a lovely town.’
‘Exactly. So why should I be flawed for wanting to be here?’ he asked, curious himself and trying to divert attention back to her and off his personal life.
‘Oh, no reason. It’s not Yoxburgh, really. It was just—I would have expected you to have a better house. Bigger. More in keeping …’ She trailed to a halt, as if she felt she’d overstepped the mark—which she probably had, but she’d rescued him before six o’clock in the morning without batting an eyelid, lent him her shower, cleared up his mess, got him a plumber …
‘I’m divorced,’ he admitted softly, surprising himself that he was giving so much away to her, and yet oddly knowing it was safe to do so. ‘And it might be modest, but the house suits my needs perfectly—or it will, when the plumber’s been and I’ve thrown a whole lot of money at it. Besides, maybe I don’t want to live in anything flashy and ostentatious—more “in keeping”,’ he added, making little air quotes with his fingers.
She coloured slightly, her thoughts chasing each other transparently through her eyes, and he had to stifle a smile as she gathered herself up and sucked in a breath.
‘Sorry. None of my business,’ she said hastily. ‘And talking of suits, I dropped yours into the dry cleaners in the main reception on the way in, and it’ll be ready at five—and before you panic, I told them to take good care of it.’
‘Chasing brownie points, Daisy?’ he murmured, and she laughed.
‘Hardly. I didn’t know who you were then. I’m just a nice person.’
‘You are, aren’t you?’
‘Not that nice. I’ve still got my eye on dinner,’ she said with a teasing grin that diverted the blood from his brain, and he wondered how the hell he was going to keep this sudden and unwanted attraction in its box.
With huge difficulty. Damn.
He turned his attention back to his coffee, and then she said quietly, ‘Thanks for covering for me so smoothly, by the way. Evan’s a stickler for punctuality, and he was getting all ready to flay me later.’
‘It was the least I could do. I was hardly going to throw you to the wolves for bailing me out—literally! And Evan doesn’t strike me as the friendliest of characters. He was pretty dismissive when you asked about that patient.’
A flicker of what could have been worry showed in her eyes. ‘Oh, he’s OK really. He can come over as a patronising jerk, but he’s a good doctor. He’s just a bit miffed that you got the job, I think. He was advised to apply for it, and I reckon he thought it was a shoo-in.’
‘And then they had to advertise it by law, and I applied. And with all due respect to Evan, I would imagine my CV knocks spots off his.’
‘Exactly. So he won’t welcome you with open arms, but you should be able to rely on him.’
He gave a choked laugh. ‘Well, that’s good to know.’
Her mouth twitched, and those mischievous green eyes were twinkling at him again. ‘So, I hope you’ve got some good ideas about what I was supposedly doing for you?’
He leant back in his chair and met her eyes with a twinkle of his own. ‘Oh, let’s say finding me some statistics on twins on the antenatal list. That should cover it. Anyway, I thought it was pretty good for a spur-of-the-moment thing. Sorry if it sounded a bit patronising, but I thought it was better than explaining I’d already had a shower in your bathroom,’ he said softly, and then felt his legs disintegrate when a soft wash of colour touched her cheeks.
He cleared his throat.
‘Tell me about Yoxburgh Park Hospital,’ he suggested hastily, and she collected herself and gave a tiny shrug.
‘It’s old and new, it’s on the site of the old lunatic asylum—’
‘How delightfully politically incorrect,’ he said drily, and she chuckled.
‘Isn’t it? Nearly as politically incorrect as locking up fifteen-year-old girls because their fathers or brothers had got them knocked up and if they were put away here for life then the family could pretend they’d gone mad and carry on as normal.’
‘Lovely.’
‘It was. It was a workhouse, really, and the pauper lunatic label was just a way of covering up what they were doing, apparently. I mean, who’s going to go near a lunatic asylum? You might end up inside, and so they got away with murder, literally. But life was cheap then, wasn’t it?’
‘So was building, which I guess is why the old Victorian part is so magnificent.’
‘Oh, absolutely, and the other plus side is that because they wanted it isolated, we’ve got glorious parkland all around us, tons of parking and plenty of room to expand. The locals have access to it for recreation, we have a lovely outlook—it couldn’t be better, and the hospital’s great. Quite a few areas of it are brand new and state of the art, like the maternity wing, and it’s earning an excellent reputation. We’ve got a bit of everything, but it’s still small enough to be friendly and it’s a good place to work. Everybody knows everybody.’
‘Is that necessarily a good thing?’
She gave a wry smile. ‘Not always. You wait till they find out we’re neighbours, for instance.’
‘You think they will?’
She laughed. ‘I give it three days—maybe less.’
Oh, that laugh! Musical, infectious—it was going to kill him. And then she flicked the tip of her tongue out and licked the icing off her lips, and his eyes zeroed in on them and locked.
‘So—guided tour?’ he suggested hastily, because if he had to sit there opposite her for very many more minutes, he was going to have to strap his hands down by his sides to stop himself reaching out and lifting that tiny smear of icing off the corner of her mouth with his fingertip.
‘Sure. Where do you want to start?’
‘Maternity Outpatients?’ he suggested wryly. ‘Then you can ask about the twins, so it’s not a lie, and there’s an antenatal clinic with my name on it later today, so
I’m told, and it would look better if I could find it.’ His eyes twinkled. ‘Can’t have me turning up late, clearly. Evan would have a field day with it.’
CHAPTER TWO
IT WAS a hectic day, with very little time to think about her new boss and neighbour.
She took Ben for a quick walk through the hospital—the antenatal clinic, as they’d discussed, and other key areas that he might need to visit as well as the location of the dry cleaners, and then armed with the twin statistics she took him back to the maternity unit and gave him a lightning tour of the department—the gynae, antenatal and postnatal wards, the labour ward, the theatre suite, SCBU as well, just for information, and then handed him over to Evan Jones on the dot of nine thirty and went back to the gynae ward to check her patients from last week. She had three to discharge before the afternoon antenatal clinic, then it was back to the antenatal ward and the young first-time mum with pre-eclampsia that she’d been worrying about.
Evan had said he’d already looked at her, but she wanted to see with her own eyes, and she was glad she did. Clare wasn’t looking so great. Her blood pressure was up, her feet and hands were more swollen and she was complaining of a slight headache.
Daisy had thought they should deliver her on Friday, Evan had wanted to give her longer for the sake of the baby. He’d won. And now it was looking as if it might have been the wrong thing to do.
‘Right, I want you much quieter,’ she told her softly, perching on the bed and taking Clare’s hand. ‘I guess you’ve had a bit of a busy weekend, and we’re going to have to slow things down for you