Free Runaway Sister by Ann Jennings

blatantly.”
    Samantha raised her eyebrows in surprise. It was news to her, but then she had been feeling so tired lately that she had been staying in and going to bed early most nights.
    â€œI always thought Adam Shaw was the discreet kind of man, but apparently not. He’s been seen everywhere with her, at all the best restaurants, she always answers the phone when the junior doctors ring him at home, and he always rushes off back to that flat he’s renting to be with her, just as soon as he’s finished his work here.” Jennie leaned back, folded her arms and nodded her head sagely. “I think he must be mad about her—everybody’s talking about it.”
    â€œWell, not quite everybody,” corrected Samantha. “I’m not, for one, because this is the first I’ve heard about it.”
    â€œThat’s because you’ve been such a recluse lately,” accused Jennie. “You ought to join in things more.”
    â€œI haven’t been feeling a hundred percent,” said Samantha. “I thought a few early nights would buck me up.”
    â€œA few late nights, out with some boyfriends might,” said Jennie tartly, “not going to bed early on your own.”
    â€œPerhaps you’re right,” agreed Samantha. “I’ll do something about it, I promise. Although for some strange reason I really have been feeling whacked lately.”
    The slight respite they had had on the Maternity Unit that lunchtime didn’t last long, and the afternoon was as busy as ever. Samantha stayed on with a difficult delivery, even though she was feeling tired and it was past her off-duty time. When she eventually got back to her flat she was absolutely exhausted.
    She also felt thoroughly miserable. All during the afternoon Jennie’s words had flitted back and forth through her brain, interrupting her concentration with monotonous regularity. Now she had reached the flat and there were no patients to distract her, the import of the words struck home. Jennie had said, I think he must be mad about her. Why should that worry her? Hadn’t she known all along that he had just been kind to her when he had taken her out for a meal—but if only, if only he hadn’t kissed her!
    She felt even more tired that night, too tired to be bothered to cook anything, and anyway she had cramp in her stomach. If the pain wasn’t so low down I’d think it was a broken heart , she thought ruefully, glad that at least her sense of humor hadn’t deserted her.
    Oh, to hell with you, Adam Shaw, she thought irritably, pouring herself a generous measure of Scotch, you can keep your black-eyed mistress! A few sips of whisky mellowed her thoughts a little more. Yes, she thought slowly, I think they’re a pair well matched; they’re both strikingly handsome, they have a certain charisma and neither, I would imagine, are lasting or reliable lovers.
    Yes, that’s what I want, she thought, pouring herself another Scotch, a lasting and reliable lover. None of this all-conquering passion Adam Shaw nearly had me believing in, that’s all rubbish.
    However, that didn’t prevent her from thinking longingly of him that night before she went to sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, his dark rugged face floated in front of her, a sensual, mocking glint in his slate-grey eyes.
    When Samantha went on to the Unit the following morning she took over a patient in the first stage of labor from a relatively inexperienced night midwife.
    â€œEverything going to schedule?” enquired Samantha as she took over, introduced herself to the patient and started to flick through the notes on the bottom of the bed.
    â€œYes, everything is fine, isn’t it, Mrs. Collins?” said the young midwife. “You don’t mind if I dash now, Sister? I want to get up to London for the day today,” and with that she was gone.
    Samantha smiled warmly at Mrs. Collins,