‘You would’ve found somewhere you could use.’
‘But Penhally’s perfect. There’s something about the place—something…It’s going to sound daft, but something healing.’
He smiled wryly. ‘You’re not daft. And I suppose you have a point—I do date a lot. Too much, maybe. But I’ve never forgotten your aunt.’ He sighed deeply. ‘She’s going to haunt me for the rest of my life.’
She reached over to squeeze his hand. ‘Nick, Annabel wouldn’t have wanted you to be miserable. What happened to her was terrible, but it wasn’t anyone’s fault. It was just one of those stupid, senseless things that make the world a darker place. But she wouldn’t have wanted you to be like this—and, yes, before you start arguing, I can say that because I knew her. She thinks—thought,’ she corrected herself swiftly, ‘in the same way my mum does. She would’ve wanted you to find someone who’d love you as much as she did. You have to learn to let go of the past and move on.’ She smiled wryly. ‘Listen to me—talk about pots and kettles.’ She hadn’t exactly moved on after Michael, had she? ‘But doctors aren’t very good at taking their own advice, are they?’
‘No,’ Nick admitted. ‘We aren’t.’
‘Maybe,’ Charlotte said, ‘we both need to make more of an effort.’
‘Maybe.’ He lifted his mug of coffee. ‘Here’s to you, the new centre—and a decent working relationship with James Alexander.’
‘And here’s to you, the new centre, and finding someone who can make you as happy as Annabel did,’ Charlotte responded, lifting her own mug.
CHAPTER TWO
‘AREN’T you supposed to be at lunch?’ Steffie, the senior sister on the cardiothoracic ward, leaned against the door of Charlotte’s office with her arms folded, tapping her foot.
Charlotte looked up from her notes and flapped a hand at the packet of sandwiches in front of her. ‘Look. Food. I am at lunch.’
‘You’re working,’ Steffie corrected. ‘You’re not taking a proper break.’
‘It’s temporary. Just until the centre’s up and running properly. This next couple of weeks I’ve got a ton of loose ends to tie up, and it’s easiest to sort things out in my lunch break rather than the evenings, in case I need to get hold of someone during office hours.’
‘Hmm. As long as it is temporary. I worry about you,’Steffie said.
‘Hey, no need to worry about me. I’m absolutely fine.’ Charlotte gave her friend a broad smile. ‘And you know me. I like being busy.’
‘Hmm.’Steffie didn’t sound convinced. ‘Well, you’re going to be even busier tomorrow.’
‘Tomorrow?’
Steffie rolled her eyes. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten that he’s starting? James Alexander. The new heart surgeon.’
Charlotte shrugged. ‘I expect he’ll be round to see us at some point, then.’
‘I know you missed him when he came round after his interview, but you must have seen his picture in the papers, Charlotte. He’s the most gorgeous man ever to have set foot in this hospital. How on earth can you stay so cool about him when every other female in the place is getting palpitations?’
‘Easy,’ Charlotte said dryly. ‘I go for dark chocolate and a good book instead of a mug of coffee and the gossip rags.’
Steffie laughed. ‘You’re impossible. But I bet our Mr Alexander will melt even you.’
‘This is where I should bet you a small fortune and clean up,’Charlotte retorted with a smile, ‘except it’d be too unfair—like taking sweeties from a toddler. He’s not going to melt me, because he’s not my type.’
‘So what is your type, Charlotte?’ Steffie asked.
Nobody. Because she didn’t date. Charlotte couldn’t resist teasing her friend. ‘I’ll let you into a secret,’ she said, beckoning.
Steffie came over to Charlotte’s desk and stooped, ready to listen.
‘I can’t date because I’m already married,’ Charlotte whispered.
Steffie’s eyes grew wider. ‘You’re kidding!’
‘Cross my heart. I’m absolutely serious,’ Charlotte said.
‘But—you’ve been working here for nearly two years and you’ve never talked about your husband. None of us have even met him.’
‘Oh, but you have.’ Charlotte smiled broadly. ‘You see, Steffie, I’m married to my job.’
Steffie groaned and cuffed her playfully. ‘Like I said. You’re impossible!’
‘No. I’m just more interested in my job than in a man with an ego the size of Mars.’
Steffie blinked. ‘Have you actually met him, then? Or heard something on the grapevine from someone you trained with?’
‘Neither. But it stands to reason. James Alexander is rich, spoiled, and spends his entire life squiring celebs to exclusive parties.’ Charlotte ticked them off on her fingers. ‘Of course his ego’s going to be the size of Mars.’
‘Four thousand, two hundred and twenty miles in diameter. A little over half the diameter of Earth but, I grant you, still pretty big in terms of ego,’ a voice drawled from the doorway.
‘Oh, lord!’ Steffie said, colour flooding her face as she looked at the man standing in the doorway, who’d obviously overheard quite a bit of their conversation.
‘Hello. I’m James Alexander,’ he said—as if either of them needed telling.
‘Stephanie Jones, senior sister on the cardiac ward—everyone calls me Steffie.’ Steffie shook his proffered hand. ‘Um, nice to meet you.’
‘And you.’ James smiled warmly at her, then turned to Charlotte and raised an eyebrow, as if enquiring who she was.
For a moment, her tongue was glued to the roof of her mouth.
Steffie was right about one thing. James Alexander was the most gorgeous man ever to have set foot in St Piran’s. Tall, with dark hair and deep brown eyes, he could’ve walked straight out of the pages of an upmarket magazine. His clothes were expensively cut, his shoes were highly polished and she’d just bet they were handmade, and as for his hair…
James Alexander was definitely a man who believed in being groomed. There wasn’t a single hair out of place. He was perfectly clean-shaven. And Charlotte was horrified to find the pads of her fingers tingling, as if tempting her to trail them over his face and discover for herself just how soft his skin was.
Worse still, James was looking at her with a quizzical air. Waiting for her to introduce herself. Oh, great. He’d caught her ogling him. And considering that she never, ever ogled men…She could do with the earth opening up and swallowing her—preferably five minutes ago.
‘Charlotte Walker, cardiology registrar,’ she said, rather more brusquely than she’d intended, and winced inwardly at the sound of her voice.
What was it about this man that had her making such a fool of herself?
She knew better than this.
Keep it cool, calm and professional, she reminded herself silently.
And then had to remind herself of that again when he shook her hand and her pulse rate speeded up a notch.
She had to be sickening for something. No way did she react this way towards men she didn’t know—or even to men she did know. She kept things tidy and professional, with a smile on her face and plenty of distance. Her knees didn’t normally go weak when a good-looking man smiled at her. So what was going on here? ‘I believe we were expecting you at some point tomorrow,’ she said, to cover her confusion.
He shrugged. ‘I was in the area. I thought I’d drop in and introduce myself—then I can hit the ground running instead of wasting a day in introductions.’
Now, that she hadn’t expected. And it made her feel just the tiniest bit guilty about what she’d said. Maybe she had been unfair to him. She had no idea how much he’d overheard of her conversation with Steffie, but she knew what she needed to do. The decent thing.
‘I’m sorry about what I said. I shouldn’t have made assumptions about you.’
‘I’m used to it. It still amazes me how people believe every single wor
d they read in the press, but…’ he shrugged ‘…I guess not everyone likes to form their own opinion.’
Ouch. Though she knew she deserved the rebuke. ‘I’m impressed that you actually knew the size of Mars.’
He spread his hands. ‘Hang around with stars, you get to learn a bit about planets, too.’
‘Touché.’Steffie laughed. ‘Charlotte, I do believe you’ve met your match. Charlotte’s our resident brainbox,’ she explained for James’s benefit. ‘She’s the captain of our inter-departmen-tal quiz team, and we haven’t lost once since Charlotte’s been on the team.’
‘That sounds like a challenge,’ James said, his brown eyes lighting up.
‘Absolutely not,’ Charlotte cut in crisply, hating the idea of anyone seeing her as a challenge. Been there, done that, never going to repeat it. ‘The whole point of the quiz night is to raise money for charity. It’s not about showing off.’
‘With my ego the size of Mars, that is.’
Clearly that had hit home and he wasn’t going to let her forget it any time soon. She lifted a shoulder. ‘Think yourself lucky I only said Mars, not Jupiter.’
‘Ouch.’ He smiled at her. ‘Buy me a coffee, Charlotte, and I’ll forgive you.’
Was he coming on to her?
Her shock must have shown on her face because he explained, ‘It’s lunchtime and, as I’m the new boy and I’m going to be working pretty closely with your department, I’d really appreciate someone showing me around.’
‘What about Theatre?’ Surely someone in the surgical department should be the one to show the new surgeon around?
‘I’ve already been there,’ James said. ‘Actually, I was a bit naughty and got an old friend to show me around. Jack Tremayne. He introduced me to the anaesthetists and the theatre staff. And he said that I should come and find you, as you’d show me around here and take me to the intensive care unit and the children’s ward.’
‘Did he, now?’ Her cousin had better not be matchmaking. Jack might be deliriously happy with his new wife and a ready-made family and their newborn daughter, but it didn’t mean that everyone wanted to get married and have babies. Charlotte certainly didn’t want to get married. Ever.
James spread his hands. ‘Hey. Don’t shoot the messenger. If you have a problem with your cousin…’
‘No. But I was—’
‘In the middle of your own lunch break,’ Steffie cut in. ‘And working through that, too. So this is a double-win situation—it means you’re not working too hard, and James gets to see the hospital properly. Show the poor man around, Charlotte.’
It took an effort to get herself back into professional mode, but Charlotte managed it. ‘I assume you’ve already met the consultants?’
‘At my interview, yes.’
‘Good.’She took him on a whistle-stop tour of the cardiothoracic ward, the intensive care unit and finally the children’s ward, introducing him to all the staff. He was as polite and smiley as she was, she noticed; clearly this was his professional face. One she could definitely work with. She liked the way he treated the nurses and auxiliary staff as his equals, rather than looking down on them. Acknowledging that he might be the surgeon who’d do the operation, but they were the staff who would look after the patient outside Theatre and would spot problems before they grew into emergencies.
As for this odd feeling every time she had when she looked into his eyes—well, that would go when she got used to him. It was just because he was a new face at the hospital, she told herself. The fact that she hadn’t reacted this way to any other member of staff was beside the point.
‘Right. Café. How do you take your coffee?’
‘I was joking,’ James said hastily. ‘I’ve stolen your lunch break, so I’ll buy the coffees.’
‘No, it’s fine.’ She gave him her best professional smile. ‘The deal was showing you around the hospital and buying you coffee.’
‘Then thank you. I accept, with pleasure. Black, no sugar, please.’ He paused as they queued up. ‘Shall I find us a table?’
‘Sure. Did you want anything to eat?’
‘No, I’m fine, thanks.’
But when Charlotte joined him at the table, James realised with surprise that she was only carrying one cup of coffee, not two.
‘Sorry, I really do have to get back to the ward,’ she said, with a pointed glance at her watch. ‘I have a clinic starting in ten minutes, and there are some notes I need to check first.’
‘Sure,’ James said. ‘I understand.’ Even though he had the distinct feeling that she was using her job as an excuse not to stay and have a coffee with him. Because she was embarrassed about her assumptions maybe? But he was used to people thinking he was a playboy until they got to know him and realised that he was absolutely serious about his job, and it didn’t bother him any more. He hoped he’d made it clear that he wasn’t going to hold it against her. ‘Thanks for showing me around—and for the coffee.’
‘Pleasure.’ She gave him another smile. A professional one—that didn’t quite reach her eyes, unlike the one she’d given her colleagues on their tour.
Was Charlotte Walker nervous with people she didn’t know, he wondered, or was it just with him?
‘Well, enjoy your first day tomorrow,’ she said.
‘Thanks. And no doubt I’ll see you at some point.’
‘If any of my patients are on your list.’She gave a half-shrug. ‘See you.’
James watched her walk out of the canteen without a backward glance. Well, she’d made it very clear she saw him only as a colleague. And, although she’d been utterly professional in the way she’d shown him round, introducing him to every single one of the staff, she’d been reserved with him.
What made her so wary of him? Was she really narrowminded enough to believe the rubbish she’d read in the press? And yet the way her colleagues had greeted her…They obviously respected her. Which they wouldn’t do if she was narrowminded or difficult to work with.
Charlotte Walker was a definite puzzle.
And, he acknowledged wryly, she was also gorgeous. Just his type. Slender, with honey-blonde hair worn in a profes-sional-looking French pleat—hair that he’d just bet was soft and silky. He’d itched to release it from its confines and let it trickle through his hands. And she had a perfect rosebud mouth. Even white teeth. Eyes the colour of the midsummer sky.
She was absolutely stunning.
And remote.
And he really should know better. He was at St Piran’s to work, not to get involved with someone. Hadn’t he promised himself he’d never make the mistake of trusting a woman again?
‘Keep it professional,’ he advised himself, and drained his coffee before leaving the canteen and walking in the opposite direction from the one Charlotte had taken.
CHAPTER THREE
TUESDAY morning saw Charlotte in early, preparing to see one of her patients who was having open heart surgery that morning. Three-year-old Daisy Freeman and her parents had met most of the surgical team the previous day—Fran Somers, the anaesthetist, and Carlo Orsini, the perfusionist—and today they would meet the man who was going to repair the hole in Daisy’s heart with a graft.
James Alexander.
Given that today was his first day, he really was going to have to hit the ground running. He’d be practically straight into Theatre, and he’d have just about enough time to introduce himself to the Freemans before he had to start his list.
Charlotte logged into the computer and opened the file, but she wasn’t really seeing the images on the screen. Instead, her head was filled with pictures of James. He’d looked utterly sincere when he’d talked to her on Friday, but he still unsettled her. Not because she thought he was the sort who’d hurt her the way Michael had, but because of her own reaction to him. That weird pull she’d felt towards him…It was crazy. Ridiculous. Even though James had made it clear that the press exaggerated its reports on his lifestyle, she knew there was some truth behind th
e tales. James Alexander was a playboy, and he’d been part of the fast set Jack had been involved with in London. Into flash cars and fashionable clothes, and always partying in the hottest places.
Definitely not a man to trust with your heart.
Ha. Not that she’d ever trust a man with her heart again. Not after Michael.
She was happily single, and she intended to stay that way.
Even as she was thinking it, the back of her neck prickled. She looked up, and saw James leaning against the doorpost, his hand poised to knock.
‘Good morning, Charlotte,’ he said.
She moistened her suddenly dry lips. ‘Good morning, James.’
‘I’ve just checked my list for this morning. My notes say that you’re Daisy Freeman’s cardiologist.’
‘Yes.’
‘Good.’ He smiled at her. ‘You’re in early—were you planning to go and see her this morning?’
‘Yes. I saw her last night, with her parents, and we talked about what’s happening today.’ She’d ended up staying beyond the end of her shift, but it didn’t matter—it was more important to her to reassure them and help Daisy settle in, the night before her op. ‘But it’s a big day for them and I want to go and hold their hand while she goes into Theatre.’
‘I’ll come with you. I’m sure you’ve already prepared them for the op, but in my experience the parents never sleep the night before, they worry themselves sick, and there are always some last-minute questions. Which,’ he said, ‘is where I come in. Besides, I prefer to meet my patients and their parents before premed, so I can reassure them. I’ve read the file so I know the clinical details of Daisy’s case. We’ve been waiting to see if the ASD will close on its own, yes?’
In four out of five babies with Daisy’s condition, a small atrial septal defect or ‘hole in the heart’ would close itself by the time the child was eighteen months old; but if the hole was still there when the child was three, it would need surgery. ‘Sadly, it hasn’t. I did consider trying catheterisation with a septal occluder,’ Charlotte said, ‘but the last echo showed me that the hole’s too big for it to work.’
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