Prognosis Christmas Baby Read online

  Maggie looked him straight in the eye, knowing it was wrong to want it. Want him. Like this. After tonight. But it was the only thing that made any sense right now — she wasn’t going to question it. ‘I don’t want to be alone today.’

  Her honesty hit Nash square in the solar plexus. Neither did he. He couldn’t think of a better way to try and forget last night than being in Maggie’s bed. ‘Your car or mine?’

  Maggie sat in silence all the way to her place as Nash drove. She didn’t want to rehash or speculate about what would happen on the unit today. She wanted a shower and she wanted him.

  To get lost in him, to be wrapped up in him.

  Nash followed her up the front steps as he had the other night and waited as she slid the key in the lock. She pushed the door open and shut it again after them looking so desolate he wanted to make it better. ‘You know Ruby’s—’

  Maggie held up her hand to silence him. ‘Can we please just not talk?’

  He nodded and Maggie turned away aware he was following her through the house and into her bedroom and beyond to her en suite. When she peeled her clothes off, Nash did also and when she was naked Maggie flicked on the shower, stepped under the spray and opened her arms to him.

  He stepped in and Maggie kissed him again and again, twining her arms around his neck, fusing her body with his. Kisses that took over, that made her forget. Deep and wet. Full of passion. Tinged with sorrow. She gave herself up to desire, letting it rise up and sweep the sadness away.

  He soaped her body with long slippery strokes and it was only when he was buried deep inside her, her legs wrapped around his waist, screaming his name as their climaxes hit, that Maggie finally let go of the emotions that had threatened to rise up all morning.

  Clinging to his shoulders, she buried her face in his neck and let go of the deep sobs she’d been holding back. They shook her chest as powerfully as her orgasm shook her to the core.

  When she spiralled down, Maggie was more exhausted than she’d ever thought possible and she thanked god Nash was there, turning off the taps and wrapping her in a fluffy towel before picking her up and carrying her to the unmade bed.

  Then he lowered her to the sheets and joined her, spooning behind her, tucking her head under his chin, sliding his hand around her waist.

  They were both asleep in minutes.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Nash woke in the darkened room to the patter of rain on the roof and Maggie on her side, her bare back to him, murmuring into the phone. He looked at his watch. Two o’clock. They’d been asleep for five hours.

  He heard Maggie say, ‘Just ringing to check on Ruby,’ and ‘I see,’ and ‘I’m fine,’ before she hung up the phone. He reached out and laid his hand between her shoulder blades and admired the contrast between his bronzed skin and the creamy richness of hers.

  ‘Has she gone?’

  Maggie nodded, her heart unbearably heavy. She didn’t turn. ‘An hour ago.’

  The inevitability of Ruby’s situation didn’t ease the impact of her words. Nash felt the little girl’s death deep in his soul. Remembered Tammy’s death and the devastating time that had followed all over again. He ran his hand across to Maggie’s shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze.

  She shut her eyes at his comforting gesture, grateful for his silence. He’d known just what she’d needed like only another who worked in the field could. Her ex, an engineer, had never understood. He’d tried to fill her sadness up with clichéd phrases or contrived distractions, but none of them had worked as well as Nash’s simple touch.

  She didn’t blame Peter. He’d tried hard but ultimately he hadn’t been able to understand that every death took a little piece out of her soul. That she was diminished a little each time.

  That life made a little less sense with each tragedy.

  ‘I’m sorry. I get too involved,’ she murmured, falling back against her pillow and staring at the ceiling.

  Nash rolled up on his elbow and looked into her sad brown eyes. He’d hoped that the nurses who had looked after Tammy at the end had been even half as involved. ‘You should never apologise for that.’

  Maggie smiled at him and lifted her palm to cradle his jaw, scratchy with blond stubble. ‘Thank you.’

  Nash turned his head and pressed a kiss to her palm. ‘Are you hungry?’

  His lips tickled against her palm and she moved it up higher, pushing her fingers into his thick, wavy hair. ‘Starving.’

  He kissed her briefly on the mouth. ‘Stay there, I’ll rustle us up something to eat.

  ‘There’s not much there, I’m afraid.’ Maggie had been on a run of days before her nights and hadn’t had the chance or the inclination to shop.

  Nash rolled off the bed and grinned down at her. ‘I am a master of making meals out of nothing.’

  ‘Oh?’ Maggie said, her gaze wandering down his naked body because he was just too magnificent to ignore.

  Nash’s dick twitched in respond to her blatant enjoyment. ‘Years of sharing flats and camping out back home have honed my culinary skills. Trust me.’

  ‘Hmm,’ she said, distracted by his burgeoning interest being displayed in full-frontal colour.

  ‘Of course, if you keep looking at me like that, I’m just going to skip it and go straight to dessert.’

  Maggie dragged her eyes away from his groin and blushed at the way his gaze was devouring her breasts. Her nipples hardened. But then her stomach growled into the silence and he chuckled.

  ‘I’ll be right back. Don’t move a muscle.’

  Nash made a brief detour into the bathroom for his underwear before heading for the kitchen. He opened the fridge and surveyed the sparse contents. A tub of yoghurt, skimmed milk, half a loaf of bread, a dried-out-looking carrot and three tomatoes.

  Hmm. This was going to be a challenge even for him.

  He opened the freezer and smiled. Maybe not. ‘Dessert after all,’ Nash said a few minutes later, carrying in a tray with two bowls piled with ice cream.

  ‘What no loaves-and-fishes miracle today?’ Maggie teased.

  Nash laughed as he placed the tray on the bed. ‘Please. Mother Hubbard has more food than you. But,’ he said, ‘I can’t fault your taste in ice cream.’

  A waft of something floral tickled her nose and Maggie’s gaze fell to the other object on the tray. The miniature crystal vase she kept on her window sill was sporting a spray of frangipani blossoms. She glanced at Nash. ‘They from my garden?’

  He nodded. ‘I hope you don’t mind. I noticed them through the window.’

  Maggie was inordinately touched. She hadn’t pictured Nash as the romantic type but after the horror of last night it was the perfect gesture. She fingered a velvety petal admiring the vibrant yellow centre. ‘Of course not. It was a lovely thought.’

  He smiled at her and passed her a bowl. ‘Eat up.’

  Maggie sat and they ate the decadent chocolate macadamia ice cream in silence for a few moments. She felt tired but his company and the aroma of frangipani was keeping the dreadful sadness at bay.

  Nash was distracted from the sensational taste by the swing of her breasts in his peripheral vision as she sat cross-legged and oblivious. Thoughts of dropping a spoonful of the dark ice cream on the centre of her chest and watching as her body heat warmed it and it ran in rivulets over her breasts, taunted him.

  He didn’t think he would ever be able to get enough of seeing her naked. Maggie, he realised, was becoming addictive. Like double chocolate macadamia ice cream.

  Like a drug.

  ‘Why don’t we keep this thing going?’ he asked casually as he took another mouthful.

  Maggie paused with the spoon halfway to her mouth. Her heart skipped a beat. ‘What thing?’

  Nash swallowed. ‘This,’ he said, waving his empty spoon between them. ‘Us.’

  He watched her, waiting for her reaction. She piled some more ice cream on her spoon and popped it in her mouth. ‘I know it was supposed to be a one-night
deal, Maggie.’

  It was suddenly vitally important that he convince her. He couldn’t think of another person he’d rather spend time with before he went overseas.

  ‘But we’ve already stepped over that line. What harm can there be just having fun together for the next couple of months?’

  What harm indeed? He made it sound so simple. So tempting. And maybe it was. Looking at him, at all his incredible male vitality, his youth, his vigour, the prospect of a relationship with him seemed utterly ludicrous. But sitting next to him eating ice cream, his bare broad shoulders so close Maggie could lean in and press a kiss to them, a short affair involving mutual gratification seemed infinitely possible.

  But. Was it right?

  It might seem ridiculous to a lot of people but Maggie prided herself on always trying to do the right thing. Was having sex with a man ten years her junior the right thing to do?

  Just because they desired each other?

  And what about the gossip? Did she want to be the laughing stock of the hospital? The resident cradle-snatcher? ‘I’m not really into casual.’

  Nash chuckled. ‘What’s wrong with casual, Maggie May?’

  His laugh was full of humour and sin and licked flames deep inside her, and she suddenly felt old. The differences between them were stark. He didn’t have a problem with keeping it light, casual. Whereas she’d reached a stage in her life that craved the security of a relationship. Of waking up together every day with someone.

  Maggie knew from experience how good it could be, how fulfilling. It wasn’t that she was out there actively looking for it but she knew she was too old to play games.

  After her divorce she hadn’t thought she’d ever feel like this again, and she was surprised to discover she did now that Nash had forced her hand. She didn’t want to invest too much emotional energy in someone who wasn’t sticking around. Who wasn’t a keeper.

  Because, as she’d already told him, she got too involved.

  Nash was still trying out all the rides in the playground. And that was fine. But he could keep the swings and roundabouts. ‘Nothing, I guess,’ she murmured. ‘Just not my style.’

  ‘You have a style?’

  Maggie smiled. ‘I do now.’ She finished her dessert and pushed the bowl onto the bedside table, easing herself down until she was on her back again, the pillow behind her head, the sheet pulled up.

  ‘So we just stay...?’

  Maggie wasn’t quite sure how to define it. ‘Friends?’

  Nash eased back too, rolling on his side, propped on one elbow, while his other hand held the bowl. ‘With benefits?’

  All the air sucked from Maggie’s lungs. God, he was beautiful, looking at her with the promise of an unrivalled sexual adventure. Could she really pass that up? ‘Maybe. Occasionally. I don’t know.’

  It wasn’t much of a concession but Nash grinned. He was so addicted to Maggie he’d take whatever crumb she threw him at the moment. And then he’d make her so crazed with passion she’d be begging him to take up residence in her bed.

  Until January anyway.

  ‘Maybe I could help to persuade you,’ he murmured.

  Placing his nearly empty bowl on the bed, Nash slowly pulled the sheet away. He watched her watching him, desire making her eyes glazed and fluttering her eyelids to half-mast. Scooping his spoon into the bowl, he filled it with soft ice cream.

  She was still watching him with those slumberous eyes and Nash felt a fist turn in his groin.

  ‘I’ve been wanting to do this for ages,’ he murmured as he held the spoon above her chest and watched the cold, gooey ice cream slide off and land dead centre. It practically sizzled.

  Maggie gasped. ‘That’s freezing.’

  Nash smiled as her nipples turned to engorged dusky icicles before his eyes. ‘Not for long.’ Already a brown puddle was gathering at the base of the cold glob.

  ‘I hate being cold.’

  But Nash could hear the desire trembling in her voice and watched as she stared at the melting ice cream, her bottom lip caught between her teeth.

  ‘Are you just going to leave it there?’ she demanded in a voice husky with need.

  Mash dropped his head and kissed a creamy shoulder. ‘Until it melts, and then I’m going to lick it all off.’

  A rivulet escaped then and slowly trekked down the slope of her left breast. It was like warmed mud found in expensive spas and Nash watched its torturously slow trip, salivating. Finally, it pooled at the base of her puckered nipple.

  Grinning at her, he dropped his head again to suck the melted ice cream from her nipple. Her back arched forcing the sweet, hard, elongated contours deeper into his mouth and Nash groaned. When he’d removed the chocolate coating he shifted slightly, trailing the flat of his tongue back up the muddy pathway that had traversed her breast.

  Nash lifted his head, satisfied he’d lapped up every last morsel, only to find tributaries of warmed chocolate oozing everywhere now. Over both breasts, towards her neck and down her ribcage like a sweet sticky web.

  He glanced at her, seeking her eyes but they were shut now. Her mouth was open though, her breathing rough and her hands were fisted into the sheets. ‘Now, this is the only way to eat ice cream,’ he murmured.

  Maggie was seeing stars behind her closed lids as the cool trickle felt like hundreds of fingers caressing her skin. Wherever his tongue trailed it seared like a brand. Her hands were clenched, her toes curled. ‘Don’t stop,’ she urged.

  ‘Oh, honey,’ Nash said, his lips against her nipple, pausing for a moment to lave it with more attention, enthralled by her whimper of ecstasy. ‘I have no intention of stopping.’

  And he proceeded to use his tongue all over, devouring every sweet drop.

  And when he was done with that, he went lower.

  ***

  A month passed. Their relationship blossomed. Slowly at first, as Maggie tried to ration their time together, resisting the strong attraction that tugged at her continuously. But as they worked together more and more, their shifts coinciding more and more, walking to the car park together at the end of the shift, it seemed only natural to go back to her place together.

  Still, it was clandestine. Maggie had some pride. She wasn’t stupid, she knew it was no love match and had no desire for all and sundry to know. When he left she didn’t want to face a barrage of poor Maggie whispers or sympathetic how-are- you looks?

  So they never went to dinner or the movies or anything that resembled a proper date. And that was fine by her. This was an affair — pure and simple. And both of them wanted the same thing — as much naked time as possible.

  Maggie wasn’t interested in getting to know him. She didn’t want to pepper him with questions about his dead sister, or his home, or his parents, or his grandmother, who he mentioned sometimes with such great affection. Or his plans for his flying paediatrician service.

  What was the point when he was leaving?

  They went to her place, steamed up the bedroom windows well into the night - or day, depending on their shifts - and then did it all over again the next time.

  As far as Maggie was concerned, the less she knew, the easier it would be when he got on that flight to London.

  Because one thing was for certain, she was going to miss the physical side of their relationship fiercely. Waking up to his wandering hands, the magic of his kiss, the feel of him deep inside her.

  After being asexual for so long, he’d awoken a raging nymph that was going to be hard enough to deny. She didn’t want to miss the non-physical aspect of Nash as well.

  The first day in December dawned bright and early as Maggie watched it through the windows at work. The sunrise was glorious but she knew pretty soon she’d have to twist the knob and shut the blinds as the rays would be poking their intense fingers between the slats, stabbing the dilated pupils of her nocturnal staff with laser-like intensity.

  Night duty, hideous at the best of times, was worse in summer. In winter, when t
he sun finally made an appearance it was a sign the shift was almost over and it had an instant reviving affect, like a magic wand. In summer the big yellow ball made an appearance at four a.m. with hours to go until knock-off time.

  In summer it sat low in the sky, mocking them all.

  ‘Are you going to help me with this tree or what?’

  Maggie sighed and shut the blinds, blocking out the depressingly early sunshine. God, she hated this hour of the morning. Between four and six was the hardest. It was the time when things most often went wrong. When the hours dragged the most. When she felt cold and hungry and even occasionally downright nauseous.

  A Christmas tree was a great distraction from four-in-the-morning misery. ‘Yep,’ she said. ‘Let’s do it.’

  She passed Nash at the central station hunched over his computer. He was rubbing at his jaw, looking haggard and tired and eminently sexy. He winked at her as she went by and her stomach did its wild jig thing.

  Not a good combination in its already delicate state.

  Luckily the unit was quiet tonight, only three patients. That could all change in a matter of hours so it was nice to have lulls, no matter how brief, when they had time for frivolous things like Christmas decorations.

  From where the tree was set up she could see all their patients. Bed three was still occupied by Toby, whose condition had continued to worsen. He was now on high-frequency ventilation and nitric-oxide therapy. The duff-duff noise of his ventilator reverberated through the unit like a stereo system as the pistoning membrane delivered a couple hundred breaths per minute.

  His kidneys had also started to fail and a dialysis machine whirred quietly in complete contrast to the ventilator. It efficiently extracted, cleaned and returned Toby’s blood via the vascath in his groin. Things were looking grim for the little boy and Maggie’s gaze moved away quickly.

  She couldn’t bear thinking about the battle he was waging.

  In bed four was a five-year-old girl who’d been bitten by a brown snake twelve hours previously and was on the unit for monitoring after administration of the antivenin. She was doing well, self-ventilating on room air and showing no signs of envenomation.