The Pregnant Midwife. Fiona McArthur

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СКАЧАТЬ was surprised when Hunter agreed because the last thing he’d seemed had been eager to stay around. She wondered at his motives.

      ‘Sure. You ladies have done a great job tonight.’ By the warm glance that passed over her, Kirsten gathered even she was included in the compliment. He always had been fair with his appreciation. She looked away.

      The last thing she needed Hunter to see was her confusion at approval when he’d been impersonating the basilisk all night. She knew she was good at her job, so why should it mean so much for Hunter to say it?

      ‘Decaffeinated shouldn’t keep me awake for what’s left of the night,’ he said. ‘I almost envy you girls a night shift if it means you can sleep through the day.’

      ‘You must get very tired,’ Patricia murmured sympathetically, and Kirsten shifted on her stool with resignation. And she’d thought Patricia a sensible woman. As if Hunter sensed her distaste at the drift of the conversation, he turned himself fully to face her. ‘And are you sleeping today, Kirsten?’

      ‘After lunch,’ she said shortly, and turned back to record Kinny’s vital signs on her chart. He came to stand beside the crib and looked down at her as she sat on the stool. They weren’t touching but she was aware of how close he was. She could have lifted her fingers a centimetre and she’d have been able to feel the warmth of his skin. It was strange, the way she could force herself to ignore these thoughts while they were working, yet when the tension was over it was as if the build-up she’d ignored took over.

      ‘So what’s planned for you this morning that’s more important than sleep?’

      Kirsten smiled noncommittally and unconsciously leaned her body slightly away from him. ‘My new unit. I’ve unpacking to do.’ Her tone didn’t encourage further questions and he shrugged. Then she glanced back over her shoulder. ‘If you want to grab coffee, Patricia, I’ll stay here and watch both girls until you and Hunter come back.’

      Patricia’s pleased smile wasn’t reflected in Hunter’s face and Kirsten stowed that piece of useless information away for later. The good news was he moved away to follow the younger woman to the tearoom and Kirsten felt the tension ease from her neck.

      This was ridiculous. Already she could tell that half the women in NICU were attracted to the man and she knew better than to join the ranks. She’d seen how fickle he could be and how cold he became when he withdrew his favour. A brief glow under the Hunter Morgan sunlamp, despite the memories that could make her smile softly in weak moments of the night, were not worth the chill of being discarded. Now she knew why she preferred a non-threatening platonic friendship with men. She’d get on with her satisfying life as a single woman, and for male companionship she’d stick with those who were no risk to her peace of mind. Maybe she’d tattoo ‘Just friends’ on her forehead.

      As if conjured up, a pair of masculine hands encircled her eyes from behind. ‘Boo,’ a male voice whispered, and Kirsten spun around under his light hold. Thin and blond, Marcus Gleeson, a young registrar she’d shared some of her MIRA experience with last time, grinned cheekily at her. ‘Hey, Wilson, where’d you spring from? You’re more gorgeous than ever.’

      Kirsten looked him up and down. ‘I morphed out of this stool here. Gorgeous, eh? I’m sure three in the morning is my best time.’ She looked critically at the bags under the young man’s eyes. ‘How are you, Marc? Still playing the field?’

      His smile wavered for a moment and then he shrugged. ‘I might tell you later, you always were a good listener. But what about you?’

      Kirsten tilted her head and noticed his usual mischief was missing. Unable to help herself, she stood up, reached out and drew Marcus into a quick sisterly hug. ‘Poor baby. We’ll have coffee soon.’ When she stepped back she looked up into the cold eyes of Hunter.

      Kirsten resisted the ridiculous urge to explain and sat back on her stool and spun to look into crib. Both babies were stable and it wasn’t time for more observations so she turned back to find Hunter still staring at her. She raised her eyebrows in a ‘what?’ gesture and his gaze moved over her dismissively before he turned away without answering.

      Marcus watched him walk away. ‘What’s wrong with the boss?’

      Kirsten shrugged and tucked her hands into her pockets to hide the effect Hunter’s disdain had had on her.

      Hunter glared at the point where the exit light showed the way out and strode faster than usual towards the door. He’d actually felt like lifting Gleeson up by the scruff of his skinny neck and tossing him out the third-floor window. Which was not a normal thought. Up until today he’d quite liked the young chap. Hunter frowned. He supposed Gleeson was only a couple of years younger than he was, but Hunter felt like an old man compared to his registrar.

      He’d seen the smile Kirsten had given Gleeson and the way she’d hugged him. Hunter had thought Gleeson was enamoured by Patricia and had spent his coffee-break steering the young woman towards Marc and away from himself. That was probably why he felt so annoyed. The flat of his hand slapped the door open. Lack of sleep could make you intolerant—though he hadn’t noticed that problem before tonight. Perhaps he was getting old.

      On Kirsten’s first shift back at MIRA she started at seven in the morning. It felt strange to be back in the familiar spread of rooms and balconies. She found her old locker with the key sticking out waiting for her, and she had to smile. Maggie would have done that.

      Kirsten had brought a bag of things from home to keep on site and there was a feeling of déjà vu in packing them back into the locker, having emptied it eighteen months ago. She tucked her bathroom bag, small pillow and quilt at the back for those nights when all the checking and cleaning was finished and they were waiting for a call. If she was going to do extra nights in the nursery she might be glad of an hour’s catch-up sleep.

      Headquarters had two bedrooms with proper beds, a sofa in the TV room and a fold-up bed that could be erected in the education room. But from past experience she knew there wasn’t usually much chance of sleep.

      Most days, the MIRA staff averaged two retrievals per ten-hour shift, with each trip taking between three to five hours. Sometimes it was much longer if the infant was difficult to stabilise before transfer.

      Hunter came into the room and Kirsten shoved away her box of emergency muesli bars, relieved she’d finished packing her locker. The sudden awkwardness at his presence made her press back to let him past.

      The locker room was tiny and he couldn’t help brushing against her as she shrank almost inside her locker to keep out of his way. Just that minute contact made her stiffen in denial of an attraction she didn’t want to feel.

      ‘Worried about catching germs, Kirsten?’ he drawled, but didn’t look at her as he put away his jacket. Kirsten gritted her teeth as she backed out of the small space.

      ‘Don’t be a pain, Hunter.’

      There was silence from behind her as she left the room. Great beginning to the first day, she chided herself, but he’d started it. She sensed him follow her out towards the kitchen. They really needed to get professional here and bury the past. She slid her lunch into the fridge and eyed the new vending machines in the kitchen that hadn’t been there last year and grinned. Sweets, chips, Coke and microwave meals—a truly balanced diet for those who wanted it.

      One of the male registered nurses from the night shift wandered into the kitchen with an empty coffee-cup, let out a whoop when he СКАЧАТЬ