Prognosis Christmas Baby - Amy Andrews Page 0,7

and gentlemanly to a fault, and everything a teenager hooked on Jane Austen could ever hope for, but Maggie could tell he was constantly aware of the boundary.

He spoke about growing up on a huge cattle property hundreds of kilometres west of Sydney in rural New South Wales and taking his school lessons via a radio through the School of the Air and mustering cattle in a helicopter.

‘And why did you decide to become a doctor?’ Christine asked.

Maggie, who’d been preoccupied with colouring a pink flower, looked up at the question. Christine had her back to Maggie but Nash was facing her. She noticed that at some stage Brodie had switched laps and was once again cuddled into Nash’s side. She wouldn’t have thought it possible but he looked more masculine, more appealing. Their gazes locked as he answered.

‘My sister was sick a lot when we were kids and she had to go to Sydney frequently for treatment because there just weren’t the services in the bush. I promised her then I’d become a doctor and change it.’

Maggie noticed the lightness to his voice and the smile he flashed Christine as he broke eye contact with her, but it was too late. For a brief moment she’d seen a vulnerability in his gaze as he’d spoken about his sister that called to her more than any amount of sexual attraction.

And who could resist a fervent boyhood promise?

‘You told me the other day that Radio Giggle was a life-saver. What did you mean by that?’

Maggie gaped at the very grown-up question. Forget community radio, Christine was heading for a career with 60 Minutes.

‘The hospital in Sydney where Tammy...stayed had its own kids’ radio station. My sisters and I used to ring up and put in requests for her. She listened every day, she said it helped her miss home a little less.’

Goosebumps broke out on Maggie’s arms at the streak of raw emotion in Nash’s not-quite-steady voice. His family had obviously been close and the connection with his ill sister through a hospital radio station, no matter how far in the past, clearly still resonated with him.

She’d never thought of that aspect of Radio Giggle before, more concerned with its diversionary attributes. But as a way for inpatients to feel connected to home, it was extraordinarily touching and she was proud all over again to be part of such a great organisation.

‘Do you have a special request for us today, Dr Reece?’

Brodie started to grizzle and Nash shifted him to the other hip and jiggled him a little. ‘I sure do. I’d like to hear “Puff the Magic Dragon.” It was Tammy’s favourite.’

Maggie was pleased for Dougy and her enforced activity as the mournful strains of ‘Puff’ filtered through the studio. She gripped the crayon hard, the goose bumps multiplying.

‘Thanks, Dr Reece,’ Christine enthused, pulling her headphones off.

Nash smiled and stood. Brodie was becoming more fractious, rubbing his eyes. ‘No probs.’ He started to sway as Brodie’s grizzling became louder. ‘Better get this little one back to the ward.’

Christine nodded. ‘See you later.’

He nodded to the teenager then looked down at Maggie, who was colouring in studiously. ‘See you, Maggie.’

Maggie looked up, unprepared for the picture Nash made as he swayed with a bandage-headed Brodie. He was lean and sexy and utterly endearing. Yesterday she had thought how totally out of his league she was but today, child on hip, amidst the background chaos of Radio Giggle, he looked totally down-to-earth.

Easily within reach. Temptingly so.

‘Bye,’ she dismissed, returning her attention to Dougy almost immediately, gripping the crayon harder as his sexy chuckle lingered in the studio well after he’d gone.

If she was ever granted the use of a magic wand for even just a few seconds, Maggie would use it to completely annihilate night duty from existence.

She hated it. With a passion.

Her first night in particular. So, she wasn’t in the best of moods the next night when she switched off her ignition and climbed out of the car beneath a star-studded sky. Ten hours stretched before her and she yawned. Not a good sign!

Oh, she knew once she actually walked through the doors and greeted her fellow sufferers she’d be fine — it was the thought that was the most depressing. And the older she got the harder they were to get over.

Back in her student days she’d bounce straight back. Twenty years later it took her a good couple of days to get over a run of nights.

After communal