Читать книгу The Heart Consultant's Lover - Kate Hardy - Страница 9

BY THE start of her shift on Wednesday, Miranda felt as if she’d always worked at Calderford General. All the staff on the coronary care unit seemed to accept her as part of the team—including Jack, she thought with relief—and she’d settled into the ward routine.

Wednesday morning’s angina clinic flew by and Miranda kept her lunch-break short, to make sure she was on time for her theatre appointment with Imogen Parker. But just before Imogen was due to have her pre-med, the phone rang in Miranda’s office.

‘Miranda Turner.’

‘Hi, Miranda, it’s Jordan Francis.’

There was only one reason she could think of why the theatre manager would call her. ‘Hi, Jordan. I hope you’re not going to tell me there’s a problem with my two o’clock,’ she said, keeping her voice light.

‘’Fraid so.’

‘Majax?’ she asked, using the hospital’s shorthand term for ‘major accident’ or ‘major incident’—meaning that the A and E department needed all the theatre slots to deal with surgical emergencies.

‘Um, no.’

She picked up on the slight trace of guilt in his voice. ‘Jordan, I know it’s not your fault, but CCU booked that slot for a reason. If there isn’t a major emergency, why are you pulling the slot?’

‘The prof needs it.’

‘Why?’ she asked, knowing that she was putting the theatre manager on the spot but unable to stop herself.

Jordan sounded uncomfortable. ‘He’s booked a demonstration.’

‘Oh, has he?’ she said crossly. ‘Don’t tell me—he said I wouldn’t mind.’ She scowled. She should have guessed her father would pull a stunt like this. Well, he’d soon find that she wasn’t a pushover any more. ‘Jordan, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t take it out on you. Thanks for letting me know. When’s the next available two-hour slot?’

‘Friday morning, half-past nine. Do you want me to book you in?’

‘Yes, please. And, Jordan?’

‘Yes?’

‘If anyone tries to override it—unless it’s a majax—can you refer them to me, please?’

‘Sure.’

‘Cheers.’

‘Um, Miranda, I was wondering…would you like to come out for a drink with me? Or dinner, or something?’

‘Yes, that’d be nice.’

‘Tomorrow?’

‘Sorry. I’m on a late. How about Monday?’

‘Great. I’ll book somewhere…say, for seven? And do you like Italian?’

‘Seven’s fine and I love Italian—thanks. Talk to you soon.’

She cut the connection, rang the professor’s secretary and asked to speak to him.

‘I’m afraid he’s with someone, Miranda. He’s on his way to a demonstration.’

‘It’ll only take ten seconds, Ally. Promise. And it’s urgent. I wouldn’t ask otherwise.’

‘All right. As it’s you.’

A second later, a testy voice informed her, ‘Miranda, I don’t have time to talk to you right now. I’m about to do a demonstration.’

‘I know. In my theatre slot.’

‘For heaven’s sake, you were only doing an angioplasty. It’s a routine operation. You can reschedule.’

‘My patient has unstable angina.’ Didn’t that mean anything to him? Had he forgotten May so easily? ‘If she has an MI before I can do the angioplasty, I’ll have to do an emergency bypass and I don’t want to put her through that.’

‘It’s not that likely, and you’re making a fuss.’

‘Too right I am, Professor.’

His voice hardened. ‘Don’t you take that tone with me. I’m your father.’

‘We’re at work. Which means I’m a doctor first and your daughter second.’

‘Miranda, I don’t have time for this!’

She knew exactly what that meant. ‘Don’t tell me you discussed it over lunch, thought it was a good idea, saw my name on the list and decided that I’d make the least fuss about losing my slot. Wrong. I expect exactly the same treatment—the same courtesy—as you’d give any of your other consultants. Why didn’t you ask me first?’

‘We’ll talk about this later.’

‘Fine. And you’ll have my formal letter of complaint on your desk when you get back.’

‘This demonstration’s important. It could bring money into the hospital.’

‘And money’s more important than a patient’s health?’ Miranda asked scornfully. ‘This wasn’t an elective op. I’d have understood if there was a majax, but a demo? Why couldn’t your VIPs watch one of the scheduled operations?’

‘Don’t be difficult.’

She could feel her blood pressure rising. After all the years she’d spent training—all the exams she’d taken—he still treated her like a four-year-old who knew nothing, instead of a highly qualified thirty-two-year-old. ‘Difficult? Some would say I was a chip off the old block. Though from the days when he cared about people more than politics,’ she informed him sharply. ‘Enjoy your demo.’ She put the phone down before she really lost her temper.

She was still shaking when she saw Leila and asked her to hold the pre-med.

‘Are you OK?’ the senior sister asked.

‘Fine,’ Miranda lied. ‘I’ll explain to Imogen that her operation’s been rescheduled then I’ll be in my office, if anyone needs me. I may as well get stuck into the paperwork now I’m not in Theatre.’

She’d just printed off her carefully composed letter to her father when there was a rap on her door. She looked up to see Jack standing in the doorway ‘You OK?’ he asked.

‘Fine,’ she said tightly.

His raised eyebrow said it all. She sighed. ‘Sorry. I’m just annoyed that our slot was pulled at the last minute. I’ve rescheduled Imogen’s op for Friday morning.’

‘Don’t tell me—A and E?’ he asked.

‘Nope. Politics.’ She signed the letter with a flourish. ‘And this is a complaint letter. I’m just going to take it down to Ally.’

‘Pulling strings with the Prof?’

How could he even think that she’d go running off to Daddy at the first sign of trouble? ‘The Prof,’ she said in disgust, ‘is the one who took our slot—without having the courtesy to ask us. The complaint’s about him.’

‘Ah.’

‘Don’t worry, you won’t be caught in the crossfire.’ She folded her arms. ‘The Prof just needs reminding that I’m not a yes person. And I’ll fight for my ward’s rights.’

Jack exhaled slowly. ‘I think I’ll make sure I stay on your right side. Shall I ask Leila to pass the word round that you turn into Attila the Hun when someone crosses you?’

The tension suddenly drained from her, and she gave him a rueful smile. ‘Sorry. When hospital politics interfere with my patients, it drives me round the bend. I shouldn’t be taking it out on you.’

‘Sounds to me as if you need chocolate,’ he said, producing a bar from the pocket of his white coat. ‘Catch.’

‘Thanks.’ She broke off a square, smiled and threw the rest of the bar back to him. ‘Perhaps it’s my lucky day after all—having a special reg who can read my mind.’

They exchanged a glance and her smile faded. On second thoughts, she hoped he couldn’t read her mind. Because chocolate wasn’t what she wanted right then. She wanted Jack Sawyer’s arms round her. And that beautiful mouth teasing hers…

No. She had to keep a very tight rein on her imagination, or it would play havoc with her work. ‘Thanks for the chocolate. I needed that. I’ll just drop this off—I’ll be five minutes, max. Bleep me if you need me.’

‘OK, boss.’

The ‘boss’ had been more for his benefit than hers, Jack thought. Because when he’d seen her sitting there, angry and upset on their patient’s behalf, he’d wanted to put his arms round her, tell her that everything would be all right. Hold her close. And to hell with his job.

‘I will not tolerate this!’ Ralph stormed, waving the piece of paper at his daughter. ‘What do you think you were doing?’

‘Exactly what I told you I’d do. Complaining about your behaviour. In future, I expect professional courtesy from you as a member of your staff,’ she emphasised.

His eyes narrowed. ‘Don’t play games with me.’

‘I’m beyond that,’ she said crisply. ‘This is about my ward. My patients come first.’

‘You sound like May.’

Miranda smiled. ‘Thanks for the compliment.’ Even though it had been given grudgingly—and she wasn’t entirely sure he’d meant it as a compliment. She knew he hadn’t ever really forgiven May for stepping in when Miranda had been eighteen.

‘You’re impossible. This is exactly why I didn’t want you working here.’

‘Because I’m not a yes person? I don’t think Jack Sawyer is either. Though if he’d got the job, you wouldn’t have taken his theatre slot without asking, would you?’

‘As clinical director, I have to make unpopular decisions.’

‘Agreed. But they don’t have to be stupid ones.’

‘Miranda,’ Ralph said warningly.

‘Professor, I know you won’t admit it, but you were in the wrong. And if you do it again, I’ll complain again—and I’ll copy my letter to the CEO next time, as well as to Human Resources.’

‘For your information—and not that I should have to explain myself to you—I’d booked the demo several weeks ago. Someone else needed the theatre I’d booked, because of the specialised equipment, and I had to move things around. Yours wasn’t the only slot I moved.’

‘Oh.’ She flushed. She hadn’t known that. Jordan hadn’t told her.

‘So I suggest you check your facts first next time before you write stroppy letters.’

She took a deep breath. But before she could apologise there was a rap on the door and Jack came in.

‘Sorry—I’ll come back later,’ he said.

‘Not at all. We’ve finished. Come in, my boy,’ Ralph said.

Miranda’s stomach lurched at the words. My boy. She wasn’t his boy—and never could be. The tone, too, was different: when he called her ‘my girl’, it meant he was putting her in her place, not being genial and proud.

‘I wanted to see you anyway,’ Ralph continued, smiling at Jack.

Why didn’t the professor ever smile at her like that?

‘We’ve got a little one coming into Paeds tomorrow. Possible tetralogy of Fallot. I’d like you to take a look at her.’

Well, excuse me. I’m supposed to be the consultant here, Miranda thought. But her father had made it obvious that he respected Jack’s abilities above her own.

‘Is that OK with you?’ Jack asked, looking at her. ‘Or do you need me here?’

What could she say? If she said, no, he couldn’t do it, they’d both think she was being petty—jealous even. The worst of it was, they’d be right. She was jealous of Jack, and the fact that the Professor clearly respected him. A respect he certainly didn’t feel for his daughter. ‘Fine,’ she said tightly. ‘Was there anything else you needed me for, Professor?’

‘No.’ His voice cooled noticeably as he looked at her. ‘Just think about what I said.’

She nodded, her throat tight with misery. Same old, same old. She’d thought by working with her father she’d finally persuade him to value her abilities. All she’d done had been to make things even worse between them.

When Ralph left, Miranda virtually snapped at Jack. ‘So what can I do for you?’

He lifted his hands in surrender. ‘Hey, what did I do?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Then what’s the problem?’ When she said nothing, he folded his arms. ‘So much for straight talking.’

‘If you must know, the Prof was tearing me off a strip. Apparently he’d booked the demonstration ages ago. Ours wasn’t the only slot he’d moved.’

Jack shrugged. ‘Might be better to check before you act next time.’

Her eyes narrowed. ‘So you think I’ve been unreasonable?’

‘Yes and no. You were right to challenge our slot being moved—but you should have made sure of your facts.’ Maybe he should have warned her about Jordan’s slapdash tendencies—though he’d tried to be fair and let her make up her own mind about their theatre manager instead of prejudicing her against him.

‘Great. So you think I’m incompetent, too.’

Jack frowned. ‘No, of course not.’ And her father couldn’t think it either, otherwise he wouldn’t have let the others on the selection panel offer her the job. ‘Just…you’re playing a dangerous game.’

‘So what am I supposed to do? Curry favour with the Prof?’

Was that what she thought he was doing, just because he’d agreed to go down to Paeds? It wasn’t that at all. He was interested in paediatric cardiology—besides, he owed it to his family to get on as well as he could at the hospital. He wasn’t going to turn down opportunities just because Miranda was having a private war with the Prof. Just in time, he stopped himself telling her that. It was none of her business. ‘If you’re going to argue with your father, that’s up to you—but leave the ward out of it.’

Her eyes darkened. ‘I’m not playing games.’

Yeah, right. And neither had Jessica, he thought bitterly. Except on a day with a Y in it. ‘You asked my opinion. I gave it to you.’

‘OK. I’m sorry. What did you want to see me about?’

He couldn’t remember now. Not now she’d made him think of Jessica. ‘Doesn’t matter,’ he said. ‘Some other time.’ He left, closing her office door and resisting the temptation to bang it. He was not going to let her get under his skin. In any way.

Thursday was less fraught, until Miranda promised to help their new student with setting up an ECG and reading the results.

‘Dr Sawyer, can I borrow you for a second?’ Miranda asked.

‘Sure,’ Jack said, with a smile that turned her knees temporarily to jelly. ‘What’s up?’

‘I need a model. I’m walking Hannah through a 12-lead ECG, and she doesn’t want to do it on a patient.’

‘So you’re just after my body?’

She wished he hadn’t said that. The images his words brought to mind were way too disturbing—particularly after the way he’d smiled at her. But she wasn’t going to let him know that he’d rattled her. ‘That’s right. Any old body’d do, but I thought Hannah might find a supposedly young and fit male easier for her first ECG,’ she said, adopting the same light, teasing tone he’d used. ‘Come into my office and strip to the waist.’

Definitely disturbing, she thought as Jack took off the white coat, shirt and tie to reveal a perfectly toned torso and a light sprinkling of dark hair on his chest. Just pretend he’s middle-aged with a paunch, she told herself. He may be gorgeous, but he’s off limits. ‘OK, Hannah. The V1 lead goes on the edge of the sternum, on the patient’s right-hand side. Count down between the ribs until you get to the fourth intercostal space.’

‘Here?’ Hannah asked.

‘Perfect. The V2 lead goes in the same place on the left-hand side.’

Hannah did as she was asked.

‘Now we’ll do the V4 lead. Why do you think I want to do that one next?’

‘No idea,’ Hannah admitted.

‘V3 goes halfway between V2 and V4, so it’s easier if you put V4 in place first,’ Jack explained.

Miranda was forced to meet his eyes. She stopped herself blushing—just. She only hoped he wasn’t a mindreader—she definitely didn’t want him knowing what she was thinking, right then. ‘Exactly. V4 picks up the patient’s apex beat. That’s the point furthest from the manubrium—that’s the hexagonal part at the top of the breastbone—where we can still feel the heart beating. It’s in the fifth intercostal space, in a line roughly halfway across the collar-bone.’ She found the spot and her fingertips brushed lightly against Jack’s skin. Just as well he was the one having the ECG, she thought. Her own heartbeat had just become extremely erratic, simply from touching him. This was crazy. He was her colleague. Her junior. She couldn’t think like this about him. Particularly when she’d agreed to go on a date with someone else. This really, really wasn’t good.

‘Can you show me where you’d put V3?’ she asked Hannah, avoiding looking at Jack.

Hannah nodded. ‘Here.’

‘Well done.’ Miranda smiled at her. ‘The rest of the leads go in a horizontal line with V4. V5 is here, in the anterior axillary line, and V7 is on the posterior axillary line. So V6 goes…?’

‘Halfway between them?’ Hannah guessed.

‘Spot on,’ Miranda said, then talked the junior doctor through placing the rest of the leads. ‘Great. You’re done.’ She switched the monitor on. ‘The trace shows the electrical activity of the heart so we can see what’s going on. We can tell if someone has had a heart attack, and roughly when it was—in the last few hours, days, weeks or months.’ She let the machine run until she had a strip of a dozen heartbeats, and turned it off. ‘This is a good example of normal sinus rhythm. There’s a small rise here at P just before the upper heart chambers contract.’ She marked it with a cross and labelled it ‘P’. ‘Then there’s the QRS spike…’ again, she labelled the points on the trace ‘…which happens just before the lower heart chambers contract. And finally there’s the rise at point T at the end of the beat.’

‘To find the number of heartbeats per minute,’ Jack added, ‘you measure how many big squares there are between the R points—what we call the “R-R interval”. The ECG machine usually runs at twenty-five millimetres per second so you just divide three hundred by the number of big squares.’

‘Some machines run at fifty millimetres per second, so always check if you’re not sure,’ Miranda added.

Hannah looked at the trace and did a quick calculation. ‘Three hundred divided by four—that’s seventy-five.’

‘Well within the normal resting range,’ Miranda pronounced.

She couldn’t help looking at Jack. And there was a distinct question in his eyes which she dared not answer. She forced herself to think of work. ‘Do we have a book of sample traces, Jack?’

‘For teaching? Yes—I’ll go and get it.’ He removed the leads. ‘You’ll be surprised how quickly you learn to spot the differences in the waves and what they mean,’ he told Hannah. ‘When you first start, you think you’ll never remember them all, but you’ll soon get the hang of it. And you can always ask one of us if you’re not sure. We won’t mind or think you’re stupid. We’ve all been in the same position.’

Miranda fiddled with the machine until she heard Jack put his white coat on again. Her face felt hot and she hoped it wasn’t too obvious. She could claim that her office was too warm—it was unusually hot for March—but she had a nasty feeling Jack would guess why she was flushed.

She needed to get her professional objectivity back. Fast.

And then she heard the call, ‘Crash team!’

‘We’ll carry on with the traces later,’ she told Hannah. ‘Come on, we’re needed.’

She walked quickly out into the ward and saw the light flashing above the door of Room One. Her heart sank. No. Please, not Imogen, she thought.

Jack was already there, giving CPR at the rate of five chest compressions to one breath, while Leila was getting the defibrillator ready.

‘She’s in VF,’ Leila said. VF, or ventricular fibrillation, was an abnormal heart rhythm—it meant Imogen’s heart was contracting quickly but not effectively.

Miranda went straight into action and attached the defibrillator paddles to Imogen’s chest so Leila could check the monitor. ‘Charging to 360. And clear,’ she said. Jack stopped the CPR so Miranda could shock Imogen.

‘Still in VF,’ Leila said, watching the monitor closely.

‘Have you given her adrenaline?’ Miranda asked.

‘Not yet,’ Leila said.

‘Hannah, get me some adrenaline now. Charging to 360. And clear,’ Miranda repeated. Imogen had to respond. She had to. They weren’t going to lose her.

‘Still in VF,’ Leila reported.

‘Charging. And clear,’ Miranda said.

‘She’s back in sinus,’ Leila said. ‘Well done.’

Tears pricked the backs of Miranda’s eyes. Thank God. ‘Jack, we can’t wait until tomorrow morning for the angioplasty. Not now she’s had an MI.’

‘Bypass?’ he asked.

‘Yup. I’ll call Jordan and sort out a slot in Theatre now. Can you prep her?’

‘Will do,’ he said.

‘Leila, can you get in touch with Emma and tell her that we’re taking her great-aunt down to Theatre now, please?’ she asked.

‘Will do,’ Leila said.

‘Hannah, check if Leila needs you for anything—if not, you’re welcome to come and observe,’ Miranda continued.

‘Thanks,’ Hannah said, flushing faintly.

Miranda rang Jordan and organised an emergency theatre slot. On the way down to Theatre, Imogen arrested again but Jack managed to bring her back. Before Miranda could make the first incision, Imogen arrested again.

‘Come on, come on,’ Jack said. ‘We’re not letting you go, Imogen. Stay with us. Charging. And clear.’

But this time they couldn’t bring her back.

‘It’s been twenty minutes,’ Jack said softly as Miranda continued CPR. ‘Do you want me to call it?’

‘No. We can’t give up now.’ She continued giving CPR. ‘Come on, Imogen. You have to stay with us.’

But it was no use. Gently, Jack put his hands over hers. ‘I’m calling it,’ he said. ‘She’s been down too long.’

‘No.’ Miranda shook her head in frustration. ‘No. We can’t have lost her.’

‘She’s gone,’ he said, his voice compassionate yet firm.

Miranda nodded dully, then glanced at the nurse’s watch on her white coat. ‘Time of death, three twenty-four.’ She stroked the old lady’s forehead. ‘I’m sorry, Imogen. I’m so, so sorry,’ she said softly, then turned away. ‘I’d better go and ring Emma.’ She swallowed hard and walked back to her office to ring Imogen’s great-niece.

‘But—but she was going to have her operation! I thought she was going to be all right,’ Emma said. ‘You said you were going to put a balloon in her arteries to clear them, and it would stop her getting the pain any more.’

‘I’m so sorry, Emma. We did everything we could. But her heart had just had enough.’

‘Poor Imogen. She was…It’s my fault,’ Emma said. ‘We should have had her to live with us.’

‘It wouldn’t have made any difference,’ Miranda reassured her. ‘And it wasn’t your fault at all. She was ill.’

‘I should have done more.’

‘You did your best. You came in to see her when you could, and rang when you couldn’t—and it isn’t easy to care for an elderly relative when you have three small children to look after as well.’ Easier if you didn’t have children. She could have done more for May. But she hadn’t, had she?

‘I can’t believe she’s gone.’ Emma’s voice was unsteady. ‘And Floss…I don’t know what we’re going to do about Floss. We can’t have a dog—we’re renting and the landlord won’t let us have pets, not even a hamster. We can’t keep her in kennels but I can’t have her put down. She’s not that old and she’s not even ill.’

‘I’ll see what I can do,’ Miranda promised. ‘Someone here might be able to give her a new home.’

‘Can I…can I come and see my great-aunt?’

‘Of course you can. And I’ll be here if you want to talk to me.’

‘Thank you.’ Emma was clearly crying as she rang off.

Miranda returned the receiver to its cradle, put her arms on her desk and rested her head on her arms. If only she’d done the angioplasty the day before. If only…

She heard a click and looked up. Jack had closed her office door. He walked towards her and laid a hand on her shoulder. ‘Hey, it’s not your fault. It was a risk with anyone who had her condition. You know that.’

‘I lost her, Jack.’

‘We can’t save them all,’ he said softly. ‘I know how you feel. She was a sweetheart. But she’s not in pain any more, and you did your best for her.’

‘No, I didn’t. I should have told the Prof to stuff his demo and insist on taking my slot back.’

‘And she might have arrested on the way down to Theatre yesterday afternoon. Besides, you know the risks with angioplasties. When the balloon inflates and blocks the artery temporarily, that sometimes triggers an MI. The chances were, it would have happened in Imogen’s case.’ He pulled up a chair next to hers and put his arm round her shoulders. ‘Don’t blame yourself, Miranda.’

She knew she shouldn’t lean towards him. Shouldn’t let him hold her. But right then she needed the comfort.

‘So what’s the real story?’ he asked softly. ‘We’re all upset when we lose a patient—but this really seems to have knocked you for six. You spent time with Imogen when you were supposed to be off duty, and you went and took a photograph of her dog for her. That’s going beyond the call of duty.’

Miranda shrugged. ‘I liked her.’

‘And?’

‘I suppose she reminds me of May, my great-aunt.’ She hadn’t intended to tell Jack any more than that, but somehow the words spilled out. ‘May was a cardiac nurse, years ago, and I used to love listening to her stories about the ward. It’s one of the reasons I wanted to work in the same area. My father didn’t want me to be a cardiologist—he didn’t even want me to be a doctor—but May told me to follow my heart and do what I really wanted to do. She said if he cut off my allowance, as he’d threatened, she’d support me through my training.’

Jack whistled. ‘I bet that went down well.’

Miranda nodded. ‘She was the one who advised me to do my training in Glasgow, away from him—not here. And she was right.’

‘And you feel that because we lost Imogen you’ve let your great-aunt down?’

‘Something like that,’ she admitted.

‘Hey.’ He rubbed the pad of his thumb against her cheek. ‘She was a medic, too. She knows you try your hardest but you can’t save everyone. I bet if you talk to her about it, she’ll tell you you’re being ridiculous.’

‘I wish she could.’ Miranda swallowed hard. ‘She died two years ago. She—she had unstable angina. She didn’t tell any of us, so we had no idea. One day I had a funny feeling. I couldn’t get hold of her on the phone, so I dropped in on my way home from work. I had a key and that’s when I found her. She’d had a massive MI. And…’ she closed her eyes ‘…it was too late to do anything.’

He groaned. ‘Oh, hell. I’m sorry. No wonder you’re so upset. I had no idea. I didn’t mean to make things worse.’ He leaned forward and kissed away the single tear from her cheek. ‘Miranda…’

She wasn’t sure which of them moved first. But the next thing she knew, he was kissing her. Really kissing her, his mouth warm and soft and demanding all at the same time. And she was kissing him back, sliding her fingers into his hair and urging him on.

His hands slipped to her waist and he pulled her onto his lap, still kissing her. It was only when she realised that he’d loosened her hair that she pulled back.

‘No. We can’t do this.’

His pupils had expanded so much his eyes were almost black with desire. His lips were full and slightly swollen, his cheeks were flushed and his hair was a mess. Miranda had a nasty feeling that she looked just as bad. And an even nastier feeling that if she didn’t move off his lap right now, she’d end up initiating another kiss. And another. She wanted him to touch her, stroke her skin all over, soothe away her pain with those clever fingers and that beautiful mouth—

No. She had to stop this, right now. With an effort she stood up.

‘Miranda, I—’ he began.

‘I know.’ She put her hands behind her back and clenched them together, to stop herself placing a finger on his lips. Stop herself touching him. ‘It was unprofessional. But understandable. We were both upset about losing our patient, both wanted comfort—and we were both here.’

‘Mmm-hmm.’ His mouth was saying he understood. His eyes were saying something entirely different—that he wanted her, and he knew she wanted him, too. It hadn’t been just comfort.

‘We’re colleagues. It wouldn’t work out.’

‘Mmm-hmm.’ Again, his eyes held a different message. How do we know until we try?

‘And I…’ No. She couldn’t pull rank on him—even though she was his boss, she wasn’t going to rub it in that she’d got the job he’d gone for. ‘I’m not looking for a relationship.’ She might be going out to dinner with Jordan Francis next week, but she’d make very clear to him that it was as friends only. ‘My career’s the most important thing in my life.’

‘Me, too.’

‘Good. Then we’re agreed—this was a one-off and it didn’t mean anything.’

‘Yep.’

She dropped her gaze. ‘I—um, I’d better sort out the paperwork. And I promised Emma I’d see what I could do about Floss. It’s the least I could do for Imogen.’ She gave him a quizzical look. ‘Do you have a dog?’

‘No, and it wouldn’t be fair to keep one. Not when I live on my own and work doctors’ hours.’

‘How about your family?’

‘How about yours?’ he fenced.

Her mother might, possibly—but her father would definitely refuse. She sighed. ‘All right. I’ll put a notice on the board in the staffroom and see if anyone wants to take her on.’

‘Right. I’d better get cracking on a ward round.’

She couldn’t let him walk out of her office looking like that—not unless she wanted the hospital rumour mill to work overtime! ‘You…um, you’d better do something with your hair first,’ she said, rummaging in her desk drawer and pulling out a comb.

‘Leave yours,’ he said softly. ‘It’s a crime to hide hair that beautiful.’

She flushed, and his body stirred. Hell. They’d just agreed that nothing was going to happen between them. But just looking at her made him want her. Made him remember how her warm, soft mouth had responded to him. How she’d kissed him back.

He was really going to have to keep a tight rein on himself.

‘I’ll see you at the end of the ward round,’ she said. ‘Take Hannah with you.’

‘Yes, boss.’

She was already pulling her hair back in that severe style. Putting her Ms Brisk-and-Efficient front on. The trouble was, now Jack knew what lay beneath it. And he wanted to know a lot, lot more.