‘But—why me? Why now?’
‘We don’t know the causes,’ said Lucy, ‘but it’s more common if you’ve had high blood pressure, you’re an older mum or you have twins or triplets, you’re a smoker or you take cocaine.’
Liza smiled weakly. ‘I’ve never smoked or done drugs. I haven’t even have a glass of wine since I found out I was pregnant, let alone anything else!’
‘That’s good,’ Lucy said, squeezing her hand.
‘Have you been in a car accident or had a fall, or banged your stomach in any way?’ Nic asked.
Liza shook her head. ‘Not that I can remember.’
‘We’ll take some blood for tests to see why it’s happened,’ Lucy said, ‘and to check that your blood’s clotting properly.’ If Liza Andrews had lost a lot of blood, she might have clotting problems after the birth, known as DIC or disseminated intravascular coagulation—around a third of cases did. And she had a much higher risk of a large bleed after delivery, so she might need a transfusion. ‘We might need to give you some drugs to help your uterus contract after the birth.’
Liza nodded.
‘And because your baby’s early, we’ll need to take him—or her—to the special care unit for a little while, to help him with his breathing and feeding. But you’ll be able to see the baby any time you like,’ Nic said.
‘Is there anyone you’d like us to call?’ Lucy asked.
‘My husband’s already on his way in. And my mum.’ Liza’s eyes filled with tears. ‘He wanted to cut the cord.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Nic said. ‘I’ll need to give you a general anaesthetic, so he won’t be allowed in for the delivery. But as soon as the baby arrives, he’ll be able to have a cuddle.’
A tear slid down to pool on the mask. ‘It was all supposed to be so different.’
‘I know,’ Lucy soothed. ‘Though you’re not alone. This happens in around one in fifty pregnancies.’ Not all abruptions were as severe as this one—if the baby wasn’t in distress and the bleed was minor, the mum could often go home if she chose. ‘But you’ll have your baby very soon.’ She just hoped the abruption wasn’t so severe that the baby wasn’t getting enough oxygen—it could suffer brain death or even die.
‘I’d like you to sign a consent form, please,’ Nic said.
‘I’ll call the anaesthetist and get Theatre to prep,’ Lucy said.
On their way up to Theatre, Nic said, ‘You handled that well. It’s a rough situation.’
‘Let’s just hope she doesn’t get renal failure or a bad PPH,’ Lucy said, referring to postpartum haemorrhage, a major bleed after delivery. She couldn’t bring herself to talk about the risks to the baby.
Before she knew it, they were in Theatre and Nic was making the first incision. Lucy couldn’t believe how fast he worked, but she was relieved when she was finally able to lift the baby out. ‘It’s a girl,’ she said.
‘Welcome, bellissima,’ Nic said softly. His eyes crinkled at the corners, betraying the smile behind his surgeon’s mask, and he handed her to Lucy. ‘What’s the Apgar score, Lucy?’ he asked as he delivered the placenta and started stitching—the Apgar score was a check on the baby’s pulse, breathing, whether the skin was pink or blue and the baby’s reaction to suction.
‘First Apgar score of five,’ Lucy said, checking the baby. She gave the baby gentle suction to clear her airways. Her skin wasn’t pink enough either for Lucy’s liking.
‘Second score of seven,’ she reported four minutes later.
The ten-minute score had improved to nine. ‘But this little scrap’s going to up to SCBU—’ the special care baby unit ‘—to warm up for a bit,’ Lucy said.
Nic finished closing. ‘We’ll leave Liza in the recovery team’s capable hands and baby Andrews to SBCU.’ He glanced at the clock. ‘And we’re going to have some lunch.’
Lunch? He wanted to have lunch with her? Her stomach fluttered at the idea of it. Lunch. Sitting opposite him on one of the small cafeteria tables, close enough for their knees to touch…
Way, way too dangerous. ‘Thanks for the offer, but I’d better get back to the ward,’ she said. ‘Finish the rounds—it’s not fair on Mal. One of us ought to go back and you did all the tough work in Theatre, so you deserve the break. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a scalpel move that fast.’
Coward, his eyes said. ‘Maybe Mal needs to feel you trust him enough to finish the rounds on his own.’
And maybe Nic ought to get to know the staff properly before he started throwing his weight about. Just because he’d got the consultant’s job, it didn’t mean he knew everything. She knew Mal far better than he did. She lifted her chin. ‘Maybe I don’t feel he’s ready.’
‘Lunch first,’ Nic said.
‘I really need to get back.’ Liar, a voice in her head taunted. You’d love to have lunch with him. And more.
Given her track record at judging the men in her life, that’d be a very bad move. Anyway, she doubted if he meant that sort of lunch. He was her boss, not her lover.
Despite that kiss.
‘I want to get to know all the team,’ Nic said, ‘and I thought I might as well start with you.’
So he was thinking of her as a doctor, nothing else. Just part of the team. He was going to ask everyone else to lunch, too. He hadn’t singled her out as special. But she still couldn’t help thinking about that kiss. He hadn’t mentioned it, but was he remembering the way it had been between them, that unlooked-for spark at the ball when their mouths had touched?
‘So, shall we?’
Before Lucy could open her mouth to refuse—or, worse, accept—her pager bleeped. She glanced at the display.
‘Sorry. I’m needed back on the ward. Catch you later,’ she said, hoping she sounded as casual as he had when he’d told her he wanted to get to know the team. And without giving him the chance to answer, she strode swiftly away.
COOL, calm, very English—and clearly as mad as hell at him.
And Nic couldn’t blame her, in the circumstances. He’d taken her job and he’d embarrassed her at the ball in front of all her colleagues…and friends? Nic wasn’t sure, yet, if Lucy Williams believed in friends.
She certainly didn’t believe in lovers. The shock on her face when he’d kissed her had told him that.
What he couldn’t work out was why. Why a woman who was clever and talented—enough to take on the role of acting consultant at the very young age of thirty—and beautiful wasn’t already spoken for. No, scratch the beautiful—she was more than that. She looked like an angel, with that alabaster skin and those clear blue eyes and the ice-blonde hair pulled back severely from her face—hair he wanted to see tumbling down over her shoulders or, better still, over his pillow. Her mouth was a perfect rosebud and he just hadn’t been able to resist kissing her at the ball.
And then she’d vanished. He’d looked for her immediately after the next dance, but she’d gone.
And then, when she’d faced him on the ward…
He took a swig of coffee. Leave her alone. That would be the sensible thing to do. Anything else would be breaking all his rules, professional and private.
Except…he couldn’t.
‘Down,