It took about a millisecond to realise he’d said exactly the wrong thing.
Bonnie glared at him and put her hands on her hips. ‘Please do not question my capabilities or qualifications. In the last year, I’ve dealt with a shoulder dystocia, umbilical cord prolapse, two women who failed to progress, a footling breech, a cervical lip and an intrapartum haemorrhage. Is that enough for you?’ She turned to walk away, then obviously decided she wasn’t finished. ‘And just so we’re clear—’ she held out her hands ‘—I didn’t have a fancy unit, staffed with lots of other people to help me. These were home deliveries. I was on my own, with no assistance. Still think I need to refresh my skills?’
Her pretty brow was marred by a frown and he could practically feel the heat sparking from her eyes. It was an impressive list—even for a midwife based in a busy labour ward. For a community midwife, some of those situations must have been terrifying. He had a whole new respect for his new midwife.
But Bonnie wasn’t finished. It was obvious he’d lit a fire within her and probably touched a nerve. Maybe she was nervous about starting work in a new hospital? Worse, he’d just called her qualifications into question in front of the rest of the staff. He hadn’t even considered that might not be entirely appropriate—especially when these could be the people she would be in charge of. Mentally, he was kicking himself.
‘My experience with women isn’t just in the labour suite, Dr Layton.’ Oh, boy, she was mad. It was clear, if he was patronising her, they weren’t on first-name terms. ‘I’ve spent the last ten years looking after women from the moment they’re pregnant until long after the baby is delivered. I’ve picked up on lots of factors that affect their pregnancy, both clinical and social. And as a community midwife I’ve dealt with lots of post-delivery problems for both mother and child. Looking after patients at home is a whole lot different from looking after them in a clinical setting. Isolation, post-op complications, neonatal problems, postpartum psychosis, depression, domestic abuse...’ She fixed him with her gaze. ‘The list goes on and on.’
He didn’t want to smile. He should be annoyed. This woman was practically putting him in his place. But he couldn’t help but feel he might have deserved it.
He wondered how on earth she’d ended up here. She’d already mentioned a daughter. And she clearly wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. It was absolutely none of his business. But Jacob Layton’s curiosity was definitely sparked. He liked this feisty midwife.
He spoke steadily. ‘That certainly seems like enough experience. So what made you come down to Cambridge? It’s a long way from Scotland.’
She didn’t even stop to think. Her eyes were still flashing. Bonnie Reid was on a roll. ‘That’s the thing about finding your husband in bed with your best friend—it makes you want to get as far away as possible.’
* * *
Silence.
You could have heard a proverbial pin drop. Bonnie felt the colour rush to her cheeks and she lifted her hand to her mouth. Oh, no. Why on earth would she say something like that out loud?
It was that darn man. Jacob Layton. It wasn’t bad enough that the handsomest man on the planet had watched her walking down the corridor as if he were undressing her with his eyes. Then he’d started talking to her and everything he’d said had put her back up. Now she’d lost her rag with him. Hardly the best start in a new job.
But Bonnie Reid didn’t take any prisoners. In this life, she meant to start the way she was going to continue. The part of her life where she put up with bad behaviour, indifference and rudeness was over.
Maybe it was the fact he was so good-looking that was unnerving her. If she got any closer she was sure she’d see gold flecks in those intense green eyes. Or maybe it was the fact that no man had even flickered on her radar since she’d walked away from her ex. Certainly not a brown-haired, green-eyed Hollywood-style hunk.
Her insides were cringing. She couldn’t believe what she’d just said. And it was clear from the faces around her that no one else could either.
But what made it all the more excruciating was the fact that the edges of Jacob Layton’s mouth seemed to be turning upwards.
He was laughing at her.
‘Please come with me,’ he said sharply and walked over, ushering her towards an office door with Head Obstetrician emblazoned across it, and away from the gaping mouths.
He closed the door firmly behind them and walked around his desk. ‘Take a seat.’ His voice was firm and she felt a wave of panic sweep over her.
She hadn’t even officially started—was she about to be fired? ‘I’m sorry. I’ve no idea where that came from.’
Her stomach did a little flip-flop. It didn’t matter. It really didn’t matter but she’d just made a fool of herself in front of the resident hunk and her new boss. She’d just told him that her husband had cheated on her. It was hardly a placard that she wanted to wave above her head. She might as well be holding a sign saying ‘I’m plain and boring in bed’.
The humiliation burned her cheeks. Right now she wanted to crawl into a hole.
He fixed on her with those green eyes and she felt her skin prickle under her thin scrubs. At times like this she longed for her thicker white tunic and navy trousers. But scrubs were the order of the day in most labour wards.
He pointed to the chair again. ‘Sit down.’
Her feet were shuffling nervously on the carpet and she couldn’t stop wringing her hands together. Sitting down seemed quite claustrophobic. Particularly with Jacob sitting at the other side of the desk and the door closed behind them.
‘Don’t ever speak to me like that again in front of my colleagues.’ The words were out before she could stop them. And she wasn’t finished. ‘It was unprofessional. If you want to question my clinical capabilities take it up with me privately, or take it up with the director of midwives who employed me.’ She waved her hand. ‘On second thoughts, why don’t you actually wait until you’ve worked with me, before you question my clinical capabilities?’ She stuck her hands on her hips. ‘And maybe I’ll wait until then to question yours.’
Too much. It was too much. Even she knew that. The shocked expression on his face almost made her want to open the door and run back down the corridor.
Definitely not her best start.
She took a deep breath and sat down. ‘Look—’ she started but Jacob lifted his hand.
She froze mid-sentence. This was the way she always got when she was nervous. Her mouth started running away with her, a prime example being what had happened outside.
Jacob ran his hand through his hair. It struck her as an odd act. Usually a sign of someone being tired or frustrated. Jacob Layton didn’t strike her as any of those things.
He lifted his eyes to meet hers. ‘You’re right. I shouldn’t have questioned your capabilities. But let’s start with the basics. Bonnie, I would have preferred it if you could have been here at nine this morning. It would have made our meeting a little easier. Is timing going to be an issue for you?’
She shook her head quickly, wondering if she should be offended by the question. ‘No. Not at all. This morning was a one-off.’
He gave the tiniest nod. ‘I appreciate you just arrived last night, and that you were asked to start at short notice.’ His brow furrowed a little. ‘Do you have adequate arrangements in place for your daughter?’
She straightened her shoulders. He was putting her on edge again. Dr Handsome just seemed to rub her up the wrong way. ‘I hope so. I have a friend who is a registered childminder. She’s agreed to take Freya in the mornings and after school.’
‘What about weekends and night shifts?’
Bonnie felt herself pull back a little. ‘I was told there was no requirement for night shifts—that you had permanent night shift staff here?’ The statement had turned into a question. She had the
mildest feeling of panic.
A wave of recognition flickered across his face. ‘What about shift work? Will that cause you a problem?
Now he was really getting her back up. She couldn’t fathom this guy out at all. One minute he was fiercely professional, the next he looked amused by her. As for the sparks that had shot up her arm when they’d touched...
She’d already snapped at this guy once. She didn’t want to do it again. It wasn’t his fault she was tired. It wasn’t his fault that the journey from Scotland had taken much more out of her and Freya than she’d really expected. It wasn’t his fault Freya had been upset this morning, or that the motel room was totally inappropriate for them both. None of this was his fault.
She wanted to respect her boss and get on well with him. He was a bit grumpy, but she’d met worse, and she was sure she could knock it out of him. She’d already embarrassed herself once in front of her boss. It was time for a new tack.