The Sheikh and the Surrogate Mum by Meredith Webber

there, feeling her cheeks growing hot, uncertain if he was teasing her deliberately or simply passing on something he found of interest to his compatriot. Not that it mattered. While he was talking to Laya he wasn’t talking to her and the best thing she could do was avoid all conversations with him.
    Fortunately, before she could become too mortified, the lift arrived and they were whisked up to the next level.
    From the inside, the ICU looked like any other ICU, although this place was still sparklingly new. But beyond the glass outer walls Liz could see the big arches and the sheltered balconies that must run along the length of the building.
    ‘For the families?’ she asked Khalifa, so intrigued her decision to not talk to him was forgotten.
    ‘Of course,’ he said. ‘Close family members can, as you’d know, come into the ICU for short visits, but the others have to make do with being outside. Most of the time the curtains are open so they can see in, and the patient has the comfort of knowing they are there.’
    ‘So different,’ Liz murmured, although the room they were now in could have been in any hospital in the world with its well-positioned monitors, external pacemaker, defibrillator, suction pumps, drains, catheters, feeding tubes and IV lines—a veritable web of tubes that would soon be connected to the baby’s mother.
    On the other hand, few hospitals would have ICU rooms this big.
    ‘There! In that corner,’ she said, pointing to a clear space by the outer window. ‘A perfect position for the baby because the mother in the bed will only have to turn her head to see the crib. On the other side, there’s just too much gear.’
    Laya began to push the crib towards the space Liz had indicated but Khalifa stopped her with a touch of his hand—long, slim fingers—and turned to Liz.
    ‘You’re sure about this?’ he asked, a slight frown marring the smooth skin on his forehead.
    ‘About the baby rooming in?’
    He shook his head, the frown deepening.
    ‘About your own involvement? I could have another neonatal paediatrician here within a couple of hours. You do not have to do this.’
    He spaced the words of the last sentence out very carefully, giving each one equal emphasis.
    Was it an order in a polite form?
    Liz had no idea, she just knew that when the woman woke up, her first thought would be for her baby.
    ‘Quite sure!’ Liz, too, spaced her words so he couldn’t help but get the message that she was determined to go through with this. ‘I’ll just need someone to bring my luggage in from the car.’
    He shrugged, the white robe lifting on his broad shoulders, the headscarf moving slightly so it showed his face in profile, a stern profile with that long straight nose and determined chin. The lips should have softened it, but they were set in a straight line—not thinned exactly, but straight enough to make Liz wonder if he was far too used to getting his own way.
    She smiled at the thought and he caught the smile, raising his eyebrows but actually allowing the line of his lips to relax.
    ‘Do you always get your own way?’ he asked, echoing her thoughts so neatly she felt the blood rising to her cheeks once again.
    What was wrong with her? This blushing business was totally out of character, and she doubted she could blame it on hormones. After all, she’d got through thirty-plus weeks of pregnancy without blushing when a man teased her…
    Not that many men had teased her.
    Fortunately Khalifa’s pager went off with a soft beep and he departed, leaving Laya to wheel the crib into the corner and Liz to collect herself.
    ‘Did you know him before? When you were studying perhaps?’ Laya asked, as Liz checked the monitor leads were still attached and the baby seemed comfortable.
    ‘The baby?’ Liz joked, although she knew exactly what ‘him’ Laya had meant.
    ‘No, His Highness,’ Laya explained, while Liz wished the nurse would stop calling him that. The words made her, Liz,