Prognosis Christmas Baby Read online

  ‘How old are you, Nash?’

  Ah. ‘I don’t care about the age difference.’

  ‘How old?’ she insisted.

  ‘Just turned the big three zero.’

  Maggie nodded — just as she’d suspected. She wished for a brief second she was thirty again. But then reality invaded. She’d been a mess at thirty. She’d been dealing — very badly —with the heartbreak of her infertility and the ink had still been wet on her divorce papers. She was in a much better place now.

  ‘And how old do you think I am?’

  Nash looked directly at her. ‘Twenty-six.’

  Maggie burst out laughing. She had to give him his due, he hadn’t batted an eyelid. She knew that she looked good but no one would ever mistake her for twenty-six. ‘Does that line work with everyone?’

  Nash laughed with her. ‘Never had to use it before. No one’s ever knocked me back.’ His eyes crinkled at the corners and it was very, very sexy.

  ‘Oh, dear. Do you think your ego can stand it?’

  ‘It’s pretty robust.’

  Maggie grinned despite herself. She did not want to be charmed by him but his easy charisma and self-deprecation made an irresistible combination. ‘I’ll just bet it is.’

  Nash watched as she returned her attention to her lunch. Her teeth bit into the pastry of her pie and flakes stuck to her lips before her tongue darted out to remove them. It shouldn’t be erotic — she was just eating, for crying out loud — but it was.

  God knew, he wanted to lick off every damn flake.

  For his own sanity he moved his gaze upwards. Her short brown hair with chunky blonde streaks looked salon perfect, the layered fringe sweeping across her forehead from a side parting. The rest of it fell in fashionably shaggy layers and feathered down her nape into fine wisps.

  She finished her pie and patted her mouth with her serviette. If she hadn’t seemed so totally oblivious to his reaction, he’d have suspected she was deliberately trying to provoke him. He certainly would have expected it from any other woman.

  ‘Well?’

  Maggie had tried to ignore him as she’d eaten but his intense blue gaze had made it impossible. She sighed. ‘I’m forty, Nash.’

  He shrugged. ‘So?’

  ‘So? So I’m a whole decade older than you.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘I was in high school when you were still running around in nappies.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘I got married while you were still in primary school.’

  Nash’s gaze flicked to her left hand. No ring. No tell-tale white mark. ‘So?’

  ‘I’ve been divorced longer than you’ve been a doctor.’

  He smiled at her. ‘So, you’re available, then?’

  She shot him an impatient look. ‘Nash don’t you think you should be playing with women your own age?’

  He reached across the table and picked up her hand. ‘Maggie from ICU, you look better than any woman I’ve ever met.’

  Maggie’s cheeks flooded with heat beneath his intense gaze. She was drowning in the warmth of his tropical island gaze and her pulse hammered where his thumb drew slow circles at her wrist.

  Damn it all — she would not be flattered by his easy words. She wasn’t going to get involved with a man ten years her junior. Especially one who dated for sport and made her breathless with just one look. That would be plain dumb.

  And she wasn’t that hard up for company.

  Maggie removed her hand. ‘I’m going to do you a favour, Nash Reece. I’m going to turn you down. And you should be grateful. Men like you need a woman like me—’

  ‘That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you,’ he interrupted.

  She continued ignoring his interruption. ‘A woman who’ll say no. Too many yes-women make Nash a spoilt boy. You’ll thank me for it one day.’

  He chuckled. ‘I doubt it.’

  She crunched up her paper bag, screwed the lid back on her empty drink bottle, then stood. ‘Yeah well, your wife will.’

  Nash really laughed then. He had no intention of ever marrying. And women had tried. Man, had they tried. Country girls, yearning for an escape from the outback had tried, city girls wanting to snare a doctor had tried. But he had a career plan carefully mapped out that did not involve weddings, and nothing was more important to him than that.

  ‘Wife? Nope. Not me. Besides, I’m already married. To my career. I’m on a path.’

  Maggie was surprised to see a suddenly serious side to the flirty man who’d charmed himself into the seat opposite. He was once again the serious doctor from this morning. She wondered how many women got to see beneath the playboy exterior to the goal-driven man. ‘And yet you have time to date?’

  Nash grinned again. ‘I do allow myself some diversions. Come on, Maggie. You know you want to.’

  She shook her head, even though he was right. She did want to. It was crazy — but she did. Still, she knew enough about Nash Reece in a handful of minutes to know that one date would never be enough. ‘Denial is good for the soul.’

  ‘Denial sucks.’

  He reminded her again of a child seeking instant gratification and she laughed. Yes. It did. ‘Goodbye, Dr Reece.’

  Nash watched her turn away, the creamy skin of her throat exposed as she twisted. ‘I’m gonna keep asking,’ he called after her.

  She stopped and looked back at him as his silky promise stroked insidiously along her pelvic floor. ‘There’s a shock.’

  Nash chuckled. ‘I’ll be seeing you around, Maggie from ICU.’

  They were the same words he’d used that morning and they had a preternatural foreboding to them. ‘Don’t count on it.’

  He worked in A and E. She worked two floors up in ICU. As far as hospitals went they were totally different worlds. And after today she had no intention of letting him into hers.

  Ever.

  CHAPTER TWO

  The next day was Maggie’s day off but she found herself at the hospital anyway. She was actively involved in Radio Giggle and volunteered regularly. In fact, she’d been on the original committee that had pushed for its establishment after seeing the success of Radio Lollipop during her stint at Great Ormond Street in London.

  Maggie had seen their humble service expand over the years from a handful of people launching the first two-hour broadcast to a band of volunteers that worked tirelessly, promoting the healing power of play.

  Radio Giggle volunteers actively engaged children throughout the hospital in a variety of entertainment, from helping with the shows, requesting songs and hearing themselves on the radio through to bedside crafts, games and other activities for those children unable to make it to the studio.

  In fact, anything that could be done to help make a child’s stay in hospital a little less frightening and a lot more fun, Radio Giggle were on it.

  It wasn’t her usual day to volunteer but Ross Calvin, Giggle’s programme manager and only paid employee, was off sick today and had rung to ask her if she could take his place. Maggie hadn’t hesitated. Not being able to have her own children had been a huge blow, but hanging out with these kids helped to fill the gap.

  Five-year-old Douglas Werner, a long-term inpatient, was the first person she saw when she entered the Radio Giggle office.

  ‘Dougy.’ She smiled and crouched down accepting the little boy’s enthusiastic cuddle.

  ‘He’s been asking for you.’

  Maggie looked up to see fifteen-year-old Christine Leek, a cystic fibrosis patient and another regular in the Radio Giggle studio. ‘Well, here I am,’ she said, giving the little boy a quick rib tickle and laughing at his endearing shriek.

  ‘Guess what?’ Christine spoke over the top of Doug. ‘Ross said I could conduct the interview today all by myself.’ She looked over Maggie’s shoulder. ‘Have you seen him yet?’

  Maggie watched while the painfully thin teenager shifted from foot to foot, her lip pulled between her bottom teeth. Christine was a blossoming DJ who
wanted a career in community radio and spent every possible minute with the Radio Giggle organisation. ‘I’m afraid Ross is off sick today.’

  ‘Oh.’

  Maggie couldn’t bear to see her so crestfallen. ‘You can still do it, though,’ she reassured her. Christine’s face lit up like a fireworks display and Maggie felt her heart contract.

  ‘Really?’ she squeaked.

  ‘Of course.’ Maggie laughed. ‘You know your way around the dials better than I do.’

  They went through to the brightly painted studio and for the next half an hour Maggie and Christine worked out their music schedule with the requests they had in from the previous day. Christine was an eager helper, pulling out all the CDs they needed and stacking them in order, which was just as well with Dougy commandeering Maggie’s lap.

  He sat imperiously, his IV pole supporting his lifesaving fluids close by, well used to adults indulging him. He leant his colouring book against the console and Maggie chatted to him, accepting the crayons he gave her and colouring where he pointed. Meanwhile she juggled Christine’s questions and those of the volunteers as they wandered in and out on their way to the various wards in their bright Radio Giggle T-shirts.

  Maggie knew the outside play area would be full of kids over the next couple of hours as those who could, came down to see how a real radio show was run. They usually put callouts to their bed-bound friends and families and took part in the activities organised by the volunteers.

  At four o’clock the programme got under way. Maggie and Dougy stayed in the studio and let Christine run the show. Dougy knew he had to be quiet and while he had his colouring book he was happy to sit without talking on Maggie’s lap and draw. Radio Giggle never pretended to be a professional outfit, given that the shows were largely run by kids, but it never hurt to strive for excellence.

  Maggie rubbed her face against his blond curls and inhaled the hospital-soap smell as she dropped a kiss against his scalp. Dougy had been born prem to a drug addicted mother and had developed necrotising enterocolitis, necessitating the removal of a large portion of his non-viable bowel.

  He’d been very ill for the first year of his life and had been transferred from NICU to PICU at three months of age for ongoing management. He now had short-gut syndrome, which meant he didn’t have enough bowel length to absorb his food and had to be fed intravenously through a permanent line.

  He’d been in hospital virtually all his life due to his condition and he made regular appearances in PICU with various infections which, due to his compromised immune system, usually knocked him for six. His last stay had been a few months ago during winter for bilateral pneumonia.

  He looked like all kids with severe malabsorption disorders. Skinny arms and legs and a protruding stomach. While long-term parenteral nutrition was lifesaving for Dougy it did have its side effects, and Maggie knew liver damage was a major contributing factor to Dougy’s pot belly. She could feel its rounded contours through the thin cotton of his hospital-issue pyjama shirt and dropped another kiss on his head.

  ‘So this is where the party’s at.’

  Maggie would have jumped a mile in the air had Dougy not been weighing her down as Nash Reece’s voice intruded into the studio bubble.

  What the hell?

  ‘Dr Reece!’

  Maggie blinked as Christine jumped up from the console, reefing her headphones off smiling crazily at him. She turned to see him standing in the doorway in dark chinos and another checked shirt. A young child sat on his hip, pulling at a lopsided bandage wrapped around its head. Nash looked natural, at ease with the child and her stomach did that strange flopping thing again.

  Nash smiled at the teenager. ‘Hello, Christine.’ Then he turned to Maggie. ‘Hello, Maggie from ICU.’

  Maggie felt heat creep into her cheeks as his eyes roved all over her body taking in her tight black denim Capri pants and her red Radio Giggle top fitting snugly across her breasts

  ‘This little munchkin says his name is Brodie and he wants to say hello to everyone on ward three,’ he announced to Christine as he dragged his eyes off Maggie.

  ‘Bring him over here.’ Christine smiled, holding out her arms and waggling her fingers. ‘I’ll help him. Then we can do your interview.’

  Maggie looked at him dumbly as Christine settled the little one on her lap. ‘You’re the interviewee?’

  Nash chuckled. ‘You think I’m going to tank?’

  Maggie felt more fire in her cheeks. ‘Of course not.’ It was hardly Meet the Press. She’d just wished she’d known. She hadn’t asked Christine about the interview because she’d assumed it was going to be one of the other inpatients as usual. ‘How’d that come about?’

  He shrugged. ‘I’ve been dropping in from time to time and Christine asked if she could interview me.’

  Nash had been dropping in to Radio Giggle? ‘Oh.’

  ‘What about you? You help out here much?’

  Maggie shrugged. ‘From time to time.’

  ‘Hey,’ Christine said, butting in. ‘That’s not true. Don’t listen to her, Dr Reece.’ She pointed to a series of framed photos on the wall above the console, several of them starring Maggie. ‘Ross says Maggie was the driving force behind Radio Giggle and that it wouldn’t exist without her.’

  Nash cocked his head back and looked at the enlarged snaps. A younger-looking Maggie with headphones on, sporting a wedding band and grinning at the camera caught his eye. And another with Maggie helping a very official-looking gent in a suit cut a ribbon across the doorway behind him.

  He whistled. Yesterday he’d seen her as the efficient PICU nurse and today he’d seen her in another light. While his libido saw her as a gorgeous, sexy woman, the evidence of his eyes told him Maggie was definitely more than a pretty face.

  Dougy finally looked up from his picture. ‘Dr Reece,’ he called, and Maggie was spared from the frank curiosity in Nash’s face.

  ‘Hey, Dougy.’ Nash crossed the small distance and crouched beside Maggie. Doug had been his patient during his medical rotation. ‘How you doin’, mate?’

  Dougy held up his colouring book. ‘I’m colouring in a princess. Isn’t she pretty?’

  Nash nodded. ‘As a picture.’

  ‘She’s not as pretty as Maggie, though.’

  Nash, fully aware that his knee was almost brushing her thigh, glanced at her face and smiled as Maggie’s cheeks bloomed with another flush of red.

  Out of the mouths of babes.

  ‘No,’ he agreed, his gaze holding hers. ‘No one’s as pretty as Maggie.’

  There was a strange couple of seconds when everyone else in the room ceased to exist. And it was in that moment that Maggie saw the difference in Nash. He wanted her, she could tell, but there was something more there.

  Respect maybe.

  Whatever it was it was infinitely more seductive than flirty Nash of yesterday.

  ‘Okay,’ Christine said, pulling the earphones away again while simultaneously jiggling her new assistant on her lap. ‘After this song you’re up, Dr Reece. Are you ready?’

  Nash reluctantly flicked his gaze from Maggie to Christine, giving the teenager his full attention. ‘Ready when you are.’

  Maggie watched Christine blush under Nash’s gaze. It was apparent the girl had a massive crush on him, a fact of which he was obviously aware as he carefully navigated the interview. He was charming and gentlemanly to a fault, and everything a teenager hooked on Jane Austen could ever hope for, but Maggie could tell he was constantly aware of the boundary.

  He spoke about growing up on a huge cattle property hundreds of kilometres west of Sydney in rural New South Wales and taking his school lessons via a radio through the School of the Air and mustering cattle in a helicopter.

  ‘And why did you decide to become a doctor?’ Christine asked.

  Maggie, who’d been preoccupied with colouring a pink flower, looked up at the question. Christine had her back to Maggie but Nash was facing her. She notice
d that at some stage Brodie had switched laps and was once again cuddled into Nash’s side. She wouldn’t have thought it possible but he looked more masculine, more appealing. Their gazes locked as he answered.

  ‘My sister was sick a lot when we were kids and she had to go to Sydney frequently for treatment because there just weren’t the services in the bush. I promised her then I’d become a doctor and change it.’

  Maggie noticed the lightness to his voice and the smile he flashed Christine as he broke eye contact with her, but it was too late. For a brief moment she’d seen a vulnerability in his gaze as he’d spoken about his sister that called to her more than any amount of sexual attraction.

  And who could resist a fervent boyhood promise?

  ‘You told me the other day that Radio Giggle was a life-saver. What did you mean by that?’

  Maggie gaped at the very grown-up question. Forget community radio, Christine was heading for a career with 60 Minutes.

  ‘The hospital in Sydney where Tammy...stayed had its own kids’ radio station. My sisters and I used to ring up and put in requests for her. She listened every day, she said it helped her miss home a little less.’

  Goosebumps broke out on Maggie’s arms at the streak of raw emotion in Nash’s not-quite-steady voice. His family had obviously been close and the connection with his ill sister through a hospital radio station, no matter how far in the past, clearly still resonated with him.

  She’d never thought of that aspect of Radio Giggle before, more concerned with its diversionary attributes. But as a way for inpatients to feel connected to home, it was extraordinarily touching and she was proud all over again to be part of such a great organisation.

  ‘Do you have a special request for us today, Dr Reece?’

  Brodie started to grizzle and Nash shifted him to the other hip and jiggled him a little. ‘I sure do. I’d like to hear “Puff the Magic Dragon.” It was Tammy’s favourite.’

  Maggie was pleased for Dougy and her enforced activity as the mournful strains of ‘Puff’ filtered through the studio. She gripped the crayon hard, the goose bumps multiplying.