she tried to look anywhere but there, her peripheral vision was still very much engaged, keeping track of him until he finally turned down a neighboring corridor.
The thread of hurt from his curt response still lingered, just waiting for her to tug on it and draw it tighter. Why had he acted so put out to have her assistance on a case?
Was it the professional rivalry that sometimes went on between midwives and obstetricians?
She sagged against the wall, pressing her fingers against her temples and rubbing in slow, careful circles to ward off the migraine that was beginning to chomp at the wall of her composure.
What was it about Lucas that put her on edge?
The fact that he was a man in a field dominated by women?
Or was it the fact that all the expectant mums who came through the doors clamored to be put on his patient list? Despite the run-ins they’d had over the past nine months, Senior Midwife Lucas seemed quite capable of doing his job with an ease and efficiency that only enhanced his good looks.
And they were good.
She tried to dredge up an unflattering image, like the time he’d come in late for work, dragging his fingers through his wavy hair, his rumpled clothes the same ones he’d had on when he’d left the previous afternoon. Nope. He’d been just as attractive then as the first time she’d laid eyes on him.
Ugh. She disliked him for that most of all.
Or maybe it was all those secretive phone calls she’d caught him making when he’d thought he’d been alone. Oh, those were definitely over the top. So many of them, right in the middle of his shift.
And he wondered why she was outraged when he came in late or took little side breaks to indulge in whispered conversations.
Could she be jealous?
She straightened in a flash. No! Just because Robert had decided she wasn’t enough “fun”, it didn’t mean she should go ballistic over any man who wanted to indulge in a bit of pillow talk on the phone.
Maybe it wouldn’t bother her so much if he didn’t use the same flirty tones when in conversation with the MMU staff and his patients. The tone he turned on this “Cora” person—a kind of I’m-not-willing-to-commit-but-I-still-want-you-at-my-beck-and-call attitude that grated on Darcie’s nerves. Especially after the way her ex had led her down the rosy path, only to dump her for her maid of honor—who, actually, was a lot of fun to be with.
She sighed and went into the lounge to get a strong cuppa that she hoped would relieve the steady ache in her head and keep it from blooming into something worse.
As soon as she moved into the space, she knew it was a mistake. Lucas, it seemed, was the main topic of conversation among the cluster of four nurses inside.
“I swear one of his patients this morning had on false eyelashes. While in labor!” Marison Daniels blinked rapidly, as if trying to imitate what the woman had done. They all laughed.
If Darcie had hoped to slide by them, grab her tea and tiptoe back out of the room unseen, that hope was dashed when the nurse next to Marison caught Darcie’s eye and gave the jokester a quick poke in the ribs with her elbow. The laughter ceased instantly.
Oh, Lord. Her face burned hotter than the kettle she’d just switched on.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“You didn’t interrupt,” Marison assured her. “I was just headed back to the ward.”
The others all echoed the same thing.
With a scurry of feet and tossing of rubbish, the four headed out.
Just what she needed. To be reminded that she was still very much an outsider when it came to certain things—like being allowed to let her hair down with the rest of them.
No, the pattern had been set from the moment she’d got off the plane. Oh, she’d made friends and people were nice enough, but to let her in on their little jokes? That didn’t happen very often, except with Isla.
Worse, she’d even overheard Lucas making fun of her English accent while on one of his phone calls to Cora. It hadn’t been in a mean way, he’d just repeated some of her colloquialisms with a chuckle, but it made her feel self-conscious any time she opened her mouth around him. So she made sure she spoke to him as little as possible. And now that they were sharing a rota, she was still struggling to maintain that silence.
Not that it was going to be possible forever.
She could still picture the confident way he strode through the hallways of the ward, his quick smile making itself known whenever he met a patient. She wrinkled her nose. More than one expectant mum would have probably given her left ovary to bat long sexy lashes and claim the child she was carrying was Lucas Elliot’s.
Including his current paramour, Cora?
Probably, but not her. She was done with men like him.
Her fiancé had been handsome and attentive. Until he hadn’t been. Until he’d grown more and more distracted as their engagement had progressed.
Now she knew why.
And Lucas had Cora. She was not about to smile and flirt with a man who was taken. She wasn’t Tabitha.
She packed leaves into the tea ball and dropped it into a chunky mug—a gift from her dad to remind her that her favorite footballers resided in England and to not let herself get swept away by a handsome face, especially one who lived halfway round the world.
Lucas’s quirked brow swam before her eyes, and she let out an audible groan, even as she poured boiling water into her cup. No matter how good looking he was or how elated she’d been to see the momentary confusion cross his expression when she’d smiled at him, she did not need to become like False-Eyelash Lady—the one Marison had carried on about.
There’d be a real corker of a reaction if someone caught her mooning after him. Or staring after him, like she’d done earlier.
She bounced her tea ball in the water and watched as the brew grew darker and darker, just like her thoughts. What she needed was to stay clearheaded. Like he’d said, they had three more weeks together.
He wanted them to be pleasant ones. She finished adding milk and sugar to her cup and then discarded the used tea leaves, rinsing the ball and leaving it on a towel for the next person who needed it.
“Pleasant” she could do, but that had to be the extent of it. Maybe she should be grateful for all those calls to Cora…maybe she should even hope the relationship stayed the course. At least for the next few weeks.
Which meant she would not go out of her way to put him at ease or cut him any slack if he came in late again. Neither would she give the man any reason to look at her with anything other than the casual curiosity his eyes normally held.
And once those three weeks were up?
Life would go back to the way it had been before they’d found themselves joined at the hip.
Joined at the hip.
