The Midwife's Marriage Proposal. Sarah Morgan

four centimetres dilated, but it sounds as though she’s been in labour for a while. She’s very anxious. Her last obstetrician said that he was going to section her.’

      His brain registered the fact that she was talking about work but the rest of his body was concentrating on something entirely different. His attention was caught by her seductively long lashes and by the fullness of her perfect mouth.

       He’d been the first man to kiss that mouth.

       The first man to—

      With a determined effort he pulled himself together. ‘I’m not planning to section her. I scanned her two weeks ago to measure the thickness of the lower uterine segment and I was perfectly satisfied that she’s a good candidate for vaginal delivery this time round.’

      ‘Then you need to talk to her,’ Sally said calmly. ‘Because at the moment all she’s hearing is contradiction, and she has no reason to believe you are any more skilled than the last man she spoke to.’

      Tom frowned slightly. ‘I talked to her when I scanned her. She was fine.’

      ‘She was confused and worried.’

      ‘She didn’t say anything.’

      ‘Verbally, perhaps not. But did you read her body language?’ Her eyes held his. ‘She finds doctors intimidating. She was afraid to question you.’

      Tom tensed, significantly discomfited by her implication that he’d been insensitive to the needs of a patient.

      But, then, why would Sally believe that he was capable of sensitivity?

      He gritted his teeth and took the criticism on the chin. ‘Believe it or not, I do try to interpret what women are feeling. I certainly don’t want them worried by anything I’ve said.’

      ‘Well, she’s worried,’ Sally said flatly, ‘and at the moment she is totally convinced that what she needs is another C-section.’

      Tom inhaled sharply. ‘Caesarean rates have been steadily increasing over the last two decades,’ he said harshly. ‘Eighty per cent of women can safely deliver vaginally after a previous section, providing they meet certain criteria.’

      Her gaze didn’t flicker. ‘I’m well aware of that.’ Her voice was smoky and soft and curled around his raw emotions like the smoothest silk. ‘All I’m saying is that she’d been told she was having another Caesarean and then you told her she wasn’t, and she didn’t understand how two doctors could say such different things. She deserves an explanation. In fact, I’d go as far as to say she needs an explanation, otherwise she will be far too anxious to concentrate on her labour. She’s stressed and I’m sure you’re aware of the evidence that suggests that stress can reduce uterine activity.’

      He listened, intrigued by the change he saw in her.

      This wasn’t the Sally he’d known.

      When had she developed such poise and confidence? he wondered, his eyes sliding over the determined jut of her chin and the set of her narrow shoulders. He could remember clearly a time when she’d hung on to his every word as if he were some sort of god. When she’d been so lacking in self-confidence that she’d barely been able to make a decision without help.

      Now she stood her ground, challenging him to defend his decision without displaying a flicker of discomfort, every bit his equal.

      ‘I’ll talk to her,’ he said finally, slipping his pen into his pocket and closing the notes in which he’d been writing. ‘We’ll do it together. Then you can tell me if I’m insensitive.’

      He strolled round the desk and saw her back away hastily, as if she was afraid that he might touch her.

      The realization that he wanted to do just that came as a shock.

      For a moment their eyes held, and if they hadn’t been standing in the middle of the labour ward, in full view of anyone who happened to pass, Tom would have kissed that soft mouth that he remembered so well.

      He’d been addicted to her mouth. The look of it, the feel of it under his, the taste of it …

      ‘We need to talk, Sally,’ he said roughly. ‘In private.’

      In fact, he realized with a sudden stab of shock that he wanted to do a great deal more than talk.

      Something flickered in those green depths. ‘No.’ Her voice was low but firm and she glanced over her shoulder quickly, as if she was afraid someone might have overheard his comment. ‘We don’t need to talk.’

      Tom drew in a long breath, finding it difficult to know how to respond to this new, confident Sally.

      In the old days she would have talked.

      In the old days she couldn’t get enough of him.

      They’d talked for hours about everything and anything.

      ‘All right, then, I’ll talk and you can just listen. There are things I need to say to you.’

      They couldn’t pretend that the past hadn’t happened.

      If they were going to be able to work together effectively, then at the very least they needed to clear the air.

      She looked at him. ‘You said everything that needed to be said on the last occasion we met.’ Her gaze was clear and direct and her voice was remarkably steady. ‘And I got your message, Tom. Loud and clear.’

      

       CHAPTER TWO

      SALLY turned and walked back along the corridor, her legs shaking and her heart thumping.

      When she’d imagined meeting him again, part of her had wondered whether she would feel differently about Tom. Didn’t people often look back and wonder what they’d seen in their first love? She’d often wondered if that would be true of her. Would she look at Tom and wonder what all the fuss had been about?

      But now she knew that the answer to that was no.

      She could see exactly why she’d fallen for Tom and she knew that if she wasn’t careful, she could fall for him again.

      He was the sexiest man alive, with those sharp blue eyes, that brilliant brain and that unshakable self-confidence that had been such a draw when she’d been an insecure teenager.

      He’d always been strong in every sense of the word and he was still strong.

      Reminding herself that she wasn’t insecure any more and that she didn’t need his strength, she lifted a hand to push open the door to Angela’s room, but a powerful arm slid in front of her and turned her round, backing her against the wall.

      ‘Don’t think you can avoid me for ever,’ Tom warned softly, his blue eyes burning into hers as he planted an arm to one side of her, reducing her opportunities for escape. ‘You chose to come back.’

       He was too close.

      She couldn’t cope when he was this close.

      Her nose picked up the tantalizing male smell that was Tom, and desire, long dormant, uncoiled low in her pelvis.

      She flattened herself against the wall, impossibly aware of the strength in his shoulders and the hardness of his eyes.

      ‘What are you implying?’ Her eyes sparked into his and she pushed the past to the front of her brain. She wasn’t doing this again. ‘That I came back to you? Don’t flatter yourself, Tom. I came back home. My friends are here. Friends I’ve missed. I have as much right to live here as you.’

      The fact that her friends were also his friends and family