The Baby Of Their Dreams

‘Well, that’s some name—no wonder you have to shorten it.’

Her fingers hesitated over the text she was typing and she gave a small, presumably unseen smile.

Dominic, even if he couldn’t see her mouth, knew from behind that she’d smiled.

He watched as that rigid spinal column very briefly relaxed a notch and those tense shoulders dropped a fraction.

Still, he left things there. He certainly wasn’t going to pursue a conversation that had been so swiftly shut down.

Instead, he looked at the brochure with only mild interest. He loathed this type of thing. He’d only put his hand up because he’d needed the update hours and because his parents and sister lived nearby—it would be a good chance to catch up. As well as that, he was seriously considering moving here.

He kept himself up to date and found these presentations pointless, or rather bullet-pointed—most speakers had everything on slides and it was rather like being read a bedtime story out loud. At thirty-two years of age, he would rather read for himself.

‘Dominic!’

He glanced over at the sound of his name and gave a smile when he saw that it was someone he had studied with in London.

‘How are you, Hugh?’

Cat stood there, trying not to notice the delicious depth to his voice. Not that he spoke much; it was his friend who did most of the talking.

She registered and was told that one of the organisers would be with her shortly to take her to where her talk was being held.

‘This way, Dr Hayes…’

Dominic stopped in mid-sentence as Cat was led away. She must be speaking, he realised, and, quite shamelessly, he glanced through the list of speakers and found out her name for himself.

Catriona Hayes.

And then he saw the topic of her talk.

Palliative Care and its Place in the Emergency Department.

Absolutely not what he needed.

So, instead of hearing her speak, he took himself off to listen to a disaster management panel but his mind wasn’t really there. Half an hour later he slipped out unnoticed and slipped into where she was talking.

She noticed him come in.

There was a tiny pause in her talk as she glanced at the opening door and saw him enter.

He didn’t take a seat but leant against the back wall with arms folded. There was a small falter in her flawless talk as he took his place but then she continued where she’d left off.

‘Of course, it’s great for the patient when they receive a terminal diagnosis to take that break, that trek, that overseas trip. It can just be a touch inconvenient for us when they present, minus notes, diagnosis, information and family. And so, because that’s what we do, we leap in and do our best to save them.’ She looked out at the room. ‘Of course, it’s not so great for the patient either when they come around to our smiling faces… It’s hard on the staff when a four-year-old presents on Christmas Eve. It’s our instinct to do all that we can. There isn’t always time to speak at length with the family when they come rushing in with their child but listen we must…’

It wasn’t like a bedtime story with everything spelt out. Yes, there were bullet points, but they were only brief outlines and, for Dominic, a lot of her words felt like bullets as she filled in the gaps.

Brusque was her delivery as she covered things such as legalities, next of kin, patient rights. For good measure, staff, relative and patient guilt was thrown in too.

He listened, he felt, yet his face never moved a muscle.

As she finished, he left the room and went off to lunch but, even if it smelt fantastic, food didn’t appeal and instead he took some water and went out onto a large balcony.

Unlike others who had been at her talk Dominic didn’t go up and congratulate her. Neither did he tell her that her talk had touched a nerve.

He could have walked over and said how his wife had got up in the night and wandered off. He could have said how angry she had been to wake up two days later in ICU and that he could still see the reproach in her eyes, as if Dominic had somehow failed her because she’d lived.

No, he didn’t need or want that look from Cat and he was tired, so tired of women who gave out sympathy and understanding.

He’d prefer something lighter.

Or darker, perhaps! Hopefully, Dominic thought, heading back in, so too would she.

CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_80dfd1b0-28b6-569c-aec3-5e6ccf58ee7b)

IT WOULD BE an absolute lie to say the attraction hadn’t been as instant as it was mutual.

All through the lunch break there was a knot high in Cat’s stomach and tension in her muscles and she knew that she was bracing herself for him to come over.

Except he didn’t.

Ouch!

She wasn’t sure if she even wanted him to.

There was an arrogance to him, not that she couldn’t handle arrogant men; she’d dealt with more than her share of them.

No, it was something else about Dominic that had her seriously rattled—the presumption of sex.

From the briefest conversation she had gleaned that much. From the roam of his eyes on the bare skin of her back, from the sullen, one-sided conversation with his friend that had told her his mind was on her.

From the corner of her eye she watched as he came in from the balcony and then went over and chatted to a group.

She was incredibly aware of his presence and it had been a long time since she had felt anything close to that.

Not that it mattered.

She was being ignored.

Funny, but she knew that it was deliberate and what was stranger still it made her smile. ‘Excellent talk…’ A middle-aged blond man came over and introduced himself. ‘Gordon.’ He smiled.

‘Cat.’

It was a very long thirty minutes.

Gordon simply didn’t let up and Cat couldn’t really make her excuses and leave because he was talking about his wife who had died and the total hash that had been made in the emergency department.

It was a busman’s holiday for Cat as she lined up for the lovely buffet lunch and Gordon followed her with his plate.