‘I read the file, Dr Parker,’ he responded, removing his drink from the machine and taking a generous gulp.
The man must have an asbestos mouth.
She gave an imperceptible shake of her head to refocus her thoughts.
‘However, the paediatric surgeon we spoke to doesn’t want to operate due to her young age. He doesn’t want to operate when the patient is still growing and developing, and he doesn’t know if she could cope mentally with the procedures, including an implant.’
‘He has a point.’
‘I appreciate that, and you must know how cautious I am about making such recommendations. But I’ve worked with this girl for almost a year. I don’t believe its body dysmorphic disorder, and I know it’s a fear of all paediatric plastic surgeons that they could miss such a diagnosis. In this case it clearly isn’t an imagined or minor so-called defect in her appearance. It is something which is understandably imposing significant limitations on her life.’
‘And what about realising the impact of these procedures? Does your patient understand that her body will never be perfect, that she will have to deal with the scars from the operation?’
‘She absolutely does understand that. But, in her own words, the scar is something she could live with. It wouldn’t prevent her from wearing a bra, or a swimsuit, or a prom dress. All things she currently can’t do.’
He pinned her with a look that was more about the undercurrents running between them than the conversation they were ostensibly having.
‘And your assessment is that this procedure isn’t just about rectifying the physical problem but is necessary for developing well-being?’
‘I think it’s essential to her self-esteem and her social development at this crucial time in her life, Mr Van Berg.’
Her hands shook as she took another steadying sip of her coffee, her eyes still locked with his over the plastic rim.
‘Then I’ll take a look at the case before I leave.’
‘You would do that for her?’
‘I told you before, I respect you as one professional to another,’ he growled. ‘So, how’s the boyfriend?’
Evie stiffened. As it happened her latest attempt at a boyfriend had resulted in being unceremoniously dumped when his mother had deemed her not good enough for her precious son, after Evie had revealed that she would never be able to give the woman the longed-for grandchild.
She hadn’t loved the guy, but, still, it had been painful. It had hurt being told that she wasn’t good enough, an echo of the hurt she’d felt when her father had walked out all those years ago.
But surely Max couldn’t know about her pathetic love-life? She’d be a laughing stock. Hospital gossip was an unstoppable machine, everyone knew that, but, not working at Silvertrees permanently, she’d always convinced herself that she escaped the worst of it. Still, if people did know, then she couldn’t afford to lie to Max now.
‘Gone.’
She fought to affect nonchalance.
‘Good. He didn’t deserve you anyway,’ Max murmured, his hand reaching slowly up to lower the cup from her lips.
‘You didn’t know him,’ she protested mildly.
‘I know if he lost you, he’s a loser.’
Evie swallowed hard, unable to tear her eyes away from his.
‘I’m going to check on your patient now. All I ask in return is that you join me for a drink in the bar across the way as soon as I can get away from this farewell party I’m supposed to be at right now.’
‘What about your business and pleasure rule?’ she whispered.
‘In a few days, I won’t even be in this country, let alone this hospital.’ He gave a lopsided grin, so sexy it made her toes curl. ‘I think we can bend the rules this once, don’t you?’
His head inched closer until his nose skimmed hers. It was like some kind of exquisite torture.
She knew she should be strong, back away. But didn’t she know only too well that life was short?
Stretching her neck, she closed the gap between them, a small sound of pleasure escaping her throat as her lips met his.
Max responded without hesitation. One hand slid around the back of her head as the other pulled her firmly to him. The reality of the feel of his solid body even more impressive than the eye had allowed the mind to imagine. His teeth grazed her lips as his tongue danced seductively. He might seem dedicated to his career and refuse to date within the hospital pool, but there was no doubting that Max had dated. He knew exactly what he was doing to her.
It was all Evie could do to raise her hands and grip his shoulders and she hung on for the ride.
‘Is that you?’
‘Is what me?’ she muttered, frustrated that he’d pulled away from her.
‘The beeper.’ His voice was laced with amusement.
Slowly a familiar sound filtered into her head.
‘Oh, that’s me,’ she gasped as her brain slowly clicked back into gear.
‘Yes...’ the corners of his lips twitched as she stood dazed and immobile ‘...Evangeline. You need to go now.’
‘I do,’ she murmured, muscle memory allowing her legs to start moving, backwards but in the right direction, even as her brain felt frazzled.
‘I’ll go and see your patient. When you’re done with whatever your message is you can come and find me. I’ll be back in my office.’
‘I... Okay, I’ll...see you later, Mr Van Berg.’
She watched Max turn smoothly and walk towards the double doors at the far end of the corridor, unable to stop him or say anything. It was only when her back slammed into something solid that she realised she’d reached the double doors at her own end.
She wanted to say something, but no words would come.
‘Oh, and, Evangeline?’ Max twisted his head to call over his shoulder. ‘For the rest of tonight shall we agree that it’s Max, and not Mr Van Berg?’
A slow grin spread over her face as he disappeared through the doors.
Copyright © 2016 by Charlotte Hawkes
ISBN-13: 9781488020223
Falling for Her Wounded Hero
Copyright © 2016 by Marion Lennox
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