must be in her early thirties. As she finished washing her hands he glanced at her finger—no ring. It had been a long time since he’d done that too.
She turned to face him. ‘Bonnie Reid, new midwife at Cambridge Royal Maternity Unit.’ Her eyebrows rose. ‘And you are?’
It was her tone. It rankled him right away. He’d never been a person to pull rank. ‘Jacob Layton, Head Obstetrician, CRMU.’
It was almost as if a box of chocolates or tray of cakes had appeared out of thin air at the nurses’ station. Just about every door in the corridor opened and a whole host of previously hidden staff appeared. Did they avoid him every morning?
Bonnie didn’t appear to notice. She blinked and pointed towards his scrubs. ‘You should wear an ID badge, Dr Layton. You could be absolutely anyone. I expect all staff members I work with to be clearly identified.’
She was just here. His skin prickled. Patience was not his friend. In any other set of circumstances he might have said their new staff member had an attitude problem. But he got the distinct impression that Bonnie Reid was only reacting to his initial barb.
He didn’t know whether to give her a dressing-down or to smile. ‘It’s Jacob,’ he said quietly. ‘Everyone calls me Jacob.’ Not true. Only the few people not terrified by him called him Jacob. For a second their gazes meshed. It startled him, sending a little jolt around his system.
More than a year. That was how long it had been since he’d felt a spark with someone.
She gave the slightest nod of her head and extended her hand towards his. ‘Bonnie. Everyone calls me Bonnie.’
As soon as he connected with her skin he knew he’d made a mistake. The warm feeling of her palm against his. Touch. That was what he’d missed most of all in the last year. The warmness of someone’s touch. He pulled his hand back sharply as her eyes widened at his reaction.
‘You’re late.’ It came out much snappier than he intended. Her hand was still in mid-air, suspended from their shake. She drew it back slowly and her gaze narrowed as she took a deep breath and her shoulders went back.
She met his gaze full on. ‘Yes, I’m late.’ It was clear she had no intention of giving anything else away. He couldn’t believe how much one meeting with one woman could irk him.
She was new. She was working in his unit. And, after talks with the director of midwifery, this was the person he was supposed to offer a promoted post to. If he deemed her suitable. Tardiness was not an option.
He felt his normal persona resume. The one that had held most of the staff at arm’s length for the last year. ‘Staff and patients rely on us. Lateness is not acceptable at CRMU. I expected you here at nine a.m.’
It was the first time she looked a little worried. ‘I had to take my daughter to school. We arrived late last night from Scotland. She was upset. I had to make sure she was okay.’ She glanced over her shoulder as if she expected someone else to be there. ‘I left a message for the director of midwifery—she knew my circumstances.’
Those words annoyed him. He’d seen her CV, but the director hadn’t told him anything about their new employee’s ‘circumstances’. He hated it when staff used excuses for not being able to do a shift, or being late for work.
‘We all have circumstances. We all still have to be at work for nine. Work is our priority. Patients are our priority.’
Her face flamed and her eyes sparked. ‘Patients are always my priority and I’ve already dealt with two on my way along the ward. Exactly how many have you dealt with while you’ve been standing there waiting for me to arrive? Hardly a good use of consultant time.’
She was questioning him. She was challenging him and she’d only been here five minutes. He’d love to sack her on the spot. But they desperately needed the staff right now, and if she was as competent as she was mouthy he’d be in serious trouble with the director of midwives. She was almost questioning his competence. Let them see how she was when someone questioned hers.
‘I saw from your CV that you were a community midwife in Scotland. It’s a bit of a leap coming to work in an inner city labour ward. Don’t you think that might stretch your current capabilities? Are you going to have to refresh your skills?’
It was a reasonable question. At least he felt it was. He still wasn’t entirely sure why the director thought a community midwife was a suitable replacement for their ward sister.
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