One More Time - Louisa George Page 0,18

were both aching to reach out.

Almost two weeks of caring for Jamie and she’d barely heard a word between them. Interfering wasn’t her style, but they needed a damned push. ‘You two are priceless, you know that?’ She stared at them both in turn.

And kept the simmering desire for Max in check. Yes, she’d kissed that stroppy, grumpy mouth. Yes, okay, if called to account she’d admit she wanted to do it again. And again. Either that or slap it.

And she really should not be checking out his backside in those scrubs. So, yes, she was all kinds of confused.

But one thing was very clear: after all the reports of how Mitchell and Max had been before the transplant she would not have her ward turned into a Maitland battlefield. ‘It’s great that Jamie’s fixed up and on the mend. But for his sake you two could try being a bit friendlier to each other, especially when you’re in front of the little guy. What kind of message do you want him to grow up with?’

‘Sure. Sorry.’ Mitchell scowled, picked up his son and squeezed him close. ‘Look. Here comes Mummy. Time to get going. Wave goodbye to Gabby.’

The kid waved his chubby hand and beamed. ‘Bye, Gabby.’

‘Okay, I’ll catch you up once I’ve got the forms.’ As always, she held tears in check. Something about a cute toddler hit her full-on hard in the chest every time. They had that earthy, homey smell that drew her to sniff their heads. Huge eyes that showed every emotion. That little-man swagger—half baby, half toughie. All cute, and feisty, and enough to make her heart ache.

As she prepared to leave, her attention was briefly captured by Max’s reactions to Jodi. He nodded towards her then turned away, unable, or unwilling, to hold her gaze. Gabby wondered whether it was her imagination or did he seem tense around his brother’s girlfriend too?

Something was very wrong with this family set-up and gossip or no gossip she needed to find out what. If only to produce harmony in the hospital corridor.

‘You be good now, Jamie. I’ll be down to check on you very soon.’ As Max pressed a knuckle to the boy’s cheek, uncharacteristic tenderness flitted across his face. And swiftly on its heels came a blanket of indifference. Emotional shutdown.

She recognised it because she’d seen it in her mirrored reflection all too often.

Then he turned and walked back to the desk at the far end of the ward.

After she’d completed the transfer, Gabby offered Max a seat in her office and sat opposite him, keeping the large mahogany desk between them as a buffer. ‘I know I’m way out of line here, but do you want to talk about what’s going on with Mitchell?’

‘What?’ He shrugged.

‘The monosyllabic communication. It’s like working with automatons.’

‘It’s just brother stuff, you know how it is.’

‘No, actually, I don’t. I’m an only child.’

He laughed, pushing a hand through his hair, his mouth kicked up into a half-smile. ‘Praise the Lord for that. I couldn’t handle two of you.’

‘Well, welcome to my world, Maitland One.’ This was way off professional limits and she knew it. But she couldn’t bear to see families fall apart. She’d been there. Was the poster child for how to stuff things up. And ever since she’d hated seeing people tear each other apart when they should be loving, supporting, talking. Hell, it might be too late for her, but it didn’t have to be that way for the Maitland men.

Infusing her voice with as much understanding as she could, she leaned across the desk. ‘You want to tell me what’s going on?’

‘Some things just aren’t worth explaining.’ There was a warning in his eyes. Don’t go there. His jaw tilted up. ‘And it’s your business because...?’

Apart from the fact her staff had apparently been dodging verbal bullets—oh, and the teensy-weensy fact that she’d shared his bed— she couldn’t think of a single reason. Clearly, he didn’t attach any emotions to the other night, and she needed to learn from that. Business as usual at the office. No time or space for emotions.

This one-night-stand thing was hard to get her head around. But if she was going to take charge of her life she had to get used to a lot of new things.

So, she worked to keep it less personal. A pen lay on the top of a pile of files. She picked it up, twiddled it in her fingers, hoping it gave her more