Christmas at Jimmie's Children's Unit Page 12

  She was, but as she plodded up the street, a heaviness she rarely felt descended on her spirit. Angus had been honest with her from the start—no more children in his life—but the attraction between them, the attraction she knew he felt, had swayed her into thinking maybe something could come of a relationship between them.

  Swayed her into thinking maybe he’d change his mind.

  But now she knew how he felt, she had to cross that, admittedly remote, possibility right out of contention.

  And why was she thinking of relationships of any kind with Angus when all they’d done so far was kiss?

  Honesty propelled the answer: because she wanted there to be more than kisses—she wanted a relationship. And now that she knew she loved him, the need was not just for an affair kind of relationship but one that might possibly have a future.

  With no babies?

  Get real, Armstrong, you’re so far ahead of the play here you’re out of the field. There is no relationship! Get that into your thick head and get on with your life.

  He caught up with her as she turned into her gate.

  ‘Oliver is taking Clare home,’ he panted, ‘which I think is what she wanted all along.’

  ‘So?’ Kate demanded, angry with her body for responding to his arrival and angry with him for disrupting her when she’d only just got things sorted in her head, and had her wayward impulses back under control.

  ‘So, I can see you home,’ he said, less puffed now so he could smile as he spoke and it was the smile that was Kate’s undoing.

  Not that she could let him see it.

  ‘I am home,’ she pointed out.

  ‘But I can see you to the door,’ he whispered, the words zapping along her nerves like electric currents.

  He hooked his arm around her shoulders and drew her close, kicking the gate open and walking her up the short path to the shadowed porch.

  If he kisses me, I’m gone.

  It was Kate’s last rational thought. They’d no sooner reached the porch than Angus’s lips captured hers and she was swept into the maelstrom of delight just kissing Angus caused. Swept into eddying currents of desire so deep and swift she knew there was no escape.

  She eased one hand out of his grasp and dug in her pocket for a key, wordlessly unlocking the door and walking in, still in his embrace, his lips now seeking other places to kiss—her temple, just below her ear and the little hollow at the base of her neck.

  Every kiss provided its own erotic thrill, each different, yet building and building the desire that was already flooding through her body.

  ‘Bedroom, I think?’ he whispered, the huskiness of his voice sending shivers down her spine, weakening the muscles in her legs.

  He lifted her then, carrying her as easily as he carried Hamish, up the stairs and turning as if by instinct towards her bedroom at the front of the house.

  She closed her eyes and tried not to think of the clothes scattered around on every surface, the skirt she’d worn to work probably on the floor, the sexy black dress cast aside on a chair. As long as they didn’t turn on a light—

  And why was she thinking about the disarray in her bedroom at a time like this?

  She knew full well—it was to save her thinking about the consequences of what was about to happen. She was about to make love with Angus, and though the aftermath of that action might break her heart, she wanted it more than she’d ever wanted anything in her life.

  Especially now Angus was kissing her again, only this time his hand was underneath her singlet, underneath her bra, touching her breast, feeling for her nipple. And pressed against her was the evidence of his desire, hard and strong, moving only slightly against her body but exciting her with the subtle movement.

  She eased his shirt out of his trousers and slid her hands onto the skin on his back, feeling the silky smoothness of it, pressing her fingers into flat muscle mass and hard ribs, learning Angus through touch.

  But her fingers couldn’t possibly be exciting him as much as his were exciting her, for now he was cupping her breast and she could feel it grow heavy, her nipple peaking with desire, his tweaking on it sending fiery messages directly down to the sensitive nub between her thighs.

  ‘Can we dispense with clothes?’ she murmured against his chin, hoping she sounded less desperate than she felt.

  ‘No sooner said than done,’ he responded, and somehow, with hands flailing and feet moving, they stripped each other off, then came together again, skin to skin, less frantic now, savouring this moment of meeting properly, revelling in the togetherness of naked bodies.

  ‘I grabbed some protection before I left the hospital,’ Angus muttered, bending to retrieve his trousers and digging into a pocket before dropping a handful of foilwrapped condoms on the bedside table.

  ‘That many? What are you, the Scottish stud?’ Kate teased, although the teasing was hiding her silly disappointment. Was she mad? She might want a baby but not an accidental pregnancy, especially with Angus, so why disappointment?

  ‘You’ll see,’ Angus was saying as he lifted her again and tossed her lightly onto the bed, following her down so his body lay full-length beside her, on his side so he could lean towards her, touch her, kiss her, tease her with his tongue and fingers, and with words too, soft words that questioned and suggested. Their exploration of each other became a voyage of discovery until the teasing brought Kate to the very edge of orgasm and she cried out to have him deep inside her so satisfaction could be shared.

  They’d used two condoms, Kate remembered that much as movement on the bed disturbed her exhausted sleep. She reached out for Angus but he was already up, dressing in the darkness.

  ‘You’re going?’

  She hoped she’d sounded less desperate, less disappointed, than she felt! He sat down on the bed, and leaned over her, kissing her gently on the lips.

  ‘I must, sweet Kate, for all I’d love to stay. But Hamish, knowing it’s Saturday, will be bouncing into my bed at the crack of dawn which, in this upside-down country seems to be about 5:00 a.m.’

  ‘Later now we’re on summer time,’ Kate corrected, although this totally unnecessary piece of information was nothing more than an attempt to mask the hurt she felt. Rationally she knew Angus had to get home to his son—of course he couldn’t spend the night with her.

  He pulled on his shoes, then bent to kiss her again, offering, as he stood, yet another piece of explanation.

  ‘He’ll be on a high because I’m taking him to the zoo to see the wombats.’

  Kate waited, but the invitation she longed to hear didn’t come, so she slid out of bed, pulled on a robe, fortunately slung over the bedpost nearby, and caught up with him at the door.

  ‘There’s a deadlock,’ she explained, trying to sound as practical and matter-of-fact as he had. ‘I’ll lock the door behind you.’

  She followed him down the steps, willing the idea of inviting her to the zoo with them to occur to him, but as he dropped a second goodbye kiss on her lips at the door she realised just how compartmentalised Angus’s life must be. Okay, so she’d caught a glimpse inside one compartment tonight—the one labelled Jenna—but the Angus and Hamish boxes were still locked against her.

  And probably always would be!

  The realisation saddened her, but at least she knew where she stood and now it was up to her to decide where she wanted to fit into his life. Would she be happy to be in her own box? One marked Kate for Sex? Well, maybe he wasn’t that crass! Maybe it was just marked Kate!

  But, loving him as she did, could she handle it? She had no idea, and standing in the dark hallway wasn’t going to supply one, so she went back to bed and curled up on the side where the scent of his body still lingered, memories of their lovemaking carrying her back to sleep.

  She’d been right about the compartmentalisation of Angus’s life, she realised when, after escaping to a friend’s place in the Blue Mountains for the weekend to avoid him—and to think—she was back in the company of the
professional Angus.

  Was it easy for him, or did he want to lean into her when they were close, as she did to him? Did he want to touch her lightly as they passed, brush his fingers against her arm or back, as her fingers ached to do to him?

  There was no sign that he did, but then, life at work had been hectic and there’d been little time for social interaction of any kind. Early in the week it was fairly standard chaos, except that two theatre nurses were off with summer colds and the team was working with theatre staff they didn’t know, which always made things go a little less smoothly.

  And even when she had no patients to check, Kate stayed at work later than she needed to, still uncertain in her mind—though not her heart—just where she wanted to fit in Angus’s ordered life. She was determined to avoid accidental contact with him until she’d worked it out.

  If she worked it out!

  If she was right that he compartmentalised his life, could she accept that?

  Or was she wrong about his attitude?

  Although he’d have had to shut off part of himself after his wife died…

  Her heart hoped she was wrong, but on top of the lack of an invitation to join him and Hamish at the zoo, Angus’s behaviour at work, professional to the nth degree, told her she was right. Okay, so she didn’t want a cuddle in the linen closet or a quick kiss in the procedures’ room, but some acknowledgement of what had happened between them—a touch, a wink, an offer of a shared coffee break—would have made her feel less insecure.

  The week went from bad to worse on Thursday, when they had a baby transferred into Jimmie’s with hypoplastic left heart syndrome, a bad congenital defect where the left ventricle which pumped blood into the aorta, thence all through the body, was virtually missing. Kate first met the baby, Karl Sutcliffe, when she was called in to do the anaesthesia for the investigative procedures. He was such a chubby wee infant it was hard to believe he had a severe abnormality in his heart.

  ‘Have you been involved in many cases of HLHS?’ Angus asked, and knowing he liked to have people talking as he worked, she responded.

  ‘Only one Norwood,’ she said, naming the first operation that was usually performed on newborns with the problem, ‘but I’ve been involved with a few who’ve had the bidirectional shunt inserted at six months and one little girl who had a Fontan at eighteen months.’

  ‘That’s the trickiest of the three,’ Angus said, carrying on the conversation, although Kate knew ninety-nine point nine per cent of his attention was on this patient. ‘Connecting the superior and inferior vena cava veins to the pulmonary artery can be very tricky, especially as the lungs have to be strong enough to adapt to the change.’

  ‘Well, Phil did that one, and it went beautifully. I saw the little girl a couple of weeks ago when she was in for a check-up and she looked great.’

  ‘Are we talking about Lucy Welsh?’ Angus asked, glancing up at Kate, the dark eyes causing tremors she shouldn’t feel at work.

  ‘That’s her,’ Kate responded, trying to focus solely on work. ‘Is she seeing you now?’

  Angus nodded. ‘That’s right and she’s doing really well.’ There was a pause before he added, ‘Okay, we’re all done here.’

  Something in his voice made Kate look more closely at him.

  ‘And?’ she probed.

  He nodded to the technician who’d been handling the equipment, asked for a number of specific prints, then, as Kate checked the baby’s blood gases, he sighed and answered.

  ‘It’s worse than the X-rays, ECG and echo showed. There’s no ventricle at all, and the aorta is compromised, as well.’

  ‘You can’t operate?’

  Kate hoped she sounded more professional than she felt, but hearing news like this always shocked her. Without an operation this baby would die.

  ‘I’ll talk to Alex, show him what I’ve found, but I doubt it.’

  He sounded tired and more than ever Kate longed to touch him, even a light touch on his shoulder, but Angus was in work mode and every movement he made, every glance he gave her, told her this.

  Angus saw Kate flinch and longed to reach out and touch her—nothing more than a reassuring brush of his fingers—but this was work and he knew from experience he had to keep his work life separated from his personal life.

  Yet he owed Kate something.

  ‘Cup of coffee?’ he suggested. ‘Once you’ve got him hooked up back in the PICU?’

  ‘Where?’ she asked.

  He glanced at his watch. It was after five, the day had got away from him.

  ‘If you’re knocking off, let’s make it Scoozi’s. Hamish has a playdate with a kindy friend so won’t be home until late. Besides, he and Juanita are used to expecting me when they see me.’

  She nodded but he sensed she wasn’t overjoyed by the idea. She’d been avoiding him—he’d figured that out quickly enough—but why? Embarrassment over what had happened Friday night? Or avoidance so there’d be no chance of it ever happening again?

  His body didn’t like that idea, not one little bit. Kate Armstrong had excited it in ways he’d never felt before and he’d hoped she’d enjoyed the experience enough to want to continue it.

  He reached the restaurant first and chose a table in the outdoor garden section. A pergola overhead shaded the area from the worst of the day’s sun so it was pleasantly cool, and he sipped his coffee and found his body not only relaxing, but stirring at the thought of seeing Kate in private—or more or less private, at least not at the hospital.

  ‘Is there nothing we can do for that baby?’

  So much for his body stirring! But he didn’t have to answer straightaway, did he? He stood and moved to pull out her chair.

  ‘Sit down, relax. Do you want a coffee or a drink—a glass of wine, maybe? I know they have that white you liked.’

  She stared at him as if he’d gone demented, then her lovely lips clamped together in a thin line.

  ‘You know that because you and Clare ate here last Friday night, I assume, and no, I didn’t come for a drink, but for you to talk about that baby. Isn’t that why you asked me?’

  Kate heard the words come flying out before she could prevent them. What was wrong with her? Here she was, meeting Angus at his invitation, and she was carrying on like a shrew.

  ‘Sit,’ Angus said, but gently this time, his hand offering just the slightest downward pressure to her shoulder.

  Damn him! Just one touch and she was jelly! Angry jelly, although she knew full well the anger was irrational. She slumped down into the chair.

  ‘Coffee or wine?’

  His repetition of the offer made her shake her head, but maybe a glass of wine would help her through whatever lay ahead.

  ‘Wine, please.’

  He gave her order to a waiter and settled back in his chair, reaching out across the table to grasp her hands.

  ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘I sensed you needed to talk about the baby, but we need to talk about other things, as well, Kate. I came over to see you on Sunday afternoon when Hamish was asleep but you weren’t there, and at work, well, I—’

  ‘Like to keep things professional,’ she finished for him. ‘I did guess that.’

  ‘But do you understand it?’

  Did she? Kate thought about it, pleased her wine had arrived so she could take a sip and put off replying for a moment.

  ‘To a certain extent, but as most doctors and nurses end up in relationships with other doctors and nurses, it’s usually obvious what’s going on around the place. In our unit alone there’ve been seven relationships that I know of, and it’s only been set up a couple of years.’

  He shrugged, the movement of his shoulders reminding her how the skin on those shoulders had felt, reminding her of too many things.

  ‘It happens, but for me it’s easier to keep things more—’

  ‘Compartmentalised?’ Kate offered the guess she’d already made about this man.

  ‘I suppose so,’ he admitted, then he stared off
into space and she knew he was either thinking of some excuse for this behaviour, or wondering if he’d tell her the real reason.

  ‘Back when Jenna died,’ he finally began, and she knew he’d come down on the side of the latter. She also felt a tiny surge of happiness that he was opening the crack in that particular box just a little wider. ‘We’d both been working at the hospital, so everyone knew us—knew us as a pair.’

  He paused, his eyes once again on the greenery on the far side of the garden area.

  ‘I had to keep working there—I had a fellowship, studying under one of the best paediatric cardiac surgeons in the business.’ He turned back to Kate, dark eyes pleading for something—understanding?

  ‘It was terrible, Kate. I could cope, just, with Jenna’s death. I knew I had to come to terms with it and that in time I would, but the sympathy, the commiserations, of the staff around me—everyone knowing and wanting to help—it made it so much harder.’

  ‘So from then on you shut yourself into a box called Work and thought that would shield you from emotion? Did you never think that maybe having people around you who knew you both might be a good thing? That their empathy and understanding and friendship and even love might have helped you through that time, even if it was only in giving you something to kick against?’

  He stared at her, frowning slightly.

  ‘I didn’t see it that way,’ he finally replied. ‘And I still don’t see it as shutting myself away in a box. I’m trying to explain that, at the time, it grated on me and I decided that I wouldn’t mix my professional and private lives ever again.’

  ‘Until you went to bed with me last Friday night!’ Kate reminded him, making him frown even harder.

  ‘But can’t we keep that separate? Does everyone have to know?’

  Kate shook her head, a sadness she didn’t understand riffling through her senses.

  ‘“Everyone” being hospital staff, or “everyone” being them plus Hamish and Juanita? Just how private a box do you want this relationship to be in?’