Falling for the Sheikh She Shouldn't. Fiona McArthur
in her body. She glanced around.
Appropriate name. Fire escape.
She definitely felt a bit singed on the edges—like a ragged sleeve too close to a candle—ragged and breathless. She touched her lips. Burnt and hot without even touching him.
She glanced around again, reassured in a dark stairwell with unpainted concrete stairs and the echo of empty walls, but there was no doubt she was glad of the sanctuary afforded her.
One would have thought she’d learnt her lesson from her ex-husband about smooth-talking men in expensive suits who seduced you and then destroyed your life.
Still. One almost slip didn’t make a disaster. She hoped.
Eighteen hours later Carmen O’Shannessy admired the gifts Mother Nature had bestowed on her at five that morning with a soft smile. She knew there was a reason she loved night duty, apart from the fact it allowed her to do two jobs.
Twins. Dark-haired cherubs with skin like dusky rosebuds. Her patient, Fadia Smith, rested back in the armchair like Madonna with her sons poking out under her arms like tiny bundled wings. It had taken a little juggling, a few attempts, and almost an hour of patience, but with both boys feeding well this moment was a very satisfying end to a drama-filled morning.
It had been a long time since Carmen had seen twins born with so little fuss but, then, Fadia hadn’t left them with much choice. Her cumbersome arrival alone and a bare five minutes before her first son appeared had left Carmen literally catching the baby. By the time the obstetrician and his entourage had arrived, number two had also decided to greet the outside world and Dr Bennett had waved her on with an incredulous smile.
To continue their no-fuss arrival, both wee boys had cried and then settled on their mother’s skin. While they appeared small, there were no signs of prematurity or respiratory distress.
That would be unlike the breathless-from-running neonatal staff, who’d drifted back to their unit unneeded shortly afterwards. Carmen still smiled over their shock when she’d rung for help.
Two hours later Carmen should’ve been feeling ready to hand Fadia over to the day staff and go home. ‘You sure I can’t phone someone for you?’ Something niggled.
Fadia seemed very sad. On cue with the question, Fadia jumped in the chair and the two babies stopped their sucking with startled eyes before resettling to their feed.
Their mother forced herself to relax. ‘No, no. My babies are fine. I really don’t have anyone else to call. I’m a widow and there’s just a friend of my husband who’s been helping me until my relatives arrive.’
Fadia seemed determined nothing was wrong and hurried on. ‘We’re all safe.’ It seemed a strange thing to say.
‘Well, your boys weren’t waiting for anyone.’ She leaned over and stroked a tiny hand that rested on his mother’s neck. ‘You’re amazing, Fadia. Congratulations. Tilly will be looking after you today. I have to go home to my bed, and I’ll see you when you move to the baby hotel in a day or two. Have you decided on names?’
‘Harrison and Bailey. My husband’s names.’
‘Lovely. I’m sure he would have loved that.’
‘He didn’t even know I was pregnant when he was killed.’
Was killed? Not died. How horrible but not the time to ask. ‘I’m sorry. But I’m sure, somewhere, he knows. Do try and get some sleep as soon as they do.’
‘Thanks, Carmen. You’ve given me so much strength in all of this. It means so much that you weren’t cross with me for leaving it so late.’
‘You were always strong, Fadia. So amazing. And we know babies come when they want.’ Carmen grinned. ‘You must have a guardian angel. And that makes sense. Thank you for a lovely end to my night.’ She waved and almost bumped into Tilly, the day midwife, passing the door.
‘Finally going home?’ Tilly glanced at her watch.
Carmen knew she was nearly an hour late getting away already. ‘At last.’
‘You working this afternoon as well?’
‘Doing the one p.m. at the hotel till seven. I get to sleep in my bed tonight.’
Tilly shook her head. ‘Don’t know how you do it. I’d be dead doing those hours as well as night duty.’
‘I get around four hours’ sleep.’ Carmen shrugged. ‘It’s short term. But I’m starting to come down from the night’s euphoria. But I am tired now.’ She did not want to talk about this or the reason she was almost killing herself. She’d never taken help from anyone and she wasn’t going to start now.
Thankfully Tilly wasn’t slow on nuances because she changed the subject back to Fadia. ‘Well done, you, with this morning. Lucky duck. Catching twins is hard to do without a cast of thousands trying to help these days.’
‘And your Marcus didn’t push me out of the way.’
Tilly’s cheeks went pink and Carmen felt a tug of wistfulness at her friend’s happiness. A fleeting picture of the man in the lift intruded again before she pushed him away.
She hadn’t given him a thought for hours. Been far too busy. Which was a good thing. ‘It must be great to have everything in your life going well.’
Tilly said, ‘I’m fostering Marcus’s faith in midwives. I think it’s working.’ They smiled at each other.
‘And Fadia was lucky.’ Carmen’s smile dropped. ‘Her friend’s coming in at lunchtime. She’s very quiet but, then, she did lose her husband fairly recently. There’s no one else listed under “Next of kin” from her booking. Look after her, Till. We need to make sure she has somewhere to go after she’s discharged.’
‘Yes, Mother Carmen.’ Tilly’s answer was light but the look they exchanged reassured her that her friend would be extra vigilant. Tilly would be just as determined as Carmen to be there for any mother, let alone one with twins who had twice as many reasons for moments of unusual interest.
After too few hours’ sleep it was time for Carmen to dress for work again. This time she would be providing postnatal midwifery in the baby hotel, a pet name the medical profession used for the five-star beach resort that catered for a few privately insured postnatal mothers. It was another warm and fuzzy part of her job and the women she supported often existed on less sleep than she’d had so a few yawns between friends was quite acceptable.
It was even better if she’d been with the women in labour and could follow their progress until they went home.
As she pressed the lift button in the car park she couldn’t help thinking of the man on level seven. Zafar. Mysterious name. And what would have happened to him if she hadn’t been in the lift that extra floor? The memory of their close encounter burned brightest.
She screwed up her face. ‘Go away.’ The words hung quietly between her and the closed lift door and she twisted her head uneasily to make sure nobody had heard.
There’d been something incredibly vulnerable about such a virile and powerful-looking man sweating over a stalled lift. Which maybe explained a little why she hadn’t backed off more quickly.
There had been nothing vulnerable in the way he’d crowded her after, though. Or the way she’d almost dared him to kiss her. She couldn’t help the curve of her lips at the return of that memory and thought ruefully that he’d never want to see her again.
Which was fine. Her husband’s underhand conniving had taken her home, undermined her self-respect—though she supposed she should thank him because she was tougher than ever now—and taught her to reserve judgement for a long while yet.
But Zafar’s face seemed indelibly stamped in her memory. Dark, tortured eyes under black brows and a firm yet wickedly sexy mouth that captured her attention with such assurance—a mouth that looked used to command.