Eleanor’s lips tightened at the memory of that time, but Jack chose not to notice. Instead, he flicked through the case notes as Eleanor’s voice heightened with emotion, which Jack didn’t respond to—he preferred facts.
‘I just don’t see why we’re giving her a chance with her third baby when we know how she’s been in the past.’
‘You won’t win with that argument against Nina Wilson,’ Jack said, and as he read through the notes he saw that some of them had, in fact, been written by him.
One entry that he had written was just over a week old: Five-day-old, unsettled, distressed … He’d been called by the night team for a consult, he noted, but as Jack tried to picture the baby he had written about just a few nights ago he felt a slight knot of unease that he couldn’t place baby Sienna.
He told himself that it was to be expected—Angel Mendez Children’s Hospital was a phenomenally busy free hospital in New York City. Not only did Jack head up the general paediatric team, he also dealt regularly with the board, Admin and the endless round of socialising and networking that was required to raise vital funds for the hospital.
The Carters were a prominent New York family and, as the son of a Park Avenue medical dynasty, Jack, with his endless connections and effortless grace, was called on often, not just for his impressive medical skills but also because of his connections and therefore the donations his family name alone could bring.
Still, this morning it was all about baby Sienna and making the best possible decisions for her future.
Jack finished with the medical history and read Nina’s meticulous notes. They were very detailed and thorough and, Jack noted, very dispassionate—unlike Nina herself, who was incredibly fiery and fought hard for her patients. She was young, a little angry with bureaucracy and out to set the world to rights, whereas Jack, at thirty-four years of age, was just a touch more realistic as to what could and could not be achieved.
‘Nina always comes down on the side of the parents,’ Eleanor said.
‘Not always.’ Jack shook his head. ‘Though I do know what you mean.’
He did.
Nina believed in families. Of course there were tough calls to be made at times and then she made them, but as Jack read through the notes he realised this was going to be a very long meeting.
Arguing with Nina was like an extremely prolonged game of tennis—everything that you served to her was returned with well-researched and thought-out force. He wasn’t in the least surprised that Eleanor had asked him to sit in on the case meeting—Nina would know every inch of the family history and would have arguments and counter-arguments as to why her findings should be upheld.
‘Come on, then.’ Jack put on his jacket. He didn’t need to check his appearance in the mirror—a combination of genes and wealth assured that he always looked good. His dark brown hair was trimmed fortnightly, his designer attire was taken care of by his housekeeper. All Jack had to do in the morning was kiss whatever lover was in his bed, head to the shower, shave and then step into his designer wardrobe to emerge immaculate a few moments later—more often than not just to break another heart.
As he headed to the meeting Jack thought briefly about Monica’s tears that morning.
Why did women always demand a reason for why things had come to an end?
Why did they always want to know where they had gone wrong or how they could change, or what had happened to suddenly change his mind?
Nothing had changed Jack’s mind.
He simply didn’t get involved and there was no such thing to Jack as long term.
And so, as he entered the meeting room, Jack readied himself for his second round of feminine emotion that morning. Nina had already arrived and was taking off her scarf and unbuttoning her coat. There were still a couple of flakes of snow in her hair and as she glanced over and saw him enter the room Jack watched her lips close tightly as she realised perhaps that Eleanor had brought in the big gun.
‘Morning, Nina,’ he greeted her, and flashed a smile just to annoy her.
‘Jack.’ Nina threw a saccharine smile in his direction and then turned her back and took off her coat.
Damn.
Nina didn’t say it, of course, she just undid the belt and buttons and shrugged off her coat, but despite her together appearance she was incredibly unsettled and not just because Jack was Head of Paediatrics.
They clashed often.
Jack, always cool and detached, often brought her to the verge of tears, not that she ever let him see that. Just a couple of months ago she had been part of the team that had worked hard with a family struggling with a small baby who had been brought in to the emergency department. Jack had been reserved in his judgement that Baby Tanner should be discharged home to the care of the mother, but her team had fought hard to ensure that it happened. But just two weeks ago she had been called to the emergency department to find out that Baby Tanner had been brought in again, unconscious, a victim of shaken-baby syndrome.
Jack had said not one word to her as she had stepped into the cubicle.
His look had said everything, though—I told you so. Nina could still see his cool grey eyes harden as they had met hers, and she still carried the guilt.
But it wasn’t just that that had Nina unsettled this morning.
Jack Carter was more than good looking and, of course, that didn’t go unnoticed. He was known for his playboy ways and his charmed, privileged life, and the acquired arrogance that came with it irked Nina.
But, no, it wasn’t just that either.
What really got to Nina was that he got to her.
He was arrogant, chauvinistic, dismissive—in fact, Jack Carter was everything Nina didn’t like in a man, and, no, logically she didn’t fancy him in the least—it was just that her body said otherwise.
It noticed him.
It reacted to him.
And Nina didn’t like it one bit.
She could feel his eyes lazily watching her as she took off her coat, was incredibly aware of him as she hung up the garment and headed to the table to commence the meeting. She almost anticipated the slight inappropriateness that would undoubtedly come from his smirking lips.
He didn’t disappoint her. ‘Nice to see someone at the meeting with their clothes on,’ Jack said as she made her way over, because everyone apart from Nina and Jack was wearing scrubs. Everyone present laughed a little at his off-the-cuff remark.
Everyone, Jack noted, but Nina.
Then again, he’d never really seen her smile, at least not at him. She was always so serious, so intense and the only time her face relaxed and lit up with a smile was when she was engaging with her clients.
This morning she had on a grey pinafore dress with a red jumper beneath, but this was no school uniform! The red stockings and black boots that she wore took care of that. Nina’s dark blonde hair was pinned up and her cheeks were red from coming into the warmth of the hospital from a very cold January morning.
‘Sorry I’m late,’ Nina said, taking a seat at the table opposite him. Just as Jack found himself wondering if the workaholic Nina had actually overslept, she corrected his thought process. ‘I got called to go out on an urgent response.’
And, rather inconveniently for Jack, he wondered if there was a Mr Wilson who got annoyed at having Nina peeled from his bed at the crack of dawn by the emergency response team, or even a Ms Wilson, who bemoaned her partner leaving