Ruth paused outside the door. ‘How was Christmas, by the way?’
For a moment Jake had a vision of a beautiful, mysterious woman with clouds of dark hair and a soft, tempting mouth that tasted as sweet as it looked. ‘Christmas was interesting.’
Ruth raised an eyebrow. ‘Meaning?’
‘Meaning that it was interesting.’ Not wanting to elaborate, Jake pushed open the door of the labour suite and stopped dead. Miranda was sitting on the bed, talking to Lucy.
His Miranda.
He blinked and checked that he wasn’t hallucinating. Same ebony hair, same pale skin and soft pink mouth.
The mouth that he’d kissed and explored in sensual detail the night before.
For a moment he just stared at her stupidly, trying to work out what she was doing there. To the best of his recollection, he hadn’t revealed where he worked or what his job was so she couldn’t possibly have followed him.
‘This is Miranda Harding.’ Ruth’s curious expression told him that something of his shock must have shown in his face. ‘She’s a midwife and she’s going to be doing bank work with us for a while.’
Midwife? She was a midwife?
‘Hello, Miranda.’ Somehow Jake managed to keep any trace of irony out of his tone and he noted the faint tinge of colour in her cheeks with interest. It was quite obvious that she wasn’t pleased to see him.
He gritted his teeth. Well, of course she wasn’t pleased to see him. If she’d wanted to see him, presumably she wouldn’t have stolen away in the middle of the night without leaving a number.
What exactly was she afraid of?
They were going to have a conversation, he promised himself, sooner rather than later.
‘Miranda, this is Mr Blackwell, one of our consultants,’ Ruth murmured, her eyes still on Jake’s face. Questioning. ‘He’s going to be looking after Lucy.’
Miranda cleared her throat but it was Lucy who spoke, cutting through the mounting tension in the room.
‘Oh, Mr Blackwell, I feel so guilty, dragging you away from your Christmas. It’s Boxing Day. You should be at home with your family.’
‘Don’t feel guilty, Lucy.’ Jake was still looking at Miranda. ‘I’d finished all the food and that’s the important bit.’ With a huge effort he turned his attention to his patient, promising himself that he’d deal with Miranda later. ‘You were fine when I saw you in clinic last week so when did all this start?’
‘Christmas Eve. I did a bit of last-minute shopping with my mum and I had a bit of
pain but I didn’t really think anything of it. Then, this morning, my waters broke.’
‘Plenty of movements from the baby?’
‘Oh, yes.’ Lucy nodded. ‘I’ve been counting, just like you told me to.’
Jake smiled. He’d been monitoring Lucy right the way through her pregnancy, and he liked her a lot. ‘But no pains?’
‘Nothing since Christmas Eve.’ Lucy frowned. ‘We had a quiet day yesterday, ate too much turkey, you know the sort of thing. Then I had an early night but when I woke up this morning my waters broke all over the bathroom floor. Gushed everywhere. Very embarrassing thing to happen.’ She chewed her lip, her eyes huge and anxious. ‘It’s bad news, isn’t it? Is the baby going to come early?’
Jake’s gaze was steady. ‘Very probably, but we’ll try and keep him inside you for as long as possible. The first thing I’m going to do is arrange for you to have a steroid injection. That will help the baby’s lungs in the event that he’s delivered early.’
‘All right.’ Lucy’s hands were curled into fists in her lap. ‘What else?’
‘I’m going to run some tests and then I’ll decide. You’re going to need to stay in, I’m afraid, for now at least.’ He turned to Miranda, his expression cool. ‘Can you arrange for her to have 12 milligrams of betamethasone IM straight away? And contact the ward and arrange for a bed.’
She avoided looking him in the eye. ‘Of course. Could you write the betamethasone on the chart for me?’
Why wouldn’t she look at him? It wasn’t as if they’d done anything except kiss. Was it really so embarrassing and awkward? He wrote on the drug chart and handed it to her.
‘I’m going to keep an eye on you for a while, Lucy. See what happens. If there’s no sign of any activity, I might let you go home tomorrow.’