A Family Worth Waiting For. Josie Metcalfe

She forced a light note into her voice. ‘I’ve witnessed labour first-hand many times. I’ve seen how much it hurts. I’m not silly.’ She smiled a fake smile but Campbell was clearly unconvinced. ‘Just because I’m a midwife, that doesn’t mean I’d be a good mother.’

      ‘I don’t believe that either.’

      ‘Since when is this any of your business, anyway? How would you like it if I asked you such prying questions?’

      ‘Shoot.’

      Claire glared at him. Typical. Trust him to call her bluff. Stubborn, exasperating man. ‘Fine. Why haven’t you had children, Campbell? Or don’t you want them either?’

      ‘I can’t wait to have kids,’ he said and grinned. ‘I think I’d be a fantastic dad.’

      Claire had to agree with him there. He would make a great dad. She should have known he’d want children. But he wouldn’t want her children. Her children with her mutant genes.

      ‘So what are you waiting for?’ she asked, trying to keep a bitter edge from her voice.

      ‘Haven’t found the right woman yet. Well …’ He winked. ‘Until now.’

      ‘Argh! Campbell!’ She stalked to the door and yanked it open. The conversation in here was getting too uncomfortable.

      ‘I told you I was obstinate.’ Claire caught his words just as the door closed behind her and shut him out of her sight.

      * * *

      Obstinate was a good word, Claire acknowledged after two weeks of floral gifts. Every morning a bunch of flowers, each more exquisite than the last, greeted her. Gorgeous, expensive creations that were increasingly difficult to give away. She did, however, part with every single bloom.

      The hospital grapevine was working overtime as Claire went from ward to ward, spreading her floral cheer. Somehow they’d discovered the identity of the man responsible so Claire couldn’t even pretend she didn’t know him.

      ‘Give in, Claire,’ said Andrea from the clinic, as Claire passed her with yet another bouquet.

      ‘Andrea, how long have we known each other?’

      ‘Eleven years.’

      ‘So you know I don’t date.’ Exasperation tinged her voice.

      ‘Claire, it’s been a long time. I know Shane hurt you but surely you’re over him by now.’

      ‘Of course I am.’ Claire sighed heavily, weary of having to explain her motives. ‘But that’s the thing—doesn’t he remind you of Shane? I mean, if I was going to suddenly start dating again, why would I choose someone who’s exactly like my ex?’

      ‘Are you crazy? He’s nothing like Shane.’

      ‘They both have red hair and a reputation.’

      ‘And that’s where the similarities end. My God, you can’t be serious! Shane’s reputation was justified. He was superficial, conceited and arrogant. He flirted with everyone, including me. He was a creep! And he wasn’t even a very good doctor.’

      Claire listened to her friend in silence. ‘Why have you never told me any of this?’

      ‘You loved him, Claire. He could do no wrong. What would I have gained from that except maybe a ruined friendship?’

      Claire absently sniffed the bouquet in her arms while she digested Andrea’s words.

      ‘Look, I’ve worked with Campbell a lot in Outpatients. I can tell you he has more integrity in his little finger than Shane had in his entire body. And he’s a fantastic obstetrician. Don’t judge him by Shane’s standards. Do yourself a favour … cut him a break.’

      ‘No point,’ Claire said, straightening her back and hardening her heart, ignoring the truth in Andrea’s words. ‘I don’t date. No exceptions.’

      Andrea’s words gave Claire food for thought as she went on her way. Maybe comparing Campbell and Shane had been doing Campbell a disservice. So they both had red hair—a minor superficial physical resemblance. Apart from that, they really were nothing alike.

      Claire had to admit Andrea’s description of Shane’s character was more than accurate and despite keeping her distance from him, Claire knew enough about Campbell to know that his red hair was where his likeness with Shane ended. And he was definitely, no contest, a much better doctor.

      But, Claire reminded herself sharply, whether he looked like her ex-fiancé or not was immaterial. There were other reasons to keep her distance. Much more serious ones. The fact that his appearance had stirred up some long forgotten wounds helped make it all the easier to stay away.

      If only the rest of the hospital staff would make it just as easy. Instead, Campbell was fast gaining notoriety throughout St Jude’s as the underdog. Claire had become the tyrant! Poor brave Campbell pitted against Big Bad Claire who rebuffed him heartlessly, rejecting his expensive romantic gestures. She’d even heard that one ward was running a sweep on who would win the battle.

      Claire detested being the subject of gossip. Heaven knew, she’d spent most of her working life at St Jude’s being a curiosity. Who? Claire West? Oh, the one who doesn’t date? I hear she’s a lesbian. And on and on. Nonetheless, every bunch of flowers hardened her resolve. Let them talk. A relationship with Campbell was out of the question.

      Campbell was conspicuous by his absence. But she knew his game. His strategy was to keep a low profile and let his gifts work their magic. He was hoping she’d be so overwhelmed and flattered she’d be begging for a date. Well, she was on to him and it wasn’t going to work.

      However, when flowers arrived on the Friday of the second week, Claire knew she had to protest. She dialled his room number, knowing he did a clinic at this time.

      ‘Campbell Deane.’ His voice was warm and sexy, and Claire gripped the receiver as her heart tripped. How could a voice affect her in such a way?

      ‘Stop it, Campbell. No more flowers.’

      ‘Ready to surrender?’

      She could hear the humour in his voice and knew his green eyes would be twinkling. ‘No. I’ve just had enough. I’m running out of vases.’

      ‘That’s not what I hear. The rest of the hospital has a vase shortage. In fact, you seem to be the only one with available vases. Maybe you could loan them some of yours.’

      ‘They go in the bin come Monday. Enough.’

      ‘You want me to stop sending flowers?’

      ‘Good. You’re catching on.’

      ‘Come and ask me. Face to face.’

      ‘What?’ He had to be joking!

      ‘I’ll be in my consulting room for another fifteen minutes.’

      Claire gawped at the dead phone. He’d hung up! Why, of all the … So he wanted an audience, huh? She rose to her feet. She’d make him sorry he was so damned imperious!

      Anger carried her to his office before she realised she’d just done exactly what he wanted. She stormed in without knocking and found him leaning against his desk, facing the door. Waiting for her.

      ‘Six minutes.’ He whistled as his gaze fell to the rapid rise and fall of her chest and the way the fabric of her uniform pulled across her breasts. ‘I see you took the stairs.’

      ‘It was faster,’ she snapped.

      ‘Before you start …’ he held up his hands to placate her ‘… I apologise.’ He pushed himself off the desk and walked slowly towards her. As he advanced a step she retreated a step. ‘I just wanted to see your face again and I figured … well, if you were steamed up enough …’

      Claire bumped