Christmas with Her Ex(13)

Funny, when what she really wanted to do was eat her lunch—or not—and get back to her cabin, but that wasn’t going to happen for at least an hour. The time would pass more quickly if they chatted and she could do chat. A skill she’d learnt through her work.

She felt Connor ease his chair to the side, turning to face her a little more, and she kept her expression interested while she fiddled with her scarf below the level of the tabletop. The silk had better do its verbal soothing with her part of the conversation because she could feel words drying in her throat at the thought of carrying the whole conversation.

But it seemed Connor had finally decided to help out. ‘I’m involved in research. Occasionally I work for short periods in participating hospitals and I have a few private patients.’

His voice had softened and she saw him glance at his grandmother in apology. Maybe he wasn’t as bad as she’d feared. ‘Did you become a nurse? I seem to remember you fancied that.’

A wee fancy for the little woman? Patronising pig. ‘Hmm. Yes. And later a midwife—which is the area I work in now. So we do have a little in common.’

Thank goodness. She could talk about her work. Underwater, if needed, she loved it so much.

‘I run a programme that caseloads pregnant women from their homes. Each midwife takes thirty women through the year, sees them through their pregnancies and into labour and then visits them at home for six weeks after their baby is born.’

She saw an odd expression pass across his face. ‘Do they deliver in the hospitals?’

‘Most give birth there.’ She made the distinction with a little emphasis and Connor grimaced wryly at her terminology. ‘A majority of the time they do, but if they want a home birth, I support them in that too.’

His eyes narrowed on hers and she could feel the current as if from another conversation simultaneously running on another level. ‘Is that challenging?’

‘I find it rewarding.’

‘You find the challenge rewarding?’

Did he expect her to back down? ‘That too.’ She smiled coolly and this time he smiled back at her. Right into her eyes, and she felt herself falter.

Damn if he didn’t still have it. Her stomach kicked and she looked away as the sensations swirled through her bloodstream like the stuff in her glass.

His grandmother was watching them with a speculative gleam in her eyes. No distress there. Well, at least one of them was happy with the way the meal was progressing.

She focused on the question, not on the grey eyes that were assessing her response. ‘But mostly the privilege of seeing a woman in control, in her home environment, is the ultimate reward. Women need to make the choices and wield the power in their own labours.’

And then the train whooshed past Verona station without pausing, lunch arrived, and she was saved. Eventually her pulse rate settled.

By the time they’d eaten lobster, and Christmas pudding, and finished off the bottle of bubbles, it was all okay. Even though the conversation hadn’t flowed quite as smoothly as the wine it had proved less of a chore than she’d feared.

Connor had even made her laugh once or twice more and Winsome looked quietly pleased with herself.

Well, don’t be thinking I’m coming to dinner, Kelsie thought to herself, and she felt Connor shoot her a glance. Good grief. Had she said that out loud?

Judging by the spark of ironic humour in those grey eyes, she just may have. It was time to go before she said something even less discreet.

She stood up. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll head back to my cabin and just soak in the fabulous countryside. Thank you for the wine.’

She’d seen the price on the menu, practically the price of a small car, and was quite happy that she’d earned her keep. Connor could pay for it with her blessing.

Connor watched her go. Assured, elegant, no shy young woman, this, calling to something inside him that he flatly denied, worlds away from the Kelsie he’d known.

Lord, they’d been young. She’d been the first girl he’d ever kissed! It had taken him all day to work up the courage.

His grandmother tapped the table and he snapped out of the past, stood up quickly, and eased around behind her to pull out her plush velvet chair.

They had to pause at frequent intervals to allow other people to pass on their way from the restaurant car.

One of those people was the elderly lady he’d seen on the station. Her head turned in surprise as Winsome took another look. She wore a red jacket over a white silk shirt. The russet tones sat quite well with her flaming hair, he thought, but still it was startling.

‘Lady Geraldine? Jendi?’ Connor stopped and waited for the inevitable exclamations.