Maternal Instinct

by Caroline Anderson

  “Why did you come back?” she asked softly

  “Back?”

  “To my apartment, this evening.”

  He hesitated. “I forgot something.”

  “What?”

  Surrendering to the inevitable, he gave a weary sigh, and took the small stride that put her in reach. “This,” he murmured. Lifting his hands, he cupped her face gently, and lowered his mouth to hers.

  Dear Reader,

  You know those hideously embarrassing family scenes that really need to take place in private? Just imagine if someone walked in right in the middle of a very revealing and soul-baring row—one of those life-changing and humiliating moments that are too awful to discuss. And imagine that the person who walks in is someone you had to work with every day and has had family rows up to here and doesn’t want to see another teenage boy in her life! So why on earth would she want to get involved with his father, even if he is the most wonderful guy she’s ever met?

  Hugh is gorgeous. I felt for Eve, but you just know she’ll be all right with Hugh. I’m still a little bit in love with him, but hey! I’m nice. I’ll share….

  Caroline

  Maternal Instinct

  Caroline Anderson

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ONE

  HE KNEW who she was straight away.

  The formal suit, the neat court shoes—they stood out a mile among the relatives in their casual clothes and the hospital staff in their scrubs and tunics and white coats. If that wasn’t enough, the set of her shoulders and the distracted way she was staring out of the landing window while her teeth raked that soft, full lower lip were dead giveaways.

  She was a nice-looking girl, he thought irrelevantly. Pretty.

  Well, no, probably not pretty in the conventional sense, because her nose was a little crooked and her chin a little too firm, at least from that angle, but she was certainly interesting. She interested Hugh, anyway, and as he climbed the last three stairs he was able to study her for a moment, undetected.

  Mmm. Very interesting. Slender, elegant—and not nearly as composed as she would have liked to be, he’d bet his life.

  He ought to walk past her, say ‘Good morning’ politely and go and start the process, but for some reason he paused, fascinated by the way she caught the side of her bottom lip in her teeth again and worried it gently as she stared into the distance.

  ‘Interview?’ he murmured, even though he knew the answer.

  His voice startled her, and she looked towards him, her eyes scanning the area as if to check that he really was talking to her. Those soft grey eyes, thoughtful and wary, flicked over his suit and back to his face, checking him out. ‘Yes. You, too?’

  He nodded slowly. Well, it wasn’t really a lie…

  ‘A fellow victim,’ she said with a rueful grin, before honesty could raise its head. ‘I’m Eve Spicer.’

  She held out her hand, and he took it. It was slim and cool, her handshake firm despite the slight tremor he could feel in her arm.

  For some reason he didn’t want to examine, he withheld his name, just smiled and held her hand slightly longer than was strictly necessary before releasing it, dragging out the subterfuge a moment longer. ‘Good to meet you, Eve,’ he said.

  Her pretty mouth twisted wryly, that bottom lip a little pinker where she’d nibbled it. ‘I wish I could say it was mutual, but if we’re after the same job I think I’m screwed.’

  He felt his brows twitch together at her refreshing honesty, and guilt tugged harder at him but, instead of coming clean, he found himself asking, ‘Why?’

  Her smile became rueful. ‘Because I’ve lost the last two jobs to a man. It might be coincidence but, whatever, it’s beginning to be a habit.’

  ‘Habits can be broken. Perhaps it’ll be third time lucky.’

  She gave a little shrug, frustration showing in the line of her shoulders. ‘Maybe. I’m beginning to wonder if I’m doing something wrong in my interviews. Perhaps it won’t matter so much for a temporary post—or am I deluding myself? Seem to do a lot of that these days, but I really want this job, even though it’s only covering sick leave, because I know someone who was his SHO last year, and she said Hugh Douglas is wonderful to work with and a brilliant teacher. She learnt so much from him.’

  Wonderful? Brilliant? He squashed his ego back into its box and wondered to whom he owed this amazing PR. Probably Kate. He’d have to thank her. ‘I’m sure you can’t be doing anything too badly wrong,’ he said with another twinge of guilt.

  She sighed. ‘Oh, I wouldn’t be too sure. I think I’m just too honest, but at least I’ll stand or fall on my own merits, and if anybody gives me a job, they’ll know what they’re getting. Trouble, probably!’

  Her laugh was a little too taut, and the remark puzzled him, but he was distracted by her hand sliding over her hair, nervously checking that it was in place, scraped back against her well-shaped head and twisted into a knot skewered with what looked for all the world like a pair of short chopsticks.

  He wondered what would happen if he pulled them out, if the sleek, glossy hair with its paler streaks of gold would fall down round her shoulders in a shimmering curtain, or if it would curl rebelliously. Curl, he thought hopefully, but he was distracted again by her hand moving down, straightening the lapel of her jacket, tugging at her skirt as if to lengthen it. The hem skimmed her slender, shapely knees, and he felt a little surge of jealousy that it wasn’t his hand running over her thigh like that…

  Good grief. What was happening to him? He hadn’t reacted like this to a woman in years.

  ‘You look fine,’ he said hastily. ‘Stop worrying. Very chic and professional. I have to go, they’ll be waiting for me. Just remember to smile.’

  ‘Thanks. Good luck.’ She grinned a little off-kilter, her eyes slightly less wary, and then, just as he turned to go, she threw him a curve.

  ‘Would you give me the job?’ she asked, and this time he couldn’t lie. He felt his mouth tug into a smile.

  ‘Absolutely.’

  Bless his heart, she thought ruefully. If only!

  He waggled his fingers at her, turned and strode down the corridor, palming the double doors out of the way as she watched him go. She tried—she really tried—to wish him positive vibes, but it was hard. She wanted this job so much and he was, after all, her competition.

  But then the door at the end of the corridor opened, and she heard a man’s voice—the great Mr Douglas?—say casually, ‘Hi, there. Good of you to join us.’

  She didn’t hear his reply, because the door swooshed shut behind him, but she’d heard enough. She turned back to the window, staring out over the car park and the trees in the distance, her optimism fading even further. He knew them. No wonder he’d gone breezing down there without a care in the world, whereas she was hovering out here, a bundle of nerves.

  ‘Dr Spicer? Could you come through?’

  So soon? It must be just a formality, then, a foregone conclusion. Damn, damn and double damn.

  She nearly told the secretary, Maggie, that she wouldn’t waste their time, but Maggie smiled at her and held the door, and that didn’t seem to leave her a lot of choice.

  Oh, well, it couldn’t get worse than being told she hadn’t got it. She straightened her shoulders, swallowed hard and dredged around for an answering smile. Not easy, but she managed it, and even hung on to it until Maggie opened the door and she was ushered in, but then it failed her.


  There were three of them, two men, one woman, seated around a table, and there was one empty chair.

  ‘Dr Spicer, thank you for joining us,’ the woman at the head of the table was saying, but she wasn’t really listening, because there, on the left of the empty chair, was her fellow interviewee, getting to his feet with lazy grace and smiling at her.

  She would have thought they’d show him out first, give her the dignity of a private rejection—but then he walked towards her, his hand outstretched and his smiled tinged with apology, and said, ‘Hugh Douglas. Welcome to the Audley Memorial Hospital, Dr Spicer,’ and she wasn’t sure whether to cry or hit him.

  His hand was still extended, and for a moment she contemplated ignoring it and slapping him instead. Only for a moment, though—just long enough to make him think.

  Then tipping back her head and meeting his eyes again with a look that should have fried his eyeballs, she said, softly but clearly, ‘Well. Fancy meeting you here, Mr Douglas.’ And instead of slapping that guilty, handsome face, she placed her hand in his for the second time that morning.

  His fingers closed around hers and his mouth twitched. ‘I’m sorry. I owe you an apology.’

  ‘I think so. I don’t like being made a fool of—and I hate being lied to.’

  Her voice was deathly quiet, and his reply was just as quiet. ‘I don’t recall making a fool of you, Eve—and I didn’t lie, exactly. I meant every word I said.’

  She extracted her hand from his. ‘Every word?’ Even the bit about giving her the job? But his smile had faded and his eyes were utterly sincere.

  ‘Absolutely,’ he repeated. Funny, it was harder to believe him this time, no matter how much she might want to.

  ‘I’m sorry, have we missed something?’ The woman at the head of the table interrupted their soft-voiced exchange. ‘Do you two know each other? Because if there’s a conflict of interest here, Mr Douglas, we ought to know.’

  ‘No conflict, Julia,’ he said easily. ‘We met a few moments ago at the top of the stairs. I wasn’t perhaps quite fair with her about my identity. Hopefully she won’t hold it against me.’

  Eve felt her eyes drawn to him again—the lean, muscled frame that did incredible things to his understated charcoal-grey suit, the warmth in his toffee-brown eyes, the teasing smile that played at the corners of his mouth—and refused to allow herself to contemplate holding anything against Hugh Douglas—least of all herself!

  ‘Eve, allow me to introduce you to my colleagues,’ he went on smoothly. ‘Dr Julia Fry, our fertility expert, and Sam Gregory, another of the obs and gynae consultants.’

  She shook their hands, noting that Julia’s was cool and hard—curiously like her eyes—and that Sam’s was warm and firm and matched his smile.

  So it was Julia she was going to have to convince.

  Hugh Douglas drew out her chair, turned the full wattage of his charm on her with a smile that made her knees go weak and slid the chair in behind her in the nick of time, bending so his breath whispered over the nape of her neck.

  ‘Break a leg,’ he murmured, so low that only she could hear it, and she wondered if he realised it wasn’t her leg she was contemplating breaking!

  As he hooked his own chair back in behind him and sat down again, she took a steadying breath, smiled again and swept her eyes around the table, wondering who was going to start.

  She didn’t have long to wait. ‘Thank you for seeing us at such short notice,’ Hugh Douglas said, and she turned to him, her smile taking on a cynical twist that she could feel but couldn’t control.

  ‘No problem. As you’ll be aware, I’m not in a post at the moment—’

  ‘No, I noticed that in your CV,’ Julia Fry said, her expression chilly, as if she still didn’t quite trust what was going on. As you know, we only have the post because the person we’d appointed has had an accident and is on long-term sick leave, but we weren’t expecting to find anyone of the right calibre able to take it on at such short notice. Perhaps you could explain your immediate availability, Dr Spicer?’

  Here we go, she thought, and swallowed discreetly. ‘I shouldn’t have been available. I was offered a post, but the offer was subsequently withdrawn just before I was due to start, so I missed the February rotation start date—hence I’m applying for locum posts.’

  ‘Why was the offer withdrawn?’ That was Sam Gregory coming in unexpectedly, studying her over his steepled fingers, asking the very question she’d fruitlessly hoped to avoid, but his eyes were kind and his tone encouraging.

  ‘It was…personal.’

  ‘I think we have a right to an explanation, if you wish us to consider your application seriously, Dr Spicer,’ Julia Fry said without a trace of warmth, and Eve’s heart sank. ‘It is, after all, almost April and you’re still without a job.’

  Eve met Julia’s eyes full on and sighed softly, resigning herself to another lost opportunity, another interview down the pan. ‘Of course. He was a friend of my father’s. He has a good reputation as a surgeon, and that was why I’d applied. However, he also has a reputation as a womaniser, but I’d fondly imagined that his relationship with my father might protect me from that. Apparently not. I complained to him, and he withdrew the offer. Said I was a troublemaker.’

  ‘And are you?’

  ‘No. Not if my colleagues don’t grope me uninvited.’

  There was a grunt of laughter from her left, quickly stifled, and she was aware of Sam shifting, leaning back, relaxing and enjoying the moment.

  She wished she had that luxury, but Julia’s eyes sharpened and she shot a look at Hugh that should have withered him.

  Apparently he was made of sterner stuff. ‘I can promise you that won’t happen here, Dr Spicer,’ he cut in. ‘Whatever the reason, their loss is our gain and you’re available.’ Leaning forward, the laughter slowly fading from his eyes to be replaced by something much more searching, he continued, ‘Now, earlier you said you’d get this job on your own merits and if anyone gave you a job they’d know what they were getting. So, Dr Spicer, what would we be getting?’ Apart from trouble, he could have added, and she wanted to shoot herself for having been quite so horribly honest earlier.

  She wondered if he’d even remembered her saying it, but one look into his twinkling eyes and she knew perfectly well that he did. Oh, damn.

  She couldn’t allow herself to be distracted by his mischievous smile or that wicked twinkle in his warm brown eyes. He was as devious as a snake, albeit a sexy, well-made and highly desirable snake, but he held her future in his hands, and she couldn’t afford to lose this opportunity, so she sucked in a deep breath and launched on her sales pitch.

  ‘Dedication,’ she said. ‘Concentration, attention to detail, a willingness to learn, good basic surgical skills and a sound foundation. I like people, I try and get on with them, and I’m good at assessing situations quickly. My diagnostic skills are showing promise, and although I haven’t done very much in the way of obstetrics, I’ve prepared for it with a great deal of reading and I’m keen to get some hands-on experience to back it up. I’m not always a very good judge of character, though, and I tend to be a little too trusting, but I’m working on that.’

  She met Hugh’s eyes and he had the grace to look uncomfortable, but he didn’t look away. She had to give him credit for that.

  ‘That was slick—it sounds as if you’ve had a great deal of interview practice,’ Julia put in, breaking the rather awkward silence.

  Eve felt the barb sink in.

  ‘Unfortunately, rather more than I would have liked,’ she said honestly, and she caught a gleam of approval in Hugh’s eye.

  ‘Nothing wrong with being prepared,’ Sam said, defending her unexpectedly, and Julia gave him a chilling look before turning back to continue her grilling.

  ‘And where do you see yourself in the future?’ she went on, looking broadly unimpressed by all of them.

  ‘As a consultant at thirty-two,’ Eve said, going for
broke. If she could ever get off the interview bandwagon…

  ‘So—a career doctor. In obstetrics?’

  ‘Or a related field, yes.’

  ‘Why obstetrics?’ Sam asked, and she felt herself relax a little. This she knew.

  ‘Because the patients tend to be well, and you’re helping them do something that comes naturally. That has to be a refreshing change from general surgery, which was my last rotation. And I love babies.’

  ‘So why not midwifery instead of medicine?’ Julia asked. ‘We tend to see women when things go wrong. Have you thought of that? In my job I see women because things aren’t happening naturally, and I know many of our maternity patients are less than well.’

  ‘Of course—and part of the job, surely, is to put that right as much as possible so they can have the families they want.’

  ‘But it doesn’t always work.’

  ‘Well, it can’t work at all if there aren’t doctors doing it,’ she retorted, and she saw Sam’s mouth tilt into an approving smile.

  Hugh was looking thoughtful, though. ‘So much for obstetrics. What about gynae?’ he asked. ‘If you don’t like sick people, you may not like gynae, and the two disciplines tend to go hand in hand. I wonder if you’ve considered that deeply enough.’

  ‘Absolutely!’ she protested, mentally kicking herself. She’d walked into that one with her eyes wide open, and now they thought she didn’t like medicine! ‘And I didn’t say I didn’t like sick people. That’s the other side of the coin, and why I went into medicine. Why I would choose this branch over any other is because it can bring so much joy into people’s lives, and if I can be a part of that, I don’t see that it’s anything to apologise for. And for the record I definitely see myself as a doctor and not as a midwife. I haven’t spent the last ten years getting to this point to realise I’m barking up the wrong tree so, please, don’t imagine that.’

  ‘Have you ever lost a patient, Dr Spicer?’ Julia cut in. ‘Because, in our field, if you aren’t careful, you can easily lose two, and I wonder if you’re tough enough to take that. Are you sure this area of medicine is what you really want to be doing with your life, or would you actually be better headed for general practice?’