The Midwife's Marriage Proposal (12 page)

With a supreme effort of will, she slid away from him
and stooped to retrieve her cardigan, glancing ruefully at the buttons.

‘We always were in too much of a hurry.'

‘And why was that?'

He should have looked ridiculous, standing there naked, but he didn't. He looked magnificent. Staggeringly male and shockingly sexy. It was all she could do not to reach for him again and satisfy the craving of her body.

But she couldn't afford to do that.

Tom had all the qualities of an addictive substance. Lethally attractive and dangerous in equal quantities.

And she was going to resist him.

No matter how her body throbbed or her heart ached, she was going to resist him.

‘We're both passionate people, Tom. These things happen.'

‘Do they?' His gaze burned into hers and he reached for his jeans, dragging them on in a lithe movement. ‘You often have mindless sex without even bothering to remove your clothes?'

Her gaze slid pointedly to the untidy pile of clothing remaining on the floor. ‘We removed our clothes.'

‘Don't do this, Sally. Don't reduce this to nothing.' He yanked up his zip and in two strides he was in front of her, his hands on her arms. ‘Have you done that with anyone else?'

She tore her greedy gaze away from the perfect musculature of his chest, determined not to follow the tantalizing line of dark hair that trailed down his taut abdomen.

‘My sex life is none of your business, Tom.'

In truth she didn't have a sex life, but there was no
way she was sharing that information with him. It would reveal far too much about herself.

‘You're saying this was just sex?'

No. It had been an expression of everything she was. Everything she felt for him.

‘Let's not analyse it, Tom.' She pulled away from him before she did something she'd regret.
Said something she'd regret.
‘I'll make you a coffee before you go.'

‘That's it?' His tone was incredulous and his blue eyes raked her pale face with ill-disguised frustration. ‘We have white-hot sex against the wall
and you offer to make me a coffee before I leave
? What the hell is going on here, Sally?'

Self-protection. That was what was going on.

She looked at him, struggling to keep her expression neutral. ‘What do you want?'

‘I want you.'

His words pierced her heart more effectively than the sharpest weapon.

‘You just had me, Tom.'

His jaw tightened and he inhaled sharply. ‘That isn't what I meant, and you know it.'

‘I'm not a commodity, Tom. You can't put me down and then expect to pick me up again when it suits you. Last time you wanted me I gave myself to you. I gave every part of myself.' Her voice shook with passion as she spoke the words that she'd been too shattered to speak seven years before. ‘I held nothing back. Do you know what it's like to give like that? Because I didn't until I met you. I'd never trusted
anyone
with what I gave you.'

He flinched, guilt flaring in his gaze. ‘Sally …'

She nodded, her green eyes flashing sparks and her chin lifting with dignity. ‘And you rejected it. I'm an
adult woman, Tom, and I have a right to give or withhold as I choose. I enjoyed the sex. But that's all it was. And now what I want more than anything is to be by myself.'

‘No.' He shook his head, his hard jaw set in a determined line. ‘That isn't what you want, and we both know it. You were hurt tonight. Do you think I didn't know? When that boy was talking about not having a family, did you think I didn't know what that did to you? I want you to share that with me. I want to be there for you. Talk to me, Sally.'

The addiction was pressing in on her, temptation taking the shape of comfort.

But she recognized it for what it was.

Short-term relief that would bring long-term pain.

She couldn't afford to give any more of herself to this man. So she fought hard against the temptation, determined not to yield. Determined not to be that weak.

If she allowed herself to need him, she made herself vulnerable.

This time when she spoke, her voice was steady. ‘Do you have time for a coffee before you leave?'

He swore under his breath and she saw the tiny muscle work in his lean cheek, a sure sign of the pressure he was under. ‘Don't pretend it's gone, Sally.' His voice was rough. ‘What we have is so powerful that it's going to exist whatever we do. It's always existed. Do you know how hard I struggled to keep my hands off you until you were eighteen?'

Oh, yes, she knew. She'd worked extremely hard to make sure that his struggle was monumental.

She gave a tiny smile that was wholly feminine. ‘I seem to recall that I didn't want you to wait.'

‘Well, fortunately, seducing a schoolgirl was one
crime I managed not to commit,' he muttered, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck in an effort to relieve the tension. ‘But I was always aware that I was the first relationship you'd ever had. In every sense of the word. You had no parents, no one who had ever given you a home. I always worried that you needed more.'

‘For me it was never about variety,' she said coolly, ‘just about being with the right person. You were that person, Tom. All I ever needed was you. All I ever wanted was you. Unfortunately you didn't feel the same way.'

‘I did feel the same way.' His voice was a low growl. ‘But I was older than you. I wasn't sure about your feelings. I felt a huge responsibility …' He closed his eyes and his voice was hoarse. ‘I made a mistake, Sally, and if I could have my time again I'd do things differently. I'd be totally selfish. Lock you away and keep you for myself. But it isn't too late.'

‘It's too late for me.'

‘Is it?' His voice was velvety soft and disturbingly male. ‘So have you found it again, Sally? The love that we share? Have you found it with anyone else?'

She could barely find her voice. ‘Shared. What we had is in the past tense, Tom.'

It had to be.

She couldn't risk the same thing happening a second time.

‘Our love will never be in the past tense, and that's what makes it special. No matter what we do, no matter what mistakes we make, it will always be there. It will always be pulling us together. Why do you think I'm not married, Sally?'

‘I really don't—'

‘Because no other woman is you, and no other woman
ever can be. And I'm going to make you trust me again if it takes the rest of my life to achieve it.'

She stood frozen to the spot, wishing he'd leave before she cracked and decided that the short-term pleasure was worth the price of long-term pain. ‘It won't happen, Tom.'

‘It's going to happen.' His mouth came down on hers with a sense of purpose, his tongue dipping and coaxing in a slow seduction that was every bit as erotic as the fiery heat had been. ‘Can you live without this, Sally?' His hand curved around her cheek and his eyes were half-closed as he kissed her, tasted her. ‘Without this you're living your life in black and white, not colour. Is that what you want?'

She flinched and backed away, feeling the slow build of desire engulf her body again. ‘Sometimes colour blinds you to the true state of the world.'

‘Marry me, Sally.' His voice was hoarse and urgent. ‘Marry me and we'll be the family you always wanted us to be.'

Marry him?

His words drove the breath from her body and for a moment she swayed, drawn by the memories and the look in his eyes.

And then she remembered that this man was capable of breaking her heart and she wasn't so foolish that she believed that marriage would protect her. Marriages ended.

If he'd let her go before, he could let her go again.

She drew in a breath. ‘I take it you don't want coffee.' She moved towards the door, ignoring her shaking legs and her thumping heart. ‘I'll see you out.'

There was a tense, throbbing silence and then she
heard the sound of him dragging on the rest of his clothes.

She didn't look back.

By the time he joined her in the hallway she had the front door open. Freezing cold air flowed through the doorway, reminding her that heat and warmth couldn't last.

He paused in the doorway, his black helmet under his arm. His leathers accentuated the width of his shoulders and the strength of his thighs, and she felt the need explode inside her again.

The truth was that the passion between them was a living, breathing force. More powerful than both of them.

She could put oceans between them but she'd never be free of him.

This need that consumed her would be with her for ever.

‘You're going to say yes, Sally.' His voice was soft and loaded with purpose, and before she could protest or resist he brought his mouth down on hers again, intensifying the reaction that the mere sight of his body had already started. His warm mouth seduced hers and then he lifted his head reluctantly. ‘If I have to ask you every day for the rest of our lives, you're going to say yes.'

Without giving her time to reply, he pushed the helmet onto his head and strode over to his bike.

* * *

Tom let himself into the converted barn that had been his home for the past five years. He dropped his keys on the table and immediately poured himself a large whiskey.

Despite the almost animal urgency of their lovemaking,
his whole body was still throbbing with unfulfilled need.

As far as he was concerned, that had only been a starter.

Given his way, he'd have carried her upstairs and carried on where they'd left off for the rest of the night.

He ran a hand over the back of his neck, sweat breaking out on his brow as he remembered the wildness and the desperation.

They'd both lost control.

Had he hurt her?

Guilt and concern rippled through him, but then he reached for his glass and felt the sting of the wounds she'd inflicted with her teeth and nails. He gave a totally masculine smile and lifted a hand to his shoulder, remembering how she'd met him bite for bite, comforted by the evidence that she'd wanted him every bit as desperately as he'd wanted her.

She'd burned for him as he'd burned for her.

No matter how much she denied it, how much she fought it, they were meant to be together.

He should have realized that seven years ago. But he hadn't been able to trust that what she'd felt for him had been real.

But now he knew that it was more real than anything else in his life.

And being with Sally mattered more than anything else in his life.

He sucked in a breath and finished his whiskey, facing the indisputable fact that she was going to fight him. That she was determined to not allow herself to be hurt a second time.

It was going to be hard to persuade her that loving him didn't present a risk.

Even harder to persuade her to trust him enough to marry him.

He stood still, a frown creasing his brow, deep in thought. And then the solution came to him and a smile spread across his face.

She thought that she could live without him. Live without what they'd shared tonight.

It was up to him to show her that she couldn't.

I
F
S
ALLY
had thought working with Tom had been difficult before they'd made love, afterwards it became almost intolerable.

Every time he walked onto the unit she dropped something, and she found it almost impossible to concentrate on what he was saying. Instead, she saw the power of his shoulders and the gleam in his eyes. And the heat of his gaze was a constant reminder of the frantic, out-of-control passion that they'd shared in the cottage.

Even without the broken lamp for evidence, she wouldn't have been able to forget it.

Memories of the encounter simmered in both her mind and her body, denting her concentration and threatening her willpower.

There was an ache inside her that wouldn't be subdued. A need that pulsed quietly, threatening to engulf her. She gritted her teeth, telling herself that such a reaction was to be expected. She hadn't slept with a man since Tom. Hadn't wanted to. But now her body had been reawakened and it refused to return to its previously dormant state.

She told herself that she'd lived without Tom for seven years. Survived. But she was learning that there was a huge difference between survival and fulfilment.

Dragging her mind back to the job, she concentrated on the labouring woman she'd been attending all morning.

It had all the signs of being a perfectly straightforward
delivery, which was a good thing. At least Tom wouldn't get involved.

Trying hard not to think about him, she glanced up as the door opened.

One of the student midwives stood there, a look of panic on her face. ‘Sister needs you in Room 2.'

Calmly Sally stood up. ‘That's fine, Alice. I'll go to her. Will you stay with Mrs Jones for me, please?'

Without asking for any further information, she quickly made her apologies to the woman she'd been with all morning and slipped out onto the unit.

Immediately she picked up the tension and took a step backwards as an anaesthetist that she knew vaguely sprinted down the corridor towards Theatre, almost knocking her sideways.

She hurried to Room 2, opened the door and then stopped as she saw Tom.

But he wasn't looking at her.

His expression was grim and his handsome face reflected the tension that pulsed in the room.

‘Raise the foot of the bed and keep that head pushed back, Emma. I don't need to tell you not to handle the cord or it might go into spasm.'

Realizing immediately that they were dealing with a prolapsed cord, Sally moved towards the bed, helping to elevate it.

‘What can I do?'

Emma was using her fingers to prevent the baby's head from pressing down on the cord and cutting off the blood supply from the placenta. Sally knew that she wouldn't be able to remove her hand until the baby was safely delivered.

If it was safely delivered.

Cord compression was an emergency and a cause of foetal death.

Tom glanced at her, his expression urgent. ‘Help me get Lynne on her hands and knees. I want her bottom higher than her head. Then I want to infuse 500 mils of saline into her bladder. She isn't fully dilated. I'm going to section her.'

They worked together swiftly and then, satisfied that the mother was in the best possible position, Tom strode towards the door. ‘Get her into Theatre and make sure she's breathing one hundred per cent oxygen. I'll go and scrub.'

The door swung closed behind him and Sally looked at Emma for an explanation.

‘This is Lynne. It's her third baby. Her waters broke this morning but we seem to have a shoulder presentation and the cord has prolapsed.'

‘Are you OK?' Sally mouthed the question, knowing that maintaining the necessary pressure on the baby's head must be tiring for Emma. Her colleague gave a brief nod.

‘Yes,' she replied softly. ‘But we need to get her into Theatre.'

‘I'll scrub and assist.'

At that moment several other people hurried into the room to help, and together they wheeled Lynne through to Theatre.

Her husband followed and hovered in the corridor, white-faced and breathing rapidly.

Sally paused. ‘Come with us,' she said gently. ‘You can wait in the recovery room next to Theatre.'

She showed him where to go and then hurried through to Theatre and scrubbed.

Tom was already gowned and masked and waiting
for the patient. ‘Someone get a paediatrician down here—now.'

One of the other midwives hurried to make the call and Tom turned his attention back to the patient.

‘Hurry up,' he growled at the anaesthetist, who gave a nod of understanding.

‘I'm ready when you are. Carry on.'

There were few other obstetric emergencies where speed was so vital. The whole team understood the urgency and the usual cheerful buzz of the theatre was replaced by virtual silence.

Working like clockwork and with no verbal communication necessary, Sally handed him the instruments he needed at the exact time he needed them, and Tom performed the fastest, slickest Caesarean she'd ever witnessed.

His fingers were swift and sure, using the scalpel to stroke through the layers of skin and muscle to expose the lower segment of the uterus.

Sally watched in awe as he made a small, transverse incision with the scalpel and then widened it with his fingers. Then he passed his right hand into the uterus and lifted the baby's head, instructing his registrar to press on the fundus to push the baby out. After a few tense seconds, during which no one watching breathed or moved, he manoeuvred the baby out and into the waiting hands of the paediatrician.

There was no cry and Sally felt her heart lurch.

Were they too late?

Despite the speed with which Tom had acted, had the baby's oxygen supply been cut off by pressure on the cord?

Tom still had his hands in the uterus, delivering the placenta, but his eyes lifted once to the corner of the
room where the paediatrician was leaning over the rescusitaire.

‘Give me some news on that baby. And make it good news.' His voice was hoarse and reflected the concern and urgency that they all felt.

And then suddenly there was a thin, reedy cry that turned into a furious yell.

A smile spread across Sally's face and she looked at Tom, her eyes filled with tears.

‘Have I ever told you you're brilliant?'

He closed his eyes for a moment and she felt the tension ooze out of him, saw his wide shoulders sag slightly. Then he opened them again and they gleamed above his mask.

‘I think you should be praising Emma. She's the one with cramp in her right hand.'

Emma smiled and waggled her fingers ruefully. ‘I always find normal deliveries so boring,' she quipped, and Tom rolled his eyes.

‘You midwives are never satisfied. Can we do a swab count before I close?'

Looking at the hint of dark stubble on his hard jaw and the thickness of his dark lashes, Sally felt her heart kick against her chest and a pulsing warmth spread through her body.

He was an incredible doctor.

And an incredible man.

And, like it or not, she was stuck loving him for the rest of her life.

Suddenly she wanted him so badly it was a physical ache. She needed him. She might not be prepared to risk her heart, but there was nothing stopping her enjoying a physical relationship with him, was there?

Watching his strong, clever fingers skilfully stitching
Lynne's uterus, she suddenly wanted him so much that her vision blurred and she felt dizzy.

‘Are you all right?' His deep voice was concerned and she lifted her eyes to his.

And he saw.

His blue gaze locked on hers and held her captive while he read everything that was in her thoughts.

And then he smiled and nodded. A confident, satisfied smile.

The smile of a male who knew he had the upper hand.

Bother.

She handed him another suture, her body humming with a sexual anticipation so powerful that she was amazed the other people in the theatre couldn't feel it.

The tension between them was electric, intensified by the drama of the life-threatening situation they'd just been involved in.

Why shouldn't she relieve that tension?

Why shouldn't she enjoy a physical relationship with the man?

Breathlessly conscious of every masculine inch of him, her eyes clung to his forearms and worked upwards over the smooth swell of his biceps.

Clashing with the heat in his blue gaze, she dragged her eyes back to the wound, watching while he worked.

Finally the wound was closed and Lynne was transferred to the recovery room.

Emma went with her and the paediatrician followed with the baby, who was pronounced totally fit and well.

Hideously conscious of Tom watching her, Sally ripped off her gloves and her mask and started to clear up.

‘My office.' His voice came from immediately behind
her and the raw need in his tone made her gasp. ‘Five minutes.'

She opened her mouth to refuse but no sound came out. And he didn't hang around to give her time to protest.

Instead, he strode out of Theatre without a backward glance, leaving every bone in her body aching with longing.

She gave a start as Emma came back into the room. ‘Alice is with Lynne. She's doing well. Isn't Tom brilliant? He tries so hard not to section women that you wonder whether he even knows how to do it, and then there's an emergency like that and—bam!' She slammed her hand into her fist and grinned. ‘He's so confident and competent that it makes you drool, doesn't it?'

Sally stood still, struggling to control her own reaction to Tom. She was trying very hard not to drool. ‘He's very good.'

‘Good? The man's a genius.' Emma gave a wistful sigh. ‘Can you imagine what the man must be like in bed?'

Sally closed her eyes briefly.

She knew exactly what he was like in bed.

‘He wants to see me in his office, Emma,' she said, wondering if Emma would detect the slightly husky note in her voice. But the other woman just looked surprised.

‘I wonder why? Probably to tell you that you did a good job in a crisis. He's very good at praising people. And you were brilliant, Sally. You just got stuck in without asking any questions.'

Sally smiled and moved towards the door. ‘I think you were the one who was stuck in.'

‘Don't!' Emma laughed. ‘I'm going to have a cramp
in my right hand for the rest of the day. Go on. If he wants to see you, you'd better shift.'

* * *

Tom stood in his office, staring out of the window, wondering how long he'd have to wait.

His body hummed with a sexual tension so powerful that it was almost painful, and when he heard the soft tap on the door he felt a rush of anticipation.

Quickly he gritted his teeth and reminded himself of his plan.

‘You wanted me?' Sally's voice was smoky and soft and he knew that she'd phrased the question in that particular way by design, not accident.

He turned, noticing the heightened colour of her cheeks and the brightness of her green eyes.

Her blonde hair shone under the harsh light of his office and she was still wearing a scrub suit that showed off the curves that he knew so intimately.

And he wanted her more than he'd ever wanted a woman in his life.

‘Marry me, Sally.'

He saw the soft look in her eyes turn to shock and then wariness.

‘Tom, for goodness' sake …'

He closed the distance between them, his eyes never leaving hers. ‘Marry me.'

She shook her head and backed towards the door, but he slid an arm round her waist and hauled her against him, using the other to turn the key and ensure that they weren't disturbed.

‘I don't even want to have this conversation.'

But the scrub suit was made of thin cotton and he felt the power of her response to him, saw her nipples peak under the revealing fabric, saw the confusion in her eyes.

‘Fine.' He lowered his head, his mouth hovering only a breath away from hers. ‘No conversation.'

And then he kissed her.

She tasted fantastic and he groaned against her mouth, his lips and tongue exploring her intimately, stoking the fire that was already burning inside both of them.

He held her hard against him with one hand, feeling the softness of her body through the almost non-existent barrier of her scrub suit. The other hand he slid upwards, cupping her breast and teasing her nipple with the tips of his fingers.

She sucked in her breath and detached her lips from his, but he lifted his hand and slid it into her hair, bringing her mouth back to his with determined force.

Desire throbbed inside him and he felt her instant response, felt her press against him, felt the moment she yielded.

Her hands slid around him, pulling him closer, and her mouth opened under his, allowing him access.

He took full advantage, tasting and teasing until he felt her fingers biting into the muscle of his shoulders, felt her need rise up to meet his.

And that was when he pulled away.

For a moment she swayed, then she stared at him dizzily, her expression devoid of comprehension.

He drew in a breath that was decidedly unsteady and struggled to resist the temptation of her soft mouth. ‘Marry me.'

She looked at him blankly, her lips parted, her eyes still clouded with passion. ‘Tom?'

He slid a hand under her chin and stared down into her face, thinking that she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen in his life. ‘I said, marry me.'

She closed her eyes and reached for him again, but
he took a step backwards, shaking his head, wondering which one of them he was torturing the most.

‘No. Not again.' Ignoring the almost agonizing throb of his body, he denied himself. Denied both of them. ‘Not until we're married.'

This time he had her attention.

Wide, startled green eyes fixed on his. ‘You cannot possibly be serious.'