The Registrar's Convenient Wife. Kate Hardy

Eliot’s ships in the exact same order.

      Milk, teeth and story. Ryan read his book fluently, and Eliot gave him a gold star, sticking it like a medal on his pyjamas. ‘Well done. That’s for reading expressive dialogue.’ Ryan had clearly been working hard on expression with his support assistant at school.

      ‘Thanks, Dad.’

      ‘Sleep well.’ Eliot hugged him. ‘I love you.’

      As always, Ryan’s face had a slightly worried look and his eyes slid away, not meeting his father’s. Eliot squashed his inward sigh. He knew that Ryan loved him; the little boy just wasn’t comfortable saying so. Facts, fine—emotions, not.

      ‘See you in the morning. Light off in half an hour, OK?’

      ‘All right. ’Night, Dad.’

      Ryan was already deep in a scientific textbook before Eliot even left the room. Wearily, Eliot walked downstairs and tried to keep a certain pair of dark eyes out of his head—with very little success.

      This wasn’t fair. He didn’t stand a snowflake in hell’s chance with her. Babies...I just don’t want my own. Someone else’s child—a child who was a little different, to say the least—would be even more of a no-no. So why couldn’t he stop thinking about Claire Thurman?

      * * *

      ‘She’s been waiting for you. Pacing up and down,’ Vi said with a grin. ‘According to madam here, you’re half an hour late.’

      Bess barked and wagged her tail.

      Claire ruffled the golden retriever’s ears. ‘Sneak. Now your other mum’ll be on at me for putting in too many hours at the hospital.’

      ‘I know you want to get on, love, but there’s life outside work,’ Vi said.

      ‘And mine suits me perfectly. Half-shares in the best dog in the world, a good run each night and going out with friends at the weekend.’

      ‘Hmm.’

      Claire knew exactly what Vi’s murmur meant. You need a husband and a family. But she also knew her life wasn’t going to turn out that way. And she was happy enough. She’d come to terms with what had happened—she’d even forgiven Paddy for it.

      Though not quite enough to accept Brigid’s invitation to Paddy junior’s christening.

      ‘Come on, you. Time for your run,’ Claire said, clipping Bess’s lead to her collar.

      ‘And I’ll have the kettle on for when you get back,’ Vi said.

      ‘Thanks, Vi.’

      Five minutes of a steady pace, with Bess loping beside her, was enough to restore Claire’s equilibrium. And that was when the guilt kicked in. The look on Eliot’s face when she’d suggested that he take a break...He’d clearly overheard what she’d said to Tilly. And maybe she had been a bit harsh. Brigid’s letter had unsettled her, but she really shouldn’t have taken it out on him.

      Then she remembered the rest of the conversation and her face turned bright red. Oh, no. If he’d heard Tilly trying to pair him off with Claire...Embarrassing. As well as an apology tomorrow, she’d explain to him that Tilly was a newlywed and wanted to pair off all the unattached people she knew—it wasn’t anything personal.

      Personal. Now that was a dangerous word to think in the same thought as Eliot Slater.

      ‘Oh, get a grip,’ she said aloud. ‘He’s probably attached and, even if he isn’t, he wouldn’t be interested in me. I’m practically his boss, I’m older than he is and I don’t do relationships anyway.’ That decided, she upped the pace until she reached the park.

      * * *

      Claire didn’t see Eliot the next morning, but assumed he was as busy with patients as she was. When she finally took a break for lunch, she grabbed a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice, a plate of chicken salad and a nectarine. Just as she paid she spotted him at a corner table in the cafeteria. Now was as good a time as any to apologise. Better, in fact, because at least it was on neutral ground rather than on the ward.

      ‘Mind if I join you?’

      Eliot glanced up from the journal he’d been reading, looking surprised. ‘Sorry?’

      Well, obviously he’d been concentrating—but Claire still felt her face grow hot, and was annoyed at herself. She wasn’t going to lose her cool for anyone. ‘Mind if I join you?’ she repeated.

      ‘No, feel free.’

      ‘Great.’ She plonked her tray opposite him and sat down. ‘I’m glad I’ve caught you. I wanted to apologise for yesterday.’

      He frowned. ‘Apologise?’

      ‘I was a bit snappy with you. Bad day.’

      ‘Right.’

      ‘I’m not normally like that. Well, not unless I’m unhappy with a patient’s care—then, I growl a lot,’ she added with a grin. ‘How are you settling in?’

      ‘Fine. I like the unit—everyone’s friendly and it seems like a well-oiled machine.’

      ‘They’re a nice bunch,’ Claire said. ‘As well as being the best medics in the hospital.’

      ‘Not that you’re biased, of course.’

      She hadn’t expected that. So far, he’d been serious whenever he’d spoken to her. A dry sense of humour and a twinkle in those green eyes...now, that was dangerous. And looking at his mouth instead of his eyes was a very big mistake—because his mouth was perfect. Wide, generous and with a killer smile. The sort of mouth she could imagine against hers. Exploring her body. Making her—

      No. Even if he was free, it couldn’t work. He’d probably want a family, in time, and she couldn’t do that. Best not to start something that could only end in tears. It took a huge effort, but she managed to turn the conversation back to work and their patients.

      * * *

      Something had spooked her, Eliot thought. But he couldn’t think of anything he’d said that might have upset her. All he knew was that that beautiful grin—the one that had made his pulse rocket—had disappeared and she was back to being the brisk, chirpy professional he’d seen on the ward.

      Professional was the only relationship they could have anyway. He knew that. He’d spent most of a sleepless night telling himself that. If it came to a choice between Claire and Ryan, there was no contest. He wouldn’t choose anyone over Ryan. But if only he could have had both...

      * * *

      Later that afternoon, Eliot looked at the baby in front of him and frowned. He had a nasty feeling about this. The baby had been born a few weeks early and the vernix—the waxy substance that protected the baby’s skin from the amniotic fluid in the womb—wasn’t the usual white colour: it was yellow. The baby’s skin was definitely yellow, too. And there was a definite abdominal mass which felt to him as if the spleen and the liver were both swollen, a condition known as hepatosplenomegaly. One look at the notes confirmed his suspicions.

      ‘Got a moment, please, Claire?’

      ‘Sure.’ She looked up from her notes. ‘Problem?’

      He handed her the notes.

      She sucked her teeth. ‘Are you thinking rhesus haemolytic disease?’

      ‘Looks like it. Mum’s rhesus negative, the baby’s jaundiced and there was definite hepatosplenomegaly when I examined him.’

      ‘Better get the cord blood tested for blood group and the Coombs test, plus haemoglobin and bilirubin levels.’

      * * *

      The first two tests would confirm the diagnosis of rhesus haemolytic disease, and the second two would tell them how serious the condition