘She certainly didn’t find me repulsive.’

‘Well, she didn’t stick around for more, did she?’ Tom hesitated, his dark eyes fixed on his brother. ‘I hate to be the one to point out the obvious, but if she’d wanted you to find her, she would have left her number. Women don’t just disappear if they want to be found. Maybe she wasn’t really interested.’

There was a long silence and then Jed took a deep breath, still not looking at his brother. ‘She was interested.’

‘Then why did she sneak off?’

‘Dammit, I don’t know.’ Jed thumped his fist on the glass and closed his eyes briefly. ‘I don’t know. But it wasn’t anything to do with us. It was something else. She was very secretive and wary—’

‘She was probably married.’ Tom’s voice was dry but a strange look crossed Jed’s handsome face and he shook his head.

‘No. Definitely not that.’

Tom watched him curiously and then shrugged. ‘How do you know? She might have been leading you a dance and—’

‘She wasn’t married.’ Jed’s voice was steady and his eyes glittered with a strange light. There was no way she could have been married. That was one of the few things he did know about her.

‘Right.’ Tom cleared his throat and decided not to pursue it. ‘Well, if she wasn’t married, maybe it just wasn’t right—’

‘We were perfect together, Tom.’

Tom muttered under his breath and leaned forward in his chair, urging his brother to see sense. ‘One night, Jed. Get a grip, man! It was the romance of it all—the mistletoe, the Christmas-tree lights, snow on the ground. It wasn’t real.’

Jed stared out into the darkness and remembered the laughter, the warmth and the passion. He remembered a girl with wild dark hair and bright sharp eyes, an intriguing mixture of fire and innocence. It had been the most amazing night of his life.

‘Oh, it was real,’ he murmured. ‘And I’m going to find her.’

‘I don’t suppose she dropped a glass slipper in your flat? You could try it on all the women in the infirmary, starting with the really ugly ones…’ Tom caught the look on his brother’s face and lifted his hands in a gesture of surrender. ‘OK, OK. I’m sorry. I was just trying to cheer you up.’

‘If your wit was an indication of your brain size, your patients would be in big trouble.’ Jed strode over and stood in front of him, his dark eyes gleaming with purpose. ‘I’ve got to find her! Ask again. Ask everyone.’

‘OK.’ Tom frowned and shifted uncomfortably under his brother’s gaze. ‘I’ll do my best. Back off, will you? If you glared at her like that it’s no wonder she ran off.’

‘Sorry.’ Jed closed his eyes briefly and raked both hands through his hair. ‘I’m sorry, but I’m desperate. I won’t give up, Tom.’

‘So I see. OK, I’ll keep asking.’ He glanced at his brother, his eyes narrowed. ‘She must have been one very special lady.’

‘Oh, she was.’ Jed’s voice was soft. ‘She was.’

CHAPTER ONE

SHE was in big trouble.

Glancing at her watch with a mew of panic, Brooke careered through the pelting rain across the hospital car park, dodging puddles and pedestrians as she made a dash for the sanctuary of the hospital.

Why was her life always like this? Why? Her umbrella wavered threateningly in the strong wind and she flung a breathless apology at a pedestrian who gave her a nervous look and a wide berth. Why, for once, couldn’t things have gone smoothly? Just for one day, surely life could have been kind? What had she ever done to deserve the repeated obstacles that were delivered at her door?

First the heating, then the roof and now the car. What next?

Breathless and soaked, she shouldered her way through the revolving doors of the maternity unit, and the sudden warmth of the foyer made her pause and catch her breath.

Please, please, let the day improve, she pleaded to no one in particular as she took the lift to the third floor and attempted a first-aid job on her hair which fell in a damp, tangled mass halfway down her back. Twisting it firmly, she rummaged in her pocket for some pins and fastened it securely in a knot at the back of her head, hoping that it would hold until lunchtime.

In the sanctuary of the staffroom, she stripped off her wet clothes and changed into the comfortable blue cotton trousers and tunic top that everyone wore on the labour ward.

‘I’m really, really sorry, folks…’ Flustered and out of breath, she paused by the door of the office where everyone from the early shift was gathered. ‘I had some problems.’

‘You don’t need to explain.’ Sister Wilson’s voice was full of humour and sympathy. ‘We saw you getting off the bus and sprinting across the car park. I gather that joke of a contraption that you call a car failed you again.’

Brooke nodded and bit her lip. ‘It’s the rain, I think. It hates rain—’

‘And cold and heat,’ one of the midwives interrupted with a laugh. ‘Face it, Brooke, it’s on its last legs. You’d better ask Father Christmas for another one.’

It was only March and most of her problems were way beyond the touch of Father Christmas, Brooke thought gloomily, tucking a wayward strand of hair behind her ear.

‘I’ll get an earlier bus tomorrow.’ Dropping into a vacant chair, she glanced at the board to see how busy they were and her eyes widened in disbelief. ‘We’re full again?’

‘To the point of bursting.’ Gill Wilson stood up, suddenly businesslike. ‘And Antenatal have got two in early labour as well so we’re in for a good day. Brooke, I’ve allocated Paula the lady in Room 2, but as she’s still a student she obviously can’t take full responsibility so I’d like you to supervise. The lady’s name is Alison Neal and she’s a thirty-year-old primip and very anxious. Perhaps you should have five minutes with her on your own before Paula joins you. You’re normally very good with panickers.’

‘Of course.’ A primip—an abbreviation for primigravida, someone having their first baby—often needed more support and reassurance than a woman who’d been through it all before, and was usually in labour for much longer.

‘Suzie…’ Gill Wilson turned to another midwife. ‘Can you run between 4 and 5 for me and supervise the students? Diane can sort out the admissions and Helen can take the lady in room one. Oh, and by the way, things are looking up here. The new consultant started yesterday and the new senior reg starts in a few weeks so at least the medical staff won’t be so stretched.’

‘What’s the consultant like?’ Brooke draped her stethoscope round her neck and straightened her tunic.

‘First class.’ Gill Wilson nodded with satisfaction. ‘We’re very lucky to have him.’

One of the midwives gave a sigh. ‘Just tell us he isn’t a meddler. We don’t need another consultant like—’

‘Now, now,’ Gill interrupted briskly, a faint frown touching her forehead. ‘No need to name names. He’s left and it’s history and, no, Jed Matthews isn’t at all like that. He’s an incredibly talented obstetrician who thinks that women should do it by themselves whenever they can. I dare say you’ll meet him later but I think he’ll support our philosophy to the hilt.’

‘Well, that’s one bit of good news, then.’ Brooke stood up and tucked her pen and notebook into her pocket, falling into step beside her friend Suzie as they walked down the corridor.

Suzie gave her a sympathetic look. ‘You OK?’

‘Are you joking?’ Brooke rolled her eyes. ‘When was my life ever OK?’

‘What’s happening about the roof?’

‘I’ve got a man coming to see it on Saturday but at the moment I’m just using a bucket and lots of hope.’

Suzie pulled a face and looked worried. ‘This rain can’t last for ever.’

‘This is the Lake District so it can and, knowing my luck, it probably will,’ Brooke said dryly as they paused outside the door of Room 2. ‘But thanks for asking.’

Suzie nodded and hesitated. ‘Look, if you need a loan…’

‘No, thanks.’ Brooke stiffened and her small chin lifted slightly. ‘I’m fine.’

‘Brooke, for goodness’ sake!’ Suzie glanced along the corridor and lowered her voice ‘You’re not fine at all and you know it! You’re struggling like mad and it’s time you let someone help you.’

‘I don’t need help.’ Brooke’s tone was frosty and Suzie looked exasperated.

‘You’re so stubborn, do you know that? How will you pay for the roof?’

Brooke shrugged. ‘That’s my problem.’ One of the many. ‘I’ll do some agency work or something.’

‘Brooke—’

‘I’ll handle it.’ Brooke’s eyes glinted with determination and, without waiting for a reply, she shouldered her way into Room 2 and beamed at the woman sitting on the bed.

‘Hello, Mrs Neal. I’m Brooke Daniels, one of the midwives on the unit.’ She took one look at the wide, frightened eyes of the young woman in front of her and forced her own problems to the back of her mind, knowing that she had some serious work to do.

‘Could you call me Alison?’ The woman looked terrified. ‘It seems more…personal somehow. I hate anything medical.’

‘Try not to think of this as medical,’ Brooke advised gently. ‘Having a baby is perfectly natural and in this unit our policy is to intervene as little as possible.’

‘Is that why this room doesn’t look a bit like a hospital room?’ Alison glanced round at the pretty curtains and bedspread and the comfortable sofa and beanbags. ‘It’s more like being at home.’

‘Actually, it’s better than home,’ her husband pointed out dryly. ‘At home we haven’t got a king-size bed and a rocking chair.’

Brooke smiled. ‘The rooms are nice, aren’t they? The whole idea was to make people feel as though they were in the comfort of their own homes but with the advantages of hospital technology on hand if needed.’

Alison was still gripping her husband’s hand tightly. ‘Will you be with me all day?’

‘One of our student midwives, Paula, will be with you the whole time,’ Brooke told her. ‘I’ll be popping in and out all day and I’ll definitely be here when you deliver.’

‘I can’t bear to think about that bit.’ Alison managed a weak smile and bit her lip. ‘I’m terrified, I have to confess. I can’t relax at all.’

Brooke settled herself on the bed. Blow protocol. What this woman needed was the personal touch.

‘Well, helping you to relax is my job.’ She took Alison’s other hand in hers and gave it a quick squeeze. ‘Did you go to any of our antenatal classes?’

‘I went to the yoga class a few times but, to be honest, the roads were so bad in December and January that I stayed at home mostly.’ Alison looked anxious. ‘Should I have persevered? Would it have made a big difference?’

‘Well, the classes do teach you certain techniques for relaxation,’ Brooke told her, ‘but if you went a few times then you will have grasped the basics. We use lots of different methods to help you relax here—aromatherapy, the water pool and massage for starters.’

‘This place is more like a health farm than a hospital,’ Alison’s husband joked, and Brooke nodded seriously.

‘In some ways it is. The emphasis is all on keeping the woman as happy and relaxed as possible.’

Alison bit her lip, her dark eyes worried. ‘I’m just afraid that all the breathing and massage in the world won’t be enough for me. I know how much of a coward I am when it comes to pain! If I decide to have an epidural, will you think I’m awful?’

‘Not at all.’ Brooke gave her a reassuring smile. ‘We are totally committed to giving the mother the type of birth she wants. If someone is adamant that they want an epidural then we can arrange that. It’s nothing to do with bravery, Alison. The pain is different for each person and people cope in different ways, but we never, ever judge anyone, I can assure you of that! Do you have any strong views on the type of delivery you’d like?’

‘I did a birth plan.’ Alison reached for her bag and pulled out a piece of paper which she handed to Brooke a little hesitantly. ‘To be honest, I wasn’t sure that you’d want to see it. My midwife said that you don’t like them on this unit.’

‘Well, she’s right in a sense.’ Brooke took the birth plan and tried to explain as carefully as possible. ‘The reason is that we’ve found that some women have set themselves all sorts of goals and expectations and then, when things don’t go according to plan, they’re disappointed. For example, you might think you don’t want any pain relief but when you’re in the middle of things you might want to change your mind. We’ve had a few women who felt that they’d failed and let themselves down by not sticking to their plan, and that was awful. Everyone should be allowed to change their minds at any point.’

Alison nodded and gave a small smile. ‘I suppose you don’t really know how you’ll react to the pain until you experience it.’

‘That’s right.’ Brooke glanced between the couple, her expression serious. ‘It’s important not to think you have to stick rigidly to what you planned. We do look at birth plans if a woman has made one, but we really like to work with the mother and respond to what she’s feeling at the time.’

‘That sounds sensible—Ooh.’ Alison winced and screwed her fingers round the bedcover as a contraction started to build. ‘I never expected the pain to be this bad. Oo-ooh, Tim!’

Her husband stroked her shoulder awkwardly and cast a worried look at Brooke.

‘She’s fine,’ Brooke murmured, moving her palm over the woman’s swollen abdomen to feel the strength of the contraction. ‘Remember your breathing, Alison. In through your nose and out through your mouth. Perfect. Well done. There—it’s tailing off. Now, I just need to examine you. Has anyone explained to you about this machine?’

She moved it slightly closer and ripped off the trace that was hanging down. ‘This is called a CTG and it basically tells us about your contractions and your baby’s heart rate. At this stage we want you as mobile as possible, so we’ll only use it occasionally, just to get a picture of what’s happening.’

‘Does it look OK? It looks totally incomprehensible to me.’ Alison frowned down at the graph but Brooke nodded and filed it carefully in the notes.

‘It’s fine. Now, let’s take a quick look at this birth plan together.’ She read quickly and then glanced up at the couple. ‘You seem to be pretty open-minded about most things.’

‘I really didn’t want to have my membranes ruptured,’ Alison murmured, looking at her husband for support, and he nodded firmly.

‘That’s right. I gather a lot of hospitals do that, but we’d rather let nature take its course.’

‘So would we.’ Brooke slipped the birth plan into the notes and gave them both a warm smile. ‘You’re right that some units artificially rupture the membranes the minute the cervix is 4 cm dilated, but we never do that here. We don’t rupture membranes, we don’t monitor without a reason and we don’t do routine internal examinations either. We do them on admission and then when we feel they’re necessary.’

Alison’s husband frowned. ‘But if there’s a medical problem?’

‘Then we involve our medical team,’ Brooke told him promptly. ‘That’s the good thing about this unit. You get the nearest thing to a home birth without sacrificing the safety of a hospital. Now, then, I’d just like to feel the way the baby is lying, Alison, if that’s all right with you.’

She palpated the abdomen carefully, glancing up as Paula slid discreetly into the room and introduced herself to the couple.

‘Is it still the right way up?’ Alison looked anxious and Brooke nodded with a smile.

‘Absolutely. He’s coming out head first—what we call a cephalic presentation. And he’s nicely flexed so that’s good.’

Paula cleared her throat. ‘Sister wondered if you’d nip into 4, Brooke. They need some help.’

Brooke glanced at her and caught the urgency of her expression. Trouble, obviously. ‘Fine. Well, you’re staying with the Neals for the rest of your shift now, aren’t you? I’ll be back as soon as I can. Just help Alison with her breathing.’

She left the room calmly, and then speeded up as she made for the other delivery room.

‘Oh, Brooke—good.’ Gill Wilson glanced towards her and then back to her patient. ‘Mrs Fox is going to need a section. She’s bleeding a bit and we suspect a placental abruption. We’ve bleeped Mr Matthews, the consultant, and he’s meeting us in theatre. Fortunately she’s had an epidural so she shouldn’t need a general anaesthetic. Is Alison Neal all right for a while if you give me a hand? Suzie needs to go back to her student in 5 so I was hoping you could scrub and take the baby.’

‘No problem. Alison’s fine with Paula.’ Brooke could see from the debris around her that ‘bleeding a bit’ was something of an understatement, and she knew Gill well enough to know that she was concerned.

Suzie was checking Mrs Fox’s blood pressure again. ‘Eighty over fifty,’ she murmured, and Gill nodded briskly.

‘Right. Into theatre.’

Without waiting for a porter, they manipulated the trolley into Theatre where preparations were already under way for an emergency section.

Brooke scrubbed, preparing for her role which was to take the baby once it was delivered, leaving the surgeon to concentrate on the mother. Gill had said the new consultant was good. For the sake of Mrs Fox she hoped that was true. Things weren’t looking good.

‘How much blood has she lost?’ The deep male voice trickled through the doors and Brooke froze.

No. Dear God, no.

She listened again, her heart pounding in her chest. There was a low murmur of voices as Gill replied, and then his voice again. ‘OK—we need to get this baby out fast.’

It was him. It was definitely him.

She closed her eyes and struggled to breathe. Six years. It had been six years since she’d last heard that voice, but she’d have recognised it anywhere. Deep, tough and totally male. Smooth and confident like melted chocolate poured over solid steel. It was the sort of voice that made everyone stop and listen. The sort of voice that was used to issuing orders and commands. And it was the same voice that had once seduced her to within an inch of her life.

Brooke felt her knees shake as panic swamped her. What if he recognised her? No. She had to make sure he didn’t. If he ever found out…

Frantically searching for some way of concealing her identity, she noticed a box of masks and grabbed one, hooking it over her ears with shaking fingers. It wasn’t a long-term solution but at least it should buy her some time.

She slid into Theatre, her heart thumping, and quickly realised that she needn’t have worried. The new consultant wasn’t remotely interested in who was standing in his theatre. He was busy, saving two lives.

His hands as steady as a rock, he divided skin and muscle with a speed and skill that made Brooke blink with disbelief. Even in her state of panic she could see that he was good. Incredibly good.

‘Is there a paediatrician on the way?’ His sharp question was swiftly answered by Gill.

‘Dr Patel’s on her way down now, Mr Matthews.’

Brooke watched, transfixed, as he stroked through the layers until the uterus was exposed and then made a small transverse incision and passed his right hand into the uterus.

‘Out you come, little chap,’ he murmured, his eyes flicking up to his SHO who was assisting. ‘Press on the fundus.’

Sita Patel arrived just as the newly delivered baby let out an outraged yell, and suddenly Brooke was reaching for the wriggling child, her actions all automatic, her mind still paralysed with shock.

‘OK, what have we got here?’ The consultant had already turned his attention back to the job in hand. Stopping the bleeding. ‘Suction, please. And again… That’s better… Oh, yes, I see what’s happening…’

Brooke and Sita took charge of the baby, placing it gently on the resuscitaire which had been wheeled into Theatre, so named because it incorporated essential equipment for resuscitating a baby.

‘Apgar of 8 at one minute,’ Sita murmured, looping the paediatric stethoscope around her neck as Brooke carefully used suction to clear the baby’s mouth and nose of mucus. ‘He’s got good lungs!’

‘Is he OK? Is my baby OK?’ Mrs Fox was twisting her head anxiously and Jed Matthews gave her a smile, his eyes creasing above the mask.

‘He’s great—can’t you hear that yell? Dr Patel will bring him over just as soon as she’s checked him and made him warm. How are things over there, Sita?’

‘Fine, Mr Matthews,’ Sita replied, finishing her examination of the baby and hovering while Brooke wrapped him up warmly to prevent heat loss. ‘He’s ready to meet his mum.’

Brooke swallowed. Jed Matthews. She hadn’t known his name before today. She allowed herself a brief glance, her heart turning a somersault as she focused on the thick, dark lashes and the brilliant blue eyes visible above the mask. She’d never met a man with eyes like Jed’s. Just one look from those very male eyes and she’d drowned…

‘Good.’ His fingers were still working quickly within the uterine cavity, trying to stop the bleeding. ‘How much blood have we got cross-matched, Sister?’

‘Two units,’ Gill murmured, moving to his side and watching him work.

‘Let’s give her one unit now, please. Swab.’ He reached out a hand and took the sterile swab, frowning down at his handiwork. ‘OK, that looks fine. I’m ready to close. Part of your placenta had come away, Mrs Fox, and that was why you were bleeding, but it’s fine now. Nothing to worry about.’

Brooke stood immobile, her eyes moving down to those powerful shoulders, clearly outlined by the loose fabric of his theatre greens. How could it be him? How could he be here, of all places?

No longer under pressure, he glanced up and his eyes narrowed as he intercepted her look. For a long moment they stared at each other and Brooke swallowed hard, fighting an overwhelming impulse to turn and run. He hadn’t recognised her. He couldn’t possibly. Her hair was totally tucked away. Only her eyes were showing. He couldn’t have recognised her, could he?

Gill followed his gaze. ‘Oh, this is Brooke Daniels, one of our midwives. I didn’t have a chance to introduce you earlier—’ Suddenly she frowned curiously at Brooke. ‘Why on earth are you wearing a mask?’

Trust Gill to notice that little detail. The midwife taking the baby was never near the wound long enough to warrant wearing a mask, but it had been a reflex action because she hadn’t wanted Jed to recognise her. She rummaged in her brain for an excuse.

‘I’ve got a bit of a sore throat,’ she mumbled, thinking that after the soaking she’d had that morning that comment might well come home to haunt her.

Jed’s eyes were still fixed on hers. ‘Pleased to meet you, Brooke.’

Was it her imagination or had he really put a slight emphasis on her name?

‘I…’ She cleared her throat. ‘Hello.’

He watched her for another moment, his blue eyes narrowed and quizzical, and then he turned his attention back to the stitching and his patient.

‘So, have you chosen a name, Mrs Fox?’

‘Ben.’ Mrs Fox smiled broadly. ‘After my dad.’

Brooke tried to control her trembling knees. Would he recognise her? It had only been one night, after all. One crazy night when she’d allowed herself to be carried away by mistletoe and romance and a man who was straight from every woman’s fantasies. A man like him must have been with loads of women since—he was probably even married.

She licked dry lips under her mask and tried to get a grip on her emotions. He wouldn’t recognise her. Of course he wouldn’t. And if he did, well, she’d just pretend he was mistaken. Yes, that was the best idea. After all, he’d never actually seen her in daylight. Just by candlelight and twinkling Christmas tree lights. And she was hardly that memorable, was she?

Suppressing a groan, she gently lifted the baby back from Mrs Fox and put him in the cot, ready to go to the ward with her. Jed mustn’t recognise her, he really mustn’t, and if he did…well, she could hardly bring herself to think about the consequences.

* * *

‘What on earth is the matter with you?’ Suzie frowned at her as they checked the controlled-drugs cabinet.

‘Nothing.’ Brooke opened the book and counted ampoules, her fingers shaking. ‘OK, this is the last one. Pethidine.’

‘You’re like a cat on hot bricks.’

Was she? Only because she was trying to avoid Jed Matthews. Sooner or later he was going to see her without the mask and she’d rather it was later—

Even as she thought it that deep, male drawl came from behind them. ‘Anyone free to give me a hand?’

Brooke closed her eyes and kept her back to him. Let Suzie do it. Please?

‘I’ve got to get back to my lady.’ Suzie closed the book with a snap. ‘But you’ll help, won’t you, Brooke?’

What choice did she have?

Taking a deep breath, Brooke turned slowly, carefully avoiding looking at him. ‘Of course. What did you need, Mr Matthews?’

There was a long silence and when she dared glance at his face their eyes locked and her heart turned over. Dear God, he’d recognised her, she could see it in his eyes. Something connected between them, something so powerful that she wasn’t able to break the contact.

His gaze lifted to her hair and then returned to her eyes, the tension between them so great that Brooke could hardly breathe.

‘What did you need me for, Mr Matthews?’

Her words broke the spell and he straightened slightly, his voice rough and very, very male. ‘There’s a woman in the admissions suite complaining of severe abdominal pain. I need to examine her and I’d like a chaperone, please.’

‘Of course.’ It was common practice for male doctors to use a chaperone when they examined a patient. ‘How pregnant is she?’

With one final glance at her hair Jed Matthews turned on his heel and strode down the corridor. ‘Thirty-three weeks. We’ll need to examine her and scan her.’

As they walked down the corridor Brooke increased her pace to keep up with his long, easy stride, painfully aware of his closeness. Seeing him again brought back memories that were so vivid they threatened to choke her. He was just how she remembered him. Tall—she guessed him to be about six feet two—with sleek, dark hair swept back from his forehead, and deep blue eyes that were both sexy and sharply observant at the same time. In many ways he was just the same and yet she sensed subtle changes in him. He had an air of authority and calm self-confidence that she didn’t remember from their last encounter. Oh he’d been strong even then, but approachable and warm. But now… She closed her eyes briefly and took a deep breath to calm herself. Now she found his cool confidence and overwhelming masculinity almost intimidating.

Brooke followed him into one of the rooms in the admissions suite and stood to one side while he introduced himself to the young mother.

‘And when did the pains start, Jane?’

‘Midnight.’ Jane Duncan bit her lip. ‘I haven’t been able to lie down or sleep. It’s agony, frankly.’

Jed listened carefully and then questioned her further. ‘You’ve had a baby before so you’re familiar with the type of pain that goes with labour. Does it feel like labour to you?’

‘No.’ Jane shook her head. ‘Definitely not. Was I wrong to come in?’

‘You were absolutely right to come in.’ Jed gave her a reassuring smile and walked over to the sink to wash his hands. ‘Any pain that keeps you awake all night is worth investigating. I’ll examine you internally first and then we’ll scan you and fix you up to the monitor for an hour or so to see if it picks anything up. Can I have some gloves, please, Brooke? Size 10.’

Brooke opened the packet and helped settle Jane in the right position.

‘Is the baby coming early?’ Jane asked, and then winced as Jed examined her.

‘Am I hurting you?’ He frowned slightly. ‘Am I causing the same pain you’ve been feeling all night?’

‘No.’ Jane flushed slightly and grabbed Brooke’s hand. ‘It’s a different pain.’

‘OK, I’ve finished.’ Jed straightened and gave her an apologetic smile as he ripped off the gloves. ‘Sorry to hurt you but I needed to feel your cervix. You’re not in labour, Jane. I’m going to scan you now, just to have a look at the baby.’

Brooke wheeled the portable machine to the side of the bed and watched while Jed scanned Jane’s abdomen, his gaze fixed on the screen.

‘That all looks fine, too, Jane. Baby’s heart is fine and he’s the right size. Have you felt plenty of movements?’

Jane pulled a face. ‘I did until last night. They seemed to tail off but that may have been because I was in too much pain to notice.’

Jed examined her abdomen carefully, palpating the position of the foetus, and then he raised an eyebrow at Brooke.

‘Can we put her on the monitor for an hour to see if it shows anything, please?’ He turned back to Jane. ‘If that looks fine then we’ll keep you in for a few hours and then send you home. But come straight back if the pain starts again.’

‘I’m not in labour, then?’

He gave her a brief smile. ‘Well, not at the moment, but that doesn’t mean you’re not about to go that way.’

‘But it’s too early!’ Jane’s eyes were worried and Jed gave her shoulder a squeeze.

‘I’m paid to worry about that, not you. For the time being you’re fine.’ He walked towards the door and then turned, his eyes on Brooke. ‘When you’ve finished, can I see you in my office, please?’

Brooke nodded, her hands shaking as she attached the various leads to the machine and checked that it was all working.

‘There we are.’ She managed a smile at Jane. ‘That’s measuring your baby’s heart and any uterine activity. Just relax and read some magazines and I’ll be back to check you in about twenty minutes. If you’re worried before then, just press the buzzer.’

She left the room and walked towards the consultant’s office, her legs shaking. She didn’t want to do this, didn’t want to see him, but what choice did she have? Judging from the look on his face, if she didn’t go voluntarily he’d drag her there himself, and she didn’t want to risk a public display.

Tapping on the door, she took a deep breath and tried to control her thumping heart.

He was standing with his back to her, staring out of the window across the wide lawns of the hospital towards the rolling, snow-covered fells beyond.

‘Come in, Brooke, and close the door behind you.’

She hesitated and then did as she was told, her hands shaking and her emotions so tangled that she couldn’t think clearly. Taking a long, deep breath, she forced herself to calm down. She could handle this. She was an intelligent woman who was more than capable of dealing with the fallout from one crazy night. For a start, he couldn’t prove it was her…

‘I’ve put Mrs Duncan on the monitor and she’s—’

‘I don’t want to talk about Mrs Duncan.’ He turned to face her, his eyes flickering to her hand which was within easy reach of the doorknob. An ironic smile touched his handsome features. ‘And you can stop hovering by the door, Brooke. This time you’re not going anywhere until we’ve had a talk.’

CHAPTER TWO

TALK?

Jed wanted to talk? She could barely breathe, let alone talk. Just being in the same room as him, almost within touching distance, was more than her will-power could bear. Over the years she’d berated herself repeatedly for her total lack of self-control that night. Never, before or since, had any man made her lose her head the way he had, and in the clear light of day, well away from the burning memories of their shared night, she hadn’t been able to understand what had happened to her.

But seeing him now, powerfully male and extravagantly handsome, she could only marvel that she’d managed to walk away from the man at all.

Raising her chin slightly, she gave him a cool smile, relieved that she was wearing trousers. At least he wouldn’t be able to see her knees shaking. ‘What did you want to talk about, Mr Matthews?’

‘Us, Brooke.’ His voice was suddenly soft, almost threatening. ‘I want to talk about us.’

Her eyes flew to his and she was immediately defensive. She had to protect herself. And not just herself.

‘I don’t think I understand you, Mr Matthews.’

A hint of a smile touched his firm mouth. ‘You understand me perfectly, and before you say anything more you should probably know that in certain circumstances I’m not renowned for my patience.’

That wasn’t how she remembered it. He’d shown endless patience on that night, taking things as slowly as she’d needed, showing a touching amount of care for her needs.

‘Mr Matthews—’

‘My name is Jed.’ He spoke slowly, with deliberate emphasis, his eyes never leaving hers for a moment. ‘But, then, you can hardly be expected to know that, can you? We didn’t exactly spend the night conversing.’

Hot colour seeped into her cheeks. ‘I really haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about.’

‘You’re a lousy liar.’ He covered the short distance between them in two easy strides and suddenly he was standing right in front of her, six feet two of powerfully built, very determined male. Startled, Brooke backed away but stopped dead as her shoulders hit the cold, solid wall.

‘Nervous?’ His eyes lit with grim amusement. ‘With good reason. This time there’s nowhere to run to. At least, not until I choose to let you. You owe me an explanation.’

‘I don’t owe you anything.’ This time her voice nearly gave her away, and she flinched as his eyes trapped hers.

‘Don’t play games with me!’ His voice was impatient. ‘Why did you do it, Brooke? Why did you creep away while I was still asleep? Why did you leave without a word after what we shared that night?’

Suddenly she found she couldn’t breathe very well and pushed at his broad chest in an attempt to get herself some space. He didn’t budge. She was totally cornered.

‘We didn’t share anything.’ She made one last try, knowing it was futile. This man had a mind like a razor. There was no way she would ever be able to persuade him that he was mistaken. He’d probably never made a mistake in his life. ‘It was someone else—’

‘You’re suggesting I don’t know who I’ve been to bed with?’ He raised one dark eyebrow and an ironic smile played around his firm mouth. ‘Are you questioning my morals or my memory?’

‘Neither.’ Her eyes flashed defensively and the panic threatened to choke her. ‘I’m just telling you you’re mistaken, that’s all.’

There was a heavy silence and a muscle worked in his hard jaw.

‘Are you seriously trying to convince me that it wasn’t you?’ He stared at her for a moment and then he started to laugh, a full, masculine sound that made her nerve endings tingle. ‘You are hardly easy to forget, Brooke. If you really want to blend into the rest of the female population then you’ve got some serious work to do.’

Self-consciously she lifted a hand to her dark hair, the wildness of which was still severely curbed by the tight knot she’d constructed that morning. ‘I probably just look like someone—’

‘Believe me, you don’t look like anyone except yourself.’ His tone was dry as he reached out and wound a lock of that same dark hair around his fingers.

With a sigh he lifted her stubborn chin with his free hand, forcing her to look at him. ‘I’ve only seen hair like this once in my lifetime. Stop playing games, Brooke.’

She was silent for a moment, her breathing rapid and her mind in a tangle. Suddenly she felt utterly defeated and her slim shoulders sagged. It was too much. On top of everything else it was just too much.

‘What are you afraid of?’ His voice was suddenly gentle. ‘I’m not going to force anything on you that you don’t want. I’m not going about to broadcast our relationship around the unit or embarrass you in any way. I just want you to admit the truth.’

And the truth was the one thing she couldn’t tell him. She’d decided that six years previously when she’d been forced to face the consequences of their night together…

She made a final attempt, her voice a feeble croak. ‘I don’t remember you.’

There was a long silence and he gave a soft laugh. ‘Shall I tell you something? After that night, my brother Tom was convinced you were Cinderella. Kept trying to persuade me to chase round the hospital on my white charger with a glass slipper tucked under my arm.’

‘Well, I’m glad you didn’t waste your time.’ She pulled herself together with a huge effort and managed a cool smile. ‘I can tell you now that it wouldn’t have fitted me, Mr Matthews. You’ve got the wrong woman.’

‘We’ll see about that, won’t we?’ His low drawl was intensely masculine and she struggled to control her breathing as he moved closer. Why did he affect her like this? Why?

‘You’re telling me you found a glass slipper?’

He shook his head slowly, the expression in his eyes making her breath jam in her throat. ‘I never looked. I had a much more reliable method of identification up my sleeve.’

His firm mouth hovered tantalisingly close to hers, but before he could move there was a sharp rap on the door and Jed sighed and released her reluctantly, his expression one of mild irritation as he strolled over to the door.

‘Yes? Oh, Gill, come in.’ He stood to one side as the unit sister walked into his office. ‘What can I do for you?’

How could he be so calm and self-contained? Brooke was a nervous wreck and certainly couldn’t bring herself to look at her superior. Jed, on the other hand, didn’t seem remotely uncomfortable, listening carefully as Gill outlined a problem with one of the patients.

He offered no explanation for Brooke’s presence in his office, probably because he knew he wouldn’t be questioned, Brooke thought bitterly as she took the chance to slip away, her heart still thumping wildly. Who would question a man like Jed? And it wasn’t just because he was the consultant.

Battling for control, she leaned against the wall for a moment, her eyes closed, still seeing the look in his eyes as he’d bent his head towards her.

He’d been about to kiss her. Dear God, if Gill hadn’t turned up when she had—

‘Are you OK?’ Suzie passed her in the corridor and paused. ‘You look stunned by something.’

That was an understatement. ‘I’m fine.’

‘So, what was it like, working with the heartthrob?’

‘Heartthrob?’ She frowned and Suzie laughed.

‘Oh, come on, Brookie! Even you can’t be immune to his charms. He’s stunning.’

She wasn’t immune to his charms, that was the problem. And she never had been.

‘If you mean Jed, he’s not my type,’ she muttered, walking along the corridor to the admissions suite to check on Jane Duncan.

‘Not your type?’ Suzie stared at her and then smiled slowly. ‘Oh, right. Sure. You’re one of those women who hate stunningly handsome, rich, successful men—I’ve read about them, but I’ve never actually believed they existed until now.’

Brooke gritted her teeth. ‘Just leave it, Suzie—’

Suzie opened her mouth and shut it again, her kind eyes suddenly puzzled. ‘OK. Sorry.’

‘No.’ Brooke took a deep breath and gave her friend an apologetic smile. ‘I’m the one who should be saying sorry. You’re so good to me and I’m a cross-patch. It’s just that I’m having a really lousy day.’

Suzie glanced up the corridor and gave her a quick hug. ‘What you need is a rich, handsome man who will write a huge cheque and solve all your problems.’

With that she darted off towards one of the delivery rooms, leaving Brooke staring after her.

‘No, Suzie,’ she murmured softly, tears pricking her dark eyes, ‘that is the last thing I need.’

* * *

‘Well, that looks fine, Jane.’ Jed ran his eye carefully over the trace Brooke had handed to him. ‘You’re not in labour at the moment and there’s no point in us keeping you in if the pains have gone.’

‘I feel OK now,’ Jane admitted. ‘What if it happens again?’

‘If they’re as bad as before then you’d better come straight back.’ Jed picked up the notes and tucked them under his arm. ‘But let’s cross our fingers, shall we?’

Aware that his eyes were on her, Brooke gave him a wary glance and then wished she hadn’t. The message in his intense blue gaze was clear enough. He hadn’t finished their conversation. She quickly busied herself helping Jane gather her things together, not relaxing until she heard him leave the room.

‘He’s gorgeous!’ Jane drooled, chattering away as she pulled on her coat. ‘Incredibly good-looking. Is he married?’

Brooke forced a smile. If he was then his wife needed to keep a better hold on him. ‘I don’t know.’

‘I expect he is.’ Jane laughed and picked up her handbag. ‘The good-looking ones are always taken. Lucky wife, having a man like that to take care of her.’

Brooke felt her heart twist and held open the door. Thank goodness they were so busy, Brooke thought as she saw Jed striding off towards Theatre again, followed by his SHO and a flock of medical students. At least it postponed the inevitable confrontation. She didn’t kid herself for one minute that Jed was going to let the matter drop. That one look had said it all.

‘Brooke?’ Paula, the student midwife she’d left with Alison Neal, was hovering in the corridor anxiously. ‘I could do with a hand if you’ve got a minute. Alison’s getting very distressed and I can’t seem to calm her down at all.’

Brooke gave a nod and a brief smile. At least work was a constant distraction. ‘I’ll come now. What pain relief has she had so far?’

‘Just gas and air.’ Paula looked stressed and worried. ‘But she’s really panicky and I can’t seem to relax her at all.’

Brooke followed her into the birthing room and walked straight over to Alison who was sitting on the edge of the bed, breathing rapidly, her hair hanging in damp tendrils over her forehead.

‘How are you doing?’ Brooke sat down next to her and slipped an arm round the woman’s shoulders, feeling the tension under her fingers.

‘I never imagined it would be this painful.’ Alison’s breaths were coming in pants and her cheeks were pale and stained with tears. ‘Breathing just doesn’t seem to work and the gas and air makes me feel sick. I’m no good at this.’

‘You’re doing brilliantly,’ Brooke said quietly, taking charge of the situation and glancing at Paula. ‘Can you draw the curtains, please? Let’s darken the room and try and make the atmosphere more relaxing. Alison, I’m going to use some aromatherapy oils to try and help you relax.’

Alison’s husband frowned. ‘Are they safe in labour?’

‘The ones we use are.’ Brooke stood up and reached into a cupboard for the vaporiser which was kept in each delivery room. ‘Generally we stick to lavender and clary but sometimes I use nutmeg.’

‘How on earth do you know all that?’ Alison looked at her, momentarily distracted. ‘Are you a trained aromatherapist?’

‘Yes, actually,’ Brooke admitted with a smile. ‘Lots of midwives are these days. There’s a general move towards a more holistic approach to pregnancy and birth, and quite a few have done the necessary training to offer aromatherapy to women in labour. We’re very lucky that the unit here encourages that sort of thing.’

Brooke added the oils to the vaporiser and the room was soon filled with the soothing smell of essential oils.

‘Oh, that’s nice.’ Alison closed her eyes and breathed deeply, dropping her head onto her chest as another pain ripped through her body. ‘Here we go again…’

Brooke sat beside her and massaged her gently, talking her quietly through the pain and helping her to breathe properly. When the pain was over Brooke turned to Alison’s husband.

‘It might help if you massaged her back for her.’

He looked helpless. ‘What do I do?’

Together they helped Alison straddle a chair and Brooke showed him how to do thumb-circling on the shoulders using an oil mixture blended with essential oils.

‘Oh, that feels so good, Tim…’ Alison gave a moan of pleasure and closed her eyes, breathing deeply as her husband gently massaged her skin. ‘Tell me you’ll do this when I’m not in labour.’

Tim Neal gave a self-conscious grin. ‘As long as you don’t expect me to go and train as an aromatherapist.’

Brooke stayed with them and monitored Alison’s contractions, and although she was more relaxed it was obvious that she was still finding the pain hard to bear.

‘Would you consider using the pool?’ Brooke crouched down in front of her, her eyes kind and gentle. ‘Many women find it a great pain-reliever, you know.’

Alison shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes. ‘I don’t fancy it. I’m sorry, I know it’s illogical…’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ Brooke said quietly. ‘I’m just trying to find something that suits you because I think you do need something more, don’t you?’

Alison nodded and the tears slipped onto her cheeks. ‘I’m such a wimp.’

‘You’re not a wimp, Alison, far from it. You’re doing marvellously.’ Brooke sat cross-legged on a cushion and glanced from one to the other. ‘Would you like to consider an epidural?’

‘Paula was just telling us that there is a greater risk of forceps delivery if I have an epidural.’ Alison shifted on the chair, looking uncomfortable and anxious. ‘I really don’t know what to do.’

‘Well, it’s true that there’s a higher incidence of what we call an assisted delivery—that’s forceps or ventouse—with an epidural in place. That’s because you’re not always able to feel the urge to push so well when your lower half is numb. But there’s always the option of allowing the epidural to wear off when you’re ready to push.’

Alison frowned and raked her tangled hair away from her face. ‘And does that work?’

‘Not always,’ Brooke admitted, resting her chin on her palm as she looked at Alison. ‘We can make a good guess as to how quickly you’ll dilate, but some labours can be unpredictable so there’s no guarantee that we can time it perfectly. And some women find it hard to have been pain-free and then suddenly have strong contractions with no build-up.’

‘The truth is, I really want an epidural, but I know midwives hate them.’ Alison bit her lip. ‘You’d rather I tried to do it by myself, wouldn’t you?’

‘Not at all. If you’d like an epidural then that’s fine by me. I would need to examine you because we can’t give you an epidural until you’re at least three centimetres dilated or it can stop your labour, and we don’t want to have to interfere with drips and things.’

Alison glanced at her husband and swallowed hard. ‘I think I would like one.’

‘That’s fine, then.’ Brooke rose to her feet. ‘Let’s get you back on the bed so that I can examine you, and we’ll take it from there.’

Ten minutes later she’d ascertained that Alison was five centimetres dilated and well able to have an epidural.

‘You’re doing really well but you have still got a way to go. The head’s in a good position so I don’t foresee any problems at the moment. Would you like to go for it?’

Alison looked helplessly at her husband and then back at Brooke. ‘I said I wasn’t having anything, but that was before I knew what it felt like.’

‘It doesn’t matter to me, love,’ Tim assured her, giving his wife a quick kiss. ‘You do what feels right.’

Brooke sat down on the bed next to her, her expression sympathetic. ‘You know, there really isn’t a right and a wrong way, Alison. You have to do what feels right to you.’

Tears slipped down Alison’s cheeks. ‘I don’t know. It feels like agony and I’m starting to panic about the delivery itself.’

‘Nothing to panic about,’ Brooke soothed. ‘Just think about now. Let’s work through a few more contractions together and see how you cope.’

She spent another twenty minutes with Alison, at the end of which everyone decided that an epidural was the right option because she was so adamant that she wouldn’t use the pool.

Paula caught up with Brooke in the corridor as she went to bleep the anaesthetist.

‘You’re brilliant with her. I couldn’t get her to relax at all.’

Brooke gave her a tired smile. ‘Don’t blame yourself. She’s very, very anxious.’

‘Is that why you encouraged her to go for the epidural?’

‘She wanted one,’ Brooke said simply, picking up the phone and dialling Switchboard. ‘She just needed reassurance that we wouldn’t disapprove of her choice.’

‘But generally you do try to encourage them to avoid medical intervention?’

‘What we really encourage is freedom of choice for the mother,’ Brooke told her, tucking the receiver under her ear. ‘We want them to have as much choice as possible in their labour and delivery. Alison is clearly not happy about using the pool and she’s in a lot of pain. An epidural is probably right for her. Switch? Can you bleep Dr Penny for me, please?’

‘I’ll need to do regular obs, won’t I?’ Paula scribbled in her notebook and Brooke nodded as she replaced the receiver.

‘Yes. An epidural can lower the blood pressure dramatically. I’ll leave you for now but give me a yell when Dr Penny arrives and I’ll give you a hand.’

The afternoon flew by and Brooke was rushed off her feet, helping students, admitting pregnant women in labour and arranging transfers to the ward.

‘You OK, Brooke?’ Gill caught up with her halfway through the afternoon.

Brooke rubbed her aching neck. ‘Yes, I suppose. I miss spending an entire shift with one woman.’ She exchanged a rueful glance with the senior sister.

‘Yes, well, that’s today’s NHS for you.’ Gill sighed and checked her watch. ‘I hate to ask you this, Brooke, and I suppose your circumstances will make it impossible, but—’

‘Will I work a double shift?’ Brooke chanted, rolling her eyes. ‘Yes, of course I will.’

Gill’s eyes narrowed. ‘You’re sure? I thought you might have to rush back.’

‘No. Not tonight.’

‘Well, that’s great. Thanks a lot. How’s Mrs Neal coming along?’

Brooke pulled a face. ‘Slowly. I’ve just bleeped the anaesthetist.’

‘Right. Let me know when she’s delivering.’

Alison Neal continued to make slow progress and by six o’clock she was fully dilated and had been pushing for an hour. As it was her first baby, in theory she could have been left to push for longer but Brooke was worried about the baby.

‘His heart rate is dipping slightly with each contraction, Alison, so I’m going to give the doctor a ring.’

Bother. She was going to have to ring Jed because his SHO didn’t have enough experience, the registrar was off sick and the senior reg wasn’t due to start for another six weeks.

He strode into the room five minutes later and Brooke immediately handed him the trace, dispensing with preliminaries.

‘We’re getting late decelerations.’ She knew that if the baby’s heart rate dropped after the peak of a contraction it could be a sign that the baby was short of oxygen. ‘I’ve tried changing her position but it’s made no difference.’

‘Right.’ Jed frowned down at the trace, and slipped the paper through his fingers, examining it in detail. ‘How many centimetres dilated is she now?’

‘She’s fully dilated and she’s been pushing for an hour, but the head’s still quite high.’

‘OK.’ Jed handed the trace back to her and smiled at the Neals. ‘I’m Jed Matthews, the consultant. How are you doing?’

‘I’ve been better.’ Alison was looking exhausted, her blonde hair hanging limply round her shoulders. ‘What happens now?’

‘I’d like to examine you,’ Jed said gently, ‘and then we’ll decide together what’s best.’

Alison nodded and Brooke gestured to Paula to help Jed as she settled herself on the bed and talked quietly to Alison.

Jed snapped on a pair of gloves and examined Alison carefully, his face a mask of concentration.

‘OK.’ His handsome face was thoughtful as he finished his examination and gave Alison a warm smile. ‘It’s hard to know who’s more tired, you or the baby.’

Alison’s grip tightened on Brooke’s hand and she and her husband exchanged anxious glances. ‘Is he in trouble?’

Jed hesitated, choosing his words carefully. ‘Not yet, but we need to deliver him as quickly as we can. Have you heard of a ventouse delivery?’

Alison took a deep breath. ‘That’s the suction thing, isn’t it?’

Jed nodded. ‘Basically, yes. I attach a flexible cap to the baby’s head and when you push, I give you a bit of extra help. You’re still doing most of the work, but I can give you a helping hand.’

Brooke blinked with admiration. Somehow he’d managed to make it seem as though Alison would still be doing it all herself. Clever man.

‘Will it hurt?’ Alison looked suddenly anxious and Jed shook his head, his eyes kind as he moved over to the sink and started to scrub.

‘Your epidural was topped up not long ago so, to be honest, it shouldn’t, and I’ll be as gentle as I possibly can.’

Seeing Alison’s expression, Brooke decided that Jed’s bedside manner was second to none but, then, she already knew that, didn’t she? Remembering just exactly how skilled Jed’s bedside manner was brought a blush to her cheeks and she dragged her mind back to work with an effort.

‘Paula, would you bleep the paediatrician and then assist Mr Matthews, please? I’ll sit with Alison.’

Alison grabbed her hand tightly. ‘Will you stay with me the whole time?’

‘The whole time,’ Brooke promised, hoping that Jed was as skilled at using the ventouse as he was at performing emergency Caesarean sections.

He was. As soon as she and Tim had manoeuvred Alison into the right position, Jed applied the cup to the baby’s head with enviable ease. He glanced over his shoulder at Paula.

‘Have you seen this before?’

She shook her head and he raised an eyebrow. ‘Well, stand a bit closer, then, and I’ll tell you what I’m doing.’

Paula blushed and did as she was told, sneaking a glance at the broad shoulders as she moved to where he’d indicated she should stand.

Noticing the look, Brooke felt a stab of jealousy which she quickly suppressed. What was the matter with her? Why should she be jealous?

Brooke watched as Jed applied traction, explaining quietly to Paula and talking occasionally to Alison who had Brooke’s hand in a vice-like grip.

‘It’s important not to use excessive traction,’ he murmured, using the force of the contraction to help his own efforts. ‘It’s descending nicely. Well done, Alison. We’ll soon have this baby out. What’s the heart rate doing, Brooke?’

Brooke glanced at the CTG machine and met his eyes. Frankly, it wasn’t good but she didn’t want to panic Alison.

‘Eighty,’ she said flatly, and Jed nodded, comprehension in his blue eyes.

‘Right. One big push for me, Alison. Come on, baby.’ He pulled gently and the head emerged, blue and mottled, just as Sita slid discreetly into the room with the necessary equipment.

‘OK, I’ve finished with the ventouse now. Well done, Alison.’ Jed worked quickly, removing the cup and getting ready to deliver the rest of the baby. ‘Here he comes.’

The baby slithered into his waiting hands and he lifted it smoothly onto Alison’s abdomen, grinning as it started to yell.

‘I love that sound!’

Brooke breathed a sigh of relief and grinned at him, momentarily forgetting the tension between them. She loved that sound, too.

‘Oh, Alison!’ Tim Neal’s voice was choked with emotion as he gently touched his new baby, and Brooke blinked several times. Bother! Why was she always such a marshmallow?

Fifteen minutes later the cord was cut, the placenta delivered and mother and baby were cuddled up together as if they’d known each other for ever.

‘Well, you didn’t need me here at all,’ Sita declared cheerfully, having checked the baby and pronounced it well.

‘Thank you.’ Tears misted Alison’s eyes as she looked at Jed. ‘You were brilliant, wasn’t he, Tim?’

Her husband looked shell-shocked by the whole experience. ‘He certainly was.’

‘Don’t tell him that. It’s crowded enough in the labour ward without having a doctor with an oversized head,’ Brooke quipped, helping Paula clear up after the delivery. But he had done well, she had to admit it. He’d managed to deliver the baby with the minimum of fuss but she’d seen the skill in his technique.

‘She’s gorgeous.’ Jed smiled down at the baby and touched its tiny cheek with one strong finger.

Brooke froze, her eyes fixed on his face.

‘Do you have children, Doctor?’ Alison smiled up at him and Jed shook his head.

‘Not yet. But one day I hope to.’

Suddenly Brooke felt as though she was suffocating and she mumbled an excuse and left the room.

Dear God, what was she going to do? How was she going to handle this?

* * *

It was nearly ten o’clock by the time the labour ward had calmed down, and as she changed and dragged on her coat Brooke felt exhausted. The prospect of a bus ride home filled her with gloom. What on earth was she going to do about the stupid car?

Pushing the worry aside, she stuck her head round the office door and smiled at Gill. ‘I’m off. My bus goes in five minutes.’

‘Thanks, Brooke!’

Brooke gathered up her bits and pieces from the staffroom and dashed out of the hospital, sprinting across the car park as she saw the lights of the bus approach.

‘Brooke!’

No! She stopped dead and turned, eyeing the low, expensive sports car and Jed Matthews with frustration. What was it like to have a car that started?

‘Not now, Mr Matthews. I’m already late.’ She turned and ran for the bus, her heart bursting as she crossed the lawn just in time to see it pull away. ‘No! No, no, no!’

Tears pricked her eyes and she slammed her bag down onto the seat and sat down next to it. Suddenly it was all too much and the tears slid down her cheeks. Damn. She never cried! Never! Brushing them away with the back of her hand, she gave herself a sharp telling-off. How pathetic! She was just tired, that was all. Tired. Nothing more.

Strong fingers curled into her shoulder and pulled her upright.

‘Get in.’ Jed propelled her towards his car. ‘I’ll give you a lift home.’

‘No! I don’t want a lift!’ She shook herself free and glared at him, her eyes still shiny with tears. ‘Just leave me alone, will you? I don’t need you here on top of everything else!! First the heating, then the roof and now the car, and I missed my bus…’

She choked on the lump in her throat and, before she could protest, strong arms had swept her off her feet and deposited her in the passenger seat. Warmth and comfort enveloped her and she sagged against the plush seat, the fight draining out of her like water through a sieve.

‘I don’t want a lift,’ she mumbled, her dark lashes clogged with tears as Jed leaned across her to fasten her seat belt. The urge to touch him was so strong it was a physical pain. She could see the dark shadow of his jaw and smell that tantalising male scent that she remembered so well. Dear God, she loved this man. She’d loved him from the first minute she’d stared into those sexy blue eyes, and she’d never stopped loving him even though she knew it was hopeless.

‘Where to?’ He pulled out of the hospital car park and drove slowly towards the main road, glancing at her expectantly.

She rallied her flagging spirits and fumbled for the doorhandle. ‘I don’t want you to take me home. I don’t want to go anywhere with you.’

‘Unless you want to add to your problems by falling out of a moving car, I suggest you leave the door shut,’ he drawled, picking up speed so that she had no choice but to release the handle.

‘You’re a bully.’

‘Stop behaving like a child and give me some directions.’ His words were clipped, his expression exasperated. ‘Brooke, you missed your bus and I’m taking you home. It’s as simple as that. Now, do I turn left or right?’

‘I don’t want to go home with you.’ For some reason the tears wouldn’t stop flowing and she hated herself for it.

‘Left or right?’ This time his voice was gentler and he paused at the junction with the main road and dug a hand in his pocket, handing her a tissue.

She took it and blew her nose hard. Oh, what was the point in fighting with him? She needed to get home and this was as good a way as any. ‘Right. Take the road towards Elterwater.’

‘Progress!’ He slammed his foot on the accelerator and the car sped along the quiet roads, making a soft purring sound that Brooke had never heard before. Her car made the oddest noises. Bangs and grinding noises. Nothing like this. Maybe this was what a car was meant to sound like when it worked.

His eyes were fixed on the road ahead. ‘So, how long have you lived up here?’

‘In the Lake District?’ She pushed the tissue up her sleeve. ‘Two years.’

‘Why did you move from London?’

‘I needed—’ She broke off and glared at his profile. ‘Who said I was in London?’

He gave a sigh, his dark hair glossy in the moonlight. ‘Are you always this defensive? Relax, Brooke. You won’t be giving anything away. I know who you are and I know you worked in London. Why did you move?’

For a hundred reasons, none of which she could tell him. ‘I like the country.’

‘Right.’ He glanced at her, one eyebrow lifted. ‘Where now?’

‘Left at this junction and then right up the hill. My cottage is first on the right. Or at least it was when I left it this morning,’ she said dryly. ‘Knowing my luck, it’s probably fallen down by now.’

He laughed but he gave her a keen look as he pulled the car to a halt. ‘That bad, huh?’

‘You have no idea,’ Brooke muttered under her breath, releasing her seat belt and giving him the best smile that she could manage. ‘Thanks for the lift.’

She scrambled out of the car, thinking that sports cars weren’t that easy to get out of, and slammed the door, her eyes narrowing as he did the same thing.

‘What do you think you’re doing?’

His eyes glinted at her across the roof of the car. ‘Coming in to finish the conversation.’

‘No way!’ She didn’t want him in her house. There were too many clues in there. She swung her bag over her shoulder and glared at him as she marched past him and made for her front door. ‘It’s late and I want to go to bed.’

Bother! Why on earth had she said that? The look in his eyes brought the colour to her cheeks but thankfully he didn’t make the obvious remark.

‘We need to talk, Brooke.’ His voice was low and very, very male. ‘Preferably without an audience.’

Her hand shook as she tried to get the key in the lock. ‘We have nothing to talk about.’

The key turned at last and she pushed open the door and turned to say a firm goodbye, but he was already shouldering his way past her into the narrow hall of her cottage.

‘How dare you?’ She stared at him, outraged. ‘You can’t just barge in here and take over my life.’

‘I’m not taking over your life.’ Jed’s voice was calm and slightly amused. ‘Calm down. I don’t want anything from you except a conversation.’

‘Yes, well, after the day I’ve had I’m not up to conversation.’ Suddenly exhausted, Brooke dropped her bag in the hall and closed the front door. How was she going to keep her secret, with him prowling round her house?

Marching past him without a glance, she took the stairs two at a time and braced herself for the worst. What had a whole day of rain done to her house?

Gingerly she pushed open the door and gasped in horror as she saw the overflowing bucket. Replacing it quickly with an empty one, she sank back on her heels and stared helplessly at the ceiling.

‘So this is the roof bit of your problem?’ Jed lounged in her doorway, surveying the damage through narrowed eyes.

‘Sorry?’ Brooke glanced nervously at him but reassured herself that there was nothing in this room to give him any clues as to who normally slept there. She’d emptied it out as soon as the roof had started to leak.

‘When I picked you up you said, First the heating, then the roof and now the car. Presumably this is the roof bit of the problem.’

Brooke nodded and braced herself to lift the brimming bucket.

‘I’ll do that.’ He took it from her easily and deposited it in the bathroom. ‘How long has it been like this?’

‘Since the weekend.’

He frowned. ‘Wouldn’t anyone come and see to it?’

Probably, if she could have afforded to pay them, Brooke thought grimly.

‘They’re coming on Saturday.’ After payday.

He squinted up at her ceiling. ‘It’s probably nothing much. Just a few tiles missing. What happened with the heating?’

‘It broke.’ Nothing behind her words betrayed the cost of having it fixed.

‘And the car?’

She managed a smile. ‘Well, let’s just say that broke, too. I’m having a really good week.’

His eyes searched hers for a moment and then flickered back to the bedroom ceiling. ‘Is it your house?’

‘Yes, for my sins. If it was rented at least I could threaten the landlord.’

There was a slight pause. ‘You don’t have a man in your life?’

She swallowed and shook her head. What was the point in lying? ‘No. And, anyway, I don’t see what difference that would make. Now, will you go and leave me alone?’

He didn’t budge. ‘I could probably help with that roof—’

She lifted her chin. ‘I don’t need help, but thanks for the offer.’

He stood aside to let her pass. ‘From where I’m standing, Brooke, it looks as though you need all the help you can get.’

She reached the bottom of the stairs and turned to face him, her eyes blazing. ‘If you’ve finished what you came to say, you can go now.’

He shook his head and closed the distance between them, his powerful frame dominating her narrow hallway.

‘I haven’t even started.’

Brooke swallowed. ‘We have nothing to say to each other, Jed—’

‘I’ve got plenty to say. I want to know why you left me that night.’ He was standing so close to her that she could hardly breathe. She felt smothered, totally surrounded by his male presence.

‘I don’t know what you mean—I’ve already told you it wasn’t me.’

He swore softly and a muscle worked in his lean jaw. ‘So we’re back to the glass-slipper routine, are we? All right, then let’s see if it fits.’

His strong hands slid into her hair and held her face firmly while his mouth came down on hers.

CHAPTER THREE

JED’S kiss.

The demands of his mouth sent a wicked thrill surging through Brooke’s body, and she forgot everything except how this man could make her feel.

It had been six years.

Six years since that incredible night, but nothing had changed between them. His kiss still had the power to control her. To cloud her head with wild excitement. To make her want what she couldn’t have.

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