Free The Sheikh and the Surrogate Mum by Meredith Webber Page A

staff, then he walked over to look at the baby, tilting his head to one side as if to take the little being in more clearly.
    ‘You’re still here?’ He looked up at Liz as he asked the question and though she was about to make a joke about just being a mirage, the strain in his eyes told her this wasn’t the time.
    ‘No unit to take him to,’ she said lightly. ‘And I felt it was important to keep him close to his mother. In fact, Laya and I have just been talking about it, and we’d like him to room in with her if that can be managed. I’d be happy to live in here so I’m always on hand, and Laya and another nurse can share shifts with me. I realise the mother will be in the ICU for a while, but at least the atmosphere will be sterile and when the mother becomes conscious we’ll have the baby on hand for her to see so she doesn’t feel any anxiety or fear for him. I realise if you’re not done there, you can’t discuss it now, but we’ll wait here until you finish and maybe talk about it then.’
    He probably wouldn’t understand the slang expression ‘stunned mullet’ but it described him to a T. Fortunately the scrub nurse called him for his fresh gown and gloves and one of his colleagues needed him back at the table, so any further discussion was suspended.
    ‘He didn’t look too happy about your idea,’ Laya ventured, and Liz grinned at her.
    ‘That’s probably only because he’s used to being the one with the big ideas,’ she said. ‘Once he’s had time to think about it, he’ll see it makes sense.’
    And living in at the hospital would keep her safe from fizzing and sparks—but that was a side benefit. The baby definitely came first.

CHAPTER FIVE
    T WO hours later, as he stepped away from the operating table, leaving room for one of his assistants to close, Khalifa remembered the baby in the room—the baby and the woman caring for him!
    She wanted the baby rooming in with his mother in the ICU?
    The idea was bizarre, but even more confusing was her determination to stay at the hospital to care for the newborn. Was her own pregnancy making her ultra-sensitive?
    Not that he’d noticed the slightest sensitivity on her part towards her pregnancy—the subject was not open for discussion. Yet it niggled at him, both the pregnancy and her seeming lack of interest in it.
    He shoved his soiled gown and gloves into a bin, called for a fresh gown, although he’d finished at the operating table, and eventually, clean again, moved across the room to where the two women waited by the crib.
    ‘The mother will be in Recovery for some time,’ he said, addressing the air between Laya and the newcomer. ‘I suggest the baby goes to the nursery where Laya can keep an eye on him.’
    Now he had to face his new employee. With her richly coloured hair hidden by a cap, the black-rimmed glasses dominated her face, making her skin seem creamier, her eyes a deeper blue.
    ‘Not a good idea,’ she said. ‘Look at him. You say he’s thirty-four weeks, but the mother may have miscalculated. Either that or he’s not been well nourished. Put him in among healthy newborns and he’ll look more like a skinned rabbit than he already does. Apart from anything else, it would be upsetting for the other mothers, with their chubby little pink-cheeked babies, to see him.’
    Khalifa felt a twinge of annoyance. Dr Elizabeth Jones might have seemed the perfect person to set up the new unit at his hospital, but if she was going to argue with him every time he opened his mouth…
    ‘Apart from anything else?’ he queried, allowing his voice to reveal the twinge.
    ‘He should be with his mother,’ the annoyance replied. ‘Not while she’s in Recovery, of course, but surely you know where she’ll be sent. I can accompany him there and keep an eye on him, and Laya can return to her own shift in the nursery.’
    She looked Khalifa in the eye, daring him to argue.
    ‘Minimum fuss, right?’ she challenged.
    ‘It is not