Page 40 of Prognosis Christmas Baby

He turned to face her. ‘Especially if you live alone.’

Maggie’s breath caught in her throat. He seemed tired — desperately tired — and yet he managed somehow to cut right to what was important. How could he be so profound on such little sleep? And then a thought snaked through her brain, seductive in its joy — she was never going to spend another Christmas alone.

He held up a brown paper bag. ‘I bought Danish pastries.’

Maggie was new to this morning sickness thing but one thing she knew with absolute certainty was that her constitution was not up to handling anything so decadent. But she could watch him.

‘Let’s eat on the deck,’ she murmured.

Ten minutes later she could smell the eucalyptus and hear a kookaburra laughing in a distant tree. ‘You look tired,’ she said as he tucked into a flaky morsel.

Nash stopped in mid-chew. ‘I didn’t really sleep yesterday.’

Maggie sipped her tea. Neither had she. Between daydreaming about the baby and their argument replaying in her mind, sleep had been elusive. But at least she’d been able to recharge her batteries overnight. Poor Nash had had to stay awake, be alert, professional.

‘Are we still quiet?’

Nash nodded. ‘Just the two. There was a retrieval call though, just before I left — a fourteen-year-old riding a skateboard, suspected subdural.’

‘No helmet?’

Nash shot her a tired smile. ‘How’d you guess?’

Maggie didn’t bother to answer the rhetorical question even to fill the weird silence. It was awkward between them now but no matter how much she yearned for their easy familiarity, she wouldn’t have changed the course of events that had brought them to this moment for all the money in the world.

Nash swallowed the last of his pastry and licked his lips. He looked into her fudge-brownie eyes and drew in a steadying breath as his pulse hammered through his temples. ‘I think you should come to London with me. Let’s give this thing a go.’

Maggie’s eyes widened and she almost dropped her hot tea in her lap. ‘What?’ she spluttered. She’d known he had something he wanted to say but this was totally out of left field.

‘You said it yesterday. My career path is taking me to London. It’s something I’ve worked years towards and a vital step in my plans for the flying paediatrician service. I have to go. I want to go. But I can’t just take off when I have a responsibility to you. So come to London with me.’

Just like that? Pick up on a whim because she was his responsibility and he was lumbered with her? Because he thought they should give it a go? ‘No.’

‘Maggie.’

‘No.’

‘Come on, it’s London,’ he cajoled. ‘It’s magic.’

‘I know,’ she said frostily. ‘I’ve lived there. Back when you were in high school.’ She suppressed the urge to say little boy.

Nash groaned. ‘Oh, Maggie, not the age thing again.’

She shook her head. ‘No. Not the age thing again. But if you think I’m going to fly to London and shack up with my toy boy who wants to give it a go just because I’m pregnant with his child, you’re nuts.’

Nash winced. He hadn’t meant it to sound like that. So...temporary. So ill-conceived. He hadn’t meant that way at all. ‘I’m sorry. I’m saying it all wrong.’ He reached into his pocket and pulled out a blue velvet box and put it on the table. ‘Marry me.’

This time, Maggie plonked her mug on the table for fear that she really was going to upend its contents in her lap. Or over his head...

She stared at the box then at him, struck dumb for a few seconds. When she did find her voice it sounded all high and breathy. ‘Did you just...propose to me?’

Nash frowned. He couldn’t work out if she was happy or annoyed. Wasn’t that what women wanted? A wedding band?

That’s what most women to date had wanted from him.

Okay, it hadn’t exactly been a romantic proposal but this wasn’t any ordinary situation. This was never the way or the circumstances he’d ever pictured proposing under. Not that he’d ever pictured it.

Hell!

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