She turned and he copped another blast of how gorgeous she was. Her hair was still wet, her flaming curls clinging to her lovely face. She was standing in bare feet, wearing maternity smock and jeans, lit by the afternoon sun from the outside window. And as he watched her, the tangle of emotions surrounding him fell away. Hunger hit him with such force that he almost took her in his arms right then.
But she was holding out gym pants, measuring them for length. The gym pants acted like a shield, giving him pause.
Somehow sense prevailed. Just.
‘I’ve found you some clothes,’ she said, cutting across his thoughts with such brisk efficiency that he blinked.
‘Pardon?’
‘Don-the concierge-has loaned you his gym gear. You need to bring it back tomorrow. Clean.’
‘Um…thanks,’ he said. Resourceful? Yes, she was. Clinging? No.
‘You can hardly drive home in your towel,’ she explained, quite kindly. ‘We both need to get a bit of dignity back here.’
‘We do.’
‘Right, then,’ she said, and waited-politely-for him to disappear back into the bathroom. To get into another man’s gym gear and leave.
What else was a man to do?
Take her in his arms and kiss her senseless?
Let himself fall into that abyss?
He was so close-but not close enough. For as she turned away, he saw her put a hand to her back and wince. Backache in advanced pregnancy was common, but with that tiny gesture the pain he’d felt on losing Alice came flooding back. Maggie was beautiful, brave, intelligent-and vulnerable and pregnant and alive. How would he feel if he took her to him, if he loved her with all his heart and then…and then…?
No.
And she’d turned away. She was being sensible for them both.
By the time he was dressed in Don’s classy gym gear he was almost thinking clearly, but still he didn’t want to leave her. What had happened seemed too big. Outside, the sun had gone behind clouds and the apartment was gloomy.
‘Do you have candles?’ he asked, and she looked at him like he wasn’t very bright.
‘Of course I have candles. I have enough to light the whole apartment. We had power cuts for a while last night, too, if you remember, and the night before that. Did the lights go off where you were?’
‘No.’ But maybe they had. The hospital had its own generator and by the time he’d left work-at midnight-the power had been on again.
Work. That was the way to go, he thought. Get back to work and get a grip on your emotions. But to leave her here alone seemed wrong.
But maybe there was an alternative.
‘I do need to go back to work,’ he told her. ‘But I also want to check on Judith and Grace. The ambulance was taking them to Sydney South. Would you like to come with me? I can put you in a cab to come home afterwards.’
‘Thank you,’ she said, picking up her purse.
Just like that. ‘Yes?’
‘I’d decided I’d go before you offered,’ she admitted. ‘I know I should be professionally detached, but you’re looking at a woman who’s so undetached she just sobbed her naked heart out on your manly chest. And you know something? I might have sobbed even if it wasn’t manly so let’s not get too personal here. So, yes, please, Dr Ashton, I need to find out how they are.’
‘You should rest,’ he said, belatedly.
‘So I should,’ she agreed. ‘But I’m never going to rest until I know.’
‘Maggie…’
‘No more sobbing,’ she promised. ‘No more chests. Just two doctors checking on two patients. Let’s go.’
CHAPTER NINE
SO ONCE again Maggie got to ride in his seriously sexy little car, but despite her bravado she wasn’t feeling sexy, or brave, or anything other than totally disoriented. She was feeling disconcerted by the way she’d reacted over the last couple of hours. She was feeling…bereft.
Because she wanted this to be different?
For her mind had moved on from drama and was now playing tricks. Max was driving her to the hospital to see how two people they’d helped were faring. That was all that was happening but she was feeling sensation of warm wind in her hair, she was watching Max’s strongly boned hands-surgeon’s hands, she thought-on the steering-wheel, and she was feeling like she was part of a couple again. She felt cared for. She felt like she was a woman beside the man she loved.
The sensation was insidious in its sweetness-and it was a lie.
For Max was being efficient and kind. Nothing else.
But it didn’t stop her soaking it up. True or not, she was holding to the moment, thinking if this was all she had then she’d enjoy every minute of it.
But sadly it was only a short drive. At the hospital Max pulled into his personal parking place-impressive!-and her illusion of togetherness dispersed. It was back to being Maggie on her own.
But still she hesitated before getting out of his car, holding back for just a moment but long enough for him to come round to her side. He was holding the door wide for her, looking at her in concern. Proffering his hands to help tug her unwieldy body upward.
‘Are you okay?’ he asked uneasily. ‘Maggie, this is too much. Shall I take you home again?’
‘I’m fine. It’s just this car’s too low. I need a crane.’ She looked at his hands-thought about how she should refuse his aid. Contact with this man was doing dumb things to her head-and then she thought, no, dumb or not she’d take any contact she could get. She took his hands, he tugged her to her feet and she came too fast.
She was hard against him. Only she wasn’t. Her bump was in the way.
She had to get herself under control. Max was on the other side of her bump, holding on, waiting for her to steady herself. Looking at her in concern.
She steadied. Took a deep breath. Tugged her hands away.
Then…‘Spike,’ she said.
This was exactly what she needed. Not to look at Max. Not to let him see her need. Spike was on the far side of the car park, accompanied by a couple-a man in paint-spattered overalls and a woman in the uniform of one of the local supermarket chains. They looked about to climb into a battered family sedan.
‘Spike,’ Maggie yelled, and then, as he didn’t respond, she put two fingers in her mouth and whistled.
Max hadn’t seen Spike, and he hadn’t expected it. He was a whole eighteen inches away from Maggie, and the whistle came close to bursting his eardrums. It was a whistle a farmer might use to call a dog in the next county.
‘It’s Spike,’ Maggie said happily, and headed across the car park.
He followed. Bemused.
‘Where did you learn to whistle like that?’
‘Betty,’ she said over her shoulder. ‘Great legacy, huh?’
Maggie had Spike’s attention now. Of course she did. He-and his parents?-stood by their car, immobilised by Maggie’s whistle.
The whole car-park looked immobilised by Maggie’s whistle, but Maggie’s sole attention was on Spike.
The kid still looked pale and subdued, dressed in the nondescript clothes that emergency departments give out after accidents. His spiked hair was sagging at the tips and he looked…smaller? But Max watched his face as he recognised Maggie, and thought this was a kid who’d had a life-or-death situation thrust at him and who’d reacted
