questions constantly.
Respecting his concern, given their previous experience, Sally had been careful to give him detailed answers to everything.
‘During a contraction blood can’t flow through the placenta so easily. Some babies are fine with that, but others may not be and their heart rate may be affected. It’s a sign that the baby is stressed. If it happens in the middle of the contraction and the baby’s heart recovers quickly, we don’t worry too much, but if a baby’s heart rate is affected after the contraction is finished then we need to keep an eye on it.’
He stroked a hand over his wife’s head and offered her a glass of water. ‘But in our case everything is fine?’
‘Absolutely.’ Sally removed the Doppler from the water and dried her hands. She had been monitoring Angela like a hawk, constantly alert to any signs that her scar might be threatening to rupture. ‘How are you doing, Angela?’
‘Fine. I love the water. I’m just anxious about what’s to come.’
There was a tap on the door and Tom strolled into the room dressed in theatre scrubs.
The loose cotton fabric emphasized the width and strength of his shoulders and revealed a tantalizing glimpse of dark chest hair.
Sally swallowed and concentrated her attention on Angela. She’d always adored his body. He was the most masculine man she’d ever met and she’d never been able to look at him without feeling her stomach lurch.
It seemed that nothing had changed.
She didn’t want to feel like this.
Hadn’t expected to feel like this.
Seven years of absence was supposed to have cured her of Tom Hunter.
She closed her eyes for a second, trying to blot out the vision of those strong arms and that firm mouth, resenting the pull of attraction that tugged at her body.
She breathed in deeply and tried to focus her mind.
Better to acknowledge the attraction and control it than deny it and allow it free rein to consume her.
All right, so she was still physically attracted to him. Who wouldn’t be?
It didn’t mean that she was going to be stupid enough to fall for him again.
There was no way she’d risk exposing herself to that degree of pain a second time.
Clearly oblivious to her internal battle, Tom walked across the room, his eyes on Angela.
‘How’s it going?’ His voice was velvety smooth and he crouched down by the pool, his eyes warm as they rested on the labouring mother. Despite having a punishing workload, he’d been in and out of the room all afternoon, checking on Angela and getting updates from Sally.
And Sally had to admit that he was good. Because he’d bothered to spend the time, Angela was now totally relaxed with him, and it was obvious that she trusted Tom implicitly.
‘All right, I think—’ Angela sucked in a breath and gave him a weak smile. ‘Not looking forward to the end bit, to be honest. I’m just worried that Sally will leave me and go home if I take too long.’
Sally smiled. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’
Home was Bryony’s cottage. A lonely reminder that she didn’t actually have anywhere that was hers.
But she’d sort that out, given the first opportunity.
She was off at the weekend and she’d already made arrangements to view a couple of places.
Angela looked at Tom. ‘She’s brilliant. So calm. Better than pain relief. Everyone in labour should have Sally.’
Tom looked at Sally and she saw something flicker in his blue gaze. ‘I agree,’ he said softly, ‘Sally is very special.’
But not special enough to prevent him from ending their relationship.
Flattened by painful memories, Sally straightened and walked over to the flickering candles that she’d lit earlier in an attempt to help Angela relax.
Tom followed her. ‘You’re happy with her?’ His eyes were searching and she nodded, looking away quickly from that disturbing blue gaze.
When he’d made love to her she’d always stared into his eyes. Had been unable to take her eyes off him, hypnotized by the wonder of being with Tom. Looking into his eyes had been the only way she’d been able to believe that she’d actually been living the fantasy. That this amazing man had wanted her.
And when he hadn’t wanted her any more she’d almost died.
The reduced lighting and his low voice created an atmosphere of such intimacy that she felt the breath lodge in her throat. It was the cruellest reminder of what they’d once shared.
She had to remind herself that they were standing in a delivery room with a labouring woman and she was suddenly tempted to blow out the candles and turn on every fluorescent light in the room.
‘The foetal heart rate is good and she’s contracting regularly. No tachycardia or any other signs that her uterus is in any way compromised.’
Tom nodded. ‘Good.’
‘Sally!’ Angela’s tone was suddenly sharp and panicky. ‘I want to push. All of a sudden …’
Sally was by her side in an instant, Tom forgotten. ‘Don’t panic,’ she said quietly, reaching for some towels that were warming. ‘I’m going to get you out of the water and examine you again. You weren’t even eight centimetres last time we checked so I doubt you’ve dilated that quickly.’
Angela groaned and clutched the side of the pool, her eyes tightly closed. ‘Can’t I stay in?’
Sally glanced at Tom but he gave a slight shake of his head. ‘I’d rather you had this particular baby on dry land.’
Angela gasped. ‘I don’t think I can move.’
‘Wait until this contraction has passed and then we’ll help you out.’
A few minutes later Angela was lying on the bed, wrapped in a warm dressing-gown.
Sally snapped on a pair of gloves. ‘Don’t push, Angela. I’m just going to see what’s happening. I don’t want you pushing until your cervix is fully dilated.’
‘I definitely want to push.’ Angela gave a gasp and stopped dead, her fingers biting into Sally’s arm. Oh …’
Tom frowned. ‘How dilated was she when she went into the pool?’
‘Four centimetres.’ Sally examined her carefully and then straightened up. ‘Obviously all that warm water and relaxation did the trick. You’re fully dilated, Angela, and the baby is nicely positioned. You can push whenever you like.’
She looked at Tom expectantly,
