LITMIR.BIZ

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that baby was safe, just waiting for his cord to be clamped and cut, Tilly could allow herself a little flutter of anticipation for the ongoing battle as she waited for Marcus to pass across their patient.

      He looked calm. Calmer than he had when she’d taken him out with a gnome. Calmer than when the police car had rolled up. And to be fair, he’d been very calm and concerned and even kind when he’d come to her rescue that morning.

      The surgical team had been quietly courteous and extremely efficient. The scrub sister was smiling her heart out at the pleasure of scrubbing in with him. And Tilly couldn’t help notice his eyes glance Sister’s way with a twinkle when she spoke. The silly woman was blushing over a smile and a few curling hairs at the V of his loose scrubs.

      Marcus ignored the fact that he knew Matilda was watching him. He reached across and carefully laid Josie’s baby on the sterile sheet on the resuscitation trolley and stepped away from the risk of contamination as she leaned forward.

      It was Marcus’s turn to watch. From the safety of his sterile field he watched the little boy wriggle on the sheet as she wiped him dry and murmured to him. It seemed she was good at her job. How annoying. He frowned at himself. That was ridiculous. That was a good thing.

      He watched her as she assessed heart rate and breathing, along with colour and tone as she finished drying him.

      Baby looked perfect, not distressed and she gathered him up with a deftness that spoke of experience and well-founded confidence. As she carried him around the screen to his mother, Matilda’s pleasure shone and lit up the room. He glanced away because he’d almost smiled himself.

      He saw the home-birth midwife’s eyes mist as she sat beside Josie’s head on the other side of the screen, not something he would normally have noticed, and he was left with a little disquiet at how abruptly he’d dealt with her. Hopefully he’d have a chance to reassure her before she left the hospital. Had he been insensitive? At least she’d known when to call it.

      The next time he looked up it was because the little boy had begun to cry loudly as Tilly unwrapped him and draped him across his mother, baby chest to mother’s breast, skin to skin. Tilly tucked one of his hands in under his mother’s armpit and settled a warmed bunny rug over both of them.

      He’d got over his shock and wasn’t feeling quite as annoyed with her. But he’d have a word later. She was a militant little thing. He’d picked that up from the one comment she’d made in the birth suite. He should probably tell her he wasn’t a fan of home births.

      ‘Hello, my little darling. You scared us.’

      Marcus heard the words as he began to suture the uterus back together. Such heartfelt relief, and he caught the moment when Josie’s husband kissed his wife’s cheek with a shuddering sigh. This was why he did this job. To keep families safe.

      Half an hour later they were almost done. Baby had just let out a roar. ‘Good set of lungs,’ Marcus said as he looked over the top of the screen again and smiled warmly at the new parents, then his gaze skimmed Mary and settled on Tilly.

      Tilly saw his eyes rest on her. We’ll talk later, the look said. Now baby and mum were safe he appeared to be thinking of a little discussion about her phone manner perhaps. Good.

      Tilly couldn’t help the flutter under her rib cage, the flickering nervousness of a battle of wits and practice preferences, and she turned her head away from him. She looked forward to the challenge but perhaps it would be wise not to let him know.

      On the return to the ward, Tilly sponged and settled Josie and her baby so Mary could go home much relieved. The rest of the ward was so busy Tilly didn’t have a chance to wonder when Marcus would come to find her.

      Which was just as well because he didn’t get a chance that night, and apart from a few over-the-shoulder glances that came up empty Tilly went home with unfinished business lying between them.

      Marcus woke at dawn. He didn’t know what had woken him, but he knew it was hopeless to attempt further sleep.

      He rolled out of bed and stretched, seeing the sun was tinging the horizon of ocean with pink and the promise of another beautiful day. The lure of the salty tang of a sea breeze had him swiftly change into his trainers and let himself out of his aunt’s house at a slow run towards the beach.

      A woman dived into the surf as he reached the sand and he couldn’t shed the ripple of anxiety as she dis ap peared under the waves. Her head popped up again and he shuddered as old memories surfaced as well. Swimming hadn’t been attractive since his sixth birthday.

      Irresponsible, that’s what it was, to swim so far out and alone, he said to himself, then grimaced for sounding like a grumpy old man. Well, for goodness’ sake, there were no others on the beach and the lifesavers wouldn’t start for another hour so who would help her if she ran into trouble?

      He turned his gaze to the sand in front and increased his speed until the slap of his runners on the sand beneath him banished the memories and soothed his soul.

      Out past the waves the woman swam parallel to the beach from one side of the bay to the other and he sent one brief glance her way as he turned to run up the cliff path and onto the headland.

      As he returned from his run he closed in on another girl, one he recognised, as she walked up the hill towards the house. One he’d meant to catch up with last night and hadn’t had a chance to.

      Unfinished work business lay between them but maybe that should keep for work. All he could think of was how amazing her wet siren’s hair was, that wiggle of her walk under the towel wrapped around her that did uncomfortable things to his libido, and the strains of a haunting Irish lullaby, this time drifting backwards towards him.

      Now, here was a dilemma.

      He could run past and pretend he didn’t recognise her and hope he made it into the house before she called out to him.

      Or he could stop now, hang back, and not catch up.

      Or he could fall in beside her and pretend he didn’t care either way—which he tried but it didn’t quite come off. ‘Morning, Matilda.’

      The lullaby abruptly ended and she glanced across at him. ‘Good morning, Marcus. Or should I say Dr Bennett?’

      ‘Only at work will be fine.’

      Tilly grinned at him and he couldn’t help his smile back. Not what he had intended at all. Neither was the slow and leisurely perusal of all she had on display above the towel. But what was a man to do when she looked so good?

      She had the body of an angel, now that he had a chance to admire her up close, and the long line of her neck made his fingers itch with the impulse to follow the droplet of seawater that trickled enticingly down into the hollow between her perfect breasts.

      Good Lord. His mouth dried and his mind went blank. Not a normal occurrence.

      ‘Join me for breakfast?’ He frowned. Now, why had he said that? It was the last thing he needed before work and gave the opposite impression of what he wanted to get clear between them. ‘To discuss yesterday.’

      She hesitated and he thought for a moment he’d get out of the ridiculous situation he’d created. Much more sensible to discuss work at work—like he’d decided before he’d been bowled out by his middle stump.

      ‘Where?’

      His stupid mind went blank again. ‘Down at the beach? Pick somewhere to sit. I’ll find you. Say fifteen minutes?’

      ‘Something quick and light? Sounds good.’

      A quick one. That’s what he fancied all right and it was a damn nuisance his sleeping libido had decided to wake up when she’d gone past.

      No. This was an opportunity to clear the air. About work. Maybe find some common ground on their perceptions of theatre calls and lines that were drawn. That was the sensible thing to discuss.

      Fifteen minutes later theatre calls were

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