St Piran's: The Brooding Heart Surgeon

by Alison Roberts

  From the moment this incident had started—from when she’d heard the scream and seen Luke’s instantaneous response, she’d been aware of his total command of the situation. Of his faultless performance and ability to absorb additional resources and personnel and then … right at the end … an indication that he really cared about this patient.

  An impressive mix. If his glance had been in any way smug, it could have driven Anna into a defensive corner she might never have emerged from, but there was no hint of smugness. No self-satisfaction even. The fraction of time he held her gaze sent a message that was more like, We did it. This time, at least.

  The triumph that was there was on the patient’s behalf. Behind that was the acknowledgment of defeat in other cases and the sadness that they couldn’t always win. Shining over both impressions was a kind of promise. A determination to always fight the odds and do the best possible job.

  It sucked her right in.

  She could work with this man. Could respect him. Like him.

  More than that, in fact, judging by the odd ripple of sensation that caressed her spine and sent tingles through the rest of her body.

  Dear Lord, she was attracted to him? No wonder she’d been so aware of her own appearance when she’d been standing in line with Charlotte. It explained a lot but it was a reaction that had to be crushed instantly. Allowing something that personal to threaten a professional relationship would be the ultimate play on femininity.

  The reason women couldn’t be seen as equals in this arena was largely because of the perception that they allowed emotion to cloud their judgment. Or, worse, they put a priority on relationships and undermined their careers by taking time off to have babies.

  Not Anna Bartlett. It wasn’t on any agenda she’d ever had.

  Luke’s return and—worse—his attractiveness were roadblocks. Ones she could detour around, which would see her working somewhere else, or deal with if the pull to stay put was strong enough. Either way, getting even remotely close to Luke Davenport would be a mistake.

  It was Anna who broke the eye contact.

  And turned away.

  CHAPTER THREE

  THE crisis over, Luke found he couldn’t drag his eyes away from Anna.

  Not that he hadn’t spotted her the moment she’d walked into the canteen. He’d taken a good look then because he hadn’t been sure it was her. Something about the height and body shape of the woman had seemed familiar but he’d only seen her eyes before this so it could have been anybody.

  Just an attractive female member of staff. A senior member, obviously, because of the way she held herself. The way she moved with the confidence of someone who knew she was very good at what she did. And maybe he recognised something in the way this woman was dressed. Power dressing, really, with that pencil skirt and neat shirt. She probably had a matching jacket that would make the outfit the female equivalent of a man’s suit. And what was that horrible thing she’d done to her hair? It was all scraped back into a round thing that made her look like a cartoon version of a librarian or frumpy secretary. All she needed was some thick-rimmed spectacles to complete the picture.

  When her head had turned to scan the room, he hadn’t needed to be close enough to see the colour of her eyes to recognise that this was, indeed, Anna Bartlett. While she wasn’t radiating resentment right now, there was an air of containment about her that suggested she didn’t change her mind easily. A reserve that could well morph into an arctic-type chill when she saw him. A woman that knew her own mind and woe betide anyone that got in her way. Like him.

  Luke almost sighed as he dropped his gaze back to a meal he wasn’t particularly interested in. He wasn’t enjoying this lunchtime experience much at all, in fact. He knew that many of the people around had to be talking about him. Gossiping. The happy chatter and laughter going on around him, even the smell of abundant, hot food all seemed irrelevant. Superficial.

  The crash and then the scream had been real, though. He’d reacted on autopilot. He wasn’t sure what had made him demand Anna as an assistant. Possibly because she had been the only staff member nearby that he could call by name. Or maybe it was the memory of how well they had worked together in Theatre only a short time ago.

  It had been a good choice. The crisis had been dealt with and a life had been saved and it had only been then, when it was virtually done and dusted and he was handing his patient into the care of a new team, that Luke had allowed anything else to enter his head. It was then that he’d had his first close-up look at Dr Bartlett and he’d had the curious impression that he’d been looking at something he wasn’t supposed to be seeing.

  No wonder! The cool professional he’d seen queuing for her lunch was absent. This woman, standing in the canteen kitchen with a creased skirt and a shirt that had come untucked on one side, was … wrong, somehow. Even more disconcerting was that a thick lock of dark blonde hair had escaped the bun thing and lay against a long, pale neck.

  Her cheeks were flushed. From the exertion and stress of doing CPR or was she embarrassed at being dishevelled? Even her eyes looked different. Enlarged pupils made them seem softer. Warmer.

  Good grief … she was rather lovely.

  Any impression of warmth vanished, however, as Luke stared at her, unable to drag his gaze away.

  And then she dismissed him! Simply turned on her heel and walked away.

  How rude. No genuine warmth there, then. Anna Bartlett was clearly a career woman through and through, and she probably saw him as nothing less than an obstacle in her scramble to the top of that ladder. Any hope that she might discuss this morning’s incident with him before reporting it to a higher authority faded and disappeared.

  Charlotte, the cardiologist, was saying something to him, he realised. Something about whether he’d like to come with them to the emergency department to see what the investigations Roger needed would reveal.

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Please.’

  ‘You’ll remember Ben Carter?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘And have you met Josh O’Hara? No, you wouldn’t have. He joined the A and E staff while you were away.’

  Luke kept up with the pace set by the people pushing the stretcher, heading away from the canteen and any areas that his assistant was likely to be heading for.

  He’d see Anna again soon enough. Doing a ward round later today or perhaps in the departmental meeting scheduled for early tomorrow morning. Given how he felt about her in the wake of that dismissal, it might even be too soon.

  The aura of the war hero already surrounding the return of Luke Davenport to St Piran’s had evolved into something far more tangible by the time Anna was halfway through her ward round later that afternoon.

  He had become a living legend.

  Thanks to the crowd in the canteen at the time, accounts of the incident would have spread like wildfire and reached every corner of this institution in no time flat. Spilling into ears eager for the smallest details.

  The junior nursing staff on the cardiology ward were discussing it when Anna paused outside the central station to collect some patient notes she needed.

  ‘It was like something in the movies,’ someone was saying in awed tones. ‘He just pushed everything off the counter and jumped over it.’

  ‘I heard he did mouth-to-mouth without even using a face shield.’

  ‘Yeah …’

  ‘Is the guy still alive?’

  ‘Apparently he’s in the cath lab right now. He’ll probably get admitted in here or CCU when they’re finished.’

  ‘Do you think Mr Davenport will come down with him?’

  ‘Ooh … I hope so.’

  The giggling from the young nurses was irritating. Anna decided it was because her own participation in the incident had been totally eclipsed by the actions of St Piran’s new superhero. Except that she couldn’t convince herself to be that petty. The irritation was really there because part of her was as star-struck as everyone else seemed to be
. The man was intriguing. Compelling. Apparently trustworthy. And that was disturbing because Anna felt that she knew something about him that no one else knew. Or would believe.

  If she wanted to discuss her concerns with someone, the obvious choice would be Albert White, the CEO of St Piran’s. He would listen to any concerns she might have about Luke’s abilities. He might even believe her and, if he did, he might set some kind of probationary programme in place. Things like that did not remain confidential. Eventually, it would leak. Given his performance in the canteen and new status amongst the staff, nobody else would believe Anna.

  She might find herself more alone than she’d ever been in her struggle to break through the glass ceiling of her gender. It could affect how well she was able to do her own job. She stood to lose the trust and possibly even the co-operation of the people she worked with and teamwork was vital in this line of work.

  Tread carefully, she reminded herself, even when her demotion from being team leader had been rubbed in when a flurry of activity had heralded the new arrival in the coronary care unit adjacent to the ward and more than the necessary staff numbers flocked to greet both the patient and the new head of department.

  Roger the chef was made comfortable and wired up so that every beat of his heart could be monitored, the trace and its extra information like blood pressure and the level of oxygen in his blood appearing on one of the screens flanking the central nurses’ station. It was there that Luke caught up with Anna.

  ‘He needs urgent revascularisation,’ he informed her. ‘I’m hoping you can fit him in on your list for tomorrow.’

  Anna closed her eyes for a split second as she groaned inwardly. She opened them to find herself under intense scrutiny.

  ‘Is that a problem?’ Luke asked. ‘You don’t have any elective patients on the list?’

  ‘I do, but I’ve just been talking to a Mrs Melton and reassuring her. She’s stable but has severe triple vessel disease. This is her third admission for surgery because she’s been bumped off the list for urgent cases on the last two occasions.’

  ‘Has she had a major infarct? An arrest?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Come and look at Roger’s films and then we can discuss it. Have you got viewing facilities in your office?’

  She did, but Anna was aware of a strong reluctance to take Luke there. She had chosen not to take over his office in his absence and her space was relatively small. It was also the most personal space she had here at work.

  She was already a little too aware of this man. His size and reputation and … and whatever it was that was exerting a tugging sensation on something emotional. Not to mention the danger that frisson of potential attraction had represented. She didn’t want him invading a personal space. Not yet. Not until she felt a lot more confident in her interactions with him and that wasn’t going to be until she’d resolved the dilemma she was in.

  ‘The seminar room’s closer. Where we hold the departmental meetings.’

  ‘Of course. Have you got the time now?’

  ‘Yes. I’ve finished the ward round.’

  The round Luke had been supposed to join her for, but if he noticed any reprimand in her dry tone he gave no indication of it. He led the way down the corridor, his pace fast enough to keep Anna a half step behind. The hint of asymmetry in the way he moved had become a noticeable limp by the time they reached the lifts but Luke didn’t pause. He pushed open the fire-stop doors and headed up the stairs.

  Commenting on something as personal, not to mention physical, as the aftermath of his injury seemed inappropriate. In the same ball park as asking Charlotte if she was pregnant, and this wasn’t remotely like the far more social setting of the hospital canteen with its ‘time out’ from work atmosphere. This was work and Luke’s focus was entirely professional. He had no difficulty using the computerised system to bring the images from the catheter laboratory onto the large screen in the meeting room.

  ‘As you can see, there’s a seventy to eighty per cent stenosis on the left anterior descending and diffuse disease over a significant segment of the vessel. And that’s not all. There’s a critical stenosis in the circumflex. Here … see?’

  ‘Yes.’ Anna watched and listened. It was quite obvious that Roger was in more urgent need of surgery than her Mrs Melton. As the head of department, Luke would have been within his rights to simply order her to juggle lists but instead he was taking the time to put all the information in front of her, presumably with the intention of giving her the opportunity to make the call.

  Exactly the way they should be interacting as colleagues. There was every reason to take a moment to admire the way he was dealing with the situation but there really shouldn’t have been any space in Anna’s head to be so aware of the way Luke moved his hands as he spoke. Of how elegant those movements were for those large hands with their clever, tapered fingers.

  It was quite reasonable to appreciate the way he spoke so clearly too and the transparent speed with which his mind worked, but that didn’t excuse the enjoyment Anna found she was getting from the timbre of that deep voice. She brushed off the visceral reactions. So he was intelligent and articulate. She should have expected nothing else in someone who had beaten her in a job application.

  But perhaps that underlying awareness of him as a person and not simply a surgeon made her more aware of his physical issues. When they had finished coming to a mutually agreeable compromise on theatre lists, which would see Mrs Melton staying on as an inpatient until her surgery could be scheduled, Luke stood up. His face was grim and he blinked with slow deliberation, as though he was in pain but determined to ignore it. Or switch it off. The action took Anna straight back to their time in Theatre that morning and she knew she couldn’t avoid broaching the subject.

  ‘How’s your leg?’ she found herself asking. ‘I understand you suffered a fairly serious injury?’

  ‘I survived.’ Luke’s tone told her it wasn’t a welcome subject for discussion. ‘It’s improving all the time.’ His stare was expressionless. ‘Why do you ask?’

  Anna had to fight back the urge to apologise for asking a personal question. His eyes were so blue. So intense. No way could she simply dismiss that sharp squeezing sensation occurring deep in her belly. It might have been a very long time since she’d experienced a shaft of desire but it was all too easy to recognise. She looked away.

  ‘I’ve taken on a position as your assistant. If you have problems that I could help with, please don’t hesitate to tell me.’

  Luke made an incredulous sound, as though Anna would be incapable of giving him any assistance. That she had no idea what she was talking about. The sound rankled. She looked up to meet his gaze again.

  ‘If, for example, you find it hard to stay on your feet for a long theatre session.’

  A corner of his mouth lifted. Just a fraction. A sardonic twist but enough of a curl for Anna to realise she had yet to see Luke smile. He certainly wasn’t about to now. His expression was anything but friendly or relaxed. Her heart skipped a beat and then sped up but it was too late to swallow any words that had been spoken and try to get back onto safe ground.

  She had seen his pain when Luke knew how good he was at hiding it, and it seemed like he was exposing a physical flaw. Almost as bad as that loss of focus in Theatre that morning had been. Anna had been the only person to pick up on that, as well.

  He’d barely met the woman and yet it felt like she was inside a very personal space. As for offering to help with his problems. Ha! She didn’t know anything.

  No one here did.

  And yet the idea was appealing. To have someone in his corner who was prepared to listen even if they couldn’t begin to understand.

  To have someone to hold at night.

  Whoa! Where the hell had that come from?

  Luke could manage being alone. He had to. Just as well he’d learned to bury the kind of emotional involvement that could make reality too hard to deal with. He might be
back in a very different reality now but the ability to remain detached at some level was just as important. More important, maybe, given that he felt the despair of a meaningless existence pressing in on him from all sides.

  He was looking into a future that had only one bright spot. His work. And Anna was trying to undermine it. Something like fear made him straighten and defend himself by attacking.

  ‘Are you suggesting I’m physically incapable of doing my job?’ He had her pinned with his gaze. ‘Hoping that it might prove too much and I’ll quietly go away and let you take over again?’

  He saw her eyes widen and felt a flash of remorse at being so harsh. He also heard the swift intake of her breath but he didn’t give her time to speak. He couldn’t afford to back down. Admitting defeat wasn’t something Luke Davenport did willingly.

  ‘This is my home,’ he continued. ‘Where I live and where I work. Where my future is. I’m back and I have no desire to go anywhere else.’

  Which one of them was he trying to convince here?

  ‘I wasn’t suggesting anything.’ Anna’s tone was clipped and very cool. ‘Maybe I was hoping there might be a satisfactory explanation for what happened in Theatre this morning. For your slow response to a significant bleed.’

  A moment’s silence hung heavily between them. Not that Luke had any intention of denying the accusation or trying to excuse himself.

  ‘I lost focus,’ he admitted simply. ‘It won’t happen again.’

  He saw the way her features softened at his honesty. She wanted to believe him. But he could also see confusion in the depths of those astonishing green eyes. What had he been thinking, attacking her for asking what had been a perfectly reasonable question? No wonder she felt torn.

  ‘Are you intending to report the incident?’

  She held his gaze. She had courage, this woman.

  ‘Would you?’

  ‘Yes,’ Luke responded without hesitation. ‘Sloppy performance is never acceptable.’

  Anna tilted her head in agreement but said nothing. They left the meeting room in silence. There seemed to be nothing more to be said.