by Sarah Morgan
‘It’s really hard at times,’ Georgie answered with honesty. ‘We’re trained to maintain a clinical distance but at times certain patients slip under your guard.’ Not to mention certain doctors!
‘I couldn’t do it,’ Hannah said as she flopped down on her towel. ‘That’s why I want to work with kids. I’m figuring the most I’ll have to deal with is a nosebleed or wet pants.’
‘I’m planning on working with kids, too.’
‘You mean in paediatrics?’
‘Yes,’ Georgie said. ‘I’m a bit of a soft touch when it comes to little kids.’
‘So you want to have some of your own?’
Georgie poked her painted toenails into the sand. ‘Yes, but I want to finish my fellowship first.’
‘But that’s four years away and Ben will be nearly forty!’ Hannah gasped.
Georgie swung her gaze to Hannah’s. ‘I’m your brother’s current registrar, not the future mother of his children,’ she said with as much force as she could muster. ‘Besides,’ she added for effect, ‘I’ve been told by a clairvoyant I’m going to marry a blond man.’
Hannah gave her a scathing look. ‘You don’t believe in all that nonsense, do you?’
Georgie hitched up one brow. ‘Who was asking me what my star sign was an hour or so ago?’
Hannah gave her a sheepish smile. ‘Sorry, but I really like you and I want Ben to find someone who won’t let him down, like Leila did. You’d make a fantastic sister-in-law, and think of the fun we could have, shopping and doing our hair and make-up.’
Georgie smiled back. ‘You’re a real sweetie, Hannah. But I don’t want you to get your hopes up when life might have other plans.’
A tall shadow blocked out the glare of the sun and some droplets of sea water landed on Georgie’s shoulders. She looked up into Ben’s dark blue gaze and her stomach did a funny little dance-like shuffle that sent aftershocks down her legs to her toes.
‘Have you both got sunscreen on?’ he asked.
‘Yes,’ Georgie and Hannah answered in unison.
‘Good,’ he said. He reached for the bottle and handed it to his sister. ‘Can you do my back, Hannah?’
‘I’m just off to the loo,’ she said, leaping to her feet and thrusting the bottle into Georgie’s hands. ‘Georgie will do it, won’t you, Georgie?’
Georgie took the bottle. ‘Er … yes …’
‘You don’t have to if you don’t want to,’ Ben said when Hannah had scampered off.
‘It’s fine,’ she said with a tight little smile. ‘I wouldn’t want you to blame me some time in the future for getting a melanoma.’
Ben could hardly concentrate on her words as her soft little hands began to smooth the lotion over his back. He could feel his whole body spring to life under her exquisite touch, the stroke and glide of her hands and fingers making his blood surge away from his brain where he most needed it to remind himself of how dumb it would be to get involved with her. She had only been on the unit a week and the rumours were already flying. And now Hannah was actively encouraging a liaison between them. Sure, it felt good to have his kid sister’s instant approval but that didn’t mean he had to dive head first into a relationship with the daughter of a man who had done his best to sabotage his career before it had even got off the ground.
He suppressed a sigh of pleasure as her hands skated over his shoulder blades. He wanted her to do his front and not just his chest but lower where he was aching to feel the satin softness of her fingers.
Georgie couldn’t believe the way Ben felt under her fingertips. She had been dreaming of doing this, running her hands over him, feeling the hard-muscled smoothness of his skin, sensing the inherent strength and power of him just beneath the surface. She wished she had the courage to push him down on the towel on his back and do his front, lingering over his taut pectoral muscles, circling the indentation of his belly button before going lower where a trail of dark masculine hair disappeared tantalisingly into his board shorts, over a well-formed six-pack.
She had hung around gyms ever since her late teenage years but in all that time she hadn’t seen anyone with the spectacular build he had. It wasn’t grotesquely overdone, as some male gym junkies aspired to. Instead, it spoke of a man who loved his sport but knew how to maximise its benefits without compromising his health and vigour.
‘Do you want me to do yours?’ Ben asked into the silence.
‘I—I’m fine …’
He took the bottle from her hands and squirted some of the contents out into the palm of his hand. ‘Turn around,’ he commanded. ‘You’ve been in the water so what you put on earlier would have washed off by now.’
She wriggled away from the temptation of his touch. ‘It’s waterproof for four hours.’
His eyes clashed with hers. ‘You rubbed my back so it’s only fair that I rub yours, right?’
Georgie turned around rather than have that blue gaze see too much. ‘Um … right …’
She tried to disguise her sucked-in breath as his hands ran over her in long slow movements that sent a shockwave of reaction across the floor of her belly. Her traitorous thoughts started to drift away from her control. How would it be to have his hands on her in other more intimate places? Her body was already tingling with sensations she had never felt before. It was as if he had cast a spell on her or something. He had only to look at her with those dark eyes of his and she felt like rolling over and playing bed.
‘Ben! Georgie! Come quickly.’ Hannah rushed up to them, her feet kicking sand in all directions in her haste. ‘Someone’s been injured by a surfboard.’
Ben dropped the bottle of sunscreen and sprang to his feet as he saw the lifeguards bringing in a surfer with blood seeping from a gash on his forehead. As far as he could tell, the young man was unconscious as the lifeguards placed him on the mat under the shade of the surf club tent and rolled him onto his side into the coma position.
Ben quickly informed them he and Georgie were doctors before he took control. ‘Georgie, stabilise his neck while I check his airway.’
Georgie placed a hand onto each side of the surfer’s head to prevent further neck movements while Ben applied a jaw thrust to open the airway. The lifesavers had opened their resuscitation kit, which included a mask and bag and a small oxygen supply. Ben fitted the mask and turned on the oxygen. Fortunately the patient was breathing spontaneously, and his colour looked good.
‘Is there a hard collar in that kit?’ Georgie asked.
One of the lifeguards passed her a universal hard collar, which Georgie adjusted to fit the patient and applied to his neck.
Ben donned a pair of gloves and examined the head wound. There was no bony crepitus or palpable fracture, just a large gash in the scalp, which was bleeding profusely. He applied a couple of gauze dressing pads and held them in place while Georgie firmly bandaged the skull to control the bleeding. He then checked the surfer’s pulse and blood pressure while Georgie listened to the patient’s chest.
‘Sounds like he’s aspirated some water,’ she said. ‘We’ve already called an ambulance,’ one of the lifeguards said.
‘Good,’ Ben responded. ‘He’ll need full A and E assessment.’
He checked the swimmer’s pupils, finding them equal and reactive, and did a GCS, assessing it at about 11 or 12. There were no other obvious injuries. The main problem appeared to be the scalp laceration and concussion, as the surfer was now showing signs of regaining consciousness.
‘The ambulance is here,’ the senior lifeguard informed them.
‘W-what happened?’ The patient opened his eyes, his expression confused and disoriented. ‘What’s going on?’
‘You’ll be fine,’ Ben reassured him. ‘You hit your head on your board and briefly lost consciousness. We’re sending you to hospital for further assessment.’
The still groggy patient was soon bundled into the back of an ambulance, with a hand-written note from Ben, outlining his and Georgie’s assessment and tre
atment.
‘I’m not so sure I’ll give surfing a go after all,’ Georgie said as they made their way back to their towels. ‘It looks far too dangerous.’
‘I offered her lessons with you,’ Hannah explained to Ben. ‘Oh …’ he said, grimacing slightly. ‘You’d be OK with that, wouldn’t you?’ Hannah asked, looking up at him with appeal. ‘Sure.’
‘I’m not sure I want to—’ Georgie began.
‘You’d be great at it, Georgie,’ Hannah insisted. ‘You’re a natural, isn’t she, Ben? She’s fit and supple and a good swimmer.’
And she’s bloody heart-stoppingly gorgeous in that pink and orange bikini, he added mentally. Just how did she keep her breasts inside those tiny triangles?
‘I’m starving,’ Hannah announced. ‘Where are we going for dinner?’
‘I have to get home,’ Georgie said, not wanting to intrude any further.
‘Oh, no, you must come with us, mustn’t she, Ben?’ Hannah asked. Swinging her gaze back to Georgie, she added, ‘Ben will only talk about boring work stuff unless you’re there.’
‘I don’t think I should.’
‘Save me from her, Georgie,’ Ben said with a crooked smile. ‘If you don’t come, all I’ll hear all night is stuff about totally unsuitable boyfriends. It drives me nuts.’
She bit her lip and then released it. ‘If you’re sure …’
‘We’re sure,’ he and Hannah said in unison.
Georgie just smiled.
‘Dinner?’ Rhiannon looked at Georgie with suspicion. ‘That’s a date, isn’t it?’
‘Not when there’s a sixteen-year-old chaperone,’ she said with a speaking glance. ‘His kid sister is coming, too.’
‘Yeah, right.’ Her flatmate rolled her eyes. ‘That’s what they all say.’
‘It’s true,’ Georgie said as she inserted a dangly earring into her left ear lobe. ‘Her name is Hannah and she’s lovely. She talks way too much about her brother, of course, but that’s to be expected, I guess, as he’s eighteen years older than her and a bit of a hero figure to her.’
‘And what about you?’ Rhiannon asked with a probing look. ‘Is he hero material?’
Georgie sent her eyes heavenwards. ‘Sometimes I wonder if I did the right thing in agreeing to this stupid bet. It’s like tempting fate to say you won’t do something, for all of a sudden the very thing you’ve sworn not to do is dangled in front of your nose until you can’t think straight.’
Rhiannon put out her hand palm upwards. ‘Pay up, sister. You’re going to have to anyway so why not get it over with?’
Georgie set her shoulders. ‘No,’ she said. ‘After Andrew I said I wouldn’t even dip my toes into the dating swamp for three months minimum and I meant it.’
‘That was before you met Ben Blackwood,’ Rhiannon reminded her.
‘I can be strong,’ Georgie said as she inserted the other earring. ‘I can do this, I know I can. So what if he’s good-looking and loves his little sister and keeps his family’s farm afloat by paying all the bills for them.’
Rhiannon’s eyes bulged. ‘He does all that?’
‘Yes, and he loves his stepfather.’
‘Uh-oh,’ Rhiannon said, handing Georgie her lipstick.
Georgie stared at the slim tube for a moment.
‘What’s wrong?’ Rhiannon asked. ‘Don’t you think it’s the right colour? I think it goes brilliantly with your outfit. That dress looks sensational on you by the way. I wish I had your figure. Maybe I’ll join the gym after all.’
‘I think I’ll just wear lip-gloss,’ Georgie said with a tiny frown creasing her brow. ‘I don’t want to overdo it.’
‘Believe me, Georgie, you could turn up dressed in a garbage bag and you’d be overdoing it,’ Rhiannon said wryly. ‘One look into those big brown eyes of yours and he’s going to be lost, if he’s not already.’
Georgie gave her flat mate a big squishy hug. ‘You’re so good for my ego,’ she said. Putting Rhiannon from her, she asked earnestly, ‘You won’t be too lonely here all by yourself, will you?’
‘I’m not going to be … I mean … er … not at all,’ Rhiannon said quickly. ‘I’ve got some work to do on my PhD philosophy paper. I’m going to the university library for a couple of hours.’
‘As long as you’re sure?’
‘Totally.’
Georgie took a deep breath and inspected her ensemble in the full-length mirror. ‘Well, then …’
The doorbell rang and Rhiannon handed her the tiny evening purse she’d selected to wear with her cerise dress and high-heeled sandals.
‘If you’re going to blow a thousand mackeroos, make sure it’s worth it,’ she said with a cheeky grin.
It will certainly be worth it, Georgie thought as she answered the door.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
BEN had to force his eyes to stay fixed on Georgie’s face as she opened the door at his summons. She was dressed in a knock-out pink dress that skimmed her slight curves and highlighted the healthy glow of her skin. Her hair was loose about her shoulders, its sun-kissed light waves full of body and bounce, making his fingers twitch yet again to reach out and thread through its silkiness. Her perfume drifted towards him, a different one this time. It was a subtle but totally intoxicating scent that reminded him of sun-warmed honeysuckle.
‘Hannah is waiting in the car,’ he said by way of greeting, not able to think of anything else on the spot. ‘She had a good day today. Thank you.’
Georgie followed him towards the lifts. ‘I had fun, too,’ she said. ‘She’s a lovely girl and great company.’
He stabbed at the lift button without looking at her. ‘I can’t help worrying about her,’ he confessed with a small frown. ‘She’s lived in the country all her life. She’s not as street smart as city kids.’
‘She’s fine, Ben,’ Georgie reassured him. ‘I thought she was very mature for her age.’
He sighed and held the lift doors open with his arm as it arrived, waiting until she stepped inside before joining her. ‘She had to grow up pretty fast,’ he said, still frowning. ‘She spent months in rehab, regaining her mobility. I still get nightmares thinking about it, you know.’ He paused momentarily. ‘What could have happened …’
She couldn’t stop herself from reaching out to touch him on the arm, her fingers curling into the solid warmth of his flesh. ‘It didn’t happen, Ben,’ she said softly. ‘She’s fine.’
Ben looked down at the slim fingers curled around his forearm and, almost without knowing he was doing it, rested his on top. ‘I have a patient the same age as Hannah booked in for Monday’s list,’ he said. ‘That was who I had to see earlier today. She’s the same age, the same height—she even looks like her.’
Georgie drew in a tight little breath as she met his haunted gaze. ‘What’s wrong with her?’ she asked.
‘She has cauda equina syndrome, from a nerve sheath tumour. It’s large, and it’s wrapped around most of the lumbosacral nerve roots. There’s a reasonable risk of permanent damage. She could end up with lower limb weakness or urinary or faecal incontinence.’
‘What do you think the risk is of leaving permanent dysfunction?’ she asked.
He sighed again. ‘Pretty high I’m afraid. The literature suggests no better than 50 per cent chance of avoiding nerve-root compromise.’
Georgie bit her lip. ‘That’s not good.’
The lift doors opened and, placing his hand on her elbow, Ben led her outside. ‘No,’ he said. ‘It’s at times like these that I sometimes I wonder if I should have been a dermatologist.’
She looked at him in surprise. ‘That’s totally weird,’ she said, and gave her head a little shake.
‘What’s weird?’ he asked. ‘The thought of being a dermatologist?
Think of it—no on-call, no eighty- to ninety-hour weeks and no weekends stuck in Theatre while everyone else is at the beach.’
‘I know what you mean,’ she said thinking of how much she had enjoyed being i
n the warm summer sunshine all afternoon. ‘But I meant it was weird you said that because I said the very same thing to my policewoman friend the other day.’
‘Have you spoken to her since then?’ he asked.
She couldn’t quite read his expression. ‘No.’
He blew out a tiny breath. ‘I think I should warn you things might be pretty uncomfortable for you in ICU just now. It might be best to keep your visits to a minimum until this thing with Mr Tander settles down a bit.’
‘Has he said anything to you lately?’
Ben decided against telling her of the interaction he’d had with Marianne Tander’s husband as he’d been leaving his office after seeing Emma Stanley and her parents that morning. Jonathon Tander had cornered him, demanding to know why he hadn’t yet sacked the registrar who had cast such wicked aspersions on his impeccable character. The man’s heated tirade had gone on for so long Ben had begun to wonder if Mr Tander was protesting rather too much. Ben understood the volatility of emotions, especially in ICU where lives so often hung in the balance, but something about Jonathon Tander was a little too self-righteous for his liking.
‘Not lately,’ he lied, as he opened the car door.
‘Hi, Georgie,’ Hannah said as she wriggled out of the car to make room for her on the bench seat. ‘Gosh, you look fabulous, doesn’t she, Ben?’
‘Er … yeah … she does,’ Ben answered, dragging his eyes away from the shadow of Georgie’s cleavage as she slid along the seat.
‘I love your perfume,’ Hannah said, sniffing the air vigorously as she got in beside Georgie. ‘It’s so subtle, not like the woman’s whose name I’ve been forbidden to mention. She smelt like one of those cheap toilet air fresheners,’ she pinched her nose and added, ‘Eeeuw.’
Georgie glanced at Ben’s expression and saw him frowning darkly as he shifted the car into gear. She hadn’t realised until now how terribly hurt a man could be about a break-up. She had assumed they quickly moved on to the next relationship as a couple of her ex-partners had done, but it was clear Ben hadn’t really come to terms with Leila’s betrayal. It was also very clear his sister was doing her best to matchmake them, which was rather sweet, but Georgie had a feeling Hannah’s attempt to marry her off to her big brother was likely to fail. He was undoubtedly attracted to her, as she was to him, but their backgrounds were so different and his prejudice against her father would surely cause trouble if their relationship did become a permanent one. She could just imagine the friction it would cause—maintaining a successful relationship was hard enough without other factors coming into play.