Prognosis Christmas Baby - Amy Andrews Page 0,11

hard on the rest of us. We missed her.’

Maggie nodded. ‘I can imagine.’

He looked at her, compassion swirling in the fudge-brownie depths of her eyes. It was nice not to have to explain the true impact of that to someone. The PICU got its share of oncology patients and he knew Maggie would understand the true horrors of the illness.

‘It took a long time for Mum and Dad to get over it. I mean, they tried hard...for the rest of us, but they were just...sad.’

‘Of course they were,’ she murmured. ‘I’m sure you all were.’

Nash eyed her, seeing not only compassion but respect. Suddenly she wasn’t regarding him like he was an annoying bug buzzing around. Or a child, to be tolerated or humoured. Suddenly she was taking him seriously. Not dismissing him with a pat on the head.

She was looking at him like he was a man.

Sort of like how he’d felt about her yesterday when he’d discovered her background with Radio Giggle. Instantly she’d become a three-dimensional entity and he’d had to face that there was more than a physical trigger to the tug he felt when they were together.

He didn’t know whether to be pleased by this development or to get up and leave the room. There was something in her gaze that saw deep inside him. Something he knew for sure would demand more from him than he was usually prepared to give.

The television erupted. The crowd cheered and the commentator’s voice rose an octave or two as one of the country team made a mad dash for the goalpost. Nash was grateful for the diversion and he dragged his gaze from hers and feigned interest in the game.

Maggie was also pleased for the distraction. Things had suddenly gotten quite intense and it was the last thing she wanted. Writing Nash off as a frivolous jack-the-lad had made it easier to ignore the attraction between them. But his family tragedy and dedication to his career had added a whole further dimension. A fully fleshed-out Nash Reece was going to be much harder to ignore.

‘Well, my time’s up.’ Maggie stood. Actually, she had another eight minutes but she really needed to get away.

Nash nodded, deliberately keeping his eyes trained on the television. Something had passed between them, making his interest in Maggie Green very unwise. He needed to give up on her pronto, because the Maggie who had just looked at him with compassion and respect in her eyes wouldn’t be so easy to turn his back on come January.

And that he couldn’t allow. There was London and then home. No woman had ever swayed him from his goal and he wasn’t about to get tangled up with one who could.

So...there was chemistry. So...he wanted her. Maggie Green was off limits.

He’d better get used to it.

CHAPTER THREE

Nash spent the next two weeks ignoring his attraction to Maggie. Something he never did. He’d learnt from his sister’s passing that life was short and should be lived to its fullest. But during their talk the other night he’d realised Maggie was not the type of woman with whom he could indulge in a quick fling.

There was something about her that flashed a big red warning light at him. Maggie was a forever kind of woman. And he wasn’t a forever kind of guy.

He had years left of his training to go, several in London and then back to the bush. Maybe one day he’d find a nice country girl to settle down with, maybe have what his parents, his grandparents had.

Maybe.

But then he made the fatal error of joining the staff for Friday night drinks and he knew he couldn’t deny it any more. Two hours of watching Maggie’s mouth sucking down amber liquid from long-necked bottles and he was wishing he was her beer.

She was driving him to distraction.

He had to have her — despite the warning light. Despite knowing it was crazy.

He couldn’t remember ever wanting a woman this badly.

She lifted her gaze to his for a brief second before she hastily looked away and smiled at something the person beside her was saying. Nash knew she could feel the pounding of attraction growing out of control, too.

Louder than the noise of the juke box and the chatter all around them.

It was as if the social situation, far removed from the hospital, had changed the boundaries between them.

She’d been slipping him furtive looks all evening when she’d thought he hadn’t been watching and while it was dim