Читать книгу Falling for her Mediterranean Boss - Anne Fraser, Anne Fraser - Страница 7

CHAPTER TWO

‘WHERE to?’ Julie asked Caroline as she eased the car into the traffic. Although it was late, the city centre was busy with late-night partygoers, many of whom had come to investigate what was going on. Caroline named a street that made Julie gasp. It was commonly known as Millionaires’ Row by the locals.

‘Is that where your parents live?’ Julie glanced at Caroline and there was just enough light from the streetlamps for Julie to catch the wave of grief that crossed the girl’s features.

‘My parents are dead,’ Caroline said flatly. ‘They died in an accident.’

Julie slid a hand across and briefly grasped the girl’s cold fingers in hers.

‘I am so sorry,’ she said. ‘I know what that feels like. I lost my mother a couple of years ago and my father a few months after.’ She still missed them both terribly. ‘When did it happen?’ she asked gently.

‘Just after Christmas,’ Caroline said softly.

Only a few weeks ago, then. Julie knew how raw her grief would still be.

‘Do you have brothers or sisters?’

‘I’m an only child,’ Caroline responded.

Just like me, then, Julie thought, already feeling herself drawn to the young woman. It seemed they had a lot in common.

‘It’s why Uncle Pierre has come to stay,’ Caroline continued after a pause. ‘He lives in France. He’s French, like my father is…was.’ Her breath was ragged as she corrected herself. ‘I told Pierre I was old enough to live by myself, but he wouldn’t have it. Said it was impossible.’ She pouted. ‘He hardly knows me and now he is here bossing me about—interfering in my life.’

‘But no one should be alone after such a terrible loss. I’m sure he just wants to help.’

‘He never bothered with us before. Dad was always asking him to come and visit, but he was always too busy. Eventually my parents went to visit him. And now they’re dead. If they hadn’t gone—if he had come to see them instead like he should have—they’d still be all right. He is so unbelievably selfish.’

Julie was taken aback by the anger in Caroline’s voice. But then she remembered how after her accident, when she’d felt she had been robbed of everything she’d thought mattered, she too had been angry, pushing away everyone, even her parents. And when a few years later her parents had died, she had thought she could never feel happy again. She too had been angry with the world at first. It had seemed so unfair.

‘How old are you?’

‘Seventeen. I’ll be eighteen in a couple of months.’

Julie was surprised. Made up as Caroline was, she could have easily passed for twenty—older even.

‘And you were out at the club by yourself?’

‘Pierre didn’t want me to go on my own. But he just doesn’t understand…’ She tailed off and looked out the window.

‘Go on,’ Julie prompted gently.

‘My friends would have come with me. They’re always asking me to go out with them. But even though they mean well, I get tired of their sympathy. They’re always asking how I am. Am I okay? How am I doing? But they just don’t get it—that all I want to do is forget. Just for a little while. Is that so awful?’

‘No,’ Julie said softly. ‘It’s not awful at all. Sometimes we all need to forget about stuff that hurts us.’

‘I slipped away when his back was turned.’ Caroline admitted. ‘I left him a note telling him where I was and not to worry about me. But he came after me anyway. So embarrassing to be treated like a kid.’

Julie hid a smile. She was having no difficulty imaging the friction between the two. In many ways Caroline reminded her of herself as a teenager.

‘But he was sort of right, wasn’t he? Look what occurred back there. You could have been hurt. I’m sure he would never have forgiven himself if anything happened to you.’ Julie shivered, remembering. ‘I was terrified. Weren’t you?’

‘When the worst thing possible has already happened to you, there’s not much that frightens you,’ Caroline said softly, rubbing her eyes with the heels of her hands, and Julie’s heart went out to her. ‘I’m sorry,’ she continued, regaining her composure. ‘I don’t usually go on like this. I think I must be more shaken than I thought. Anyway, I’m completely fine now, and that’s what matters. I would have taken a taxi home perfectly easily, so he’s fussing over nothing.’

Julie knew there was little point in pursuing the conversation. It was between Caroline and her uncle. The two women sat in silence for a few moments.

Caroline looked at Julie curiously.

‘What happened to your face?’ she said.

As usual, whenever someone reminded her of her scar, Julie’s hand went to her cheek. Sometimes, not often, she managed to forget.

‘Skiing accident,’ she said, ‘when I was about your age.’

‘You should ask Uncle Pierre to fix you,’ Caroline said, and this time Julie heard the note of pride that had crept into her voice.

Fix me? Julie thought. She didn’t think anyone could fix her.

‘He’s a famous surgeon in France, you know,’ Caroline added.

‘So I gather,’ Julie said dryly. ‘However, I’m used to my face the way it is.’

But as she said the words she knew she was lying. She hated the scar.

They pulled up outside the address Caroline had given her. The house was an impressive detached sandstone building with a driveway large enough to hold several cars. Caroline showed her how to operate the gate from a button on the keyring, the gates swung open and Julie drew up beside the front door.

Caroline eased herself out of the car.

‘Thank you for bringing me home,’ she said politely.

‘Will you be all right on your own?’ Julie asked, unsure what to do. Should she go in with the girl? Wait for Pierre to return home? ‘Would you like me to come in? I could wait with you until your uncle gets back.’

Caroline shook her head with a disdainful lift of her brow.

‘There is no need. Please, you did what you said you’d do. I’ll be perfectly fine.’ Then her features softened. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I don’t mean to be rude when you’ve been so kind. And I didn’t mean to offload on you like that. I think it was the fright.’

‘Hey, it’s okay,’ Julie said. ‘I understand. Are you sure you don’t want me to come in?’

Caroline shook her head again. ‘I’m going to go straight to bed.’ Julie knew she could hardly force her way into the house. So after a brief goodnight, and watching until Caroline was safely inside, she turned the car in the direction of the hospital. She was wide awake and knew sleep would be impossible, so she did what she always did when sleep eluded her—she went in search of work.

A and E was bustling with activity. A number of the clubgoers were being treated with minor injuries or for the effects of smoke inhalation. Julie found her friend Kim, one of the A and E nurses, gulping a cup of coffee at the nurses’ station.

‘Is there anything I can do to help?’ Julie asked.

‘Good grief, woman, do you tune into the police radio or what? How come you always seem to know when we have a rush on? Don’t you have a life?’ Kim stifled a yawn. She was always scolding Julie for working too hard, telling her she should get out more. Julie just ignored her friend’s good-natured cajoling. It was her life, not Kim’s, and she would live it the way she wanted to.

‘I was at the club,’ Julie said. ‘Yes, really. And dancing!’ She ignored her friend’s look of feigned astonishment. ‘I’m looking for one of the victims. The DJ. He was pretty badly burnt. Dr Favatier brought him in.’

‘Ah, the divine Dr Favatier,’ Kim sighed, rinsing her mug at the sink. ‘I’d heard about him from some of the other nurses—and they weren’t exaggerating. He is hot!’ She gave herself a little shake, then grinned at Julie. ‘But what am I thinking? And me a happily married woman and all.’ Her expression turned serious. ‘Your DJ—his name’s Tom Blackheath—is still in Resus. It’s been chaos in here the last few hours—since even before the fire. This is the first chance I’ve had to draw breath.’ She set her mug on the counter. ‘Let’s go find out how your injured DJ is.’

Tom was the only patient in the resuscitation room. There were several doctors and nurse working over him, Pierre included.

Tom had been sedated and ventilated and was still holding his own. Julie stood back from the gurney, not wanting to get in the way. She watched as Pierre checked the incisions and conferred with the A and E consultant. Eventually he noticed Julie. He seemed surprised to see her.

‘You managed to get Caroline safely home, then?’ he asked, turning peeling off his latex gloves and tossing them in the bin. When Julie nodded he continued.

‘Thank you, but you didn’t need to bring the car back here. I would have collected it tomorrow.’

Although it was after two in the morning and he was developing stubble, which only added to his dark good looks, he didn’t seem tired. Quite the opposite, in fact. He radiated energy and vitality that pulsated through the room. Immediately something clicked inside Julie. Despite his image, here was someone who felt the same way about the job as she did. It was where they belonged—where they felt most alive.

His dark hair had flopped across his forehead and for one heady moment Julie was tempted to reach across and push it away from his eyes. Horrified at the thoughts that were flitting through her mind, she forced the image out of her head. What was she doing? Fantasising about her boss. It was totally inappropriate! Besides, she hardly needed to remind herself a man like this wouldn’t be interested in someone like her.

‘Yup, she wouldn’t let me come in. I hope it was all right to leave her?’ Julie prayed she wasn’t blushing. He was probably used to women getting flustered in his presence but she was damned if she was going let him see how much he affected her.

‘She is a very stubborn girl,’ Pierre replied grimly. ‘Takes after her father.’

He turned to theA and E consultant. ‘I’ll operate tomorrow,’ he said, ‘if he pulls through. In the meantime, I’m off to bed. Unless you would like any more help?’ Satisfied he was no longer needed, he steered Julie away from the resus room.

‘Are you ready to go?’ he said. ‘I’ll run you home.’

‘I’d rather stay and help,’ she said.

He looked at her sharply, narrowing his eyes. ‘If you remember, you are joining my team tomorrow…’ He glanced at his watch. ‘This morning. De bleu! It is almost three. You need your rest.’

‘I don’t need much sleep,’ Julie protested.

‘You do if you are working with me,’ he said firmly.

Julie ignored him and nodded backwards in the direction of Tom. ‘How is he?’ she asked.

Just for a moment Pierre looked tired. He rubbed a hand across his cheek. ‘The next twenty-four hours are critical. If they manage to stabilise him—if he survives—we’ll start doing skin grafts later on today. You can assist, if you like.’

‘I’d appreciate that,’ she said quietly. ‘I would like to see his treatment through. I feel I owe it to him,’

Pierre looked at her intently. ‘I’ll need you alert and under control,’ he said. ‘There’s no room for emotion in the theatre,’ he said.

Julie realised it was pointless to argue. He had completely misunderstood what she had meant. Suddenly the adrenaline seeped away, and she felt exhausted.

‘You don’t have to take me home,’ she said. ‘I’ll get a taxi.’

The last thing she wanted right at this moment was to find herself in close proximity to this man. A good night’s sleep, or at least a few hours—and there was hardly enough time to get more than that now—would be enough for her to pull herself together and get her emotions under control.

‘Of course I am going to take you home. It is the least I can do.’ He held out his hand. For a stunned moment Julie thought he meant her to take his hand, and almost laid hers in his. Just in time she realised he was expecting his car keys but she was unable to prevent the tell-tale blush flooding her cheeks. Pierre looked at her quizzically, then grinned.

‘You will be perfectly safe with me, Dr McKenzie, whatever people might say.’

Julie shot him a furious look before she could prevent herself and felt herself redden from the tips of her ears to the tips of her toes. Was he actually flirting with her? And what was worse, did he actually think she’d be flattered, grateful even?

‘And why should I think I wouldn’t be safe with you, Dr Favatier?’ she asked in the coldest voice she could summon. He looked at her, then as recognition dawned his blue eyes glinted mischievously.

‘Because people think I drive too fast, of course. What other reason could there be?’

Julie felt her skin shrink with embarrassment. Great start, dr mckenzie, she thought. Way to go, girl!

* * *

Julie sank into the soft leather seat of Pierre’s car. Asking her for her post code, he programmed it into the satellite navigation system of his car.

‘It easier than you telling me how to get there,’ he said, pulling out into the road. ‘You did very well back there, at the fire.’

‘I’m just glad you were there,’ she said. ‘I would have hated having to do a tracheostomy on my own.’ She slid him a look. ‘It’s quite different having to do something out of the hospital setting.’

Pierre turned and flashed her a smile. ‘Something tells me you would have coped okay,’ he said. ‘You stayed very cool.’

Julie felt herself glow at the praise. ‘Skiing teaches you that. How to stay focussed, even when you’re terrified. And I was,’ she admitted.

‘Then you hid it well,’ he said. ‘I think I’m going to like having you on my team.’ He drove quickly through the now deserted streets. Julie was acutely conscious of his presence in the cramped interior of his car. Suddenly she felt awkward.

Glancing down at this hand on the gearstick, she noticed that his right hand had been burnt.

‘You hurt your hand,’ she said.

‘It’s nothing,’ he said. ‘I put some cream on. It will be fine.’

He smiled at her again, his eyes creasing at the corners. Julie felt a tingle run up her spine.

‘Are all Scottish women so reckless?’ he asked. ‘You must know you risked your own life staying inside the burning building to help.’

Julie straightened in her seat. ‘I only did what anyone would have done. I couldn’t stand back and do nothing. I wasn’t being reckless.’

‘I know men who wouldn’t have done what you did,’ he argued.

‘How people behave in a time of crisis has nothing to do with what sex they are!’ Julie said crossly.

This time Pierre laughed out loud.

‘Dis donc,’ he said. ‘So you say.’

Julie felt her skin prickle. He was mocking her. Despite finding him unnervingly attractive, she wondered if she actually liked her new boss—even if he was the kind of surgeon she aspired to be. He seemed to have a pretty sexist view of women. Perhaps that was down to the type of women he spent time with. Julie could just see him with a glamorous simpering model on his arm. Someone who hung onto his every word and liked to have doors opened and him order for her. Someone who was unlike her in every possible way.

‘Anyway, you were pretty reckless yourself,’ she said. ‘You took a risk going to help the DJ.’

Pierre raised an eyebrow, his eyes silver in the semidarkness. ‘A chance you were about to take yourself. In fact, you would have taken a greater risk than I. You would have never been able to get him out of there. And somehow I suspect you would not have left him.’

Hearing the admiration in his voice, Julie felt somewhat mollified. But whatever he thought, she’d only done what anyone in her shoes would have done.

Happily, before she had a chance to think of a response they had pulled up outside her flat in the West End of Edinburgh.

She leapt out of the car, noticing Pierre’s surprise at her almost indecent haste to get away.

‘Thank you for the lift,’ she said. ‘I’ll see you later this morning.’ Without waiting for a reply, she turned and was relieved when she heard his car roar off into the night.

Pierre felt strangely unsettled as he drove home. Stopping at a traffic light, his eyes caught an enormous billboard straddling the pavement. The woman advertising a famous make of bath soap reminded him of someone. Almost at once he realised who—Julie. The model had the same glossy-brown hair, sweet smile and charcoal smudged grey eyes radiating warmth, compassion and intelligence.

He rubbed the tiredness from his eyes. Dr Julie McKenzie was brave and cool under pressure, qualities he knew were important in a surgeon, but it was the Julie the woman who intrigued him most. She seemed oblivious to how beautiful she was, even with the scar. Instead, she came across as shy and uncertain of herself as a woman. He couldn’t help recalling the way she had blushed in his company. Had she’d been anyone else he would have felt flattered, even been tempted to show her how attractive she was. But she wasn’t just anyone, he reminded himself. She was his colleague, his junior colleague, and therefore out of bounds. An affair with her was completely out of the question. And not just because she was a colleague but because he guessed she was not someone who would take any relationship lightly. For him, the only relationships he liked were the casual ones. All his lovers knew that. At least he assumed they all did. Until Monique, that was. She had chosen not to believe him even though he had made his position clear right at the start of their relationship. But when he had told her it was over, after it had run its course, she had been devastated and furious. After the most embarrassing scene he had sworn he would never get involved with a colleague again.

It was a pity about Julie, he thought. He had enough of experience of women to suspect that underneath that shy exterior lay a woman of passion. Not that she was really his type. Not even remotely. Why, then, did the knowledge that Julie was off limits leave him feeling bleaker than ever?

Julie yawned as she poured herself another cup of coffee in the duty room. She finished looking over her patients’ charts as the other staff gathered together.

‘He’s gorgeous,’ one of the staff nurses was saying to her colleagues. ‘And as for that accent…’ She shivered with delight. ‘He could have his wicked way with me any time.’

Despite herself, Julie felt her ears prick up. It was obvious who they were talking about.

‘You’ll need to get in line, then,’ Dr Cramond, one of the other junior doctors, replied.

She, unlike Julie, was pretty in that doll-like way most men seemed to admire. She was probably just Pierre’s type, Julie thought, trying to ignore how envious the thought made her.

‘Do you think he’s attached, Julie?’ Dr Cramond asked.

‘Not a clue,’ said Julie, returning to her notes. She really didn’t want to be drawn into a discussion about Pierre with her new colleagues. Even if it made her seem a little standoffish.

‘Bound to be,’ said the nurse, a friendly looking woman with glossy black hair who had introduced herself as Fiona. ‘Very likely he has someone back in France.’

‘But I gather he’s not married,’ Dr Cramond said wistfully, ‘so as far as I am concerned that makes him fair game.’

They stopped talking abruptly when the man himself walked into the duty room. Dressed in a dark grey suit that must have cost an arm and a leg, clean shaven and with just a hint of aftershave, Julie was struck again by his model good looks. He wouldn’t look out of place on the cover of a magazine.

Julie replaced her cup and scrambled hastily to her feet.

‘Good morning, Dr Favatier,’ she said.

‘Bonjour,’ he replied. He glanced down at the sheaf of notes he held in his hand. ‘Shall we get started?’

‘Have you heard how our patient from last night is doing?’ she asked as she and Fiona accompanied him across the ward.

‘I saw him in Intensive Care this morning,’ Pierre answered. ‘He’s stable. I plan to take him to Theatre later this morning. We’ll go and see him again after rounds. But first let’s see our elective patients.’

Pierre walked over to the first patient, a lady in her early sixties with short grey hair and a ready, if lopsided smile. ‘Bonjour, Madame Tulloch,’ Pierre greeted her with a broad grin. ‘I gather you know Staff Nurse already?’ he said, indicating Fiona. ‘And this is Dr McKenzie, who will be helping me look after you.’

‘Good morning, Dr Favatier. It’s nice to see you again, and to meet you, Dr McKenzie,’ Mrs Tulloch responded. Despite her smile, Julie could say traces of anxiety in her faded blue eyes.

‘Could you remind us of this lady’s history, Dr McKenzie?’ Pierre asked.

Julie had made sure that she had read up on all the patients earlier, having arrived at seven to give herself enough time.

‘Mrs Tulloch saw her dentist for a routine check-up six months ago and he discovered a suspect growth on her jaw bone. He referred her to the surgeons, who identified a tumour. The surgeons removed the tumour and a piece of bone was taken from the left hip and grafted onto the jawbone. Mrs Tulloch has had two rounds of radiotherapy and is doing well, apart from some difficulty with speaking and swallowing.’

Pierre nodded approvingly. ‘Well done, Dr McKenzie. Brief and to the point.’ he said.

‘Mrs Tulloch is scheduled for Theatre this morning,’ Julie finished.

‘How are you feeling, Mrs Tulloch?’ Pierre asked the woman, who had been listening intently to Julie’s résumé of her condition.

‘I feel fine,’ she said. ‘A little anxious perhaps, but otherwise fine.’ Although her words were slurred, Julie could understand her perfectly.

‘You know we are planning to operate today?’ Pierre told the woman. ‘And while you might not get a full return of movement to your mouth, I am hoping for a great improvement.’ He traced a gentle finger down her line of her jaw. ‘We should also be able to improve the way the scar is pulling down the right side of your mouth.’

‘It’s not so much the way it makes me look,’ Mrs Tulloch said. ‘I know I should be grateful the operation was a success and I am grateful. It’s just that it makes my speech and eating so awkward.’

Pierre turned to Julie, ‘What do you think, Dr McKenzie?’

Julie bent over Mrs Tulloch. She asked her a few questions then, with the patient’s permission, gently examined her jaw. The incision had healed well, but the scar tissue puckered the skin, pulling the mouth out of shape.

‘Looks like Mrs Tulloch has made a good recovery from her initial surgery,’ she said. Pierre passed her the X-ray, which clearly illuminated the tumour prior to surgery. He then passed her another film, which showed the jaw bone with the tumour removed and the grafted piece of bone.

‘You were lucky that this was caught when it was.’ Julie smiled down at the woman. ‘And it looks as if the replaced bone in your jaw has healed well.’

‘I do feel lucky. If I hadn’t gone to the dentist that week…I nearly didn’t, you know—too much going on—and if he hadn’t been suspicious, it could have been a different story.’

‘But it wasn’t. It was caught it in time, and we’ll soon have you looking as close to how you looked before. I can see you were a very attractive woman.’ Pierre grinned at his patient.

Goodness! Julie thought. Did he flirt with everyone?

Mrs Tulloch smiled back crookedly. ‘A long time ago perhaps, Dr Favatier. But it would be nice to look more normal again.’

With a few more words of reassurance Pierre moved away from the bedside and explained to Julie what they were planning to do in Theatre. ‘Of course, you will just be assisting me, but I need you to do exactly as I tell you. I will be operating very close to one of the major facial nerves. We can’t afford any damage there.’

They crossed the ward to speak to the second patient on their list. Julie looked at his chart. Mike Simpson was a twenty-three-year-old who had come off his motorbike the day before. He had lost a chunk of his calf in the collision and Pierre planned to graft some skin from his thigh to help the wound heal. Mike was sitting up in bed plugged in to his MP3 player, which he removed as soon as they approached. Pierre talked the patient through what he planned to do later in Theatre.

‘How long before I can go biking again?’ Mike asked. ‘It’s pretty boring being cooped up inside while all my mates are out having fun.’

‘I’d give it at least four weeks for the graft to heal,’ Pierre replied. ‘But your broken leg will take longer.’

‘You haven’t been put off, then?’ Julie asked. She knew from the notes that Mike had been lucky to escape with his life from the accident.

‘You’ve got to be kidding!’ Mike replied. ‘The insurance has already said they’ll pay out and I’ve decided which new bike to buy. A Kawasaki 750. I’ve always wanted one of those beauties.’

‘I’ve got a Harley Davidson. I brought it with me from France.’ Pierre said, and as the men launched into a discussion on the various advantages of different motorbikes, Fiona and Julie exchanged a look. Julie knew how Mike felt. After her accident she couldn’t wait to get back on her skis. Being near death’s door wasn’t what had stopped her from skiing competitively—it had simply been that her accident had meant that she’d had too much time off training to be selected for the Olympic squad. That had been almost the worst thing about the accident. All those years of training, getting up in the small hours of the morning to go to the slopes, leaving her parents from a very young age to go abroad to train—all of it—for nothing. Still, she couldn’t regret everything about it. If she hadn’t had the accident she would never gone in for medicine. And now she couldn’t imagine any other life.

Their next patient was in the paediatric ward. Shona was a girl of ten who was scheduled for an operation to have her ears pinned back. She was shy and clearly overawed by her surroundings. Her anxious mother sat by her bedside, reading to her from a book.

‘Phillip Pullman,’ Julie said reading the title. ‘He used to be one of my favourite writers. Still is.’ She grinned down at the young girl, who smiled back.

‘But you’re a grown-up,’ she said.

‘I think his books are so good anyone can read them, don’t you?’

While Julie distracted the young girl, Pierre finished examining Shona’s ears.

‘You know what we are going to do, petite?’ he said.

She nodded.

‘And you are certain that this is what you want?’

The girl glanced at her mother, before nodding. Pierre frowned and looked enquiringly at the mother.

‘You know, Shona,’ Julie said gently, ‘you don’t have to have the operation if you don’t want to. It’s not a big operation— not at all—but, still, if you’d rather not…’

The mother glanced at Julie. ‘I’ve told her so many times,’ she said, ‘that there is nothing wrong with her ears.’ She leaned across and stroked her daughter’s head.

‘You are such a pretty girl, no one will even notice your ears,’ Pierre said. ‘We discussed this when I saw you yesterday. You know you can still change your mind?’

The girl looked at the three adults and folded her arms across her chest, a mutinous line to her mouth.

‘I want this operation. They tease me at school. They call me Dumbo!’ Her voice dropped to a whisper. ‘You don’t know what it’s like to be teased because of the way you look.’ As she said the words she looked at Julie and her hand flew to her mouth in horror. ‘I’m sorry…I mean…’ she stumbled.

It took every ounce of Julie’s willpower not to raise her hand and cover her scar. Instead she sat down on the edge of the bed.

‘No one teases me,’ she said. ‘At least, not to my face. They wouldn’t dare. But I do know what it’s like to feel self-conscious about the way you look. It can hurt when people stare at you.’

Shona nodded, clearly gratified that someone understood. Pierre was watching Julie closely.

‘So if you are sure that this is what you want, that is fine. As I said, it’s not a big operation, but you’ll be sore for a while.’ Julie repeated.

‘I want it,’ Shona said.

‘Then you shall have it, of course,’ Pierre said. ‘I just wanted you to know that you could still change your mind.’

Pierre and Julie left Fiona finalising the patients’ prep for theatre.

‘Let’s go and see Tom in ITU,’ Pierre suggested. ‘I’ve added him to the end of the list. His operation is the trickiest and most time-consuming.’

As they made their way towards Intensive Care, Pierre stopped and turned to Julie. He lifted long fingers to her face and gently felt along the ridge of her scar. It was all Julie could do not to flinch, but whether it was from embarrassment or the electric tingle she felt from his fingertips, she didn’t want to hazard a guess.

‘What happened?’ he asked softly, dropping his hand to his side.

‘Accident at speed. While I was skiing,’ she said

His mouth relaxed.

‘Now, why am I not surprised? It seems to me you are someone who enjoys danger,’ he said. ‘Going too fast, I think?’

‘It was part of it. I had to go fast. I was training for the woman’s downhill. For the Winter Olympics.’

Pierre’s eyebrows shot up. He let out a low whistle. ‘Why did you stop competing? Was it because of the accident?’

‘Yes, I had missed too much training so I was dropped from the team. I still ski, although now it’s only for pleasure. I go up north—usually to the Cairngorms—whenever I get the chance.’

Together they started walking again. Julie was relieved that they had moved on from discussing her face, although she found talking about her aborted skiing hopes no less distressing.

‘I’d heard one could ski in Scotland, but I didn’t really believe it. I didn’t think there was enough snow.’ Pierre said, sounding surprised. ‘I would like to see for myself if it is still possible.’

‘Oh, there’s plenty of snow still if that’s what you’re worried about.’ Julie reassured him. ‘We haven’t had much the last few seasons, but this year’s made up for it in spades.’

Pierre frowned. ‘In spades? What do spades have to do with skiing?’

Julie laughed. ‘I’m sorry. It’s an idiom. It just means there is plenty of something—in this case snow.’ Amazingly she found herself beginning to relax in his company.

Pierre stopped outside the door of ITU. He looked down at her, his blue eyes searching her face. ‘I should like to see you ski,’ he said. Something in his tone made Julie’s heart thump. ‘Perhaps you could show me these Scottish mountains of yours one day?’

Confused at the turn the conversation was taking, Julie could only nod. Was he asking her out?

‘I have skied all my life,’ he went on. ‘But I haven’t had much chance recently. I find it’s a good way to relax and I know Caroline would like to learn,’ he said, looking thoughtful. ‘Maybe it could be something she and I could do together.’

Of course, Julie thought. He was thinking about his niece. Not her. Acutely aware of feeling irrationally disappointed, she was relieved when he turned away towards Tom’s bed.

The DJ was still sedated, and was being monitored by an intensive care nurse called Linda, whom Julie had met several times before when she’d been on General Surgical.

‘He’s pretty strong,’ Linda told Pierre and Julie, sounding pleased. ‘We think he’s got a good chance of pulling through.’

Julie caught her breath when she looked down at the injured man. Swathed in bandages and with tubes everywhere, he looked in no fit state to be operated on.

‘Shouldn’t the grafts wait until he’s recovered?’ she asked Pierre.

‘The sooner we start doing the grafts the better, believe me,’ he replied. ‘When so much of the skin has been destroyed, there is nothing left to heal and cover the open tissue. As it is, it will take a number of operations before we replace enough skin.’

As they were making plans for Tom’s future surgery, a young woman with frantic red eyes underscored with dark circles approached the bedside. She had obviously flung on the first thing that had come to hand—crumpled jogging pants and a T-shirt. She looks out of her mind with worry, Julie thought.

‘This is Tom’s girlfriend, Trudi. Trudi, this is Drs Favatier and McKenzie,’ Linda introduced them.

‘How is he?’ Trudi whispered. ‘Please, tell me he’s going to be all right.’ She blinked, struggling to hold back the tears.

‘Trudi has been here for most of the night,’ Linda explained. ‘I’ve tried to persuade her to go and get some rest, but she won’t hear of it.’

‘I don’t want to leave him,’ Trudi said. ‘I only went to get some coffee to help me stay awake. I’m petrified something will happen to him while I’m not here.’

‘We’re not going to let anything happen to him,’ Pierre said firmly. ‘Not after he’s made it this far.’

‘You’re the doctor who saved his life!’ Trudi said. ‘They told me it was the French doctor that pulled him out.’ She looked up at Pierre, her eyes shining with unshed tears. ‘Thank you. Thank you so much. I’ll never forget what you did.’

Pierre shuffled his feet. ‘Dr McKenzie was there too,’ he said. ‘She spotted him in trouble, and she would have risked her own life to save him. It’s her you should be thanking, not me.’

Linda’s gaze swung from Pierre to Julie. Julie sensed that this was the first time she had heard about their involvement in the fire and guessed it would be all over the hospital by lunchtime. Inwardly she cringed. She hated drawing attention to herself.

Trudi turned to Julie and grasped her hands. ‘I’ll never forget either of you,’ she said fiercely. ‘Never.’

‘Please,’ Julie said, embarrassed. ‘I didn’t do very much.’ She looked at Pierre in desperation, and was grateful when he seemed to pick up on her extreme discomfort.

‘We will talk again later. After the operation,’ he said gently. ‘In the meantime, Dr McKenzie and I are due in Theatre.’

‘So that’s four patients we have in Theatre altogether,’ he said as they headed out of ITU. ‘Although Shona’s operation will be quick, the other two will take up the rest of the session. Then lastly we have Tom.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Theatre starts in an hour, so I suggest if you haven’t had something to eat, you get something now. We could be in Theatre for the rest of the day.’ He hesitated. ‘You know, if you wish, I could operate on that scar for you. I do a lot of cosmetic surgery back in France.’

Julie raised her hand to cover the scar. ‘I am happy with my face the way it is,’ she said stiffly.

Pierre reached out and, taking her hand, gently pulled it away. ‘It is a beautiful face,’ he said, looking her directly in her eyes. He was so close she could almost distinguish the individual eyelashes framing his deep blue eyes. Eyelashes like that were wasted on a man, she thought, trying to ignore the way her heart had started galloping. Then what he had said sank in. He had called her beautiful. Her heart beat even faster. Did he really believe that? She gave herself a mental shake. No, of course he didn’t, he was just being kind. It was far more likely that he just couldn’t stop himself from complimenting every woman who crossed his path.

‘Your bone structure is perfect,’ he continued, scrutinising her face with a professional eye. ‘You are lucky. No amount of plastic surgery can ever improve on that.’

So it wasn’t really her he was seeing after all! To him she was just another surgical problem he could solve. ‘I’ll see you in Theatre,’ she said abruptly, wanting nothing more than to get away from him so she could still her pounding heart. Without waiting for his reply, she turned on her heel and left him standing in the corridor looking bemused.

* * *

In Theatre Pierre appeared even more assured and confident than ever. Despite herself Julie was very conscious of the dark hairs on his bronze chest that she could see from the V in his scrub top. Only his eyes were visible as they glittered above his mask, and Julie was beginning to develop the uncomfortable feeling, as they drilled into hers, that he could read her thoughts. The thought made her cringe. The last thing she wanted her boss to know was that she, like every other woman, was not immune to his stunning looks and the charisma enveloped him like a cloak. Kim was right. She needed to get a life, she thought with exasperation, before forcing her attention back to the operation. And she needed to concentrate. Regardless of how Pierre viewed her as a woman, above all else she wanted him to think highly of her as a clinician.

The operations went well and Julie was surprised when she looked up at the clock on the theatre wall to find it was long past five o’clock. She had to admit that, despite his film-star good looks, Pierre was a highly skilled surgeon. Every stroke of the scalpel was sure and confident and, unlike some of the surgeons Julie had worked with, he never seemed impatient when staff were slow to respond to his instructions.

Before they’d started, Pierre had asked for a CD of Rachmaninov’s third piano concerto to be played. Of course he wasn’t to know the twentieth-century Russian composer was one of Julie’s favourites. As he’d operated, he’d patiently explained to Julie every step of what he was doing. Even when she had fumbled a little with the retractors, he had smiled and simply corrected the movement of her hands. As Theatre progressed, Julie found herself anticipating what he wanted her to do before he asked her. It Theatre at least it seemed as if they were in synch.

When it was Shona’s turn to be wheeled into Theatre, Pierre replaced the Rachmaninov CD with a favourite of the little girl’s. Shona recognised the music straight away and immediately relaxed, chatting with the theatre staff about her favourite bands. Even when the young girl succumbed to the anaesthetic, Pierre insisted that they leave Shona’s music playing. His thoughtfulness impressed her. Maybe there was more to Pierre Favatier than met the eye.