for her car keys, which always sank into the furthest corner of her voluminous tote bag.
‘Go where?’ His body rippled with alertness as if a ‘go’ button had just been pushed, locking down all his previous emotions.
‘To work.’ Her fingers touched every possible handbag item except the cool metal of keys. ‘There’s an emergency at the hospital.’
‘You’re on call?’ Surprise spun along his cheeks, vanishing almost as quickly as it had arrived.
She held her breath, hoping it was a rhetorical question, wanting to keep her cover until the last possible moment.
He shrugged and picked up his keys. ‘I’ll come with you.’
Astonishment flipped her stomach. She needed a break from this conversation and she didn’t need Callum Halroyd with his intense stare and his questioning and organising demeanour entering her professional domain. He disconcerted her enough in the kitchen, let alone in A and E.
She started lifting newspapers, still searching for her keys. ‘But you’re exhausted. Shouldn’t you get some sleep?’
He exhaled a ragged breath and hooked her gaze. ‘Have you slept since you heard the news?’
She bit her lip and shook her head. ‘Point taken.’ He needed work as much as she did right now and she couldn’t insist that he stay behind.
Abandoning her key hunt completely, she swung her bag over her shoulder and strode purposefully to the door as much as a pregnant woman could stride. As her hand grasped the doorknob she turned back toward Callum, catching his resolute expression, which contrasted starkly with an unexpected glint in his dark eyes.
Excitement? She suddenly saw him in a different light. Instead of grief being front and centre, an overlay of anticipation shimmered around him. Was Callum an adrenaline junkie? A doctor who worked in war zones as much for himself as for patients. Did work excite him? The thought coiled through her, settling in the back of her mind to be re-examined later.
‘Let’s go.’ She stepped into the hot night, half dreading and half looking forward to working with this enigmatic man.
And that scared the hell out of her.
* * *
Callum assessed the small emergency department of Narranbool District Hospital through the glass panel of the door and sighed. How had James stood working in this two-horse town? The equipment looked older than some of the gear he used in Africa.
Rosie, the DON, had greeted him and Tess with open arms and an apologetic grimace, and had immediately disappeared back to the nursing home to check on a patient. Typical country medicine—under-resourced, understaffed and underwhelming. Bush hospitals had become glorified nursing homes as mainstream surgical procedures were removed to the capital cities and larger regional centres, which had all the up-to-date equipment.
The trip to the hospital had been quick and silent, with the exception of Tess’s husky voice giving navigating instructions. To shut out lust, Callum had made lists in his head of the things he had to organise, including pulling in a favour from a mate who was an obstetrician in Melbourne. The sooner Tess was in Melbourne the better.
Then he could relax.
He ignored the faint voice in his head that he was overreacting, that Tess was right about the safety of giving birth in Narranbool and that he was medicalising childbirth. James was dead and nothing he could do would change that. But he could do everything possible to safeguard James’s son.
He rubbed his temples with his thumb and forefinger. And there was still the problem of his parents. He had no idea how to gently tell two shocked sixty-five-year-olds that they were soon to be grandparents.
Tess grabbed a couple of gowns off the linen trolley, the soft fabaric of her shorts tightening on her behind.
His gaze fixed itself on the plump roundness, his mind immediately imagining how his hands would feel curved against the softness. You’re gawking at a pregnant woman. Now, that’s really classy.
Tess turned, the expression in her chocolate eyes quizzical as she tossed him a gown. ‘Here—catch.’
Her words brought him instantly back to the A and E. Abandoning his lustful thoughts, he immediately became the doctor. ‘What do we know about this patient?’
Tess picked up the beige history folder with the distinctive colour-coded spine that was used in most hospitals around the country. ‘Rosie said he’s a relative of a local family, visiting from Perth. He hasn’t been feeling well since dinner and has complained of heartburn.’
‘That’s the emergency?’ He tugged on his gown and sighed. ‘He probably just needs some antacid and a lecture on the evils of overeating.’
‘You were the one who wanted to come to the hospital.’ She gave him an arch look. ‘We could wish him a myocardial infarction if that’s more exciting for you.’
Her barb hit with unerring accuracy. He loved the rush of an emergency, of dealing with the unknown, having to think on his feet and being just one step ahead of disaster. ‘Sorry. GP work just isn’t me.’
‘No? Really? I would never have guessed.’ Her wide mouth curved up into a smile that raced directly to her eyes, giving her a teasing, sassy look. ‘But you’re here now, action man, so follow me and watch and learn how to talk to a patient who is actually awake.’
Action man. A delicious sensation of warmth unexpectedly scudded through him. His staff at Frontline were fabulous but in Theatre he was the boss and no one ever questioned him. No one ever teased him.
As she walked away from him, an involuntary sound erupted from his throat which he recognised as laughter. A flare of something akin to happiness lightened his chest for a moment before shrinking but not completely fading. He followed her through the double doors toward the source of noise.
‘You need to wait in the waiting area and we will call you back when he’s seen the doctor.’ A tired voice sounded over the clamour of many talking at once.
‘But he’s my brother.’ A woman’s voice rose in agitation, while her pudgy hands gesticulated, sending her many bracelets jangling.
Relatives. They were another reason why he’d become a surgeon. By the time he got to speak to relatives, other staff had usually calmed them down, and after he’d spoken to them briefly, his registrar followed up, answering any other questions.
Callum recognised the distinctive white and blue uniform of a nurse who turned toward them at the sound of the door, relief clear on her face.
‘Tess, I’ve done baseline observations on Mr Renaldo and he’s pretty uncomfortable with epigastric pain.’
‘Thanks, Esther. Mr Halroyd and I will sort him out.’
The middle-aged woman nodded slowly as she took a head-to-toe look at Callum, interest and curiosity bold in her eyes. She turned back to the relatives. ‘The doctors are here now and everyone needs to leave.’ She pointed to the door and started herding the crowd back to the waiting area affectionately known as chairs.
Tess winked at him. ‘Within the hour
