Runaway Sister (5 page)

Samantha snorted. “Good job I'm not there. If there's one thing I can't stand it's a surgeon being a prima donna!”

Jennie laughed. “I know, but they all get their moments. Obviously something has upset him.”

“That's no reason to take it out on everyone else,” retorted Samantha, wondering who the glamorous visitor was that Jennie had referred to. Not that she had to wonder for long, because Jennie was determined to tell her all she knew, which was not much, anyway. There was nothing Jennie loved more than a good gossip, not in a malicious way, she was just genuinely fascinated by the goings on around her.

“Sheila in Reception told me that early this morning a very glamorous woman turned up in Reception and asked for Mr. Shaw. Of course Sheila asked her if she had an appointment and she said, very haughtily, no, she hadn't, but could Mr. Shaw be informed that Mrs. Papasthasis was waiting to see him. He will see me, she'd said. So of course Sheila bleeped him, and sure enough he came straight away to Reception. Sheila said he didn't look too pleased to see her, but that she greeted him like a long-lost lover, kissed him
very
enthusiastically, Sheila says, then linked arms with him as they went off towards his office.”

“How strange,” said Samantha, “because he bawled me out at just after eight thirty this morning, so she must have arrived very early indeed!”

“Oh, she was there then,” replied Jennie. “She spent the whole morning in his office, and he did his ward round and everything else he had to do and kept rushing back to his office in between times. He got Sheila to organize a tray of coffee and biscuits for them, and when she took them into his office, she thought they'd been arguing, because his face was as black as thunder and they stopped talking as soon as Sheila went in. Another thing Sheila said was…” Jennie's voice trailed off in midsentence and her face took on a guilty conspiratorial look.

Looking over her shoulder, Samantha saw the cause for her sudden silence. Adam Shaw had come into the canteen and had bought himself a cup of tea. Surprised, Samantha looked at her watch; it was half past four. It was very early for him to have finished his afternoon's operating, so obviously something had gone amiss. For the Theatre Sister's sake she hoped it wasn't lack of blood or special instruments that caused it. Sometimes the right blood or instruments weren't sent to Theatre on time, which usually meant someone's head had to roll, and that someone was usually the Theatre Sister.

Jennie gulped back her tea. “I'd better get going,” she said. “I'm on until nine tonight—see you tomorrow.”

“Goodbye,” said Samantha, wishing Jennie weren't leaving; she felt like talking to someone. The day had been so busy that she hadn't had time to feel lonely, but now the evening was looming ahead and she began to get an empty feeling. She didn't think Adam Shaw had seen her as she had her back to him, and she was therefore quite startled when suddenly he sat down beside her.

“Are we still on speaking terms?” he asked seriously, but Samantha could see there was a self-assured twinkle in his eye.

He obviously thinks he can be as rude as he likes, then turn on the charm and I'll melt at the knees,
she thought rebelliously.
Well, Mr. Shaw, you can't do that to me!
So instead of responding to the twinkle in his eyes, she looked back at him with a cold stony expression in her clear blue eyes.

“It depends entirely on what you have to say,” she said in her unfriendliest tone of voice.

“I suppose you think I ought to say sorry,” he began. “Very well, I'm sorry, I was rude this morning, I know, but I was under some strain at the time and that noise just made me explode.”

“I gather you've been pretty explosive all day,” replied Samantha scathingly.

He paused, the cup of tea halfway to his lips, his dark brows meeting in a frown. “How do you know that?” he demanded.

Samantha couldn't help laughing, he looked so surprised. “Really, Mr. Shaw, you said yourself that a hospital isn't a very private place, everybody knows you've been in a foul mood today, and I must say I don't think it's fair of you to take it out on the other poor unfortunate people around you.”

His firm sculptured lips twisted into a wry smile. “You're unusually forthright,” he said quietly, “a quality I like.” His eyes slid in an appreciative gaze over her slender figure in its enhancing dark blue Sister's uniform. “How long have you been a Sister?” he asked.

His gaze made her nervous; she had never felt that her uniform was particularly sexy, but somehow the look in his eyes told her that it was.

“A year and a half,” she replied. “Before that I was a staff midwife here on the Unit.”

“Hmm, so you've plenty of midwifery experience tucked under that shapely belt of yours,” he said reflectively.

“Yes, I have,” replied Samantha, standing up, wondering why on earth he was looking so pensive. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got some administrative work to catch up on before I go off duty, unless of course another patient has decided to go into labor.” Taking her cup across to the dirty crockery trolley, she walked away from him, acutely conscious of his grey eyes following her.

As she neared the door of the canteen she heard her name called and turned. It was Dai Thomas, a charming young Welshman and a friend of Steve.

“Hi, Samantha,” he called, “wait for me!” She waited and he caught up with her and put his arm around her slim waist. “Sorry about you and Steve,” he said in his lilting Welsh voice.

“Thanks,” said Samantha. “It's just one of those things. Luckily we found out before we'd made the mistake of marrying.”

“What are you doing tonight?” asked Dai, coming straight to the point. “Because I've got two tickets for a concert at the old Abbey. It's a program of Bach and Mozart—would you like to come?”

“Well, I…” Samantha hesitated. She liked Dai very much, but she knew she could never think of him in a romantic light, not in a million years. He just wasn't her type, and the last thing she wanted to do was to encourage him to think that she felt more for him than she actually did.

Dai read her thoughts. “No strings attached,” he said. “I promise. I can understand that you don't want to get involved with anyone else yet.”

Samantha smiled. “Well, just so long as you do understand that,” she said. “I don't want to hurt your feelings, but I don't intend to get involved with anyone else for a very long time.”

“A concert and fish and chips afterwards,” said Dai. “It will have to be fish and chips because it's the end of the month and I've just had to buy four new tires for my car to get it through its MOT.”

Samantha laughed. “A concert and fish and chips sounds a perfect combination,” she said. “What time shall we meet?”

They arranged to meet at seven. Dai would pick her up at her flat in his car and then they would go to the Abbey, which was about seven miles away in a small country market town. Samantha walked back to her office smiling. The evening didn't seem so gloomy after all, she was pretty certain she could handle Dai and make sure that he harbored no romantic illusions about her.

After checking to make sure that there were no patients needing her services, she sent Nurse Wellow off to the library to do some studying, and settled down to an hour's paperwork herself. She had been working steadily for about half an hour when there was a knock on her office door.

“Come in,” she called, not bothering to look up, thinking it was Nurse Wellow come to ask her something. “Yes, what is it?” she asked, finishing off the sentence she was writing.

“Do I have permission to speak, then?” came the sardonic voice she was getting to know so well.

Quickly Samantha laid down her pen and looked up. It was Adam Shaw standing there, a disapproving expression on his face.

“What's the problem now?” she asked, not bothering to hide her exasperation. That was the strange thing about him, he managed to provoke her and yet at the same time make her feel feminine and vulnerable—a confusing and uncomfortable state of affairs.

“I don't think you're taking the advice I gave you yesterday,” he said.

“What on earth do you mean?” Now Samantha was mystified.

“I understand that you're going to a concert tonight with young Dai Thomas. Don't forget what I said about wasting yourself on other junior doctors. If you're not careful you'll be jumping straight from the frying pan into the fire!”

Enraged, Samantha stood up, pushing back her chair violently. “Your concern for my welfare does you credit,” she snapped. “You may have set yourself up as the expert on my love life, but I can tell you right here and now that I shall do as I please, when I please, with whoever I please. And now,” her voice was shaking with suppressed rage as she spoke, “please stop interfering in my life and get out!” She walked round the desk and went to the office door and opened it, inviting him to leave by her action.

It was an invitation he chose to ignore. Instead he strode over and slammed the door shut, imprisoning her against it by the solidness of his huge masculine frame. She was taken completely by surprise and her mind reeled from the closeness of his body. His breath fanned her face with a caressing potency that scattered her wits. She was briefly conscious of his dark face looming above hers before his lips descended on hers, blotting out everything.

For a moment shock held her rigid, then the persuasive ardor of his warm mouth moving over hers melted her blood into a fiery river of desire. Against her will she found herself responding, parting her lips pliantly to his kiss.

Much later on, when she thought about it, she wondered what on earth would have happened if Nurse Wellow hadn't come knocking on the door. As it was, there was a discreet tap on the door that caused them to break abruptly apart. Samantha turned away, straightening her cap, and she could hear Adam breathing behind her, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

“Get out,” she muttered in a low voice. “You've taken just about enough liberties today!”

“Don't tell me you didn't enjoy it,” came his voice in her ear, low and vibrant, “because I wouldn't damn well believe you!”

Without giving him a look Samantha stumbled blindly back to her desk, and he opened the door to let Nurse Wellow in. As he left he slammed the door violently behind him, leaving Nurse Wellow looking slightly apprehensive.

“You two don't seem to get on too well,” she ventured.

“What can I do for you?” asked Samantha in a tone of voice that left Nurse Wellow in no doubt at all that to continue the conversation about Adam Shaw would be most unwise!

Chapter Three

She answered all Nurse Wellow's queries automatically, still in some kind of daze, and was more than a little thankful when she eventually left the office.

Samantha sat at her desk, staring with unseeing eyes at the paperwork in front of her. Why did Adam Shaw keep interfering in her life? What right had he to do so and why, oh, why had he kissed her?

In that one brief kiss he had stirred fires of passion within her, something Steve had never done. Was that what he meant by the phrase “all-conquering passion”? She smiled to herself a little somberly. He certainly was capable of arousing that in her, she knew that now. She had suspected it before, from the way her nerves were set jangling whenever he came close to her, but now that he had kissed her she had no doubt of her reactions.

If they had been alone she would have been like putty in those masterful hands of his, she would have willingly submitted to his every desire. Desire—yes, that was the word. “Damn, damn you, Adam Shaw,” she said out loud. “I am not going to fall willingly into your arms, as you so obviously expect!” She slammed the drawer of her desk shut with a ferocity that would have surprised anyone who had seen her and closing her office left to walk back to her flat.

I must find out more about him, she mused as she walked briskly through the cold but sunny hospital grounds, her attractive red and navy cloak wrapped around her. He obviously is used to women succumbing easily to his undeniable charm and expects me to do the same. Well, she thought purposefully, there's an exception to everything, and I'm going to be the exception in this case! Although even as she was making these resolutions she knew resisting Adam Shaw was not going to be easy.

When she arrived back at the flat the first thing that she saw was a note on her doormat—Steve's writing.
Funny,
she thought, frowning as she opened the envelope,
it's only two days since he jilted me and I've hardly given him a thought. It just shows I didn't love him as much as I thought.

The note told her that he was leaving the hospital the next day on terminal leave before he started his new post. He apologized for any unhappiness he had caused her and wished she could find true happiness in the future.

Impulsively Samantha rang his extension number.

“Hello.” It was Steve's familiar voice.
My heart should be lurching now,
she thought inconsequentially,
but it isn't.

“Steve, it's Samantha. I just wanted to thank you for your note and to say I have no hard feelings. I do hope you'll both be very happy, and I truly mean that.”

There was a silence for a moment on the other end of the line, then a relieved-sounding Steve said, “Thanks, Samantha, I didn't want to go feeling bad about you.”

“You needn't,” replied Samantha. “I realize now that we were very fond of each other, but it wasn't a love that would have survived years of marriage. So goodbye, and good luck.”

“The same to you,” said Steve.

Slowly she put down the receiver, feeling that she had finally closed the door completely on one chapter of her life.
That's that,
she thought;
now I can go forward into the unknown.

She started to shower and get ready for the concert. She had been to the Abbey before and knew the old Norman building got very cold at night, in spite of the radiators placed at intervals around the walls. So she decided on a deep purple woolen dress. It had a fitted bodice and full swirling skirt and a matching fitted jacket.

She just about made it in time, and was brushing her blonde hair back into loose curls falling on her shoulders, when the doorbell rang. It was Dai Thomas, and he gave an appreciative whistle. “You look terrific!” he told her.

“No strings,” Samantha reminded him with mock severity.

“Nothing was farther from my mind,” he replied, throwing up his hands in a protestation of innocence.

When they arrived the Abbey was almost full and they had to squeeze quickly past a row of people to get to their seats in the middle. The concert was magnificent, but it was freezing in the Abbey, as Samantha had feared. She wondered whether she had been wise in choosing purple to wear, her nose felt like an icicle, and probably was the same hue of purple as her outfit, she reflected ruefully.

Even when the short interval came there was no respite. As it was in the Abbey there were no refreshments, so the audience just chatted for the ten-minute interval.

Although she did enjoy the music, Samantha was quite glad when it had finished and she was able to move her frozen limbs.

“Shall we go to the pub for a quick drink before we get the fish and chips?” suggested Dai.

“Good idea,” she replied thankfully, stamping her feet to restore the circulation. “I could do with a Scotch to warm me up.”

They were gradually making their way towards the huge old doorway along with the rest of the mass of people, when she was suddenly aware that someone to her left was looking at her. She felt rather than saw that someone was looking. Turning her head, she looked into Adam Shaw's impenetrable gaze.

He was standing in the crowd of people, easily identifiable because he was a good head and shoulders taller than most of the men around him, and by his side, holding his arm, was the most strikingly beautiful woman Samantha had ever seen.

She was a doe-eyed, raven-haired beauty, with a flawless olive skin. Samantha had read about beauty like hers in books and seen it in films, but she had never come face-to-face with a woman of such incredible loveliness before. Looking at her, Samantha was uncomfortably aware that her face was pale from the cold and that her nose was sure to be a puce color because it was so cold it felt as if it were about to drop off! Even if she had been looking her very best Samantha knew that a woman like that would have given her a feeling of inferiority, but at that moment, she felt like a colorless frozen little mouse by the side of her.

Adam Shaw came across to them with his radiant companion on his arm. “Did you enjoy the concert?” he asked.

“Oh yes, thanks, we did very much, didn't we, Samantha?” Dai beamed at Adam. Samantha for her part tried not to catch his eye again, and made a pretense of getting her handkerchief out of her handbag.

“May I introduce my friend Sophie,” said Adam, indicating the woman at his side. “Sophie is from Greece, she's over here on a short holiday.”

“Oh, not all that short, darling,” said Sophie, looking at Adam reproachfully. “You know you could easily persuade me to stay for much longer.”

Adam ignored that remark and introduced Dai and Samantha in turn.

Samantha felt she ought to say something, although she had the feeling that Sophie wasn't the slightest bit interested in the introductions and was only too anxious to get Adam away.

“Coming from Greece, you must have felt the cold here tonight, even more than us,” she said, “and I'm absolutely frozen.”

“Oh no,” replied Sophie complacently. “It doesn't matter to me whether it's hot or cold, it never affects me.”

Yes, I can believe that,
thought Samantha.
When everyone else around is sweating in a heat wave, you're the sort that will still look cool and calm, not a hair out of place.

“You certainly do look very cold,” continued Sophie. “They tell me that face powder with a little green in it is good for a red nose.”

Dai burst out laughing. “I think I prefer her with a red nose,” he said. “I can't say I'd fancy seeing a green one on her!”

Samantha felt annoyed. Now she knew her damn nose was red, and it didn't improve her humor to see that Adam Shaw was grinning too.

“It's been very nice meeting you,” she said politely but firmly, giving Dai a little nudge in the direction of the door, “but Dai and I really must be going now, we've arranged to meet some friends.”

“Oh, where?” asked Adam.

“You wouldn't know it, it's a new place, only just opened,” interrupted Samantha abruptly. “Goodbye. I hope you enjoy your stay in England, Sophie.”

Without giving Adam any further opportunity to speak she firmly elbowed her way through the crowd, dragging Dai along behind her. When they reached the outside of the Abbey Dai said, “What did you say we were going on to meet someone for? We're not, are we?”

“No, we're not,” said Samantha crossly, “but I didn't want to stay talking to them all night. What a cheek she had, suggesting I should use green face powder!”

“Well, your nose is pretty red—if it was Christmas you could sign on as one of the reindeer for Santa Claus.”

Laughing, he dodged the blow Samantha aimed at him. “Hey, watch it! I'm only joking. It's not that red, just a bit pink. Looks very pretty, as a matter of fact.”

“Huh!” snorted Samantha. “Now, are we or are we not going to get ourselves that whisky?”

“OK, lead the way,” agreed Dai. “I could do with something to warm me up as well.”

The rest of the evening passed off uneventfully. After their drink they duly bought fish and chips and Dai came back to Samantha's flat where they ate them and watched a late show on TV. Eventually, after midnight, Samantha handed him his coat and scarf.

“Is that a hint?” asked Dai in his lilting Welsh voice.

“Well,” laughed Samantha, “you could say that.”

“OK, never let it be said I couldn't take a hint,” he said, winding his long scarf around his neck. “Thanks for a nice evening. We'll do it again sometime, shall we?”

“Yes, that would be nice,” agreed Samantha, “although I'm going to be rather busy for the next few weeks. I've promised quite a few friends that I'll visit them.”

Dai raised his eyebrows. “As I said before…” he smiled, “…never let it be said that I can't take a hint!”

After he had gone Samantha's thoughts returned, as they seemed to do so often these last few days, to Adam Shaw. She wondered what the relationship was between him and Sophie. Not that she could see how any man could fail to be captivated by anyone as beautiful as her.

As she was changing for bed her thoughts again strayed back to that passionate kiss Adam Shaw had so unexpectedly snatched in her office. She looked at her pink scrubbed face in the bathroom mirror. Be realistic, she told herself, and stop harboring any romantic notions about him. Look at yourself, a pale nondescript-looking female in comparison to that black-haired beauty he has with him, and who obviously has more than a passing interest in him.

She sighed, wishing that he hadn't kissed her, because then she wouldn't be wanting him to kiss her again. She didn't want to face the possibility that it was an impulsive one-off occurrence. Common sense told her that it was, but her heart was hoping for more.

The next few days continued uneventfully in the Maternity Unit, babies safely delivered one after the other, and she saw nothing of Adam Shaw. Usually they had some slack spells, but lately, thought Samantha when she was very tired one afternoon, there hadn't been a slack moment. The Unit was bursting at the seams, and it was just as well that they had no complicated problems to deal with, as that would certainly have caused problems.

It was at least a fortnight before Samantha and Jennie got time off together and were able to go to the canteen and have lunch and a chat.

They made their way down the long corridor leading to the stairs up to the canteen. “My God,” remarked Jennie, “talk about a production line! The way the Mat Unit has been working these last couple of weeks, I reckon we ought to put in for bonus payments!”

Samantha laughed. “Somehow I don't think that would go down too well with the Nursing Officer. Humor isn't one of her stronger points, and I think she would probably take you seriously if you suggested it.”

“Then perhaps I ought to suggest it,” said Jennie mischievously. “You never know, she might even arrange payment.”

“And pigs might fly,” retorted Samantha.

On reaching the canteen they were disappointed to find that as they were late everything was off except SPAM fritters.

Samantha groaned. “I don't think I can face SPAM fritters,” she said.

“Rubbish,” replied Jennie firmly, “you've got to eat something. I meant to say to you earlier that you're looking positively peaky. You need something solid and nourishing inside you.”

“Yes, but not SPAM fritters,” protested Samantha.

“As there's nothing else,” pointed out Jennie, ever practical, “it will just have to be SPAM fritters.”

Reluctantly Samantha followed her friend to the counter and duly collected her fritters, baked beans and chips. As she paid for it she thought to herself that she must be mad buying such rubbish; she knew she wasn't going to be able to eat it anyway.

She and Jennie easily found a table by one of the big windows as the canteen was beginning to empty. The one good thing about the Princess Mary's canteen was that it was situated on the far side of the hospital, and had beautiful views out across the countryside.

“There,” said Jennie, tucking into her lunch enthusiastically, “with a view like this you can imagine you're in a swell restaurant.”

“Until you look down at the SPAM fritters,” interjected Samantha ruefully.

“Your trouble is you're too fussy,” said Jennie. “They're not at all bad.”

Samantha toyed with the food on her plate and at Jennie's insistence she did eat some of it, but it tasted fatty and sickly to her and she left most of it.

Jennie chattered on, filling her in on all the latest news on which, as always, she was well informed. Of course, eventually she got on to the subject of Adam Shaw, which in her heart of hearts was precisely what Samantha was hoping she would do. Half of her wanted to hear about him, the other half, the sensible half, was telling her that she ought to be very pleased she hadn't seen him lately, and to forget all about him.