The words were echoing in his head. She didn’t have a significant other when she was diagnosed. But she could have. She could have had him.
He looked down. The plate of pancakes and scrambled eggs that had seemed so appetising ten minutes ago now seemed to turn his stomach. The last time he’d felt like this he’d been out on the town with his friends and had had no idea how or when he’d got home.
Amy shivered. The hairs on her arms were standing on end. How stupid of him. He was sitting here in theatre scrubs and a white coat and all she had on was a hospital gown. He was an idiot. He pushed his chair back. ‘Come on,’ he said as he walked around the table and put his arm around her shoulders. ‘You’re cold. It’s time I tucked you into that extremely comfortable hospital gurney and let you get some rest again.’
She rolled her eyes and nodded as she stood up next to him, her small frame fitting perfectly under his arm.
Then something struck him. Amy was wrong. He did know how it felt to have the world whipped out from under your feet.
It had happened to him six years before when she’d gone on holiday and had never come back.
CHAPTER FOUR
LINCOLN glanced at his watch as he strode down the darkened corridor. Twenty-four hours later and he still hadn’t left this place. Sleep was apparently for the faint-hearted. At least that’s what Val, the nurse practitioner, had told him when she wakened him at 2:00 a.m. to come and help with baby Esther.
Jennifer Taylor was really struggling with breastfeeding. Esther, on the other hand, had taken to cup feeding like a duck to water. She was already sleeping for two-hour stretches, but still showed no interest in latching onto her tear-filled mother.
Lincoln knew that the next few days were crucial in helping establish the feeding and that mother-baby bond. There was also the small issue of the world’s press. They had developed a persistent interest in how the premature First Baby was being fed. There was no way he was going to say that even though the First Lady had attempted to breastfeed, it had so far been unsuccessful. What kind of message was that to send? And more importantly how would that make Jennifer feel? If people knew that the First Lady had chosen to breastfeed her baby, it could encourage other expectant mothers to do the same. This was a chance to try and influence other people to give their baby the best start in life.
Then there was the matter of Amy. And how he felt about her being here.
In one way, he was relieved he’d finally seen her again. But circumstances for both him and her weren’t great. Had she really just come looking for him again to be her baby’s doctor? Or could there be something else?
There was no getting away from the fact she was pregnant, had pre-eclampsia, and in all likelihood would deliver this baby early. But deep down Lincoln really wanted to believe there was more to this. More than just the fact he was a good doctor.
He stopped at the door to the side-room and pushed it gently open. 3:00 a.m. and Amy was sleeping soundly on her side with the arm with the blood-pressure cuff attached lying above the covers. The soft hum of the cuff starting to inflate began and Amy started.
‘Damn cuff,’ she muttered under her breath.
Lincoln smiled and sat down on the chair next to her bed. She was definitely a restless sleeper. Her brow furrowed and her nose twitched as she lay against the pillows, her long red curls spilling over the covers.
He almost felt guilty watching her like this. But he hadn’t had much of a chance to talk to her today and she’d been moved from the E.R. to one of the ward side-rooms for monitoring.
Her eyelids flickered open as the cuff tightened on her arm. ‘Linc?’ she whispered, peering at him through sleep-filled eyes.
He leaned forward and touched her arm. ‘Hi, Amy.’
She didn’t move, didn’t seem surprised to see him. Instead, she seemed to snuggle even closer into the pillows, as if she was sinking into a dreamlike state. ‘Hi, yourself,’ she murmured as a smile danced across her lips. ‘Did you bring food?’
He blinked and held up his empty hands remorsefully.
‘No, sorry.’ His eyes flickered around the room to the empty bed table and locker. Amy didn’t know anyone here. She wouldn’t have had any visitors today. No one to bring her grapes or magazines or the occasional bar of chocolate. Why hadn’t he thought ahead? ‘Do you want me to go and get you something?’
She grimaced as the cuff reached its tightest point, shifting onto her back. ‘No, it’s fine really. Just wishful thinking perhaps.’
He smiled and leaned forward. ‘Wishful thinking about what?’
She ran her tongue along her bottom lip and shrugged her shoulders. ‘That when the hero finally appears he usually brings the sleeping princess some gifts. I was kinda hoping for cookies.’
‘So now I’m the hero?’
‘You were in my dream…’ Her voice trailed off, as if she hadn’t really thought about what she was saying. Her eyes fixed on his, which were fixed on the monitor at her side. The thoughts of a medic were written all over his face. So much for dreaming.
‘David started me on some anti-hypertensives today.’
He pulled his eyes from the monitor screen—conscious of the fact she’d been watching him. ‘And how do you feel?’
He knew better than to rely on readings from instruments when a patient could tell you exactly what you needed to know.
Amy gave a sigh of relief as the cuff released then propped herself up in the bed. She pushed her hair out of her eyes, tucking it behind her ears.
Lincoln fisted his hands, resisting the urge to do it for her.
‘Crabbit.’
‘What?’ That got his attention. Miss Unpredictable.
She gave him a wicked smile. ‘Crabbit—that’s how I feel. I could cheerfully take that blood-pressure monitor and lob it out the nearest window.’
He gave a rueful smile. ‘It is kind of noisy.’
‘It’s not the noise—it’s the discomfort. Every time I think I’m about to fall asleep the damn thing goes off again.’ She narrowed her eyes. ‘I thought hospitals were supposed to be places of rest, Dr Adams?’
‘No chance,’ he muttered, sagging back in the armchair, his legs and arms flopping in exhaustion.
She raised her eyebrow. ‘No rest for the wicked?’
He shook his head. ‘I don’t know about the wicked but there’s definitely no rest for me. I keep snatching a few hours here and there, but I feel as if I’m walking about this place in a trance.’
Amy nodded slowly. It was always like this for a doctor on call. As soon as their head rested on the pillow, their pager would go off again. By the end of their shift they looked like death warmed over.
Although still one of the best-looking men she’d ever laid eyes on, Lincoln looked tired. Bags hung under his eyes, and the little lines surrounding them seemed deeper—more ingrained.
She was angry with herself. Had she forgotten the amount of responsibility he had right now? He must be stressed up to his eyeballs, and her presence here couldn’t be helping.
She felt a surge in her chest. Her heartbeat started to quicken. Lincoln was looking tired and vulnerable, but sexy as hell. He was watching her through half-shut lids and it was sending tingling sensations along her skin. Why had she come to find him? Was this only about safeguarding her baby? Or was this about something else?
In the whole six years since she’d left the boat she’d never met anyone else like him. No one else had had the same effect on her that he’d had. And it wasn’t just the sexual attraction. It was the friendship, the conversation and the flirting. And she’d missed it. She’d missed it all.