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      ‘Absolutely.’

      ‘Forgotten?’

      ‘There was no kiss.’

      Callum smiled. ‘Kiss? What kiss?’

      Hailey smiled back at him. He touched his fingers to his forehead in a mock salute as he slowly backed out of the room. She sagged against the sink. If only it was as easy as that.

      The phone was ringing when Hailey ventured out of the panroom a few minutes later. Callum’s team had gathered in the nurses’ station. They were ignoring the phone. Tina, the ward clerk, had left for the day.

      Hailey looked at the medical officers. Callum, a registrar, two residents and two med students. ‘No, it’s OK,’ she said, half bemused, half annoyed. ‘I’ll get the phone.’ It never ceased to amaze her how immune to ringing medical staff were.

      ‘Hi, kids’ ward, Hailey speaking.’

      ‘Hi, Hailey.’

      ‘Yvonne?’ What was 2B’s NUM doing, ringing her? She should be here.

      ‘Can you do Callum’s round? I’m caught up in this funding meeting and I need to stay because they’re discussing our equipment allocation.’

      Hailey sighed, resigned to her fate. She glanced at Callum and met his calm grey gaze. OK, she wasn’t going to avoid him any more but that didn’t mean she wanted to spend any extra time with him. ‘Sure,’ she said averting her gaze. ‘Is Dad there?’

      ‘He’s chairing it.’

      Hailey’s father, John Winters, was the Brisbane General’s medical director. He spent his entire day in meetings such as these. ‘Blow him a kiss for me,’ she said, then hung up the phone.

      ‘Looks like you got me, folks,’ she said, addressing the entourage. She risked another glance at Callum. A small smile was playing on that very fascinating mouth. ‘Let’s get this show on the road.’

      2B was a twenty-bed ward. In an ideal world eight beds were allocated to surgical patients, eight to medical patients and four formed a high-dependency bay for those children that needed closer monitoring. Of course, the balance was often weighted more heavily one way or the other which caused all kinds of administration headaches.

      But that was the nature of hospitals and as far as nursing their patients went, Hailey couldn’t give a fig about the medical/surgical mix—they were all sick kids.

      She pushed the chart trolley from bed to bed as each patient and their progress was discussed. She hadn’t done a round with Callum before and was most impressed with his unique mix of professionalism, thoroughness and quirky bedside manner. He developed a quick rapport with the parents and wasn’t afraid to take the time with the kids to touch them and try and elicit a smile or two.

      Hailey had been on too many ward rounds that were rushed and left the parents with more questions than answers. Callum didn’t operate that way. He seemed genuinely interested, concerned and willing to listen. He also engaged his entire team, med students included, teaching as he went, and it was obvious they liked and respected him.

      He was careful to include her as well, seeking her opinion, consulting her about decisions, making it nigh on impossible not to interact with him. She’d hoped the round would be quick and painless but she’d been wrong. She was more aware of him than ever now she’d seen the professional side of him.

      The truth was, even after thirty minutes, she had to grudgingly admit she admired the hell out of him. An irresistible mix when the kiss-that-never-happened still loomed large in her consciousness. Damn it all. This was a man she could like.

      The surgical bays were full of the morning’s ENT list. Several tonsillectomies, some with adenoids as well and others with grommets. The surgeons would be in to see them later but Callum took the time to check all was well with them.

      The medical bays sported a mix of conditions. From their frequent flyer, Lucy, with cystic fibrosis, to Troy, an eight-year-old cerebral palsy patient with pneumonia, and an adventurous three-year-old, Jake, who had petted a possum and ended up with a bitten arm for his trouble. The wound had developed cellulitis, necessitating intravenous antibiotics.

      ‘Hello, Jake,’ Callum greeted as they stopped at the three-year-old’s bedside. ‘I heard you wrestled a lion the other day.’

      Jake giggled and looked at his mother, who smiled at Callum. ‘No, it was a crocodile, wasn’t it, Jakey?’

      Jake giggled again.

      ‘Is it OK if I have a look at where this croc got you?’ Callum grinned.

      Jake nodded shyly and held out his bandaged arm. The other arm was wrapped up too, to secure the IV. Hailey reached out to remove the dressing but Callum had already started unwinding it. She was so used to doing things like this for doctors that it was a nice change to come across one who could do his own dirty work.

      ‘Ah, now, see here,’ Callum said to his students as he revealed the wound. ‘This is a classic case of cellulitis. A central wound and a reddened area of skin surrounding it where the subcutaneous tissues have been inflamed. And see,’ Callum said, pointing to the perfectly formed outer edge of the angry-looking area, ‘the definite demarcation line where the inflammation halts.’

      The students peered closer and nodded.

      ‘How big was that croc, Jake?’ Callum asked. ‘That’s an impressive wound.’

      ‘He was this big,’ Jake said, his eyes almost as wide as his outstretched arm span, getting into the swing of the game.

      The team laughed. Hailey was still smiling when Callum rewound the bandage. Their gazes met and Callum winked at her. Her smile slipped. The memory of how he had done exactly that on the balcony taunted her and the strange fluttery sensation it had caused in the pit of her stomach returned.

      ‘He’s going to need longer on the antibiotics,’ Callum said, addressing Jake’s mother. ‘We’ll review the wound every day but I wouldn’t count on being out of here for at least two more days.’

      The team waited for Callum to wash his hands and then moved on to the four-bedded high-dependency bay, directly opposite the nurses’ station, which currently housed only three patients.

      There was twelve-month-old Henry, an ex-prem baby with a trachy tube for his floppy airway. His mother usually managed him at home but Henry had developed a respiratory infection and had become quite sick very rapidly, ending up in ICU for a week. He was on the mend now and was due for discharge some time in the next few days.

      In the next bed Tristan, a very healthy-looking four-year-old was sitting up, watching television with his father. He was being monitored after ingestion of four of his grandmother’s blood-pressure tablets. He was in hospital as a precaution only and, barring any unexpected adverse reaction, would be discharged tomorrow.

      Tahlia, a very cute newborn diabetic, was kicking up a ruckus. She’d also been a transfer from ICU. She would be with them for some time while her parents learned how to manage the condition.

      ‘Can you hold her while I go and get her bottle?’ Rosemary, the junior nurse who’d been allocated the bay for the shift, asked Hailey.

      Hailey nodded and took the swaddled infant. Tahlia, well used to being picked up after her four weeks in hospital, settled instantly. Hailey held her while the round continued.

      ‘You’re a natural,’ Callum murmured as he brushed past her to wash his hands.

      Hailey looked down into Tahlia’s blue gaze and realised she’d been subconsciously swaying. Well, yes, she was a paeds nurse after all. And prior to that she’d been a midwife. So, yes, she was good with kids.

      But she wasn’t the same nurse who had gone away to London. What had happened there had taught her to keep her emotional distance. Made her wary of getting too involved with her patients. Once she may have been a natural. Now she

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