Mitch nodded towards her. ‘I came to find out who’s looking after Jamie today.’
‘I allocated him to Rachel. She’s very competent. Last thing I heard she was just about to give him his breakfast. Why don’t you come and see him? He’s probably ready for some daddy hugs. Then perhaps we could alert your nurses to your whereabouts.’
She ushered them out of her sluice room. As things had been progressing with Max in a way-too-dangerous direction, Gabby was thankful for the interruption. But perturbed by the existence of not one but two very distracting Maitlands.
Surely to God one was enough.
Six hours later Gabby finally found a moment to breathe. Slumping into the soggy orange sofa in the ward staff lunch-room, she broke out her sandwiches and yoghurt and started to eat.
Luckily the ward round had run smoothly. Jamie appeared to be making it through his first day post-op with just a niggling temperature. And there had been no major events.
Apart from her near heart attack every time Max brushed past her on the drug round, at the nurses’ station, along the corridor. Was it normal for a doctor to spend so much time on one ward?
Of course it was—he was dedicated, hard-working. And always, it seemed, there.
‘Gabby? We meet again.’
There. See? Always there, his deep voice making her stomach do cartwheels. She swallowed her mouthful of tuna mayonnaise. ‘I’m just leaving, actually.’
‘No, you’re not. Your feet are tucked up, your shoes discarded across the floor, you’re only halfway through a magazine and if I know women well …’ He let the ‘and I do’ hang in the silence. Well, hell, he certainly knew how to please a woman, as she’d learnt last night. ‘You won’t go until you finish the article on best celebrity diets.’
He squished down onto the cushion next to her, mug in hand. The fabric of his scrubs stretched tautly against the muscle of his thigh. The thigh she’d caressed, gripped and, by all accounts, scratched. She dragged her gaze back to his mouth, his words. ‘Which means, Gabriella, that we have time for a quick chat.’
‘I don’t think so.’ She made a big deal of slipping her feet into her shoes, checking her watch, weighing up her options. Still ten minutes of her break left. She could leave now and attend to the piles of paperwork or she could last out her break. With him. In here.
She felt the heat in her cheeks and knew her stupid body was betraying her. What to do? ‘I told you, Max. I’m not open to that.’
‘To what?’
‘More of last night. The whole sex thing.’
‘Yes. No. Me too. Although … I could be persuaded. You have to admit it was good. We were good. Anytime you want a replay, I’m your man.’ His eyes glinted and he appeared to be holding back a laugh.
Annoyingly, she liked it when he laughed. His whole body lit up and his attention focused totally on her. Made her feel he’d laughed just because of her. This was why she didn’t date. Didn’t want to get caught up in the lure and charm of someone like Max.
He leaned forward a little. ‘Don’t look so worried. I was only going to let you know I’m off to my outpatient clinic. Jamie’s temp is still wobbly, so I’m going to arrange for some more scans to double-check everything. Should be later today. In the meantime, if you need anything, call the house officer.’
‘Oh. Okay. Of course, that’s fine. And I’ll personally check Jamie’s obs.’ She managed to bluff her way through her embarrassment.
Of course he’d put their night behind him. He was a player. And at work. She’d already given him the brush-off and he’d moved on. A guy like Max wouldn’t ask twice. Didn’t need to—there would be plenty of other offers. The gossip machine whirred with his and his brother’s sexual exploits. ‘How’s Mitchell doing?’
His eyes darkened and his back stiffened at the mention of his brother. She got the impression that, like her, he didn’t talk about personal stuff. Even if personal stuff included a patient and a member of hospital staff.
‘Mitchell is fine.’ He stood to leave, but paused. ‘I think I might need to apologise for him.’
‘For what?’
‘Let’s just say that tact isn’t his forte.’
‘Believe me, I don’t think anything you Maitland brothers do could shock me. Your reputations go before you.’
Because once she’d discovered they were identical she’d made it her business to discover as much about them as possible. Didn’t want to find herself propositioning the wrong brother!
She knew about Max’s history as a heartbreaker, sure, and there were lots of women queuing up to try to cure him of that. What she hadn’t expected to hear was that he and Mitchell had barely spoken a word to each other for the last few years they’d both been working at the hospital. That some kind of feud boiled between them, making communication on any scale largely impossible. That no one really knew why.
No matter—she didn’t need to know much past who to call in an emergency. She tore off the top of her yoghurt and licked the lid.
Max grinned, reached across the back of the sofa and stuck a spoon into her yoghurt pot. Ignoring her whack on the back of his hand, he licked, eyebrows peaked. ‘So I have a reputation?’
‘Oh, yes. Big and bad.’
‘Tough job, but someone had to do it.’ He perched on the edge of the sofa arm and finished the rest of the yoghurt she held out to him.
‘It depends if good-time guy and commitment-phobe float your boat.’
‘What can I say? Having fun isn’t a crime.’
‘Not just you—your brother too.’ She didn’t even try to lose the laugh. ‘So who’s the oldest? You or Mitchell?’
‘Me. By twenty minutes.’
A blink of an eye really, and yet the responsibility clearly sat heavily on him. Operating on his younger brother’s son must have played a part in the wisps of grey at his temples. Made him look sophisticated, self-assured. Belied the playful spirit she knew lurked underneath his professional mask.
‘You must have had a lot of fun growing up with a twin. I always wanted a sister, someone to talk to. I’ve heard all sorts of stories about twins. Swapping clothes. Swapping girlfriends. Conning teachers. Secret languages …’
The grin slipped. ‘We weren’t close.’
‘How so? That’s unusual for twins. Were you always vying for position? Too much competition?’
‘Geography.’
And with that he shook his head and left the room. It was as if a switch had been flicked. All his good humour and good manners had instantly evaporated, leaving her feeling uncomfortable and strangely bereft.
What did he mean? Geography? The academic subject? Or geography as in distance?
It didn’t matter and it certainly wouldn’t have any bearing on her professional relationship with him. And she really shouldn’t care.
And if she did, it was only her innate reaction that a human being could look so hopelessly, horribly lost—if only for a second.
Before he’d managed to pull up the barriers again.
CHAPTER FOUR
SO, HE’D SAID more than he should have. That was the trouble with sleep deprivation—it did funny things