West Wing to Maternity Wing!(9)

And she stopped.

Both hands were resting on his firm muscle, his face just a few inches  from hers. In the dim light she could see his dark-blue-rimmed eyes  pulling her in. See his perfect skin, with a light stubble on his chin.  Before she knew it, her fingers had moved upwards and touched his  shadowed jaw. This was how her dream started. A smile broke across his  face, his hand moved across her back and she felt two fingers resting  lightly at the base of her spine, between the gap in her patient gown.  Would he kiss her?

When was the last time she'd felt like this? When was the last time  she'd wanted a man to kiss her? To feel his touch on her skin? Her lips  tingled, aching to feel his pressing against them. Her tongue ran along  them, desperate to give them some moisture and invite him in.

'I don't know if I'm dressed appropriately for the staff canteen,' she whispered.

He looked downwards. His eyes following the gentle swell on one side of  her breast. Her breath caught in her throat. Would he look to the other  side? Would his face register disgust or displeasure?

Neither. His eyes stayed fixed on one side. As if there was nothing  wrong. As if the gap on the other side was the most natural thing in the  world. Something lurched inside her and she almost jerked in  recognition of what it was. Acceptance. This was her. This was her body  shape now. And there was no need to feel ashamed or embarrassed. Her  skin flushed. For the first time in a long time she felt like a woman  again. His lips brushed against her ear, his voice husky. 'From where  I'm standing, you look just fine.'

I'm dreaming. This isn't really happening. I'm still lying on that hospital gurney, waiting for the BP cuff to go off again.

Light spilled across them. The door from the staffroom opened. A person  still facing inside and laughing at the jokes stood with their foot  jammed in the door, sending bright white light spilling down the  corridor towards them.

Lincoln stepped backwards. For a second he looked like the proverbial  deer caught in the headlights, before he regained his composure and  cleared his throat.

'The canteen,' he said. 'I was going to take you to the canteen.' It was  almost as if he was saying the words out loud to remind himself what he  was supposed to be doing.

His hands fell back to his waist and he gave her a nod in the other  direction. 'The canteen's this way, Goldilocks. Let's see what we can  get you to eat.'

He took a few long strides ahead of her, making short work of the  corridor and pushing open the swing door at the other end and holding it  open for her.

'I think Goldilocks was a blonde, not a redhead,' she murmured as she followed him, still grasping self-consciously at her gown.

'But look how much trouble she got into for the search for food,' he  replied promptly, sending another smile across her face. The easy banter  between them was returning as quickly as it had left. Linc was  obviously relaxing again. And she was glad. That was when she liked him  best.

They stepped into the canteen, which was bathed in the usual bright  hospital lights. Amy squirmed, looking around at the deserted tables and  chairs. 'Are you sure we can get something to eat?'

Lincoln nodded, smiling at her again as though his moment of discomfort  had passed. 'Sure we can. They've got to feed the nightshift, remember?'  He ducked behind the counter and into the kitchen beyond. Amy could  hear the happy chattering inside and looked at the empty canteen around  her. Even this was strange. She was used to sitting in hospital canteens  in her uniform, not in a patient gown. On past occasions when she'd had  her surgery and treatments she'd never even made it down to the  hospital canteens. At that point food had been the last thing on her  mind. A few minutes later Lincoln came out, clutching a tray with a  teapot and cups.

'Food will be out in a minute,' he said as he set the tray down on the  nearest table. Amy gave him a smile. 'I didn't know you were a tea  drinker.' She lifted the cups from the tray.         

     



 

He wrinkled his forehead. 'Generally I'm not. But I didn't want to come  out here with a double-shot coffee when you probably aren't drinking it  right now.'

His eyes rested on her extended abdomen and she nodded knowingly. 'It's  been a slow, hard fight to stop the addiction to the double shots we  used to drink.'

His face broke into that easy grin again. The grin he'd given her when  it had just been the two of them, standing in the dim E.R. He lifted the  lid of the teapot and gave the water a little stir.

The door clanged open behind them and a little grey-haired lady appeared  with a plate in either hand. The delicious aroma of food swept around  them and Amy's stomach responded by rumbling loudly.

'Oh, wow!' she said as the plate was set before her. 'Thank you so  much.' She beamed. The steam was rising from the freshly made pancakes  on the plate, with a pile of sausages and scrambled eggs on the side.  'You must have read my mind,' she said accusingly at Lincoln. 'I was  dreaming about these earlier.' Better than telling him what else she'd  dreamed about. She picked up the pepper pot and sprinkled pepper over  her scrambled eggs. 'I am so-o-o hungry.'

He sat for a few seconds, watching her. The way her hair fell over her  eyes, one delicious auburn curl just begging to be tucked behind her  ear. Sitting like this, her extended abdomen was tucked under the table.  For a few seconds he could actually forget she was pregnant. Forget she  was here, looking for his help because she was afraid she was about to  have a premature baby. He could forget the questions spinning in his  head about the pregnancy, the conception, the father. All the things he  wanted to ask her about. Right now, the clock was spinning backwards in  his head. Back to those six precious months when she'd been his Amy.  Back when they'd been in the first flush of heat and passion. When they  hadn't been able to keep their hands off each other. When stifling hot  long days had turned into even hotter and longer nights.

The pale green colour of the hospital gown reminded him of the scrubs  they'd worn on the boat. A colour that seemed to reflect the darker  green of her eyes, drawing his attention to them from the first second  he'd seen her.

Damn! He could kick himself. Was there something else he could have done  to find her? Why hadn't he insisted on getting her phone number?

The last six years could have been entirely different.

She leaned back in her chair with a contented and relaxed look on her  face, her extended abdomen becoming visible again and jolting him back  to the here and now. 'Oh, wow, Linc. I don't know who made those  pancakes but we should wrap her up, steal her and take her home with  us.'

Her eyes flew open and she sat bolt upright. Had she just said that out  loud? Oh, no! 'I didn't mean …  I mean I wasn't suggesting … ' She couldn't  find the words, her brain was scrambled at her ridiculous faux pas.  Fatigue and irritability had definitely got the better of her. It didn't  help that Linc was sitting staring at her with his fork poised frozen  just outside his mouth. But he didn't look shocked. He didn't look  upset. He looked … amused.

'Relax, Amy,' he said in a teasing tone. 'Don't get wound up. I know  what you meant and we certainly don't want your blood pressure getting  any higher.' The gleam in his eyes spoke a thousand words that he wasn't  saying out loud.

And then he couldn't stay silent any longer. The frustration from  earlier in the day came bubbling to the surface and he wanted to hear  the words coming from her lips-not read them in her medical records.  'Why didn't you come back? You left for a two-week holiday and never  came back. What happened?'

The question jolted her back to reality. No pleasantries. No niceties.  What had happened to playboy, sexy Linc? This was right at the heart of  the matter.

And she'd known at some point he'd ask her. And she'd practised what she  would say in her head. Words that she'd rehearsed a hundred times in  the cab on the way here. Words that just seemed to stick in her throat.

'Well?' He was still staring at her. With those big dark blue eyes.  She'd seen eyes like that on a model advertising aftershave once.  Everyone had commented on them. But that guy's eyes weren't a patch on  Linc's. That guy didn't have a dark blue rim encircling his bright blue  iris. Something that pulled you right in and didn't let go. Her hand ran  down his arm and her fingers intertwined with his. She needed to do  this. She needed something familiar. Something to give her strength  right now. It didn't matter if he had a wife outside. They were friends.  Or they had been friends. And right now she needed her friend's  support.         

     



 

She needed to make him understand why she hadn't come back to the boat.  And she already knew how he'd respond-he'd want to know why she hadn't  told him at the time. But those were all questions she could field. She  needed his skills right now, and his expertise for her baby.

'I was sick, Linc. I couldn't come back.' The words were faint, almost  whispered, and his head jerked upwards from its focus on their  intertwined fingers.