Kitabı oxu: «The Pregnant Surgeon»

The Pregnant Surgeon
Jennifer Taylor

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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CONTENTS

Cover

Dear Reader

Title Page

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

IT WAS her forty-second birthday today.

As she got out of her car, Joanna Martin felt suddenly depressed by the thought. It was odd because birthdays had never worried her before. With each year that had passed she had gained greater professional standing and that was all that had mattered to her. Even in these enlightened times there was still a great deal of opposition to women becoming surgeons. She’d had to work twice as hard as any man to achieve her goal, and she’d had to sacrifice an awful lot along the way.

Joanna frowned as she strode towards the hospital’s main entrance. She had never considered her decision to focus on her career as a sacrifice before and it surprised her that the thought should have crossed her mind at this stage. Her recent promotion to head of surgery at St Leonard’s Hospital in central London should have been all the proof she needed that she’d made the right decision. So maybe she’d had to forfeit any kind of a personal life but surely it had been worth it? She only had to recall the statistics to know how few women ever reached her level. Surgery was notoriously chauvinistic and very few women possessed the drive to make their way to the top.

She had done so, though, and she should be celebrating her achievements rather than feeling depressed by the thought of what she had given up along the way. Any woman could have a home and a family if that was what she wanted but not many had the kind of fulfilling career she enjoyed.

The thought was heartening and Joanna felt much better as she made her way along the maze of corridors to the lift. St Leonard’s was one of the city’s oldest hospitals and an absolute warren of rooms and passageways. Although there were signs posted at various strategic points, many people got lost on their way to the surgical department.

Joanna checked her watch as she got into the lift, wondering if she should ask her secretary to phone Reception and request that someone should show Dr Archer the way when he arrived. She had a full list that morning and the last thing she needed was her new senior registrar getting lost en route. It wouldn’t be the first time it had happened although, to be fair, Dylan Archer hadn’t struck her as someone who would need help finding his way. He’d seemed far too confident for that.

A shiver raced down Joanna’s spine and she paused before opening the door to her office, wondering why she experienced this odd tingling sensation whenever she thought about the new registrar. She’d become aware of it at Dr Archer’s interview but had put it down to the fact that she’d been anxious that they should appoint the right candidate to the post. St Leonard’s had gone through a bad period a year or so ago when bad management, combined with a lack of funding, had taken its toll. However, the surgical team had been gradually rebuilding its reputation under her leadership and she’d been determined that her hard work wouldn’t be ruined by appointing the wrong person to the post.

It had seemed a logical explanation at the time and she’d thought no more about it until it had happened again when she had spoken to Dr Archer on the telephone the previous day. The minute she’d heard his deep voice coming over the line she’d experienced that same fluttering of her nerves, the same tightness in her stomach. She’d been so surprised that it had been difficult to concentrate as she’d explained to Dr Archer that she would be monitoring his work for the first week or so. It had been a relief when her beeper had gone off and she’d been able to excuse herself but she couldn’t deny that it was worrying that she had found it happening again that day.

What was it about Dr Dylan Archer that disturbed her so much?

Joanna’s mobile mouth thinned when she realised how foolish it was to waste time worrying about something so trivial. Opening the office door, she briskly greeted her secretary. ‘Good morning, Lisa.’

‘Morning, Ms Martin. The post is on your desk and Professor Humphrey’s phoned to remind you about the dinner tonight.’ Lisa handed her a yellow message slip. ‘He said to tell you that twenty minutes should be long enough for your talk.’

‘Right, that’s fine.’ Joanna barely glanced at the message as she headed towards her room, not needing any reminders about the coming evening. She had been asked to give a speech at the Royal College of Surgeons Annual dinner that night and had spent hours working on her script. It was an honour to be asked to speak at such a prestigious event but she wasn’t nervous about it. She was extremely good at her job and she knew it—that gave her all the confidence she needed.

Thinking about confidence reminded her of Dr Archer and she paused, trying to quell that irritating little flutter which had started up once more. ‘Before I forget, Lisa, can you phone Reception and ask them to keep an eye open for Dr Archer? I have a very full list this morning and I don’t want him getting lost when he’s supposed to be assisting me. Perhaps one of the reception staff could fetch him up here?’

‘Oh, he’s already here, Ms Martin! He arrived about half an hour ago, in fact.’ Lisa grimaced. ‘Sorry. I should have told you that before, shouldn’t I?’

‘Yes, you should,’ Joanna agreed, stifling a sigh. Lisa had been working for her for little more than a month and still tended to be rather scatterbrained at times. However, she was a hard worker so Joanna was prepared to allow her some leeway while she settled in. ‘Anyway, you’ve told me now so it isn’t a problem. Can you make some coffee, please, and bring it through to my room? Then you can print out this morning’s list so I can run through it with Dr Archer before we go down to Theatre.’

‘Oh, but he’s already there—in Theatre, I mean. He asked me to tell you that’s where he’d be if you wanted him.’

‘In Theatre? What do you mean that he’s in Theatre?’ It was impossible to hide her annoyance and Joanna saw the young secretary look anxiously at her.

‘A and E phoned to ask you to see a patient who’d been brought in. Dylan…I mean, Dr Archer was here at the time and he offered to go instead because you hadn’t arrived.’ Lisa sounded flustered as she tried to explain what had happened. ‘Evidently, the man needed surgery urgently so Dr Archer took him to Theatre.’

‘I see. Thank you, Lisa. In that case you may as well forget the coffee for now. I’ll go down to Theatre and see if Dr Archer needs a hand.’

Joanna summoned a smile before she went into her office but she couldn’t deny that she was furiously angry. The fact that Dr Archer had taken it upon himself to operate after she had expressly told him that she wanted to monitor his work was bad enough. However, hearing her secretary refer to the registrar by his first name just seemed to make matters worse, though she couldn’t understand why it should have annoyed her so much.

Although she preferred the junior staff to address her as Ms Martin, what business was it of hers if Dr Archer liked to be known by his first name? A lot of surgeons had dispensed with formality and Dylan Archer was obviously one of them. Nevertheless, Joanna couldn’t help feeling irritated by the thought that her new registrar had made his presence felt so quickly. He’d been in the hospital for less than an hour and already her secretary was calling him Dylan and passing on messages for him!

Joanna’s grey eyes darkened as she clipped her beeper to the waistband of her tailored black skirt. She wasn’t used to her staff deliberately flouting her orders and wasn’t prepared to put up with it from the newest member of her team. Smoothing the collar of her white silk blouse over the lapels of her suit jacket, she left her office and made her way to the stairs. The theatres were on the floor below and it wasn’t worth waiting for the lift. The sooner she made it clear to Dr Archer that she expected him to toe the line the happier everyone would be.

Elective surgery had already started that day but Joanna bypassed Theatres one and two where members of her team were hard at work. She was confident that she could leave them to deal with their patients because she had spent hours supervising their training. It was the surgeon who was operating in Theatre three she needed to check on. Although Dr Archer’s references had been excellent, she wanted to see for herself if he really was as good as his previous employers had claimed. It was an unwritten rule that everyone who joined her department should undergo a period of supervision, but Dr Archer obviously considered himself to be above that. However, there was no way that Joanna was prepared to compromise for anyone.

Just for a moment she found herself wondering if she might be overreacting before she dismissed the thought. This had nothing whatsoever to do with her personal feelings towards Dylan Archer. She hardly knew the man so how could she have any feelings about him of a personal nature? No, this was a strictly professional matter and she would make sure that he understood that.

She strode into the changing room and stripped off her suit jacket. She would scrub up and observe Dr Archer while he worked. And if there was the slightest doubt in her mind that he wasn’t equal to the job, she would terminate his contract immediately.

‘It’s a real mess in here. The sooner we get this spleen out, the happier I’ll be.’ Dylan nodded his thanks as Lucy Porter, the sister in charge of Theatre three that day, swabbed away the blood that was leaking from the damaged organ.

The patient was a young man in his twenties who had been found unconscious in the street. He’d been beaten up and probably robbed as well because he’d had no money or any means of identification on him when he’d been found. The police were currently trying to find out who he was but the patient’s identity was the least of Dylan’s problems. His main concern was to make sure the young man didn’t die from his injuries, and it was going to be a very close call from the look of him.

He deftly began clamping and severing the blood vessels leading to and from the spleen in readiness to removing it. The organ was badly damaged and it was difficult to see what he was doing because of the amount of blood. Lucy swabbed once more and once again Dylan nodded his thanks.

He’d been impressed by the whole team’s professionalism from the minute they had entered Theatre. There had been none of the usual awkwardness that often arose when working with a new group of people. Everyone knew what he or she should be doing and got on with it, although he really wouldn’t have expected anything else. He couldn’t imagine Joanna Martin settling for second best where work was concerned.

Dylan’s heart squeezed in an extra beat as an image of the beautiful head of surgery sprang to mind and he cursed under his breath. He wished it wouldn’t keep doing that! The last time he’d reacted this way had been in his teens when he’d had a crush on his chemistry teacher. Every time the woman had entered the classroom, his heart had run riot. Maybe there’d been an excuse for such pathetic behaviour at seventeen but he was thirty-five years of age and he should be well past that stage by now, yet he couldn’t seem to stop it happening. Every time he thought about Joanna Martin—and he seemed to think about her rather a lot—then wham, bang and his heart set off again. It was extremely worrying because the last thing he’d anticipated when he’d applied for this job had been that he would develop a crush on his boss!

Dylan’s green eyes were wry as he applied himself to the task at hand. Fortunately, he’d performed this same operation a number of times before so there was little danger of him making a hash of it by letting his mind wander for the odd moment. He deftly clamped and snipped until he was ready to remove the organ, quickly depositing it in the dish Lucy offered him.

‘Thanks.’ Bending over the table again, he rinsed out the cavity then checked for any further soft tissue damage. He heard the soft whoosh as the doors into Theatre opened but didn’t look up. He wanted to be absolutely sure that everything was fine before he started to close up…

The skin on the back of Dylan’s neck suddenly began to prickle and his hands stilled. He knew that someone was standing behind him and had to fight the urge to turn round because he also knew who he would see. His heart suddenly seemed to fit in three beats where one would have been ample and he groaned in dismay. Hell and damnation! Surely he wasn’t about to go to pieces because Joanna Martin was standing behind him and watching what he was doing with those sexy grey eyes?

‘Is there a problem, Dr Archer?’

Her voice was as just cool as her expression had been throughout his interview so Dylan couldn’t blame that for the rush of heat which invaded his body. He couldn’t even blame her for the fact that she’d felt it necessary to check up on him even though it rankled just a little. In her shoes, he probably would have done the same thing—made sure the newcomer was up to the job. No, he only had himself to blame for the way he felt at that moment and he was willing, if not exactly eager, to admit it.

Joanna Martin had affected him in the strangest of ways from the moment he’d seen her in the interview room. She’d been wearing a tailored grey suit that day and as he had shaken her hand, he’d realised that the colour had exactly matched the colour of her eyes. It had been such a crazily irrelevant thought in the circumstances that it had been difficult to concentrate while the rest of the panel had introduced themselves. His gaze had kept returning to the woman sitting in the middle of the group as he’d taken stock of all sorts of other inconsequential details, like how velvety-soft her skin had looked and how her honey-blonde hair had seemed to shimmer as though sprinkled with stardust when it had caught the light from the chandelier…

‘Dr Archer?’

Dylan exhaled sharply when Joanna Martin tersely reminded him that she was waiting for an answer. He saw Lucy glance at him curiously and felt a wash of colour run up his face. Fortunately the mask spared him from the embarrassment of having everyone notice his reaction, but he knew what had happened and it worried him. A lot. Making a fool of himself for any reason wasn’t something he was in the habit of doing.

‘Everything is fine, Ms Martin. Thank you.’

His tone was just as cool as Joanna’s had been and he relaxed when he realised he had himself under control once more. He carried on with what he’d been doing—carefully checking that each of the blood vessels he’d needed to sever was firmly tied off. Even though the procedure wasn’t a difficult one, he prided himself on always doing a good job and today it seemed more important than ever that he should be on his mettle when Joanna Martin was watching. He didn’t intend to give her an opportunity to find fault with his work.

Now where had that idea sprung from?

Dylan had no idea why the thought should have popped into his head but all of a sudden he knew as surely as God made little green apples that Joanna Martin wanted to find fault with him. A frown crossed his handsome face as he deftly closed the incision in the patient’s upper left abdomen because it didn’t make sense.

‘I see you decided to use a horizontal incision rather than a vertical one to remove the spleen, Dr Archer. What reason did you have for making that choice?’

Dylan’s hands didn’t falter even if his heart did when Joanna shot the question at him. Whereas before it had fitted in an extra beat now it seemed to have missed a couple. He gritted his teeth as he tried to control his annoyance at having his expertise called into question. If Ms Martin had any doubts about his capabilities she should have voiced them at his interview. That way he could have saved them both a great deal of inconvenience by not accepting the job as her registrar.

‘Experience.’

His tone was clipped as he bit out the answer and he saw Lucy look at him again although there was a hint of sympathy in her eyes this time. Did Joanna Martin make a habit of interrogating her staff like this, perhaps? he wondered. Maybe she was some kind of a control freak and hadn’t singled him out for special treatment but always behaved this way with a new member of the team?

The thought should have been reassuring but for some reason Dylan found it depressing to realise that Joanna might be treating him the same as everyone else. Even though he resented her interference he preferred to think that she viewed him as more than just one of the crowd.

The sheer stupidity of that thought made him laugh out loud and he had to hastily turn it into a cough because he really didn’t want to have to explain what was so amusing. He finished closing up then glanced at Tom Barnes, the anaesthetist, relieved that the operation was over. Never had such a routine piece of surgery turned out to be so stressful.

‘That’s it, then. How’s he doing?’

‘Better than when he came in,’ Tom replied laconically. He was a positive giant of a man with a mop of blond hair crammed under his Theatre hat. He’d been in the changing room when Dylan had arrived and had introduced himself, which had been a good job because otherwise Dylan would never have believed he was a bona fide medico.

Dressed in combat trousers and a tatty T-shirt bearing a surfing motif across its front, Tom hadn’t looked like anyone’s idea of a doctor. However, the minute they had stepped into Theatre Dylan had realised that Tom knew exactly what he was doing, which was probably why Joanna accepted him as part of her team. She was prepared to overlook Tom’s appalling dress sense if it meant she had the calibre of staff she wanted working for her.

For some reason that thought didn’t gel with the image he’d been building up of Joanna Martin. As Dylan thanked the staff and left Theatre, he found himself wondering about a woman who dressed as conservatively as Joanna did and yet who was prepared to overlook such obvious quirks in those who worked for her. It simply didn’t add up to someone who needed to be in control all the time and that naturally made him wonder why she’d been so keen to check up on him…

Unless she had been as eager to see him as he’d been to see her, of course. He could lie to himself until the grass turned blue but the reason why he’d arrived for work so early that morning had been because he had been longing to see Joanna again.

Dylan groaned as he dragged off his Theatre hat and raked an impatient hand through his black hair. He had to stop this nonsense before he made a complete ass of himself. He’d spoken to Joanna Martin for what? An hour, maybe a little more if he counted that conversation they’d had on the phone yesterday. And yet he was behaving as though—as though they were on the brink of having an affair!

Joanna Martin was his boss. Period. He had to get that fact into his head once and for all. However, when the door opened and he saw her coming out of Theatre he knew it wasn’t going to be easy to think of her purely as that.

His vision suddenly blurred so that it seemed as though the room was lit by the glow of a million stars rather than by the glare from a neon striplight. Maybe it was crazy, and maybe he was crazy for thinking it, but he knew in his heart that the woman standing in front of him was going to mean a lot more to him than just someone he worked with. He might not like the idea and was sure that Joanna would hate it if she had any inkling of what he was thinking, but there was no way he could pretend about something so important.

Joanna Martin was the woman he was destined to fall in love with.

CHAPTER TWO

‘I THINK we need to have a word, Dr Archer. If you would come to my office….’

‘I’m sorry.’

Joanna jumped when Dylan interrupted her. He smiled but his green eyes were full of something which made her skin suddenly start to prickle. Why was he looking at her as though he’d never really seen her before? She had no idea but it was hard to hide her alarm when he continued.

‘Obviously I’ve upset you and I apologise. It’s the last thing I wanted to happen on my first day.’

Joanna cleared her throat, praying that he couldn’t tell how off balance she felt. She wasn’t sure what was going on but something was definitely wrong. Just for a second she found herself wondering if it was the fact that Dylan Archer was such a handsome man that had upset her equilibrium before she dismissed the idea. Dr Archer was a member of her staff, not a would-be suitor, and his looks had no bearing whatsoever on the situation.

‘I am not upset, Dr Archer, I assure you,’ she said firmly. ‘However, it’s obvious there are a few points we need to discuss—’

‘Like me waltzing off to Theatre with a patient before you could check me out?’

Once again he cut in before she could finish and Joanna’s mouth thinned. She’d spent too many years fighting her corner whilst various male colleagues had tried to talk above her to let a new junior colleague get away with such tactics.

‘Perhaps you will do me the courtesy of letting me finish what I’m saying before you interrupt me again,’ she suggested coldly, then broke off when Tom and Lucy came out of Theatre, pushing the patient on a trolley. She saw them glance at her and Dylan before they hurriedly carried on to the recovery bay, but it was obvious even from that brief look that they’d sensed that something was going on. A little colour touched Joanna’s cheeks when it struck her once again that she might be making too big an issue out of this situation but she had to sort it out to her own satisfaction. She was in charge of this department and she wouldn’t rest until she was sure that Dylan Archer understood that.

She turned to him again, struggling to keep her tone as neutral as possible. ‘I’ll see you in my office as soon as you’ve changed, Dr Archer.’

He didn’t say anything this time although whether it was because he had decided to heed her advice, she wasn’t sure. Joanna hurried to the women’s changing room and quickly showered then dressed again. She checked her watch as she opened the door and sighed when she saw that she was already way behind schedule. She’d hoped to get an early start on the day’s list but it would have to wait until she’d cleared up this misunderstanding. From what she had seen so far, Dr Archer appeared to be perfectly competent at his job, but she needed to be sure that he wasn’t going to disrupt the workings of the whole team.

Joanna went back to her office and told Lisa to send Dr Archer in as soon as he arrived. She sat down at her desk, wanting to look suitably composed when he appeared. She frowned because she’d never had any difficulty taking charge of her staff before so why did it seem so important all of a sudden that she make the right impression?

She got up again and went to the mirror, tucking a loose strand of honey-gold hair into the heavy coil at the nape of her neck then running a finger over her eyebrows to smooth the tiny golden hairs into place. She never wore make-up when she would be operating and with her fair complexion tended to look rather washed-out in consequence. Maybe a holiday in the sun this year would give her a bit of much-needed colour?

‘Lisa said to come straight in. I hope that’s all right?’

Joanna swung round at the sound of that familiar, deep voice. She was a little embarrassed at being caught staring into the mirror but less so than she might have been if she hadn’t had a more pressing concern to deal with. Bearing in mind that she’d spoken to Dylan Archer no more than half a dozen times to date, how had the timbre of his voice managed to imprint itself so clearly on her memory?

Frankly, Joanna had no idea how to explain such a strange phenomenon so decided to ignore it and concentrate instead on the reason why she’d asked Dr Archer to come to her office. She sat down behind her desk once more and waved him towards a chair.

‘Please, sit down, Dr Archer. I shall be brief because we have a lot to get through today. I would have preferred it if you had waited until I’d arrived before you operated on that patient. As I explained to you yesterday on the phone, every new member of this team goes through a period of supervision. That rule applies to everyone who works here and there are no exceptions.’

‘Then I can only apologise once again, Ms Martin. I assure you that I wasn’t trying to flout your rules even though it may have appeared that way.’

His tone was nothing less than polite so Joanna had no idea why it should have set her teeth on edge. It was an effort not to snap back with some sharp retort but she knew it would be a mistake to do that. She had to remain in control at all times when dealing with Dylan Archer. Something told her it was the only way to handle the situation.

‘I accept your apology, Dr Archer. Now that you’ve assured me it won’t happen again we’ll let the matter drop.’

‘I’m sorry but I’m afraid I can’t give you any such assurance, Ms Martin.’

Once again his tone was faultlessly polite. However, Joanna had heard the steely note it held and her brows rose steeply. ‘I beg your pardon?’

‘If we are to avoid any future misunderstandings I think it’s only fair that I make my position clear, Ms Martin. Given the same set of circumstances, I would follow exactly the same course of action.’

His voice was even softer this time, soft and oddly dangerous-sounding. Joanna shivered when she heard the warning note it held. It was an effort to reply when she could feel the tremors working their way through her body.

‘Would you care to elaborate, Dr Archer?’

‘Certainly. If I had waited for you to arrive to supervise me then the patient could have died. I made my decision to go ahead and operate based on the experience I’ve gained over the last few years, and I believe it was the right decision, too.’ He shrugged, his broad shoulders rising and falling beneath his suit jacket. ‘Rules are all well and good, Ms Martin, but I will never endanger a patient’s life by blindly sticking to them. I’m a qualified surgeon, not a student, and I hope that you will pay me the courtesy of remembering that.’

Joanna was completely floored and had no idea what to say. She knew she would be within her rights to reprimand him for speaking to her like that, but she was also aware that she’d handled the situation very badly. Dylan Archer was a highly skilled surgeon, which was the reason she’d been so keen to have him on her team, and if she’d been in his shoes, most probably she would have done the same thing. The patient could have died if the operation had been delayed so how could she honestly object to what he’d done? Why should she even want to when the outcome had been so satisfactory?

Her breath caught because there was another question that needed answering, one which was suddenly more important than all the rest: was she really acting out of professional concern or because of the way Dylan Archer made her feel as a woman rather than a surgeon?

Dylan forced himself to appear relaxed but it wasn’t easy. He was used to making decisions and not having them questioned, yet Joanna Martin seemed set on treating him like the new kid on the block! He couldn’t help wondering if he’d made a mistake by accepting the job at St Leonard’s. He’d been happy enough in his last post, but he’d needed to broaden his experience, which was why he had applied for the job.

It was a well-known fact that Joanna Martin had worked wonders since she’d been appointed as head of surgery at St Leonard’s and Dylan had honestly believed he could learn a lot from working with her. However, he was rapidly having second thoughts. His life was going to be hell if she continually took him to task over everything he did.

Maybe she got a kick out of throwing her weight around, he mused, before he dismissed the idea. Quite frankly, she didn’t look any happier than he felt as she sat there behind her desk, her beautiful face set and her eyes so dark that he could see his own reflection in them.

Dylan’s stomach muscles suddenly knotted at the sheer intimacy of that thought and he sucked in a calming lungful of air, wishing that he’d thought everything through properly before he’d come charging up to her office. With the benefit of hindsight he could see now that he’d needed more time to get himself together before he had faced Joanna after that earlier revelation. Frankly, it was no wonder that everything was going pear-shaped. How, in the name of heaven, could he have known that he’d met the woman he was destined to fall in love with?

Frankly, it defied all logic, or at least the bit of logic he could still dredge up. All he could do now was to try and salvage something from this mess.

‘I’m sorry. I was way out of order for saying that, Ms Martin. I understand that you have a duty to the patients in this hospital and need to ensure that everyone receives the best possible care.’

‘I do, but equally I’m one of the people who interviewed you for this post, Dr Archer. If I’d had any concerns about your suitability I should have raised them then.’

She shrugged and Dylan felt a wave of tenderness wash over him when he saw how confused she looked. He wanted to reach across the desk and squeeze her hand, reassure her that he wasn’t offended—well, not now that she’d apologised, anyway—only he sensed it would be a mistake to do that. Joanna would just retreat back into her shell and then he’d have an even harder job eliciting a response from her.

Heat flashed through him when it struck him that the response he wanted from her wasn’t solely a professional one. Maybe he did want her to treat him as the skilled surgeon he knew himself to be, but it wasn’t his only attribute, as he would be happy to make clear. It was a relief when Joanna suddenly stood up because it effectively put an end to such crazy thoughts.

‘I think it’s time we got down to some work, don’t you? We have a full list this morning, mainly minor elective surgery, although there is one case which you should find interesting.’

She headed for the door then glanced back when he followed her. Dylan felt his heart lift when she suddenly smiled at him. ‘It should definitely give you a chance to show off your skills.’

‘Sounds intriguing.’

He followed her out of the room, trying to control the thundering of his heart as they walked to the stairs together. Just because Joanna had smiled at him, it wasn’t any reason to get too excited, he admonished himself, but sadly the advice seemed to fall on deaf ears. It was difficult to concentrate as she outlined the case for his benefit but he didn’t intend to give her any reason to fault his work. He was good at what he did and he was going to prove it to her and the rest of the team!

‘The patient’s name is Ada Harper and she is one hundred years old. She’s remarkably fit for her age which is the reason why we have agreed to operate on her. According to our colleagues in the cardiovascular department, Ada has the heart and lungs of a fifty-year-old.’

‘Amazing!’ Dylan laughed as he pushed open the swing doors so that Joanna could pass through them ahead of him. He inhaled deeply when he caught the fragrance of her perfume as she passed him. His whole body began to tingle before he ruthlessly forced his mind back to work, but it was alarming to realise just how responsive he was to this woman. He’d had more than his share of girlfriends over the years but he couldn’t recall a single one of them having the effect on him that Joanna seemed to have.

‘Amazing is the right word.’ Joanna waited for him to catch up before continuing. ‘Ada is a wonderful old lady, full of fun and brimming with energy. She would put many people half her age to shame, in fact. Unfortunately, she has a hiatus hernia which has been making her life a misery of late. The muscle at the junction between the oesophagus and the stomach has been badly affected and she’s been suffering from severe reflux of the stomach’s contents.’

‘Nasty,’ Dylan observed sympathetically. ‘Has it just caused severe heartburn or has there been oesophagitis as well?’

‘The oesophagus has been badly inflamed for some time, plus there are increasing periods when Ada can’t eat at all because the muscles have gone into spasm,’ Joanna explained. ‘Her GP tried all the usual remedies—a bland diet, eating several small meals each day instead of large ones—but the situation has got steadily worse. The GP referred Ada to a specialist at her local hospital and he agreed that the best treatment would be an operation to repair the hiatus hernia, but he refused to put her on his list, which is why she has ended up here.’

‘That’s rather unusual, isn’t it?’ he queried. ‘If her local hospital refused to operate why did you agree to treat her?’

‘Because one of the things I feel most strongly about is that age shouldn’t prevent a person from receiving treatment. Ada is remarkably healthy apart from this problem and it isn’t fair that her quality of life should be ruined because she’s considered too old by some surgeons to undergo an operation.’

‘I agree. It’s one of the things that really angers me, too. If a person will benefit from surgery then it should be available to them.’ He sighed because he’d had an uphill struggle in his last post, putting across that view. ‘I’m afraid it usually comes down to economics. Many surgeons refuse to, quote, “waste good money operating on someone who won’t live long enough to appreciate it”.’

‘Exactly! It’s an attitude I abhor. Every case should be decided on its own merits and age should never be the deciding factor,’ she agreed, smiling at him.

‘Seems we’re in accord on that, at least,’ he said softly, his heart going into raptures when he saw the approval in her beautiful grey eyes.

‘So it appears.’ She briskly turned and hurried towards the female changing room but not before Dylan had seen the wash of soft rose colour that had tinted her cheeks. ‘I’ll see you in Theatre, Dr Archer,’ she told him, without looking back.

‘Of course.’

Dylan took a deep breath as the changing-room door shut behind her then let it out very, very slowly. It didn’t help but, then, he hadn’t honestly expected that it would. It would take more than a deep breath to cure this affliction.

He went into the men’s changing room and stripped off his clothes then slid on a cotton scrub suit. The cotton felt cool against his skin, cool and soft, and he groaned because it made him think about Joanna and how her skin would feel. It would be cool and soft as well but, unlike the cotton, it would also be velvety smooth.

How he longed to touch her, ached to let his fingers explore her body, and the sheer depth of his desire shocked him because it was way out of proportion to the stage they were at in their relationship. They were two new—very new—colleagues, finding their feet as they worked together, and yet here he was lusting after her like a lover! What the hell was wrong with him? Was he having some kind of a mid-life crisis? Was it possible to have one at his age or did age make absolutely no difference in this situation as it shouldn’t in so many others? He wanted Joanna Martin. He wanted her more than he’d believed it possible to want a woman, and it would have made no difference if he’d been ninety-five instead of thirty-five because he’d still have felt the same!

There, he’d admitted it, and it didn’t make him feel any better. In fact, it made him feel like a total idiot. Joanna wasn’t the least bit interested in him. He’d bet his last pound that she wasn’t standing in the other changing room, lusting after him.

The thought brought him down to earth with a thump. Maybe he did want Joanna but he wouldn’t do himself any favours by letting her know that.

Joanna slid her feet into a pair of backless Theatre clogs then went through to the scrub room. They were using Theatre three again and Lucy Porter was already in there, getting scrubbed up. She grinned when Joanna appeared.

‘Hi! I was beginning to wonder what had happened to you. Problems with the new guy, by any chance? I had a feeling earlier that things might be getting a little tense between you two.’

‘No, everything’s fine. I just needed a word with Dr Archer, that’s all. I’m sorry to have kept you waiting.’

Joanna went to the sink and quickly turned on the taps. Scooping a handful of antiseptic soap from the dispenser, she started lathering her arms. She felt rather uncomfortable about being asked a question like that. Normally, Lucy just wished her good day then carried on with what she was doing. She couldn’t recall the theatre sister passing a remark of a personal nature before and found herself wondering what had caused her to do so that day.

‘No problem,’ Lucy replied cheerfully, breaking open a sterile towel to dry her hands. ‘It gave us time to have a cuppa before we set to again. With Dylan bringing up that emergency, we didn’t get much chance to ease into the day. Poor old Tom looked very peaky from having to forgo his morning infusion of caffeine!’

‘Then it all worked out for the best, didn’t it?’ Joanna replied rather lamely.

She took a nailbrush off the shelf and set to work with gusto, wondering why she was so uncomfortable about making conversation. She’d worked with Lucy for several years now yet this was the most they’d ever said to one another. Their previous conversations had been confined to work but, then, most conversations she had nowadays were work-related. When was the last time she’d exchanged a bit of idle gossip with anyone? It was faintly alarming to realise that she couldn’t remember.

‘Aha, so you’ve drawn the short straw and got the new guy again, Lucy.’ Dylan came into the scrub room and Joanna swung round when she heard his voice. Just for a moment her gaze rested on his powerful frame before she hurriedly resumed what she’d been doing, but it was already too late because the sight of him had imprinted itself in her mind by then. The gushing water and frothing soap-suds suddenly blurred as his image swam before her eyes, and she gulped. That scrub suit had clung to every powerful line of his body, highlighting muscles that looked far too fit for someone who spent his working life bent over an operating table!

The picture sharpened and she had to draw in a ragged breath when a wave of dizziness assailed her. Were Dylan’s legs really that long or was it just a trick of her imagination? And his shoulders—could they possibly be that broad without the benefit of padding? She knew she shouldn’t look at him again but the urge to satisfy her curiosity was too strong to resist.

She glanced round, deliberately letting her gaze rest on his broad back because it seemed vital that she should answer those questions. He was reading through the patient’s notes so she had ample time to take stock without him noticing and didn’t waste a second as she began mentally listing his attributes. Well-shaped head, strong neck, broad shoulders, neat waist…

Her gaze suddenly came to his bottom and to her dismay refused to move on. She tried to make her eyes obey her but to no avail. Joanna bit her lip. There was something decidedly sinful about the idea of standing there, ogling Dylan Archer’s taut derrière so perfectly displayed by the thin scrub-suit trousers.

He suddenly looked round and Joanna flushed when he caught her staring at him. A slow grin spread across his face and she had to bite back her groan of dismay. She had never felt so embarrassed in her life and there was absolutely nothing she could do to salvage her pride.

‘Don’t worry, Joanna. I know exactly what you’re thinking.’

‘You do?’ she squeaked, her vocal cords knotting in mortification.

‘Yes. And I promise you that I’m going to stick strictly to the rules from now on.’ He waggled the folder of notes at her. ‘I understand that you need to supervise me and it isn’t a problem. Really. I can tell you’re worried about how I’ll react but there’s no need.’

He suddenly frowned, his black brows drawing together over those gorgeous emerald green eyes. ‘That is what’s bothering you? You’re worried that I’ll take offence but I promise you that I don’t mind if you spend the day peering over my shoulder.’

Maybe he didn’t mind but she did!

All of a sudden Joanna knew that the last thing she needed was to spend the day monitoring what Dylan was doing. She could just imagine how stressful it would be to have to stand behind him in Theatre, staring at…

‘No!’ She cut off that train of thought because she didn’t dare let it reach its natural conclusion. She had to stop thinking about Dylan’s bottom!

‘No?’

‘No.’ She heard the bewilderment in his voice and hurried on. She couldn’t afford to let this situation get out of hand. She had to remember that she was forty-two years old and that getting involved with a junior colleague would be professional suicide. Maybe men could bend the rules to suit themselves but she couldn’t take such a risk. She refused to let herself become the butt of a lot of puerile jokes and damaging gossip.

‘I won’t be monitoring your work, Dr Archer, because there is no need. I saw enough this morning to know that you are more than capable of working on your own.’

She elbowed the taps off and took the towel Lucy offered her, deliberately ignoring the shock on the other woman’s face. Maybe it was unheard of her to compromise but sometimes a situation demanded a more flexible approach. Tossing the towel into the basket, she slid her hands into the latex gloves that Lucy offered her before glancing at Dylan again.

‘We shall split the list between us. I’ll be working in Theatre two if you need me.’

She briskly headed for the door and didn’t pause when Dylan said softly behind her, ‘Thank you.’

Joanna didn’t reply because she didn’t want to make an issue out of her decision. She went straight to Theatre two and informed the staff that she would be operating in there that morning while Dr Archer, the new senior registrar, was working in Theatre three. The announcement caused a bit of a stir but she told herself that it was because they hadn’t been expecting her and had nothing to do with the fact that she had seen fit to bend the rules for a newcomer.

Fortunately, everyone soon settled down and within a few minutes her first patient was being wheeled in. Joanna had a brief word with the young woman who’d been admitted for surgery on her hand. She was suffering from Dupuytren’s contracture—a condition whereby tissues beneath the palm of the hand thickened and shortened, causing difficulty in straightening the fingers. Joanna planned to cut and separate the bands of tissue to free the woman’s fingers. It was an operation she had performed before successfully so she assured the patient that everything would be fine then moved aside while the anaesthetist got on with his job.

It was a scene she’d witnessed too many times to count but all of a sudden it felt as though she was seeing it afresh. Her vision seemed sharper than it had been before, her hearing more acute, and she couldn’t understand what had changed until it struck her that it was Dylan Archer’s arrival which had made the difference. The scene she was witnessing seemed far more vivid than normal because of his presence, and the realisation scared her.

Her life had been going according to plan and she didn’t want anything to change, but she might not be able to stop it. Dylan Archer’s advent into her life had added a new dimension to the equation and, whether she liked the idea or not, she might not be able to get things back to how they had been before.