duty ages ago.’
‘I’m not the only one.’ He came to sit next to her. ‘It’s Molly Drake, isn’t it?’ he guessed.
She nodded. ‘I know, I know, these cases are rare and most of the time our mums have a healthy pregnancy and a healthy baby—but I hate to see the heartbreak some of our parents have to go through.’
‘Me, too,’ Nic said. ‘But remember this—we can make a difference. We do make a difference.’
‘Yes. Molly’s having a septostomy tomorrow and we’ll be monitoring her weekly. The twins stand a much better chance now.’
‘Chin up.’ He gave her an exaggerated wink, then sent her hormones into overdrive by gently touching her cheek. ‘Go on. Home with you. And I’ll see you tomorrow.’
Lucy slept badly that night; when she did drift off, her dreams were filled with Nic Alberici. And they were so graphic that she was actually blushing when her alarm went off.
When she got to work, she seemed to hear nothing but Nic’s name. Every single patient beamed when they talked about him—all saying he was far dishier than any Hollywood star and acting as if they were half in love with him. The midwives were similarly smitten—the young and single ones virtually swooned when they heard his name, and the older ones clucked over him like a favourite son. ‘He’s lovely—a real gentleman,’ Rosemary said dreamily. ‘And those gorgeous eyes! If I were twenty years younger…’
‘Oh, he’s just another consultant,’ Lucy said, aware how grumpy she sounded and hoping that no one would pick up on it.
No chance. Rosemary’s eyes widened. ‘Have you two had a fight or something?’
‘No. It’s just a bit wearing hearing how fantastic Mr Alberici is—almost as wearing as Mal’s sense of humour. Even the mums who’ve had a difficult delivery say they’d like another baby right now, please, if it means they’ll have Mr Alberici looking after them.’
Rosemary whistled. ‘Someone got out on the wrong side of the bed this morning, didn’t she?’
If she said anything else, it’d start the hospital rumour mill whirring. ‘Yeah, probably,’ Lucy said, and switched the topic back to work.
Though she couldn’t get Nic out of her mind. She was aware of exactly when he walked onto the ward and exactly when he left. And she hated this out-of-control feeling. It’s like you told Rosemary—he’s just another consultant, she reminded herself.
Except she had a nasty feeling that he wasn’t.
‘I’m worried about this one,’ Beth said, handing Lucy the notes of another patient. ‘Judy Sutherland’s diabetic and the baby’s big. I think there’s a high risk of shoulder dystocia.’ Shoulder dystocia, also known as impacted shoulders, was where the baby’s shoulders couldn’t be delivered after the head had been delivered. It happened when the baby was large, overdue or had a short cord—babies of diabetic mothers had greater shoulder-to-chest ratios so they were particularly prone to it.
‘Judy says she doesn’t want a section under any circumstances,’ Beth added.
‘We might not have to give her a section. If you’re right and the shoulders are impacted, we’ll have to do the McRoberts manoeuvre,’ Lucy said. That meant putting the mother into the lithotomy position with her buttocks supported on a pillow over the edge of the bed, then flexing her hips to make her pelvic outlet bigger, hopefully enough to deliver the baby. ‘Then if we rotate the baby so his anterior shoulder is under the symphysis pubis, we should be OK. Though she’ll need a large epidural and there’s a possibility of problems with the baby—a fractured clavicle at the very least.’ Erb’s palsy, where the nerves in the arm were affected, was another possibility, and a third of babies affected by shoulder dystocia had permanent damage. She sighed. ‘Do you want me to have a word with Judy and check she understands all the risks?’
‘Or maybe we should ask Nic to do it,’ Beth suggested. Lucy sighed inwardly as she saw the familiar glow in the midwife’s face. Beth was clearly yet another member of the Niccolo Alberici fan club. ‘He’s so charming, she’s bound to listen.’
‘Yes, Nic’s very charming, on the surface,’ Lucy agreed, all sweetness and light and wanting to strangle the man.
‘Nice of you to say so, Dr Williams.’
Lucy’s eyes widened as she heard his voice. Her early warning system had just failed spectacularly, and again he’d caught her saying something outrageous. Gingerly, she turned to face Nic.
‘There’s a case I want to discuss with you in my office, Lucy,’ he said. ‘If you’d be so kind.’
‘And then would you have a word with Mrs Sutherland for me, please, Nic?’ Beth asked.
‘Sure.’ Nic gave her one of his trade-mark smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners in a way that clearly made the midwife melt. ‘Lucy?’
Sighing inwardly, she followed him into his office.
‘Close the door, please,’ he said.
Lucy did so.
‘Take a seat.’ He frowned. ‘This is beginning to be a habit—me overhearing something you’d much rather I didn’t.’
‘Well, eavesdroppers never hear any good of themselves,’ Lucy retorted.
‘I thought we’d sorted out all the problems between us?’
She sighed. ‘OK, OK, I’m sorry.’
He folded his arms. ‘Not good enough.’
She couldn’t read his expression. ‘You’d prefer me to ask for a transfer?’
‘No.’
‘What, then?’
‘Make it up to me.’
Her eyes narrowed with suspicion. ‘What do you have in mind?’
‘Spend the day with me tomorrow.’
‘Spend the day with you tomorrow?’ she echoed, surprised. That was the last thing she’d expected.
‘Mmm-hmm. I’m a new boy in the area. I could do with a hand finding my feet. I want to explore the district and I’d like some company.’
Lucy scoffed. ‘Why ask me? Talk to the midwives. And the nurses. And all the unattached female doctors. They’re lining up in droves for you.’
He grinned. ‘Oh, Lucia mia. You should know better than to believe the hospital rumour mill.’
She didn’t dignify that with a reply.
‘Lucy, I’m off duty tomorrow. So are you.’
How did he know? No, that was an easy one. All he had to do was look in the off-duty book.
‘So spend the day with me, Lucy,’ he coaxed. ‘Show me the area.’
‘You’re perfectly capable of reading a map.’
‘True. But it’s not the same as playing tourist with someone who knows all the good spots.’
‘Your idea of good spots might not be the same as mine.’
‘On the other hand, they might be.’
Lucy shook her head. ‘I don’t think it’s a good idea.’
‘No strings, I promise.’
‘Then two more dates and you’ll leave me alone?’ she asked hopefully.
Nic’s eyes crinkled at the corners. ‘We’re not going on a date, Lucy.’
You couldn’t get more crushing than that. She stared at the floor and wished herself a thousand miles away.
‘We’re merely spending the day together,